With Hearts Aflame: Valentine's Day Box Set

by Maren Smith

  “How can you know that?” I’d meant the words to sound scathing, but instead they sounded throaty, betraying the fact I was on the verge of crying.

  “All I have to do is look at you. Now, what is this about?”

  I hesitated only for a second before the devil on my shoulder spurred me on. I rose my chin defiantly and let my eyes meet his. He looked so calm, so authoritative and strong. God, even the sweet, woody scent of him seemed to exemplify his commanding presence. I locked eyes with him and this time I didn’t look away, I didn’t move a muscle when I untied my towel and let it drop to the floor.

  ***

  Brandon

  Outwardly, I kept my expression neutral, but it took every ounce of self-control I possessed. I clenched my fists into balls at my sides, grateful that she was on the other side of the counter and couldn’t see them. I hated the doubt I saw in her big, luminous brown eyes. How could she think for a moment that I didn’t want her? How had I managed to hide the fact my heart was pounding inside my chest like a wild beast struggling to break free of its cage? The blood was coursing through my body like liquid fire until I was nearly burning up from the inside with my own desire.

  I suppressed a groan and tried to tear my eyes away from her delicious curves. I’d had my fair share of women, but none of them had made my hair stand on end like this one. She made everything stand, come to think of it; I hadn’t had such a raging hard-on since I’d started discovering women as I hid down in the basement with a stolen Playboy in hand. Those models seemed like colorless stick figures compared to the woman in front of me. As hard as I tried not to, I couldn’t help but take in every smooth, firm contour. I let my eyes wander from her long, beautiful neck, down to her perky breasts, her large, succulent nipples standing at attention. I’d seen every perfect, mouth-watering inch of her only minutes earlier, but I still found myself hungry for the sight of her delectable body. Her slim, toned waist led in to a full, perfectly round ass that only emphasized her incredible figure.

  My eyes devoured her inch by inch, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d tasted the sweetness of her skin again and sampled her sweet juices with my head between her thighs. My greatest wish at that moment was to pull her into my arms and crush her with my hot, pulsing need. Too bad my birthday wasn’t until next month—not that I thought I could wait that long. If all it took was blowing out a couple candles, I’d do it then and there, so long as it meant she’d end up in my bed.

  Not yet, I reminded myself. Not just yet. With tortured reluctance, I forced my eyes away from her rocking body. I couldn’t take even another moment of having her so close and not being able to indulge. “Go upstairs and put some clothes on, Karen.”

  Her eyes widened and I watched as they darkened with pain—hurt that I had put there. “What? But—”

  “Now, please.”

  The injured look she gave me vanished, dissolving in the wake of her anger. Though I’d never tell her, I loved it when her eyes flashed at me like that. I loved how her nostrils flared slightly, how anger made her cheeks flush. It made her look even sexier, if that was humanly possible.

  “You know, you’re right. Wouldn’t want to scare the neighbors. I’ll just be on my way.” She whirled around, but I took a step forward, catching her wrist easily. She jerked it away from me and spun around to face me, her eyes shooting daggers. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  “You shouldn’t say things you obviously don’t mean.” Damn, I hated the uncertainty in her eyes. Even though she could stand to learn some manners, I liked her fiery spirit. I liked that she spoke her mind—just not the sharp tongue she used to do it.

  “Fuck you,” she snapped, and if her voice caught a little bit, the way she glowered at me with enough venom made up for it.

  She could switch so fluidly from being a girl whom I felt needed my protection into an outright brat. What I wasn’t prepared for was the fact that I wanted to protect her either way. I was going to have to be very careful with this one. “Karen, let’s—”

  “I said fuck you!” she interrupted shrilly. “You don’t even know me, you don’t get to tell me what I want. You’re a…a—”

  “Enough,” I told her, so firmly that she stopped, spluttering. “I can see that you’re upset, but that doesn’t give you any right to behave like this. This is your last chance to go upstairs and get dressed.”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits and before I knew it, she flew at me, her hand raised. I caught her wrist deftly and held it tight. “Let me go!” she snapped, stamping her foot like an enraged toddler. “You don’t have a right to—”

  “I don’t?” I challenged, boring my eyes into hers until she looked away.

  “No, you don’t.” She didn’t sound very convinced and for that matter, neither did I.

  “You really need to think about what it is you want, Karen. We talked about this, we made rules and you agreed to them. So I’m going to give you some time to think about it.” When she raised her eyes to my face I could already see that she was subdued. “I want you to go face the wall until I say otherwise.” Her lips parted, and I thought she might protest, but in the end she did what she was told—and I found myself exhaling breath I hadn’t known was trapped inside me. “Now put your arms over your head.” She hesitated for a moment before putting her arms over her head.

  I stood there for a moment and let my eyes wander down the toned muscles off her back to her tight ass that was still a bit pink from her earlier paddling. The only thing that would make the visual even better was if it was nice and red, but I’d see to that soon enough. Walking to the kitchen I began to rifle through my cabinets for something edible—I doubt she wanted stale popcorn or Chef Boyardee—glancing back at her every now and again to make sure she didn’t drop her arms or turn around. I had to admit, I was pleasantly surprised by her obedience.

  What was her deal? I wondered as I heated water for pasta. She could go from being sweet and submissive to spit-fire mad quicker than any woman I’d ever known. Yet, there was something else there too: a vulnerability that I’d only glimpsed once. I found it highly unlikely that she’d ever let me see it again. That, combined with the submissive side I’d seen within her was more than enough to keep me interested.

  I’d had plenty of girls in my life. I’d spanked most of them—even if just for fun—and tied up one or two, but not one of them had come close to enjoying it. The fact Karen had come here when she didn’t have to, seeking and expecting a spanking said more about her than she would ever realize. She’d hadn’t just slapped me and called me an asshole. Instead she stood with her beautiful backside to me, which gave me hope. She definitely had potential and seeing her standing on the brink of giving in to her submissive side made me want to lend a hand.

  After the water had come to a boil, I dumped the package of spaghetti into the pot and turned the heat down before returning to the living room. “Did you have some time to think?”

  When she swiveled around to face me, her hands still held above her head, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, my heart caught in my throat.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I cleared my throat, struggling to regain my composer. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this; I was supposed to be in control here and suddenly I wondered. “You can relax,” I told her, my voice more gruff than I’d intended. As she dropped her arms I caught sight of the goose bumps prickling her pretty flesh. Man, oh man. All I wanted was to pull her close to me, warming her body with mine to chase the chill away. “What did you think about?”

  “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  “And?”

  “And…” She took a deep breath before giving me a determined smile. “I thought about what you said, about what I want.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well…” She dropped her eyes demurely, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “I need to hear you say it.”

  Her cheeks flushed and my cock surged
at the sight of her blush. “I want this. I want… you. All of it.”

  “Then you’re going to have to follow the rules. You know, the ones we talked about not even two hours ago?”

  “Yes, Sir. I know, Sir.”

  I swallowed hard—I’d always seen submission as a gift, but this… from this strong-willed, beautiful woman, it was priceless beyond measure. I really needed her to get some clothes on. “Go get dressed, please.”

  This time, there was no arguing, no pouting. She gave me the smallest of smiles before walking past me to the bedroom and it took an act of God for me to hold firm and not follow her. Instead, I went back to the kitchen and checked on the pasta. It looked done, so I drained it and put some butter in a skillet, melting it before I added chopped onion and garlic to the pan. The last girl I’d dated had been a sous chef and taught me how to at least make spaghetti.

  Ever since I’d started having sex with something other than my hand, I’d had a rule: no one night stands. It just wasn’t my scene, for one thing, but for another I found that despite the clichés, I tended to put a lot of myself into relationships. Why waste the energy for someone who, at the end of the day, was hoping to slink away in the middle of the night and never see me again? The easiest way to avoid that kind of disappointment was to avoid chicks that just wanted to hook up for the evening, and so far, I’d never broken my rule. If a woman was really interested, she’d still be interested a week later. At least, that was my philosophy.

  It had worked quite well for me so far, before Karen came along and made me question things I thought I knew. Besides, not only did it help me avoid awkward run-ins at the supermarket, it also reinforced that I was in charge. Anything to remind her of that fact couldn’t hurt.

  When Karen came back into the room, she was back in her slim-fitting, tight black dress with white polka dots on the skirt. It made her look demurely girlish, and I loved it, almost as much as the fact she’d worn a dress because I had told her to. I could see that she’d visited the bathroom before coming back; her black hair had been brushed back into place and it looked like she’d washed her face, too. Probably to get rid of the redness under her eyes.

  “Hello.”

  “Come eat,” I invited, extending my hand. She stepped forward and took it—an electric current seemed to jolt through me when her fingers met mine. I jerked my hand back in surprise and Karen met my eyes, smiling knowingly as she slid her hand back over mine. So she felt it too, then.

  “What are we having, Sir?”

  “Ah, um, spaghetti.” I led her to the dining room and pulled out a chair for her. She sat easily, swinging her right leg over her left, making me groan inwardly. I had to wonder if the woman had any idea how sexy she was. “I’ll be right back.”

  It didn’t take long to toss a loaf of garlic bread into the oven—it was only slightly black on top, a vast improvement from my other attempts—and hurriedly prepare a salad. In no time I had two steaming plates of food in front of us and I sat down to eat.

  “No more wine?” she asked with a smile.

  “There is. Do you want some?”

  She was on her feet before I could push my chair back. “I’ll get it.”

  I watched her back as she walked toward the kitchen, her hips swaying to music only she heard. Damn. I took a big gulp of water and wondered at the wisdom of adding more alcohol to my bloodstream. I wasn’t a lightweight by any means, but I worried that it might impair my already impaired judgment. Still, when she came back with clean glasses and the second bottle, I thanked her and poured for us.

  “It really is delicious,” she commented, savoring the sip she’d taken. “Are you good at everything you do?”

  I looked at her, my face serious, and she must have mistaken my expression because she quickly added, “Sir.”

  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 mil
lion 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?”