Carter gives him a nod. “Of course.” He gives me a look, then adds, “Take your time.”
Sasha elbows Carter in the ribs as Bronson drags me off into the shadows.
My tummy turns. My muscles tighten. A light sweat breaks out over my brow.
I’ve forgotten who I’m dealing with.
I’m in big trouble.
“Bronson, I just—”
“Stop speaking. You’ve said your piece. In fact, you’ve been saying your piece for six weeks. It’s time I’ve said mine.” His grip tightens, his voice eerily calm. “With you over my lap.”
Oh, dear.
He’s going to spank me. While all our guests wait for the happy couple to return. Wondering where we’ve gone.
A sick feeling grows in the pit of my stomach.
The Bachmans will know exactly what is happening. They will know I am being turned over my fiancé’s knee, having my bottom bared, and being given a good old-fashioned spanking.
We’ve reached the back of the building.
I gulp. Tears prick at my eyes. I grab his arm with my hand. “Bronson. Please, don’t. I’ll stop. I’ll be good. I promise.”
His dark eyes focus on mine. There’s a wavering there.
I jump on my opportunity. Batting my eyes, I croon, “I’ll be as sweet as pie. Pleasant as punch. Please, let’s just go back out there—”
“You aren’t sorry at all. You’re just embarrassed that your guests know you are back here, having your naughty bottom spanked like a bad little girl. Aren’t you? Had to be taken away from dinner for being sassy, and now, you’re being punished. And they all know it.”
My cheeks burn like fire. “I said I was sorry.”
He looks me over. “You aren’t. But you will be.”
He pulls me into a coat closet he finds tucked by the back wall. Lucky for him, there just happens to be a little padded bench in the center of it. He sits, tugging me right over his lap.
One of my hands goes to the carpeted floor, holding my weight. I throw my other arm behind me and wave it around, attempting to protect my backside. My legs kick behind me. “No!”
He’s grabbing my wrist, pinning it to the small of my back with his strong hand. “Yes!”
His palm comes down with a loud crack. Pain explodes over my ass as I cry out. His hand comes down again, starting a matching fire on the other cheek. “How dare you speak so disrespectfully to me.”
I’m still mad about the dress. And I’m furious about the spanking I’m being subjected to. It’s not fair. I yell, “You spilled butter on me! And now, you—you... Neanderthal, you are—”
My words are cut short. Suddenly, there is a raining down of sharp, fast spanks. One after the other, they fly down, assaulting my bottom. It hurts terribly. I’m shocked at how fast the pain is spreading across my ass. My feelings are hurt by how hard he’s spanking me. By the fact that he’s spanking me at all—on the night of our rehearsal dinner! I’m humiliated.
Tears burn in my eyes as I gasp for breath.
His words punctuate each slap. “Don’t. You. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Again.”
My hips tear right and left, trying to evade the spanks. I’m crying out, Ow! as each punishing slap lands. My entire bottom is on fire. I kick my legs, screaming, no longer caring who hears me. Not that it matters if the servers hear my cries—or the torturous spanks. No one will dare to interrupt a Bachman punishing his woman.
He’d never spanked me like this before. I suddenly realize I’ve crossed a very hard line of his. He’s not a man to be disrespected. “I’m sorry! Please, stop!” I wail.
“I’ve only just begun.”
I shut my eyes tight as my dress is pushed up around my hips. I wear nothing but a G-string beneath. His fingertip pokes at my bottom, searching. It hooks into the string between my ass cheeks. He pulls it back, letting it go with a stinging snap.
It’s mortifying.
And it makes my pussy gush through the thin satin crotch of my barely there panties.
He gives my bare, already sore ass a hearty slap. My smacked cheeks jiggle. My face burns. My eyes water.
My pussy begins to throb.
Why must his spankings always have this effect on me?
It’s embarrassing, shameful.
Carnal.
My body responding with strong desire from his treating me in such a childish way.
As if reading my thoughts, his lecture continues.
“You were acting childish, so I’m treating you as I would a naughty little girl. One who’s behaving badly in a restaurant. Her loving father having to take her off to the bathroom to spank her bottom so she’ll be a good little girl again.”
A little girl.
A daddy who cares enough to make her behave.
Pain stings in my chest. Water builds up behind my eyes. I feel my lip tremble. I don’t know if I’m talking to him or to myself when the anguished words tumble from my mouth. I wail, “That’s the problem. I never really had a dad. And now... and now... I—I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle!”
Tears burst from my eyes. Giant, heaving sobs rack my body.
It takes him only a split second to gather me into his strong arms. My sore, bare ass rests on his lap. I lay my head against his broad chest, the tears falling like rain on my spoiled dress. His hands stroke my hair, my back. He shushes me. He kisses my forehead.
“There, there. So we’ve found the source of the problem. The one that’s really gotten you all riled up and acting difficult. Sometimes it takes a good spanking to get to the bottom of things.”
“Don’t j-joke at a time like this. It’s no time for puns,” I cry.
“I wasn’t. I’m afraid I’m not clever enough for puns.” He kisses the tears from my cheeks.
My crying begins to subside. It feels so good to be sitting on his lap, his arms around me. I feel small, safe. Sniffling, I wipe at my eyes, my nose. “I guess it’s been bothering me all along. I just didn’t realize it. I felt less than—a girl without a father to walk her down the aisle—so I’ve been trying to make up for it by having everything else be... perfect. Sorry I’ve been so dreadful.”
“You’re never less than. To me, you’re everything. And I would be honored to walk you down the aisle.”
I peek up at his face. He’s serious. I smile at the unconventional nature of his idea.
He says, “Why not? I want to be your everything. Your father, your husband, your lover, your friend. The man that you tell your deepest fears to. That you rely on when things get hard. I want to be the only man you need.”
“You already are all those things,” I sniff. I play with the lapel of his suit jacket.
He pats the top of my exposed thigh. “Then it’s settled. Now we just have one more little matter to attend to.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
His fingers slip beneath my rumpled dress, pressing against my wet panties. I squirm on his lap, my bare ass throbbing. My pussy aching.
His words whisper against my ear. “I’m not finished punishing you for your naughty behavior. Though you had a good reason to be upset, you misdirected your anger.” A heat floods through me.
“But... you’ve already spanked me,” I gasp.
His fingers slip beneath the crotch of my panties. I hold my breath. His finger slips inside of me. The walls of my pussy clench around him. My eyes close and I let out a moan.
His mouth is by my ear. His breath is hot against my skin. “I will take you here.” His finger slips from my pussy, reaches further. He presses against my tight bud.
“No,” I whisper.
“Yes. Now.” It is a command.
My already wet pussy gushes between my thighs. His finger disappears. He grabs my hips, standing me up before him. He remains seated on the bench. With his gaze locked on mine, he tugs down the tiny G-string. It drops to the floor.
He pushes my dress up over my hips. His hungry gaze takes in the sight of my pussy’s ba
re lips. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as he buries his mouth between my thighs. His tongue licks and swirls my throbbing clit. My fingers clench in his hair.
It’s heaven. I’m so turned on from the spanking, his words, his finger... entering me. Tingles dance across my slippery folds. My pussy clenches, my clit swelling and throbbing beneath his tongue. I feel the beginnings of a climax. “I’m—I’m going to come.”
His mouth leaves me. “No, you’re not.”
“Wh-what?” I gasp.
His hands grab my burning ass, reminding me of the spanking. “You’re being punished. You won’t be coming. Not yet.”
“But...”
His voice is wicked when he speaks. “You can come. While I’m fucking you in the ass.”
A white-hot heat covers my face. My hands feel numb. My tummy flips and flops and drops into my shoes. “You can’t be serious.”
But he is.
His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of my hips. He turns me around, bending me over the black leather bench next to him. My knees bury into the carpet. My torso hangs down over the bench. My hands press into the floor, balancing my weight.
He leaves me, kneeling behind me. He pushes my dress as far up my back as it will go. His hands go to my ass cheeks, pulling them apart. I suck in air between my teeth at the burning pain—he’s pulled too far. And he knows it.
His words are a warning. “Don’t move.”
I fear I will climax right then. The cool air kisses my just-licked pussy. The burning, his hands on my ass. I long to press my thighs together and squeeze. To find some kind of pressure, relief.
I choose to obey.
His hands leave me. I hear the unbuckling of his belt. The removal of his suit pants.
I wait.
His hands return, wrapping around my hips. His cock presses against the entrance of my pussy. He plunges within. The tightness, the pressure.
Oh, delight! I lean my head back, not caring as I let out a guttural groan of pleasure. It feels so good to finally have his rock-hard shaft inside of me. I rock back, pressing my ass against him. Taking the full length of his cock into my pussy. My walls clench around him.
I feel full, complete.
He gives another thrust. I’m going to come.
Suddenly, his cock is gone. Slipping from within me. Leaving me wanting, begging, aching.
I want to cry.
My pussy wants to cry.
I hang my head. I lie limp over the bench. Defeated.
But he has not forgotten me. He’s only changing venues.
The head of his cock presses against my tight entrance. I want to protest. But I’m desperate for penetration. Stimulation of any kind. Despite my desire, my unwilling muscles try to lock him out. A swift swat to the rear and his one-word command, relax, has me unclenching my buttocks.
He pushes. The head of his cock presses past my puckering hole, slipping inside of me. I gasp in surprise, shocked, overwhelmed by the strange new sensation.
There’s a stretching, burning.
Pain.
Slowly, the pain becomes pleasure. A warm, relaxed feeling takes over. I press my hips toward him. To accept him further. More of him enters me. I give a sigh.
The feeling is now much like when his fingers or cock find my G-spot. Only more intense. My core winds tighter as he presses harder. As he enters further, the stretching and burning return. Then the pleasure. My ass has accepted almost all of his cock.
“Good, good girl. How does that feel?”
“Amazing,” I shyly admit.
My honesty earns me a chuckle and a pat on the ass. “That’s my girl.”
His fingers reach around my thigh, searching for my clit. I scoot back, giving him easier access. As I move back toward him, his cock goes further into my ass.
I moan with pleasure as his fingertips find my swollen clit. Pressing. Rubbing.
His cock begins to move back and forth, back and forth inside of my ass. His hand is playing with my pussy.
I feel feverish. I’m not sure my knees and hands can hold me as my limbs grow weak. I murmur, “Yes, yes,” as my mind leaves my body. No thoughts, no worries, no fear. Just a delicious melting sensation of pleasure as I ride the edge of the wave of orgasm. My ass is raw, the cheeks of my bottom sore. My clit is bruised from his fingers. And I love it. Somehow it all added up and equals out to be what is becoming the most intense orgasm of my life.
Then, his hand finds my hair, gathering it behind my neck. He pulls hard, bringing my head back toward him.
It’s too much.
The guttural cry comes from deep within my belly. I moan. I shout his name. My core tightens, twists, then explodes. His cock is filling me. He gives another tug of my hair, another thrust of his cock, another slap on my aching ass. Everything within me pulses and throbs as I come again and again. My mouth gapes, my jaw slack. My body shudders and trembles.
He gives a carnal groan of his own. He whispers Paige, my love. His hands leave my hair, find my hips, his fingertips dig in so hard I will find bruises there on my wedding day. I feel his hot seed filling me. It spills from my bottom, running down my thigh.
Marking me punished.
Marking me as his.
I lie over the bench, unable to move.
I feel a cloth running up my leg, cleaning me.
“Good thing I’ve always carried handkerchiefs. I’ve wondered why my tailor insisted I have one in my suit jacket—now I know. Very handy.”
My dress is pulled down and smoothed into place.
His hand grabs mine, pulling my limp, unwilling body to my feet.
He gathers me into his chest, kissing the top of my head.
I’m overwhelmed by so many emotions. Contentment, satisfaction, love.
Submissiveness.
And... embarrassment.
My voice is tiny. “How on Earth can I go back in there?”
He looks over me. His eyes are caring. “Would it help you to know that everyone from your family will be thinking, My God, I haven’t had food like this in years, and everyone from my family will be thinking, Poor girl, been there, done that, welcome to the Bachmans?” He smiles.
I give a sniffle. It’s true. All the people from home would only be focused on the food; my bridesmaids, save for two, will be stuffing rolls in their purses for later.
And the Bachmans... well, I don’t really know them yet. But I trust the women have all been in my position before.
Oh, well, such is life.
And I’ve chosen this life. Time to start living it.
Hand in hand, we walk back out to the dining room. Amazingly, I feel a million times better. More like myself. The chastisement has placed me in a much healthier mind frame. The painful spanking cleared my head and mended my attitude.
And the sex.
Let’s just say my ass has been fully punished. And it was the best medicine.
I wince when I sit down in the chair Bronson pulls out for me.
Sasha gives me a knowing glance. Mary pats my hand. She leans over, whispering in my ear, “We’ve all been there, darling. Welcome to the family. Try the pasta. It’s delicious.”
No one else pays me much mind. They are all too busy eating. Drinking. Laughing. The dinner continues. There are many, many champagne toasts, all made by the Bachman men. I try to keep up with their names, but there are too many. Carter, John, Patrick, Elliot, Ian, Thomas, Rockland... the list goes on.
The men are all very different. But all have one clear characteristic in common.
Their demeanors.
They have impeccable manners. They stand with confidence. Speak with elegance. They’re charming.
And they’re dominant.
And loving. Each one looks adoringly at his woman. They’re attentive. They lean in, listening as their partner speaks. Place gentle kisses on their cheeks, hands, lips.
The Bachman Beauties are the luckiest women on Earth, and by this time tomorrow, I will officially be one. I’
ve gone through the rigorous training, security clearance, swearing in. I finally had my own fingerprint access to the gates. All I have left to do is show up for the wedding.
Chapter Ten
Bronson
It’s ten minutes till the ceremony.
And we still haven’t found Paige.
I run my hands through my hair. “I knew I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. I should have demanded that she stay with me last night. Screw her old-fashioned notions—I could have kept her safe!”
Carter places his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her, Bron. I swear on my life, we will.”
Thank God I have Carter with me. If he weren’t here to calm me, I’d go insane.
“Why the hell did they wait so long to tell me?” I demand.
Carter remains calm. “I told you—they thought Paige was just catching her breath, maybe grabbing a few moments alone before all the craziness began today. By the time Jane and Alice realized she hadn’t even slept in her bed, it was an hour before the ceremony. Paige told them she was going to sleep in and she wouldn’t need much time to get ready. They called as soon as—”
“I don’t care what Paige said. The second they stepped into her room and couldn’t find her, I should have been their first call.” I’d had a sick feeling in my stomach since I’d heard the news. Now, it overwhelms me.
Where the hell is Paige?
My precious, precious Paige.
My mind wanders. Horrific images flash in my mind’s eye. Paige hurt. Paige scared.
Paige dead.
You don’t live a life of crime without suffering a heavy, daily dread of something happening to someone you love.
Wouldn’t that just be the way? Payback for my sins.
“Take me, don’t take her,” I mutter to myself, like a prayer.
“What’s that?” Carter asks.
“Nothing.” My anger is melting into despair. The sick feeling in my stomach is replaced with a deep, deep sinking. My head feels fuzzy; my usually sharp senses are muddy.
I have to get myself together.
Paige needs me.
I know this; I have to find her.
“I’m just going to step outside and catch my breath,” I tell Carter.
Bronson: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Page 14