Page 15 of Irish Reign

“What time is it,piscín?”

“I’m not yourpiscín. Not here. Not now.”

“You’re always mypiscín.” I catch her wrist, so those kitten claws can’t reach my eyes. “What time is it?” I repeat.

She cranes her neck to look past me, to the clock on the nightstand. “8:52.”

“And when does your work-day end?”

She’s sullen, but she answers. “Six.”

“So you owe me two hours and fifty-two minutes.”

“You weren’t even?—”

“And that’s ten more, for talking back.”

“There’s no rule that says?—”

“Twenty.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Glares at me with murderous intent.

The truth is, I’m short on tools to make mypiscíncomply. Floggers, paddles, canes, gags—they’ve all burned to ash at Thornfield. The bed here doesn’t help much—there’s no place to tie her up.

But playing with Samantha has always been more about her mind than my toys.

I sit on the edge of the bed. “Strip,” I say.

She glances at the open bedroom door. “Anyone can just walk in here.”

“That’s thirty extra minutes. Please. Keep complaining.”

“Braiden, be reasonable.”

“Strip,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve used my Captain’s voice in days. And Christ, it feels good.

She steps out of her shoes. She shrugs off her jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs by her papers. She shimmies out of her trousers and pulls her top over her head until she’s standing in front of me, wearing nothing but white cotton panties and a featureless bra.

Other women wear lace and silk. Other women long to be pampered.

But mypiscínhas rules for herself. She thinks she needs to be punished for the mistakes she made in her past. She doesn’t deserve soft things. She doesn’t deserve color.

She’s wrong. She deserves all those things and more. One day, I’ll make her believe that.

Until then, I’ll give her the punishment she craves.

“You’re not naked,” I remind her.

She looks toward the door again. “This is ahotel,” she says, as if I might not be familiar with the concept. “There aremaids.Turn-down service. Not to mention the fact that half the Fishtown Boys have keys to the room.”

It’s my job to make her forget all that.

My fingers close around her wrist, pulling her onto my lap. I’ve given her spankings before. That was the first lesson I ever taught mypiscín.But I’ve never actually put her over my knee. I’ve never felt her fight for balance, squawking in embarrassment as my open-handed blow forces her belly against my swelling hard-on.

“Sayred, and I’ll stop,” I promise.

She bites her lip, but she nods an acceptance to keep us safe.

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