Page 50 of Daddy's Mercy

And only the echoes of her nightmares followed her into slumber.

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Nightmare hangovers were even worsethan wine hangovers. Groaning at the ache in her head, MaryAnn forced her eyelids open, squinting at the sunlight streaming into the pretty little bedroom.

Nope. She was not ready to face such a bright, happy day, not with the dregs of that hellscape she’d been trapped in still lingering in the back of her mind. Grabbing the comforter, she yanked it up over her head and willed herself back to sleep.

Unfortunately, her bladder chose that moment to make its needs known, forcing her out of the cocoon of safety that was her bed. And by the time she’d relieved herself, she was too awake to convince herself she could sneak in another hour or two of sleep.

Annoyed by the whole situation, she dressed for the day and made her way downstairs. Dean wasn’t in the kitchen, which was fine by her. She was just as happy with a bowl of cereal as she was pancakes and bacon.

Okay, that was a lie. But she wasn’t quite ready to face Dean yet, so she’d make herself be fine with it.

The universe, it seemed, had other plans. She’d no sooner finished pouring the milk than he walked in, an almost suspiciously casual smile on his face. “Morning, babygirl. You want breakfast? I can whip something up.”

Picking up the box of cereal, she shook it at him. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well…” he trailed off, looking completely unlike his usual self-assured self. “After you eat, we should talk.”

Great. Like she was supposed to eat now, with her stomach all tied in knots from that pronouncement? “About what?”

“Just things. Meet me in the living room when you’re done.”

“Jesus Christ, would you just tell me?” She gave her bowl a hard shove, milk sloshing over the sides and spilling onto the countertop. “You can’t just say shit like that and walk away, Dean. It fucks with my head.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and for a second she wondered if she’d pushed him too far and was about to find herself over his knee with a bar of soap in her mouth. But instead of anger, his expression turned apologetic and he sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I want to talk about last night.”

“What about it?”

Walking around the island, he pulled off a few paper towels and wiped at the mess she’d made before nudging the bowl back in her direction. “You had a nightmare. Do you remember what it was about?”

She wanted to lie. It would have been easier to lie. But faced with his steady patience and seemingly endless well of understanding, she couldn’t bring herself to be anything less than completely honest. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I understand. But I think we should, anyway.”

The weight of what she’d done, of all the people she’d hurt, was so heavy she literally ached from it. “I’ll tell you, but I want you to promise me something.”

“Of course, baby. What is it?”

“After I tell you… I want you to spank me. And not just a little one, either. I mean like with your belt or something. Hard.”

“Will you tell me why?”

“I’ll try. If you promise.”

“I can’t promise that, baby. I can promise to listen and talk things out with you. And if you still feel like you need or want a spanking after that, we can discuss a scene.”

“Not a scene. A punishment.” A part of her knew it was manipulative, but she let the desperation she so keenly felt fill her voice. “Please, Dean.”

“I promise to keep an open mind and do my best to give you what you need.”

Sighing, she pulled the bowl of now-soggy cereal towards her. “I guess that’s probably as good as I’m gonna get, huh?”

“For now, yes.”

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