Love Hurts

by Dinah McLeod

  I cleared my throat to hide a chuckle. “I was actually wondering the same thing about you.”

  Her eyes widened slightly and her fork stopped in mid-air on its way to her mouth. “Me? Why would you think that?”

  This time I didn’t hold back the laughter. “Who are you trying to kid? You were named CEO of a Fortune 500 company that you built from the ground-up yourself. Excuse me, the youngest CEO and the only woman of a Fortune 500 at that time.”

  “You googled me?” she asked, her voice an awe-struck squeak.

  “Guilty. After we met, I thought… I thought I’d like to know who I was spanking.”

  She cut her eyes to the side and giggled. “Fair enough. But all that stuff, what people think they know about me… a lot of it is just show.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And what part is that?”

  She set her fork down with a clang, squaring her shoulders as she looked at me. “What I mean is, I had to grow up pretty quickly and get thicker skin. Being a woman, not to mention Puerto Rican…”

  “Right,” I nodded. “I get it. So, that’s why you feel the need to be such a hard ass?”

  She grimaced. “You don’t mince words, do you? Please, don’t try to spare my feelings.”

  “Ah, I thought you just said you had a thick skin.”

  She shook her head at me, giggling. I loved to hear her laugh—it was so light and musical. “Touché.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘touché, Sir’?” I teased. Her lips parted the second the words left my mouth, but I shook my head at her. “I was kidding. Go ahead, eat up. We still have things to discuss.”

  Karen looked down at her plate and some of the laughter left her face. I had to admit, I was sorry to see it go.

  We didn’t say much after that, with the exception of the occasional “pass the salt, please” or when she complimented me on the meal—a lie if I ever heard one, but I was going to let this one slide. When we were finished, she offered to carry the dishes to the sink. I suspected she was trying to buy time, but to be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it either, so I nodded my permission.

  When she was done with that, she began wiping down my counter and I decided it was probably best to get it over with. I walked behind the kitchen counter and put my hand on her shoulder. She stilled at my touch and I led her out of the kitchen without a word. I led her to the plush, comfy brown sofa and let go of her hand. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  When I walked back into the living room I could tell that she’d been watching for me: She sat up a little straighter, her eyes flying first to my face, then to the slim, clear bottle in my hand in record time.

  “What is that?” she asked timidly.

  “It’s lubricant.”

  “What’s it, um, what’s it for?”

  I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before I said, “It would be easier if I just showed you. Get back over my lap.” I sat down beside her and had barely patted my leg before she lay across my knees. “Do you know why we’re doing this again?”

  “Because I yelled at you?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me, little girl?”

  “Because I yelled at you, Sir,” she replied in a very subdued tone.

  “Good girl. When you’re upset or angry, I need you to come to me and tell me. Then we can talk about it like adults. I am not going to tolerate tantrums and name-calling, is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I began massaging her pretty little ass, kneading it with my fingers. She let out a whimper and turned her head to stare at me with translucent eyes. Still, I kept on with what I was doing until she turned back around and steadied herself on my lap. Then I flipped up the skirt of her dress. To both my surprise and delight, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I smacked each of her bare cheeks soundly, making her jump on my lap.

  “Oh!” she protested. “What was that for?”

  “Watch your tone, Karen. That is exactly why you’re in this mess to begin with.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  Maybe she was, I mused as I ran my hand over her blushing cheeks. “You might scare the living hell out of the three million guys that work at your company—I don’t care if you make lawyers piss their pants every time you come into a room. When you’re talking to me, you will do it with respect.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she agreed in a whisper. “I understand.”

  “Good. Now, I want the truth.” I patted her quivering bottom. “Are you trying to push this issue with me again?”

  “What? Oh, you mean…” Even though she was facedown over my lap, I could hear the embarrassment in her voice. “Actually, I can’t find my panties.”

  I resisted the urge to burst into laughter, but just barely. “All right, I’m sure I can rustle something up,” I told her, thinking how adorable she’d look in a pair of my boxers. The mental image made my cock stir and the more I thought about it, the more I realized “adorable” wasn’t the right word at all, not if my stiff erection was anything to go by.

  “Are you going to spank me?” she asked in a timid, little-girl voice.

  “Afraid so, honey.” With that, I began bouncing my hand from one cheek to the other with brisk, hard smacks. It wasn’t long before I heard her soft, mewling cries. The urge to comfort her was so strong that I knew I had to get this over with as quickly as possible. So I stepped it up, spacing the spanks out but making each one count.

  “Ow!” She cried out after a particularly hard smack. “Brandon, please! I’m sorry.”

  “That’s ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’” I told her, delivering another hearty wallop to her sit-spot.

  “I am!” she wailed. “I’m sorry! Sir!”

  Steeling myself against her pleas, I continued to spank her until she finally stilled over my knees. Even then I knew we weren’t quite there yet, and I peppered her reddening behind with quick, sharp smacks.

  “Please,” she sniffled. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

  Those words would warm any man’s heart and mine was no exception. Still, I took my time evening out the rosy hue of her bottom. By the time I’d spanked her to my satisfaction, she was crying softly over my lap. “Are you going to come to me before you fly off the handle next time?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, her voice clogged with tears.

  I gave her three mild taps to her sit-spot, but she still flew forward on my lap as though I’d burned her. “Are you going to treat me and everyone you meet with respect?”

  She hesitated on that one, and her “Yes, Sir,” was reluctant, so I began spanking with renewed vigor until her cries were mixed with sobs.

  “Again,” I ordered.

  “Yes, Sir,” she wailed.

  “What? What will you do, Karen?”

  “T-treat every-one with re-respect,” she managed.

  “No more tantrums?”

  “No more tantrums, Sir,” she agreed readily.

  Still, I added another sound smack to each cheek for good measure. “I want to be sure you’ve heard me on this, Karen. I want to be sure you understand how serious I am.”

  “I understand, Sir, I swear. Please—please don’t spank me anymore!” she begged.

  “I’m not going to spank you,” I replied, reaching for the bottle I’d placed beside me. I popped the top and squirted a little of the clear liquid on to my finger and I took my time slowly rubbing it on to her puckered anus. "Relax," I said, my voice soothing.

  “What are you doing?” she whimpered.

  “I’m going to help you learn to listen.” I added some more lubricant and continued to massage her backdoor until she loosened up a bit. Then I probed gently, pushing my finger in a bit before I pulled it out. With her head down, Karen moaned and I paused, waiting for her to say the words that would tell me to stop. When she didn’t, I continued, entering her tight hole with my finger and pulling out again.

  My eager cock strained against my jeans and I silently hoped she ha
dn’t noticed. A futile hope, no doubt; I didn’t believe I’d ever had a more pulsing, painful hard-on. “I can’t have you throwing tantrums and not listening to me, understand?”

  “I understand, Sir.”

  “From now on, when I need to get your attention this is how I’m going to get it.”

  Her only protest came in the form of a long moan as I continued to finger her.

  “So I suggest you learn to control that temper.” I toyed with her for a minute longer, moving my finger in and out and enjoying it immensely as she squirmed on my lap. I didn’t like using anal for punishment—I much preferred to use it for pleasure—but I found it helped women to focus. Karen didn’t seem to be the exception to the rule, either.

  When I removed my finger and began rubbing her red, hot cheeks, I felt her relax over my lap.

  “Are you done? Sir?”

  I chuckled. “Yes, for now. That was just a taste, Karen. I don’t think you want to experience the real thing, do you?”

  “No, Sir,” she shuddered.

  “Good. Don’t give me any reason to, okay?” At her fervent nod, I helped her sit up. She winced when her butt landed on my thigh and I couldn’t hide my grin. Every man appreciates a job well done.

  “Do you have any more wine, Sir?”

  “Sure,” I agreed, moving her gently off my lap. “Be right back.”

  When I came back and handed it to her, she looked up at me with a pout. “Is that it?” she asked, eyeing the half-full glass.

  “For you, yes. You’ve already had three glasses; I think it’s time you slow down on the alcohol.”

  “But I can handle my liquor,” she protested, frowning at me.

  I shook my head in amazement. Did she never learn? “Do you want another lesson on listening?”

  She blanched at the thought. “No, Sir.”

  “Good.” I reached over and plucked the glass from her hands and set it down on the coffee table. “Since you can’t appreciate what I give you, I guess it’s better if you don’t have anything at all.” I could see her eyes beginning to narrow, the protest forming on her lips, but to her credit she only nodded.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I sat down beside her, pulling her close. She eagerly cuddled up against me. “I want you to know something. It’s not that I don’t want to be…intimate with you.”

  Intimate wasn’t the right word; what I wanted was to rip her dress to shreds and tear them off one by one with my teeth. I wanted to throw her on the floor and take her hard and fast, then take her back to the bedroom, lay her on the bed and take my time devouring every inch of her kissable skin, savoring every sigh.

  “Then why?”

  Her voice was so soft and submissive that I hugged her tighter to me. “I have a rule that I don’t put out on the first date. And no, I didn’t read it in Cosmo.”

  She began to giggle and soon it broke into full-fledge laughter. “Oh…my…”

  “It wasn’t that funny,” I scolded lightly.

  “It was.”

  I promptly brought my hand down on her bottom and she let out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a gasp.

  “So, how many dates do you wait? Until, you know…”

  Boy, did I. “You’re feeling sassy tonight, aren’t you? Normally it’s three or four. Now that I did read in Cosmo.”

  This time she was laughing so hard that I wondered if she was going to choke on her amusement. I loved seeing her so carefree; it was such a different picture than the angry, stressed-out woman I had met that I didn’t even mind that the joke was at my expense.

  “Seriously?” she asked, her voice breathy from laughter.

  “Seriously.”

  “Does that mean we have two to go?”

  “Hmm?” I asked, stroking her arm.

  “Well, I mean, we had dinner so I just thought…”

  I grinned, shaking my head. This woman really was persistent; it wasn’t hard to see why she was such a force to be reckoned with. “How about I surprise you?”

  She pretended to pout, but only for a moment. “Have you ever done… this before?”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  She let out a low, little sigh before she continued. “The spanking.”

  “Have I ever spanked another woman, you mean? Sure, I have.”

  She shook her head. “How many?”

  Uh-oh. Was it just me, or was that the beginnings of jealousy I detected in her voice. “I don’t usually spank and tell, but pretty much every girl I’ve ever dated seriously.”

  “How many is that? I mean, are we talking a dozen here? Dozens? I—”

  “Karen.” I tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. “I’m not going to do this with you, okay? And I’m not going to grill you on your love life either. Nothing matters to me right now but you; I want to let the past stay there, all right?”

  I thought she might argue, but again she surprised me. “Can I ask you…have you ever, um…”

  “Not so fast now,” I joked.

  “I just mean…the blindfold, the ah, thing you just did…”

  “The anal?” I suggested, chuckling as she avoided my eyes. “Why, if I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were a prude, Karen!”

  “I’m not, just—”

  “Shh, I was teasing. And to answer your question, I have, but only with two other women. Has anyone you’ve dated—”

  “No.”

  I nodded, eyeing her thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

  She flushed even brighter and I wondered which set of her cheeks was redder. “I like it,” she admitted in a small voice. “I like…letting you take over.”

  “I just want to take care of you. I’m never going to do anything to hurt you. Well, I’m not going to hurt you in a way you won’t enjoy,” I amended.

  Karen looked at me, seeming spellbound by the promise of the future excitement that awaited us. Her lips were parted so temptingly that I was about to lower my head and kiss her until she let out a huge yawn, stretching her arms over her head and breaking the spell.

  “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “I’m not tired, Sir,” she protested weakly. It was no use—her eyelids were drooping and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I swept her up in my arms and carried her to my bedroom where I laid her gently on the bed. Her eyes were already closed as I tucked her in, pulling the sheet and blanket tightly around her.

  “Goodnight,” I whispered, inhaling the sweet perfume of her body one more time.

  “But Brandon—”

  I was startled at the rush of emotion that overwhelmed me when she said my name in that soft, little-girl voice that told me in a way that no words could that she needed me. “Go to sleep now. We’ll see each other in the morning.” I leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

  Just before I turned to leave I saw the slightest of smiles cross her face, and my heart turned in my chest. Yes, I was going to have to be very careful with this one.

  Chapter 7

  When my eyes finally fluttered open, I lazily looked around the room. The sun was already shining through the slits in the blinds and I rolled over to check the bedside clock. It was already 9:30! I sat up straight, feeling the beginnings of panic in my chest. I hadn’t slept past six since leaving college and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was running late for something important or had forgotten to do something.

  Right at that moment, the door opened and Brandon came in. “Oh, you’re up. Good. Are you hungry?”

  I wasn’t much of a morning person—despite the God-forsaken hours I was forced to slog through, I didn’t normally talk to people. Or, if I did, it wasn’t very nicely. But considering that being nice was one of his rules and that I didn’t want to start the day off with a sore ass, I made a special effort.

  “Good morning. I’m not hungry just yet but…” I sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells wonderful. I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”

&nb
sp; “Did I say that?”

  “Well,” I giggled. “I thought it was implied.” When Brandon turned and bent over to retrieve something, I took a moment to take him in. Never before had a man been hotter in real life than in my fantasies, but even my imagination couldn’t create a man this sexy. The more I got to know him, the hotter he became.

  At that moment he turned around and I saw he was holding a tray laden down with orange juice, blueberry pancakes, hash browns and bacon. “I’m much better at breakfast,” he said by way of explanation as he set the tray down.

  “It’s…so sweet.” I knew the words were inadequate, but Webster had yet to create a word that described the amazement I felt. No man had ever done a tenth for me what Brandon had done in the last forty-eight hours. If this were what it felt like to be loved and cared for, I’d take the damn spankings.

  “Can I join you?”

  “Where’s yours?” I teased.

  Brandon climbed on the bed and sat facing me. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Wonderfully, thank you. The wine probably helped,” I added, sheepish when I remembered how he’d taken my glass from me.

  If he was remembering the same thing, he gave no sign of it. “I’m glad. Please, dig in.”

  I’d meant what I said—I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t want him to think I didn’t appreciate him. From the first bite of the fluffy, buttery pancake, I was hooked. My appetite woke up and with it, the rest of my body began to stir to life. Thankfully, he’d brought coffee, so I used that to wash them down. “Hey,” I said, peering at the cup. “What is this?”

  “Chocolate cinnamon, remember? Don’t you like it?”

  I stared at him for a full minute before I burst out laughing. He really was something else. He was so thoughtful, on top of having a great sense of humor. “I love it. Thank you,” I said, taking another long swallow. “So, is this our second date?”

  “Why not?” he asked with a chuckle. “Now eat! I have a long day planned for us and I don’t want you getting tired on me.”

  I felt my stomach flip at the prospect of what a “long day” would entail. I was excited to find out, that was for sure.