Page 43 of Tangwystle
“Not necessary,” Baz confirmed. Rufus didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. I don’t think he understood how I had the audacity to ask the owner of the Manor a question.
Baz’s stare warmed my back as I left. This time I did stand just behind the door, but heard nothing. I left them to their stilted conversation.
Gretel continued scratching at the pantry door.
“Not yet!” I hissed, moving to make tea. I needed something to do. My body hummed from all the mixed-up thoughts. Flashes of my body bucking as Baz pinned me to his desk mixed with the sting of harsh truths we spoke about. Gretel, Baz, and I. All three combined. And now Rufus sat in the parlor.
My hands moved on their own, filling the kettle. Waiting for the water to boil. I should’ve gone outside again into the cool air, but I wanted to be by the stairs. My intrusive thoughts insisted that Rufus, for whatever reason, might come down them.
I added tea leaves and debated about dinner. And compiled a to-do list, housework that I would use to keep myself and my mind occupied with for the rest of the week.
Steam kissed my face as I stood, holding my mug of tea. The warmth slowly soaked through. The pricks of nerves abated, and my mind emptied.
And that’s when I noticed how truly silent the kitchen was.
Gretel rarely kept quiet.
The mug landed on the counter with a thud, and I marched to the pantry, flinging it open. I’m not sure what I expected. Perhaps I’d find her passed out, or somehow she’d managed to get kidnapped.
She didn’t even notice my arrival. Balancing precariously, she leaned over a barrel, digging into an open sack.
Sugar, I realized a beat later.
She’d occupied herself by getting into our storage of sugar.
I should’ve known. She and Baz shared the trait, their love for all things sweet.
All I saw was her round ass, one leg bent upward as she leaned over. She licked her finger, still not noticing that I’d caught her in the act.
“Little thief!” I cried indignantly. Stealing and eating sugar went against everything I stood for.
Based on the way Gretel scrambled to get up, she knew it too.
But I acted before I even understood. Before I even made a conscious choice. Maybe it was in me all along. And maybe after that day, after speaking to Baz, I could never go back to just treating Gretel like I had. Where I wanted her so badly, but refused to act on it. Where I tried to keep her at just arm’s length because otherwise I would stare at her for too long.
She tried to right herself as she peeked over her shoulder.
My hand pressed flat against her back, forcing her torso down again. My other hand spanked her ass.
“Good girls don’t steal sugar, Gretel.” My hand landed on her other ass cheek.
A startled cry fell from her lips, her toes straining for balance. “I-I?—”
“What?” I asked. “I didn’t just catch you stealing? Baz and I are trying to keep you safe and you’re in here helping yourself to sweets.”
“You left me here!”
I swatted her again. “Talking back will only make the punishment worse, Gretel.”
Noise rattled in her throat.
“What?” I asked innocently, lifting her skirt up. I wanted to see if her skin had bloomed red yet. “Did you think only Baz could give you punishment?”
The image of her on her knees in the garden was the reason behind a harsher spank. She jerked, and I took the opportunity to twist her panties, something deep inside me needing to see her bare skin.
She yelped, tearing out of my grasp. I think my efforts to rip off her underwear surprised her more than the spanking.
But I’d fallen off the cliff. And whether it was right or wrong (and trust me, I’ve thought a lot about this interaction in the years since), I couldn’t be stopped.
