Page 11 of Loving Luna

When her entire backside was tinted a nice deep shade of pink, I paused, running my hand across the heated skin. God, I loved spanking this woman. Or maybe I just loved her.

“Are you ready to cut the crap and start talking?” I demanded.

“Nothing to say,” Luna answered smartly.

I saw red. Literally went from zero to enraged in two seconds flat. And as much as I might want to, I knew I couldn’t spank her like this.

Fuck. Swallowing hard, I pushed back the urge to yell, and the even stronger one to spank her silly. I took endless amounts of deep breaths and gritted my teeth.

“I guess you’ll need more convincing,” I finally said. When the moment of rage had passed, I raised my hand, and cursed the fact that I didn’t have an implement handy. My gaze dancedaround the room and landed on a solid wooden hairbrush on Luna’s nightstand. Leaning slightly, I grabbed it, and inspected it. The weight of it was solid, I knew it would pack a punch.

Testing my anger level, I decided that I was appropriately annoyed but no longer seeing red and allowed myself to continue.

This time, I raised the brush into the air, not just my hand.

And when it landed across Luna’s left ass cheek with a delicious thud, and she screamed, rearing back to glare at me over her shoulder, I couldn’t help but grin.

“Decided it was time to call in backup,” I explained, waving her hairbrush in the air where she could see it.

“It’s not gonna work,” she snapped.

“Oh, I think it will,” I countered, raising the brush again.

CHAPTER THREE

LUNA

That asshole.

I knew I was supposed to be working through emotions as Drake did his very best to crumble my resolve, but all I could think was what an asshole he was, with his heavy-handed tactics, carting me out of the bar, bringing me up to my suite, stripping me naked and using my own hairbrush on my ass.

There was no doubt that I deserved it. But I couldn’t help it. Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I didn’t want to talk.

Despite being well on my way to a degree in psychology, dissecting my own emotions seemed to be my blind spot. All I really knew was that Drake loved me.

And that terrified me.

Should it? Probably not. He was a great guy. An excellent, thoughtful, yet stern Dominant. He had a great work ethic. He was funny, and kind, and smart, and… hot.

And I loved him, I did. Just not like that.

Was that because I wouldn’t let myself? Maybe.

It was very possible that that was the case. But I didn’t want to think about that. At all.

So I did what any self-respecting submissive would do in a similar situation.

I poked the bear.

Drake brought the hairbrush down across my cheeks so many times I lost count, and I’m sure he thought we’d engage in a battle of wills and then eventually I’d give in and we’d talk.

Got news for ya, buddy. That’s not how this is going to go.

Maybe.

He started spanking harder and that dang brush threatened to conquer my resolve.

Note to self: Hide all pervertables, always because you never know when a Dom will be in your room, and you’ll be just stupid enough to piss him off good.

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