Page 109 of At Your Mercy
“Yeah?”
Wes leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. “Don’t forget you still owe me that punishment spanking,” he whispered hotly, making me shiver.
I swallowed thickly and gave him a small nod.
He nipped at my jaw and smirked. “I’ll see you at home.” Wes then turned to leave—his steps light, confident, the kind of easy strength that made me feel safe even in a room full of weapons.
I watched him go before turning back to my students.
“After you guys are done with your male bonding time, we’re heading to the gun range,” I told them.
* * *
The drive home was quiet, the sky washed in lavender and gold as the sun sank behind the Sound. Our house appeared through the trees like something out of a dream—wood and glass, perched above the water with floor-to-ceiling windows that glowed warm in the fading light.
I parked and sat there for a moment, watching the way the branches swayed in the evening breeze.
When Wes and I had toured this place a few months back, I’d immediately fallen in love. It just felt right. It felt like ours.
I smiled to myself, grabbed my keys, and walked up the stone staircase to the entryway on the main level.
When I finally went inside, the air smelled faintly of cedar and the red wine Wes liked to drink after work. He was in the living room, lounging on the couch, the glass glinting in his hand. The soft music in the background did nothing to ease the tension that had already begun to hum low under my skin.
Why’d he have to be so motherfucking hot? It was unfair.
He didn’t look up right away, but when he did, his gaze found me and held. It wasn’t unkind, but it definitely showed his intent.
“Welcome home, doll,” he said softly. He set the glass aside and gestured for me to come closer. “Over my lap.”
I blushed, moving forward to obey.
The memory of his words earlier—you still owe me that punishment—had echoed in my mind all afternoon.
He studied me for a long moment, eyes sharp and searching. “Can you tell me why you’re in trouble?”
I nodded. “I didn’t clean my knives like you asked me to.”
“That’s right. And because of that, you’ve earned fifteen spanks with the paddle,” he explained, guiding me face down across his lap.
He held my chin for a moment, thumb tracing my jaw, before letting go and pulling my bike shorts down to expose my bottom.
Wes slid a finger under one of the straps of my cherry red jockstrap and snapped it against my skin.
“So beautiful,” he murmured in awe. I flushed and squirmed, already growing hard from his attention.
Keeping one hand steady on my lower back, he reached over to where the paddle lay on the couch and asked, “Ready?”
“Yes, babe,” I answered.
“I want you to count for this one. Got it?”
“Count—got it.”
“Good boy.”
Something in my chest loosened from those words.
A sharp cry tore from my throat at the feel of the paddle hitting my ass. “One!”
