Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Apart from walking, Uber is my only option.
I call the cheapest ride available, using Jason’s address as my destination, which is still programmed from earlier. The Uber arrives within minutes and after checking the license plate, I take the ride. Fifteen minutes later, I pull up in front of the blue jewel of a house. The crickets chirping in the yard and the gentle rush of wind are music to my ears after the raging party. I’m not surprised that all the windows are dark. It’s nearly midnight and Jason has probably been asleep for hours, right? I’m assuming he works in the morning.
Using the spare key that Jason gave me, I let myself in as quietly as possible, closing the door and locking it without a sound. I tiptoe through the entry hallway—
And draw to a halt at the mouth of the living room.
Jason is sitting on the couch, in front of the crackling fire.
Secretary is playing on the television.
On the screen, Maggie Gyllenhaal is bent over a desk in a pencil skirt and polka dot blouse, getting the bejeezus spanked out of her by James Spader.
It’s my favorite scene. I’ve rewound it a hundred times.
The surprise on her face. The way he watches so closely for her reactions.
She’s being awakened in real time.
I gravitate closer to the television.
Jason must sense my approach because he looks back at me over his shoulder and stands up, his hand clenched tightly around the remote control. The fire rages behind him, outlining his strong, towering body in an orange glow.
“Where is Emma?” he asks.
“Still at the party,” I respond. “She’s with friends.”
Emma’s father nods once, pauses the scene on the television.
For several moments, neither one of us says anything.
“Is that what you want?” he asks me in a low voice. But I don’t get to respond. Maybe I don’t have to, because my restless expression says it all. I envision Jason’s enormous hand lifting in the air and slapping down onto my bare bottom. Heat suffuses every inch of my skin in response. “I can’t give that to you. This…”—he saws a hand between us—“has already gone too far.”
Disappointment lances me through the middle, but I firm my chin. “I know. It’s okay.”
I’m starting to feel like an idiot for making this thirty-six-year-old man, my friend’s father, watch a movie that has portrayed my secret desires so clearly. What did I expect to happen? I should be relieved that he’s turning me down. Just because he’s the only male who has ever excited my body doesn’t change who he is. How forbidden this would be.
“Good night,” I say quickly, hurrying toward the guest room.
Jason’s hand shoots out over the back of the couch and catches my arm before I can make it three steps. His eyes are shut tight, his sides expanding, releasing.
“Just this once,” he rasps.
six
Jason
You’re out of your goddamn mind.
That’s how I feel. Like the usual stalwart nature of the man I’ve aged into has completely deserted me. I’m flat out horny—and the object of my need is this eighteen-year-old college student. My daughter’s roommate.
Shea has made it clear that she wants me. That she wants a spanking.
And damn me to hell, I’ve just agreed to give her one.
“Just once,” she repeats in a whisper. “Yes, sir.”
My dick bobs hungrily in my sweatpants. I’ve had an erection since we were in my bedroom together earlier, finding her a sweatshirt. I should have stroked off when they left for the party, but there’s something about being this turned on that is making me feel…electrified. Alive. Awake for the first time in a long time. It’s a dangerous feeling, because I suspect Shea is the only one capable of giving it to me.
Do I…like being called sir?
Do I like meting out punishment in the form of a spanking?
I have no fucking clue.
But I love the idea of being what this girl needs.
And that means I’m in trouble.
A worry for later, I’ve apparently decided, because I’m drawing her around to my side of the couch. Slowly. Our abundant size difference, along with her innocently excited expression, only makes what I’m about to do seem more sinful.
I sit down on the couch, reaching up to grasp her hips. Turn her to face me.
I draw her into the outstretched V of my thighs.
That alone causes her to breathe faster, her delicate knees to wobble slightly.
“You may take off the sweatshirt now,” I say, my mouth already dry.
This is happening.
One spanking. That’s all I’ll allow myself.
Shea catches her lush bottom lip between her teeth and curls her hands in the hem of my sweatshirt, lifting the gray material up, up, over her hips, belly, tits. Off over her head.
“Leave it on the floor,” I manage in a rumble, because there’s that tight body, shivering with need, all the telltale signs of arousal on full display. Sweet, swollen nipples pushing against the front of her tank top. Goosebumps on her arms. Hips that sway side to side, refusing to stay still. A little wet spot forming on the crotch of her sleep shorts.