by Lily White
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to lose our house if we don’t come up with money fast.” My eyes widened to realize what I’d just said. “And no, I won’t let you pay for that either.”
The guilt dissipated just slightly, now more a hazy fog floating around my head than a stone gargoyle perched on my shoulder. It was only a little better.
Fear had traipsed in with wildly swinging arms to take its place, my unblinking gaze locked on Lennon, terrified about what he would say or do next.
Whatever it was, I deserved it.
Rather than exploding as I’d assumed he would do, Lennon nodded his head as if agreeing with himself on some unspoken thought he had no intention of sharing with me.
Dragged along behind him after his hand sought and locked over mine, my feet tripped over themselves to keep up, my gaze darting to the quick reach of his arm as he pulled a thick leather belt from one of the display racks.
Panic was now dancing with my fear, their bodies spinning, jumping and flipping to the lively beat of swing music, not giving much of a damn what it was doing to my empty stomach.
The belt slapped down on a checkout counter, a saleswoman’s lovely green eyes tilting up, the thin line of her lips curving into a generous smile the second she saw the man in front of her. “Cash or charge?”
“Charge,” Lennon answered, “and I’d also like to know how much cash it would take for you to lead my friend and I to a back room where we won’t be disturbed for the next hour.”
What?
No.
He couldn’t do that.
“I’ll see what I can arrange,” she said with a gamine grin.
Apparently, he could.
Belt purchased and bribe money exchanged, we were led back to a conference room at the rear of the store, the smiling saleswoman winking at me before she closed the door behind us and sealed my fate.
“Bend over the table.”
“Can we talk about this?”
“You don’t want to talk to me about this right now, Amelia.” Ripping the plastic tag from the belt buckle, he looped the leather in his hand with such force that the muscles in his forearms jumped. “Bend over the table.”
Judging by the tension in his jaw and the fury rolling behind his eyes, I wasn’t going to be able to sit down for a week after this. “Lennon-“
“Now.”
Panic and fear had stopped dancing by that point and were now leading a marching band straight up my spine.
“Okay,” I whispered, unable to find any strength to speak louder.
On shaking legs, I approached the long wooden table, the comfortable chairs tucked away neatly like a small audience to witness this spanking. Bending over, I flattened my palms against the cool surface of the wood, my forehead falling down over it as well.
“Flip your skirt above your waist and drop your panties.”
Eyes flicking open at the instruction, I knew better than to complain. As I did what I was told, I wondered if there were cameras in the room that would catch what Lennon was doing. I also wondered if he gave a damn.
With my skirt flipped and my panties pooling around my ankles, I returned my hands to the table, silence stretching out sinuously until Lennon’s deep voice broke the tension to fill it. “Say please.”
One tear slipped from my eye, the ridiculous drop of salty water an early reaction to the pain I knew that belt would cause.
I deserved the pain. “Please.”
A lightning crack of leather against skin split the silence in the room, my body bucking forward as fire bloomed across the skin of my right ass cheek. Mouth open on a silent scream, I clenched my eyes shut, unable to hold back the stream of tears bursting from the rims.
The warmth of Lennon’s palm rubbing over the welt was only a minimal comfort. This was his punishment, much like the last time he’d caught me in that alley.
“Say please.”
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod....
“Please.”
The second strike stole my breath entirely, the belt landing on the opposite cheek, both blows far from the center crease. Tears now dotted the table beneath me, a pool of regret pooling from the steady stream dripping from my face. Again, Lennon’s hand swept over the welt, soothing the skin just enough to make the pain bearable.
So low that his voice was rolling thunder in answer of the slap of leather against skin, he demanded, “Say please.”
I sniffled, my thoughts racing and my heart pulsing in my throat. But I deserved this for breaking his rule, for giving in to my brother’s demands and risking my future for enough money to get by for another month.
I deserved it.
“Please.”
The third strike hit the backs of my thighs and across my pussy, my body sinking heavily across the table, my knees buckling from the shock of sensation.
Despite the pain, and despite the horror of being punished in so public an environment, I understood how wet I was, anticipation for Lennon’s touch surging through me.
He must have noticed as well because when his hand moved over my skin to soothe the hurt, his fingers dipped inside me, pumping deep and hard as a moan crawled up my throat.
Behind me, a rustle of clothes caught my attention, the rip of condom wrapper following. Strong hands were on my hips, the head of his cock notching in place. I thought he would thrust inside with one hard push, but instead his voice was a deep growl above my head. “Say please.”
This time, I meant it. Fuck, how I meant it.
“Please.”
Lennon’s cock stretched me in all the right places, my body so full of him that my forehead pressed harder against the table, my feet pushing up on to the toes to match the height of his hips.
This wasn’t a gentle fucking. He’d kept that promise from the first night we were together, each new experience more primal and rough, carnal and dirty - each time forcing me to struggle over Lennon’s demand that I let go of every reservation I had about displaying my body for his satisfied perusal. One week. Just one. And already I was happy to spread my legs or suck his cock in any public place he demanded.
My hips knocked against the table edge with each hard thrust of his body. With strong, steady hands, Lennon pulled my torso up from the table to take possessive hold of my breast with one hand and lock the other one over my throat.
His mouth moved next to my ear, hot heavy breath flowing down my neck. “You’re staying at my house tonight.”
When I attempted to shake my head in refusal, his fingers gripped tighter, just beneath my jaw, preventing me from moving.
“Accept it, Amelia, and don’t argue. You owe me this after breaking my fucking rules and lying to me about it.”
He released me, my body falling forward, my arms reaching to brace the fall as his hands returned to my hips and his thrusts increased their speed, so fucking rough that he was forcing me to that edge, my body primed and ready for the orgasm that he refused to give me.
With a deep snarl he finished, pulling away so suddenly that my mouth fell open on a complaint that I wasn’t done.
“Get dressed.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watched him remove the condom, tie off the end and toss it in a trash can, his jaw a hard line and his eyes refusing to look back at me as he pulled his pants up his legs.
“I wasn’t finished.”
“And you won’t be for the rest of the night. Not until I think you deserve to get off again.”
Lennon’s hand landed on the doorknob, his narrowed gaze finally turning my direction. “I suggest you fix your clothes, Miss Dillon, unless you want to walk through the store with your panties around your ankles.”
Lennon
The expression on Amelia’s face was priceless. I would have taken my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture if I weren’t so angry I couldn’t see straight.
Amelia glared at me before pulling her clothes back into place, and I answered that glare with one of my own, a look that
conveyed every desire I had to continue tanning her ass red for being so stupid.
That fucking bruise on her face was mocking me, daring me to drop her off at my house and hunt down the son of a bitch who put it there.
Before, when Amelia had attempted to paint her brother in a better light, I - for one teensy, tiny, itty bitty single second - had thought I could let everything he’d done in his life go, that I could allow his concern for his sister to ease the hatred I harbored for him inside me.
Now? Now that hatred was a hammer banging at my skull, a thrumming, bloodthirsty pulse just beneath my skin demanding retribution for all the ways he’d wronged me.
Amelia wasn’t returning home again except to collect her things and move to my house for the time being. At least until I could figure out a way to help her before she left to attend Hastings.
I wouldn’t give Ben another opportunity to destroy her chances at a future in music.
Silently, she followed behind me, the belt abandoned in the conference room because I had no need of it beyond a convenient tool to punish her when my irritation was at its peak.
Back at my place, I had other ways to remedy her disastrous decisions and poor choices in behavior, most of which would paint red across her cheeks for just how imaginative I could be would pushed to my limit.
But for now, she needed a dress, and I wasn’t leaving this place without one.
Leading Amelia to what I assumed was the gown department, I approached a brunette saleswoman, plastered on my best smile, and ignored the quick, concerned glances the woman took at the bruise marring Amelia’s face.
“I’m hoping you can help me. My -“
Well, damn. What was she exactly? It had never been my intention to be exclusive, especially while knowing we’d part ways as soon as the summer ended. And for some irritating reason, that eventuality drove spikes down my spine, my fingers curling into my palms because the thought of saying goodbye to Amelia was an aggravation I didn’t want or need.
“-friend needs some assistance selecting a dress to wear to the symphony.”
“Of course,” the saleswoman answered, shrewd brown eyes flicking between the two of us, errant strands of her prim hairstyle fluttering at the sides of her head.
Dressed in a stylish, dark skirt suit with a pink blouse and pearl embellishments, she frowned to take a better look at the bruise, deep lines webbing around her mouth when accusation toward me rolled behind her eyes.
I cocked a brow, daring her to attempt to place the blame on me. Sure, I liked to spank women with the intent of fucking them after doing so, but never had I lifted a hand to one in anger.
Besides, if she thought the bruise was bad, I was curious what her reaction would be when she saw the red stripes across Amelia’s ass that I’d just put there with a belt.
Assuming they’d have a lot of fun in the dressing room dancing around that particular conversation, I found a small waiting area reserved for bleary-eyed husbands hugging their wives’ purses to their chests while silently pleading with the gods to end their shopping nightmare.
A half hour passed before I heard Amelia screech from the interior of the dressing room. “Three thousand dollars?”
Three husbands glanced my direction, empathy written across their furrowed brows and shadowed expressions. Shaking my head, I pushed up from my seat, marched past hanger racks and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe of the dressing room.
The instant I caught sight of Amelia in a champagne colored evening gown, the neckline dipping down to reveal her generous cleavage while the barely there sleeves sat just off the shoulders, I thought three thousand was a fair price to ask.
Amelia, with her perfect curves highlighted in shimmering silk, was flawless (except for that damn bruise) and stunning.
I had to clear my throat to talk. “Problem?”
She spun my direction, her lips a firm line of refusal. “You’re not spending three thousand dollars on this dress. I won’t let you.”
She was cute when she assumed she could tell me what to do.
“I’m not under the impression that you can stop me. So rather than giving this lovely saleswoman a hard time about the price, shouldn’t you be thanking her instead for finding the dress that apparently was made with you in mind?”
At my words, the sour-expressioned saleswoman was suddenly on Team Lennon, her earlier accusatory eyes now widening with approval. With a succinct nod of her head, she reached to straighten the waterfall of material over Amelia’s hips.
“He’s right, you know? This dress was meant for you.”
“Lennon, the price-“
Wasn’t her problem. It was mine.
“Go ahead and give the nice lady the dress, Amelia, and I’ll meet you at the checkout counter.”
By the time Amelia reached the register, she was practically vibrating with anger. Good. I hoped she was learning what it felt like to have a person do whatever the hell they wanted without concern for how it affects her.
We were now cruising along in the same damn boat, the only difference being my actions were meant for her benefit while she was running as fast as she could toward a jail cell without giving a damn what it would do to me.
The last purchase for the day was made quickly, the plastic cover for the dress fluttering over my shoulder as I led Amelia back to the car, stowed both her and the dress away, and climbed in to take her home to gather her things.
“Where are we off to now? I wasn’t kidding when I said no car, Lennon.”
My lips twitched at the corners. “You say that as if you could stop me.”
“Lennon-“
“I’m not taking you to buy a car,” I barked, cutting off whatever annoying complaint she wanted to toss at me. “I’m taking you home to grab as many clothes and other things you’ll need to make it to the end of the summer.”
“What? No. Why?”
Teeth clenched, I swung a left onto the highway and merged into rush hour traffic. Cars were lined up bumper to bumper, further aggravating me. “I’ve already told you why. Think back to when I last had my cock shoved in your body and you might remember.”
“I can’t stay with you.”
We weren’t moving anytime soon, so I had all the time in the world to turn and stare at her like the spoiled brat that she was. “You can. And you will.”
“But Ben-“
“Don’t,” I warned, my voice a low growl of disapproval. “Don’t even mention your brother’s name around me. You have a fucking shiner at the moment that pisses me off every time I fucking look at it, and I flat out refuse to allow him one more chance to fuck things up for you with Hastings.”
Tears shimmered down Amelia’s cheeks. “I can’t leave my dad.”
“I’ll take you to see him every day after class.”
“We’ll get caught and the Hastings scholarship will be gone anyway.”
“No, Amelia, we won’t. It’s safer for us to work one on one at my house because I can’t seem to keep my dick from making an appearance whenever we’re alone in the classroom. We might as well be somewhere we don’t have to worry about Julia, your brother, or a janitor walking in to catch us.”
Traffic inched forward, a constant stop and go that had my fingers blanching white over the wheel. “Tell me where you live.”
Amelia was quiet for several minutes and I allowed her that time to adjust to the simple truth that from now on, she was on lockdown until that scholarship was in her pretty little hand.
Shoulders withering with defeat, she said, “You can’t come inside with me.”
I scoffed. “Why? Because Ben might try to talk me into leading some clueless fuck into an alley for him? I hope he realizes I don’t have the tits and ass to make that happen.”
A shake of her head. “No. Ben’s at work.” Exhaling a deep breath, she admitted, “I don’t want you seeing my father. He has more bad days than good lately and...it’s embarrassing.”
Her confession calmed me
down, but not by much. “He can’t help the way he behaves, Amelia. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”
I didn’t know much about Alzheimer’s, but from what I’d heard, the late stages could be so severe, placement in a facility was the best thing for patients and their families.
“You’ve taken on too much,” I told her, my voice soft despite the fury still pumping through my veins.
“Oh, yeah?” She laughed, the sound anything but funny. “Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do?”
“You could ask for help.”
Silence was all she gave me in return. Forty-five minutes of it to be exact, the tension building in the car so thick I could feel it pressing against my skin, suffocating me beneath its unbearable weight.
Finally reaching our exit, I asked, “Where do you live?”
“Fifth Street,” she admitted on a whisper.
My stomach turned to drive into the heart of rundown Sheldon again. In silence, we drove past houses in desperate need of repair and yards that hadn’t seen a mower in weeks. Fifth Street was just around the corner from where my childhood home stood condemned, bright orange warning signs taped to the windows and front doors.
“This next house on your right.”
Pulling into the driveway of a small, white clapboard house, I threw the car in park, killed the engine and opened my door. Her hand locked over my wrist immediately.
“What are you doing?”
“Going inside with you.”
“But I already told you-“
Leaning across the center console, I gripped her jaw in my hand and shut her up with a deep kiss. At first, she fought to pull away, but eventually her tongue gave in to dance along mine, her body relaxing as the fight bled out of her.
Our mouths pulled apart, but not so far that I couldn’t feel her breath against my face. “I want to see for myself how bad it is.”
Weakly, she nodded, her expression twisted with shame she shouldn’t have felt for her situation. I hated that she thought it necessary to hide the truth of her life from me. I’d been here once myself, had grown up in it without the excuse that one of my parents was dead and the other one sick.