Page 48 of Hired Help

Back before I infuriated everyone I care for.

“Calm down.” Daegan’s voice rumbles with amusement as I renew my struggles. “You’ll only end by hurting yourself.”

His fingers are inside me and I wince at the intrusion. Then the slow pumping strokes cause a flood of wetness and I flinch away from my body’s natural reactions, curling my shoulders in distress as he makes a guttural groan of pleasure, fingers now slipping in and out with barely a lick of friction.

My nose closes as I fight back tears and I tug the underwear from my mouth again, gasping in air, hoping he doesn’t shove them straight back in to choke me.

“Please…” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to…”

And I can’t continue because of course I meant to do everything I did tonight. It didn’t go my way but I’m still the one who set it all in motion.

“Do you know what you are?” Daegan’s voice is muffled because his lips are right against my ear. “You’re a spoiled little brat, and it’s about time someone spanked some good sense into you.”

My hips tilt, driving my arse harder into him. His cock feels about a foot long as he chuckles, deep in his throat, the reverberations spiralling across my scalp until they dissolve in a mass of tingles.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” He draws in a large breath, exhaling in a warm gust against my neck. “Does daddy’s little princess like it when her man stuffs his fingers in her dripping cunt to make her squeal?”

A breath hitches in my throat, stalling while my heart beats a thunderous solo in my chest. Nothing works on autopilot any longer. I have to remind myself to breathe, to swallow that mass of saliva suddenly pooling in my mouth.

Then he’s moving me, sitting upright and hauling me across his lap. I grab at the edge of the covers, using the grip as leverage to pull away. The few inches I win are immediately lost when he drags me back into position and smacks his hand against my bare arse.

The sharp crack is mercifully less painful than the belt but a long way from being okay.

Instead of scrambling forward, I brace my hands and push back. Before I gain an inch, he sweeps his hand across the covers, knocking my wrists out from under me so I fall flat, and he spanks me again. And again.

“Stop,” I plead, gathering the bedclothes into my fists to ward off the pain. “I’m not a child.”

“You’re a spoiled brat,” he says between clenched teeth. “Whether you’re five or fifty, that’s not going to change.” His palm strikes me again, each addition igniting the previous burning prints and strikes until they collaborate into something sharper, hotter, each sting fiercer than the one that came before. “And when brats act out, wanting attention, they get disciplined until they remember their place.”

Another six smacks rain down one after the other until I’m openly sobbing, humiliated by the situation and how easily the pain breaks me. “Let me go.”

“So you can torment my son instead of me? I don’t think so. I think you’re staying here, with your cunt dripping into my lap and your arse turning rosy red until you learn your lesson.”

At the words, my hips tilt further, my crotch mindlessly grinding against him. Another flurry of spanks lands on me, my skin now so burning hot it goes numb.

Then he shoves his fingers back inside me. Not one but two or three of them, I’m not coherent enough to count.

“Does this fulfil your contract?” He withdraws them while I cry out at the loss, then puts his other arm around my chest, across my tits, tucking me close enough to force the fingers into my mouth. “Suck on them.”

I try to push them away with my tongue, my stomach miserable at thinking where they were, what’s on them.

But he won’t let me. If anything, he slams them deeper into my mouth. Finally, I suck on them, not following his instruction just wanting to breathe.

“That’s better. Obedience isn’t so hard, now, is it? If you calm down and stop fighting me, I’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

I want to fight harder at that statement. My brain sends out the instruction and my body, the same body that’s obeyed every instruction I ever gave it even when it resulted in incredible pain or embarrassment, that body disobeys me. It turns into putty just waiting for firm hands to mould it and it doesn’t change, even when his amused laugh makes me burn with the agony of shame.

Shame for wanting the things I shouldn’t.

“That’s better.”

He strokes my hair, pulling it back off my face where it’s glued with spit and sweat and a few escapee tears. Whatever rage had him in its grip earlier has dissipated. The soft caresses come from a completely different man.

“If you’re a good girl, you get rewards and if you’re a brat, you get punishment. Those are the new rules.”

If I close my eyes, he smells like Harrison.

I can’t do anything about the deeper voice and the beard tickling my neck but they’re not enough to stop my imagination painting him into the frame.

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