Page 21 of Daddy's Mercy

“Because you’re…” Everything he wanted to say sounded patronizing and condescending, even to his own ears. “I just shouldn’t have.”

But apparently that wasn’t going to fly with her. “I’m what? Weak? Vulnerable? Too traumatized to know what I want?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you certainly implied it. You are definitely an asshole, Dean Mitchell, but not for the reasons you think.”

Jumping up from his lap, she raced from the room, the pounding of her steps on the stairs as loud as gunshots. A moment later he heard a door slam, and then the house was silent once more.

Every instinct he possessed was urging him to go upstairs and smooth things over, maybe cuddle her some more until she was ready to listen to reason. And after they talked things out, he would put her right back over his knee because Little girls didn’t slam doors in his house.

Since all of that felt even more wildly inappropriate than the initial spanking had been, he forced himself to stand and make his way to his office.

Space. They both just needed some space. Maybe during dinner they could talk things out and he could make her see reason.

* * *

Of all the arrogant,pigheaded, downrightstupidthings anyone had ever done in the history of ever, Dean Mitchell had just surpassed them all. Treating her like a broken fucking doll after she’d had the most cathartic, eye-opening, life-changing experience of her life.

Men. Ugh.

Flopping down onto the couch in her living room—or was it a sitting room? Rich people had too many fucking rooms—she glared at the black screen of the TV.

None of this would have happened if she hadn’t been acting like a scared little girl from the moment she’d met him. No wonder he was treating her like she was made of glass. Everything she’d done over the few days they’d spent together had probably only confirmed that idea of her he obviously had in his head.

“Why am Ilikethis?” Groaning loudly, she grabbed a throw pillow and pressed it to her face. “Why can’t I just get my shit together and be a normal fucking person for once?”

There were reasons. Ones she’d discussed over and over with her therapist until she was sick and damn tired of hearing her own voice. What would Jeanine have to say about this situation? Not that she was ever going to tell anyone that she’d asked Dean to spank her. Ever.

But if she did, what would Jeanine say?

You have to advocate for yourself, MaryAnn. Do you want him to spank you?

Yes. Yes, she very much did want him to spank her again. It had hurt, but she’d never felt so light as she had afterwards, crying out all the guilt and other yucky feelings while he’d cradled her on his lap. And even though she’d fussed about it, she loved all the rules he gave her. She loved knowing exactly where the lines were, and what was acceptable behavior. There was no guesswork involved, and that settled her in way little else in her life ever had.

Okay. Then tell him that.

Absolutely not.

Then you can’t be mad at him for not understanding your needs and desires if you aren’t willing to communicate them.

Ugh. Pretend Jeanine was right. But what if he rejected her again? What if he still thought she was too weak, too broken, to give her what she wanted?

Talk. To. Him. It’s his right to not want to pursue a relationship, but if you want to know for sure how he feels, you’re going to need to tell him what you’re thinking. How the spanking made you feel. Why you want it to happen again. He’s not a mind reader, MaryAnn.

With another groan, MaryAnn dropped the pillow to the floor and stared up at the ceiling. The way she saw it, she had two options. One: Do nothing. Just wait for an opportunity to break another rule and see what happened.

If she did that, odds were she’d just end up writing lines again. Which had been no fun at all, and certainly hadn’t given her those same happy, relaxed feelings the spanking had. So, basically, just spend the next… however much longer she had with Dean waiting on pins and needles to see if he’d spank her again.

Option Two: Talk to him. Try and make him understand she wasn’t so broken she couldn’t decide for herself what she did and didn’t want. If she went with the second option, he could reject her again.

Or he could give you everything you never knew you wanted.

With her mind made up, she gathered her courage and rolled off the couch. One way or another, she was going to find out where she stood with Dean Mitchell, today.

* * *

The knockon his office door was far more authoritative than he would have expected. If it hadn’t been for the cameras in the hallway, he might have thought someone had broken in.

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