Page 29 of T is for…

He kneaded her thighs, strong fingers digging in. She moaned, startled by the pleasure-pain of the deep tissue massage. His hand worked up toward her hips and she tensed, realizing that in this position her lower abdominal fat partially rested on her thighs.

She leaned back, trying to stretch out her torso so her lower belly pooch wasn’t so obvious. Nathan reached up over her shoulder, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling it forward to covered one breast. Then he carefully wound the mass of her hair around his palm and tugged.

“Going somewhere?” His gaze, which had been roving over her body, slid up to her face. “Or are you uncomfortable?”

“No, I was just…” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she was doing. Admitting it would in turn reveal that she was occasionally self-conscious of her body. Tara didn’t want Nathan to see her that way—as a woman who bowed to societal pressure to look a certain way. She was embarrassed that she was embarrassed, and scared he might react badly to her body, which in turn would kill their friendship.

“Just what?”

Tara leaned forward, internally wincing when the movement caused her belly to rest lightly on his fingers, which were splayed high on her thigh, the tips just touching the sensitive skin of her torso.

“Just what, Tara?”

“I was just stretching.”

“One thing that will genuinely piss me off is lying to me.” He looped her hair once more around his palm, bringing his hand hard against the base of her skull. “I told you I expect you to communicate with me.”

Tara stared at the place where the wall met the ceiling on the far side of the library, the noise of the people around them fading to a buzzing background noise. She had no idea how they’d gotten here and how everything had suddenly gone so wrong. She barely moved, and yet he picked up on the fact that the reason she’d leaned away was something important. Maybe this was the real danger. Not that this could damage the relationship but that he knew her so well that she wouldn’t be able to hide anything.

“Communication is a nonnegotiable. And if you can’t even tell me when something makes you uncomfortable, or when you need some space?—”

“It’s not that,” she assured him. Tara opened and closed her mouth several times unsure what to say, or maybe how to say it. She gave him a helpless look, and Nathan’s expression shifted, his grip on her hair softening.

“If I put you over my knee and spank you until your ass is burning and you’ve hit that nice emotional release, would you be able to talk to me then?”

Tara nodded her head jerkily, saying nothing.

“Okay, baby.” His voice was tender even as he scooted her off his lap so she was standing before him.

Tara felt oddly close to tears as she watched him prep. Nathan spoke briefly to the Dom in the armchair, then shoved the coffee table back and grabbed a thick blanket out of the basket beside the couch. He sat on the edge of the couch and turned slightly to the left, his thighs spread wide.

Tara stared at him, taking in this man who was both familiar and in this moment, a stranger. Just as she’d never realized how well muscled his arms were until she saw him sleeveless in his leather vest, she hadn’t ever contemplated the thickness of his thighs.

“Over my knee.” He patted his thigh once.

Taking shallow breaths, her pussy throbbing in time with her heartbeat, Tara stepped between his spread legs and lowered herself. His thigh was thick but also hard, she soon discovered.

Nathan had placed the folded blanket on the couch beside his thigh so that once she bent over his leg, her belly and chest rested on the blanket. She braced her toes against the floor, her own knees bent. With his other leg hooked over hers, he had total control of her lower body.

“Scoot up. I want your ass higher.”

Tara pushed forward with her toes, her skin squeaking against his leather-clad thigh. Instead of her belly resting on his thigh, the crease of her hip was centered on his thigh, her ass tipped up.

“This isn’t punishment,” Nathan’s voice rumbled, voice lower than his normal speaking tone, and implacable. “This is because you need it. You’re holding back, but I know you want to be a good girl and answer my questions. Tell me all the things going on in that big, beautiful brain.”

He tugged the stiff straps of her fetwear until they were tucked along the inner curve of her ass cheeks. Given how tight the garment was, this spread her ass open, though the center string would cover her at least a little bit. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, just as she wasn’t sure if she was excited or mildly embarrassed that Nathan could probably see her asshole.

“I’m going to spank you hard, which means spanking you past the point where it’s pleasure and into the realm of true pain. That means we’re going to use the stoplight method. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t only stop if you say red. Say stop. Say you don’t want to do this anymore. Anything like that and I’ll stop and check in with you. But when I ask you where you are, you say red, yellow, or green. Does that work for you?”

Tara nodded mutely, then took a breath and make herself answer out loud. “Yes, Sir.”

She froze. That “sir” had slipped out due to either instinct or habit. Nathan rubbed her ass, hand moving in large circles over first one cheek, then the other.

“Don’t hold back, or hold anything in. I won’t let you hide from this, so if you try and close in, it will just make it take longer.”

Tara took a moment to wonder exactly what he meant by “this.” Did he mean this spanking, this confession that he wanted, or this thing between them?

“And I don’t expect you to be quiet or still. Like I told you, I’m not a formal Dom. In fact, I quite like watching someone squirm and bounce on my lap as I spank their pretty ass.” He palmed one cheek, squeezing.

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