Page 143 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

“Croft, please, I said it. Please?”

He stopped. When she tried to rise, he smacked her bottom several more times.

“You don’t get up until I say you can. You understand me?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Just please stop.”

Her body had gone completely limp—she had capitulated to his authority. He helped her to her feet.

“You see that corner over where the living area and bath meet?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because you’re going to go stand there until I tell you differently.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will, or I’ll pull you back over my knee and paddle you some more until you decide that maybe, just maybe, doing as I tell you needs to be your default setting. Do you want to go put your nose in the corner or get put facedown over my knee? Makes no never mind to me. What’s it going to be, Finn?”

He watched her struggle with her pride. He knew she wanted to obey, but she had schooled herself to never answer to anyone, much less a man who’d just blistered her ass until it was the color of a ripe tomato.

“Croft…”

“Finn. This is the last time I’m going to say it. Get in that corner, or I’ll make you wish you had.”

Finn read his face, trying to find any indication he wouldn’t do exactly as he’d told her. She seriously doubted she’d ever be able to sit down again, and she was quite certain it would be weeks before he could grasp her buttocks to hold her still while he fucked her. She wanted to throw things at him and storm out, but Finn knew doing so would accomplish nothing more than further provoking him to enforce her submission to his dominance.

Frustrated, she turned and stomped to the corner. She heard him chuckle and threw him a withering look.

“You heard me, Finn. Nose in the corner.”

She wanted to strangle him but did as he’d ordered.

“Face the corner, place your palms flat on the wall, spread your legs, and push your bright-red backside out, so I can admire my handiwork and see how wet you are. And you are wet, aren’t you, Finn?”

“No, I’m not,” she said halfheartedly.

“Yes, you are, and if I ask you again and you lie to me, I’m going to take some of that nice wet slick of yours, coat my cock with it, and fuck your bottom hole before I wash your mouth out with soap and give you another ten over my knee. Knowing that, let me ask you again… you’re wet, aren’t you, Finn?”

“Yes, damn it, and I hate it,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

“Why?” Croft looked genuinely confused by her answer. “For a woman, being wet is like being hard for a man, just shows your partner you love them, find them sexy, and want to fuck. There are worse things you can tell me, and, frankly, I want to know.”

She spun around. “I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this at all.”

“Finn, I’m willing to make some allowances because you’ve been through hell the last two weeks, but that doesn’t mean you get to disobey me or give me a bunch of attitude. Put your nose back in that corner, get into position, and stay there.”

The conflict within her was raging. On the one hand, she wanted nothing more in life than to be with Croft and yield to him. On the other, the woman who had left her wealthy family and carved out a career as a photojournalist wanted to punch him in the throat, leave this place, and get back to her life. He had no idea what he was doing to her. Or did he? Finn knew before she could confront him with what she wanted, she needed to figure that out.

Croft was right, though. She had been through a lot in the past week or so. When she was with him and he was stroking her to ecstasy, everything felt right. She needed space to clear her head, to disengage from the sensual spell he seemed to have bewitched her with, but she didn’t want to leave. Her need for clarity was clouded by her desire to build a life with him.

Tears welled in her eyes. They weren’t from the pain in her ass, which was considerable, but from the contradictory emotions rampaging throughout her entire being. She could feel the wetness on her cheeks as she began to cry softly.

Croft was immediately beside her, gently turning her out of the corner, and pulled her into the safety of his arms.

“Shh, Finn. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head but remained silent. He held her close and stroked her back, letting her rest her head on his chest as she cried. Croft made soft, murmuring sounds one wouldn’t necessarily expect from a man like him. He didn’t try to rush her or force anything else from her. When she was finally able to stop crying, he simply wiped her tears away with his thumbs and kissed her tenderly.

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