Page 34 of Passionate Defense

“Stay still,” he ordered firmly in her ear. “If you dare move, I will double what I have in mind. I’m that angry, Lanie.”

“Yes, sir.”

She heard his footsteps behind her, his rubber-soled Gucci loafers appearing in her periphery as he paced back and forth. They made an occasional scuffing noise as he paused, pivoted on his heel, then strode back in the opposite direction. This went on and on. Minutes passed, at least ten, probably more, but she had no way of telling. Rarely had she seen him so agitated.

Unmoving as she waited, feeling the full brunt of her guilty conscience before the first inevitable swat landed, she grasped the depth of the fear her carelessness had caused him.

A tear splashed against the metallic gray of his hood. It was followed by another as she silently cried out her remorse. The rare tears weren’t for herself but for the pain she had caused her husband. After considerable time had passed, he stopped pacing and veered off to the storage shelves against the wall. So mired in her guilt, Lanie didn’t turn to see what he carried. Whatever he intended to dish out, she deserved.

His voice was gruff when he issued his decree of punishment. “Six strokes, Lanie. You will count each one and repeat, ‘Ethan loves me, and because he does, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.’”

Immediately, she accepted the punishment as her due. “Yes, sir.”

A whistling noise preceded an explosion of fire across both cheeks. She sucked in a shuddering gulp of air and exhaled on a whimper.

“Lanie? Are you forgetting something?”

“One, sir. Ethan loves me, and because he does, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.”

Another whistle split the air, and a second stripe of fire flared along her skin.

This time, her words followed a squeal. Her hands fisted on the unrelenting metal. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to sink her fingers into as a bolster against the fiery blows.

“If I have to remind you of your assignment again, you will earn another stroke.”

“I love you, Ethan,” she managed, in a shaky voice, “and because you love me, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.”

Stroke number three and four followed swiftly, and she didn’t forget. Number five landed across the very top of her thighs and burned like blue blazes. She called out, “Five, sir. Ethan loves me, and because he does, I promise never to be so careless with my safety again.”

As she said it, however, she couldn’t keep still and popped upright, hands flying to her very remorseful behind. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she danced on her toes, rubbing at the inferno Ethan had ignited on her poor butt.

His hands came to her shoulders and steadied her. It was then she saw the evil instrument he had chosen. It was one of the orange flags they used to mark their driveway when it snowed. The thin plastic stick was about two feet long, similar to a tilt wand from mini-blinds. It was lightweight but much more flexible, which explained the whistling noise.

On more than one occasion, as she closed the blinds in her kitchen, she’d wondered what it would feel like. Now she knew. Similar to a cane, it hurt like hell.

“One more, Lanie, and your punishment is through.”

“I’m on fire, Ethan.”

“As is expected. Get back in position so we can finish up and put this nightmare behind us.”

The word nightmare hit home with her. His earlier graphic descriptions of what could have happened had surely run through his mind. Seeing the mangled car had been a shock to her, and she’d been inside it. Remembering his stricken expression when he first saw the car, she knew his jolt had been much worse. Certainly, six strokes were justified after putting him through that horror.

She nodded and her hands once again found the hood. One more whistle, a stripe of fire, and the flag hit the floor. He didn’t wait for her to count the last stroke before she was in his arms.

“Never, Lanie,” he said with a tremor in his usually strong, steady voice. “Not ever,” he reiterated, “do I want to go through that again. Do you hear me?”

“Oh, Ethan!” she cried against his neck. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I truly am sorry to have caused you such pain.”

“I love you, Lanie, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I love you, too, Ethan. Please, say you forgive me.”

“Of course you’re forgiven. That goes without saying.”

“Make love to me, please. Right here. I need to be as close to you as I can.”

With fluid motion, and not a hint of hesitation, he lifted her and laid her on the hood. Her behind connecting with the cool metal was both pleasure and agony. Taking a second to release himself from his trousers, they both cried out as he plunged in deep the next instant. After that, it was an intense, fast and furious, hedonistic joining, right there on Ethan’s prized BMW.

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