Page 66 of Whatever Lola Wants

He smiled and took the mug. “Thanks.”

He sipped his coffee, flipping bacon and whisking eggs in a bowl before pouring them into a second skillet where butter sizzled. She took her own cup to the other side of the breakfast bar, nibbling on her second cinnamon roll as she watched him cook.

He flicked a glance over his shoulder. “Grab a couple of plates, will you?”

She slid off the stool and snagged two from the cupboard, handing them to him at the stove. He clicked off the flame under both skillets and divided the food between the plates. The bacon was crisp, the eggs were fluffy, and her mouth was watering.

He carried the plates to the counter, and she snagged forks before following, climbing up onto the stool next to him.

“Dig in,” he told her.

She closed her eyes in bliss as she bit into the bacon. “You know, I was wishing for bacon when you walked in the door.”

“So, I’m, what, the bacon fairy?”

She snickered. “I’m having that put on a t-shirt for you. With a cute little winged pig.”

He shot her a look—a very Dom-like look. “I’ll wear it, but for every comment it gets, I get to slap your ass with a paddle.”

“Okay, bad idea.” Still, it made her squirm. She darted a glance at him and saw him watching her with amusement. Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she applied herself to her food.

“Are you always this hungry the morning after a hard scene?”

She winced and laid her fork down. “Not usually,” she said and picked up her coffee.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the sudden change in her body language. “What?”

She took a deep breath. “I haven’t actually eaten since lunch yesterday.”

His eyes went sharp, his mouth firming into a harsh line. “You didn’t eat dinner last night?”

“I know, I know.” She held up a hand. “Big mistake, and no doubt the reason I crashed so hard. I just…forgot.”

He laid his fork down carefully. “You don’t fucking forget to eat before a scene, Lola. You fucking know better than that.”

He rarely cursed, so the fact he was dropping f-bombs was an indicator of how angry he was. And he had every right to be. “I know. It was a rookie mistake.”

“It was a dangerous mistake,” he countered, the anger in his voice making her wince. “And if you were my submissive, I’d paddle your ass for it.”

She set her coffee down with a sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

She turned on her stool so face him fully. “Okay, you can punish me for it.”

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “This is the most ass backward relationship.”

This is a relationship? she thought, then dismissed it to focus on the issue at hand. “What do you mean?”

“You giving me permission to punish you.”

“I agree it’s a little unorthodox?—"

“Understatement,” he muttered.

“—and we don’t have a D/s relationship. But we do have, well, a play relationship, I guess you could say, and I screwed it up. So, in that context, and in the interest of putting it behind us, I think a punishment is appropriate.”

He was staring at her, his eyes still dark with anger, his face set. “You’re right.”

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