Page 11 of Dirty Dillon

Hopefully we can keep the body count lower.

Chapter Four

Cressida

Iget to work earlythe next morning. I know, right? Surprised me too.

A very large and usually in charge part of my personality knows that arriving late would get me another round of Stern Dillon and that would be fun and something I might enjoy again. But a voice I don’t usually listen to cautioned me against it. I’m not afraid of Stern Dillon, I’m just not mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with him again yet.

Frankly, I don’t know how to deal with him.

As I sit at my desk, my mind wanders back to the events of last night. Never having been spanked, the surprise was on me that it would feel so good. How he pulled me over his lap, how his hand felt on my bare skin, how the sting of each slap turned into a warm and throbbing pleasure. I can’t believe how turned on I was, how I begged him to make me come.

I don’t usually have orgasms with a partner involved, so having a raging, shuddering climax on his lap was a plot twist to the narrative I’ve been running in my head that I don’t really like sex.

Don’t get me wrong. I like orgasms. But they are usually found in quiet moments alone. Sex has always been about getting or keeping a guy’s interest. Dillon is the first man who’s ever focused solely on my pleasure.

He was hard as granite but did nothing about it. Yet I got to come. Hard.

So yeah, all that was confusing but what I really haven’t come to terms with is my reaction to Dillon’s praise. And until I do, it’s best to not put myself in that head space again. Admiration I’m used to.You’re so pretty, fine. That I can deal with. Praise is something else.

Telling me I did well, that I’m a good girl...that tripped a wire in my brain. His words felt like a hit off one of those drugs that gets you hooked the first time you get high.

Dillon is either very good for me or very, very bad. But I’m not sure I’ll ever get to know which because of my family. The whole beef with my father thing adds another layer of complications.

My relationship with my dad is already at an all-time low. He won’t talk to me about fighting the expulsion, and he hasn’t offered tuition payments anywhere else. If I want to get out of Tempest, and I do, fraternizing with his sworn enemies is stupid.

I just can’t figure out why everyone is so mad at each other. Why does my father hate the Duke brothers so much?

I’m just going to do what needs to be done to get my car fixed and try to forget about the orgasm and the confusing man who gave it to me. It’s better for all of us that way.

Even if he weren’t a Duke, he’s still not the kind of guy I pictured myself with. He’s intense, for one thing. Most of the guys I date swim in the shallows, and that’s my preference as well.

Plus, he’s so burly and big and...he’s just wrong for me. Mechanics with more tattoos than skin are not my type. I’m trying to work my way out of a scandal, not into a bigger one. No matter how he makes me feel.

The office feels even more cluttered than yesterday, stacks of files and papers scattered about haphazardly. It’s exactly how I left it, but it’s hard to think straight in here. There isn’t any reason for this much paper to begin with. There’s a perfectly good working computer on the desk. Why are we not using it more?

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