Page 8 of Dirty Dillon

Chapter Three

Dillon

The next morning, Cressidaarrives at the garage with her nose in the air and a scowl on her face.

“You’re late,” I inform her, tossing a shop manual onto the counter. “That’ll be your first demerit. Three demerits equal one spanking session. Understand?”

She blinks at me, momentarily stunned, before rallying with a huff. “You can’t be serious.”

I pin her in place with a stern look. “Do I seem like the joking type to you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“No buts,” I interrupt. “You agreed to my terms, and now you’ll abide by them. Is that clear?”

Cressida’s hands curl into fists, her cheeks flaming bright red, but she ducks her head in acquiescence. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. But you don’t need to call me sir. That’s not my kink” I pass her a stack of papers. “These need to be filed.”

She takes them with trembling hands, her lips pressed into a thin line. But she just stands there.

“What?” I ask.

“Whatisyour kink?”

I smile. “You’ll learn. When the time is right.”

I can see the effort it takes for her to bite back another retort, and it makes me want to chuckle. My little brat has no idea what she’s gotten herself into, but she’ll learn.

By the end of the week, she’ll be begging for my touch.

The next lesson is making coffee.

Walking her through the steps, it becomes apparent Cressida has very few life skills. She carefully measures out the coffee grounds and water, her movements hesitant and unsure.

It’s coffee for fuck’s sake. It’s not like she can ruin it.

I lean over her, my breath hot against her ear. “You’re doing well, honey,” I murmur. “You need to have more confidence in yourself.”

She shivers, and I can see the goosebumps rising on her arms. “Sure,” she replies, her voice a whisper.

I can’t resist the urge to trace my finger along her jawline. She leans into my touch, her lips parting in surprise.

“You like that, don’t you?” I ask, my voice low and husky.

Cressida nods, her eyes fluttering closed. “No.”

Fuck.

I take her chin in my hand and make her look at me. “Say it,” I demand.

“Are you going to spank me if I don’t?”

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