Vince glared down at Rowan, and it occurred to her that leaving the house might have been a mistake, on top of the bigger one she had made earlier. She tried again to pull away and he tightened his grip. His mouth curled into a feral sneer. “I think we’ll have that discussion now.”
He opened the door and pulled Rowan inside. She would pay for this, and she would pay dearly. Vincent Girardi did not suffer fools, and he found that he suffered foolish women even less. The door banged shut under his foot, and after setting his gun down on the side table, he dragged her struggling form into the living room. He did not think he’d met a stupider woman, and if her stupidity did not get her shapely ass killed, he’d gladly do the job. He sat on the arm of the couch and hauled her over his knee.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.
“Let’s test your theory.” He swung his hand back and landed hard over her tightly-encased backside. “Any more thoughts?”
“I am my own woman,” she screeched. “I can do what I want!”
“Oh, really. Well, so can I.” He pulled his hand back and swatted her again.
“Oh! I’m not going to stand for this, Vincent!”
“You won’t be sitting for it, either. Maybe you can levitate.” He swung again, delivering another stinging smack.
Rowan grunted and attempted to push up off his lap. He gripped her around the waist and placed her right back into position. She fought, kicked, and squirmed, grasping for escape by any means necessary, all to no avail. She was well and truly caught.
“You can’t do this to me!” she howled.
As mad as Vince was, that particular statement amused him. “I can’t, huh? Holler when the reality of the situation has reached your pea-sized brain.” And with that, he wound up and brought his hand down in a staccato rhythm that shut her up quick.
Rowan soon found her voice and let out a scream and a string of expletives that was quite impressive. She kicked and threw elbows; she tried to push herself up and off his lap; she tried to twist out of his grip; she clawed at him in an attempt to tear hunks of flesh from any exposed areas she could grab onto. He was having none of it. He took a deep breath, grabbed her firmly around the waist, pulled her against his body, and balanced her over his left knee. The soft, black material of her pants stretched tight across her backside, leaving nothing to the imagination. Every curve, every line, every hill and dale was brought to the surface. It pleased him no end to take full advantage of what was turning out to be a very clear, and not unappealing, target.
He pressed his forearm into her back and settled into a steady rhythm, bringing his hand down hard and fast. When her attempts to tear him apart failed, she threw a hand back for protection. Without breaking stride, he tucked her hand against her hip and continued his assault on her rear end. She screeched and grunted with every slap, holding back the good tribal yell and plaintive cry he knew she harbored just below the surface. She was a proud woman. Right now she was a proud woman over a man’s knee, getting her ass spanked. It was her own fault, he reasoned, as he swatted the underside of each butt cheek, jerking her forward against his knee with each application. She was not the first woman to go over his knee, but this was the first spanking he’d ever delivered that was not a prelude to sex.
She threw her legs up to block his assault. He swung a leg over hers, and continued, concentrating his efforts on searing her backside, while staring at the fetching curves and the tattoo at the middle of her back. An uncontrollable urge to take her pants down and continue this on her bare ass was chucked in favor of a first-time-spanking reprieve. The shock of this was enough, for now.
“Oh, you bastard,” she hissed, wincing with each whack of his oak-like hand.
“Yeah, Ro. That’s me.” He smacked his hand down hard. “A real hard-ass bastard.”
Rowan could not believe this was happening, yet with each connection of his huge hand, reality bit down – hard. Her butt and legs had been cold, so the first connection of his hand sent shards of stinging pain through her. The sting got no better as he continued to warm her bottom for her. She kept her mouth shut and held her breath through the duration of this wild ride, which was nothing short of barbaric. She’d forgotten how much a spanking hurt, since it had been many a year since she’d experienced this brand of humiliation. She did not know if the uncontrollable urge she had to kill him and feed him his man parts was due to the sheer pain of his ministrations, or flat-out rage at his high-handed, macho, arrogant, misogynistic, balls-out nerve. She was determined to remain stoic, not tip her hand that what he was doing was upsetting her in any way. She almost laughed at the idiocy of that line of thinking. She’d done stupidity to death in the span of an hour. Still and all, the Neanderthal was hurting her, and she’d had about enough. When she believed she’d kept silent long enough and was about to scream blue murder, he stopped and pulled her to her feet. He stood, too, slammed his hands on his hips, and glared at her, his nostrils flaring like a thoroughbred after his best race.
“Since this is what you asked for, was it everything you hoped?”
“You sonofabitch,” she growled, furiously rubbing her hind parts.
“C’mon, Ro. That the best you got?”
“I didn’t sign up for this.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Of course you didn’t. You thought this was going to be a nice little holiday by the lake, where Princess Rowan reigns supreme, cock-teases the smitten cop, and takes a little spin around the lake while a fucking killer is running loose. You’re a spoiled, pampered brat, Delaney. Grow the hell up.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. What could she say, really? A knock at the door forced him to avert his steely glare. “Don’t move. We’re not done here.” He went to the door, grabbing his gun on the way. He opened it, and Frank crossed the threshold. He looked at Vince, and glanced at Rowan. She yanked her hands off her inflamed buns, and brought them front and center. Frank rewarded her with a sympathetic nod.
Fantastic.
Vince turned his attention to Frank, and when he did, Rowan crossed the room and disappeared down the hall. She slammed the door of her room and put her face in her hands. She was stunned. He had said the words, threatened her once seriously, the again playfully, then again seriously in his bedroom that morning. Each time the word spank passed his lips her body became engulfed in tingles. Why, she could not say. But this…this was…She didn’t know. She had made a huge mistake this morning, and she had made a huge one just now. And he had spanked her.
This was a first.
Rowan walked into the bathroom and eased her pants down. Her butt was dark pink on both sides. “Dammit to hell,” she hissed. A string of emotions passed through her: pain, embarrassment, disappointment, contrition, lust. All of it made sense. None of it did. Things had gone so wrong, so fast. There was something between them; she knew it, felt it in her bones, but that all seemed to change after her little miscalculation this morning. She had behaved foolishly, and he had exacted comparable retribution – at least in his mind. Now what would she do?
Just Right!
