Page 19 of Her Guardian
Boyd
She needed a spanking and she got one.
I was nice enough to give her a way out. I could have easily turned her ass red and scared her enough to make sure she never came back to Las Vegas.
But that isn’t my job. If I’m going to do it, she needs to respect the boundaries I laid out for her. Sure, I enjoyed the way she writhed on my cock while I spanked her gorgeous ass, but that’s just a perk of a job done well.
Sarah emerges from the bathroom no longer looking like the happy, cheerful girl I met yesterday. All the excitement is gone from her eyes, despite the proof she left on my pants that the spanking wasn’t entirely miserable for her.
I might have spanked her a little longer because I noticed that.
“Did you really worry about me?” Sarah asks, curiosity flickering in her lovely blue eyes. “Because I didn’t show up on time?”
“Yes, Sarah,” I answer. “I’m not a monster, regardless of how you may feel about me right now. I’m capable of worry. I’m capable of a lot of things.”
Sarah stares at me with wide, cautious eyes. She walks to the dresser, picks up her vape, and takes a long pull that makes the room smell like strawberries and cream when she exhales. She’s looking at me like I’m a monster. The way people look at me when they realize they pushed one button too many and caused the giant to crawl out of his cave.
“I’m really sorry,” she whispers. “I won’t keep you waiting or make you worry again.”
Remorseafterthe spanking. That’s proof it worked. She would have said anything to make it stop, but she doesn’t have the pain guiding her words now. She means them.
My heart twitches in my chest. I really don’t like that feeling. I move the notebook to the bed beside me.
“Before we straighten out your notes, let’s talk,” I say, motioning to the bed across from me and looking around. Once I see the sign that confirms it’s one of the rooms where smoking is allowed, I reach into my pocket for my cigarettes. “Sit down, Sarah.”
Sarah nods, then she cautiously walks to the bed and lowers herself to the mattress. She winces and squirms a little as she finds a comfortable way to sit, then she looks down at her lap and fiddles with her vape.
“Look, I know I was harsh. I live in a really fucking harsh world. I think you understand that.” I light my cigarette and blow the smoke away from her.
“I do,” she whispers, nodding in agreement. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just worried about saving my podcast.”
“And that’s fine. I’m going to help you do that, but we have to do it the right way. You cashed in your personal favor for this, and personal favors are sacred,” I sigh, then try to ease the tension with some sarcastic humor. “You could have just asked for a million dollars, you know. Then you wouldn’t need a podcast.”
“I didn’t help Lea because I was looking for a payday,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting to get a personal favor from Salvatore Morandi. I guess it was foolish to waste it on this. I just…”
“I get it,” I say, trying to keep the roughness out of my tone. “It’s what you’re passionate about. Your job, even if it doesn’t make you much money. You like to do your job well, like I do.”
“Yeah,” she sniffles, taking a hit from her vape.
“I listened to a couple episodes last night,” I say, unsure if I should admit it or not.
“Really?” She looks up at me and I see a flicker in her eyes. “What did you think?”
“I like the way you present everything. Your excitement is rather captivating, especially in the older episodes,” I admit.
“I’ve been faking that for a while,” she sighs. “But it was genuine back when I was covering the Mafia Prince Murders.”
“I could tell.” I nod in agreement and take a drag from my cigarette. “What changed?”
“What do you think?” she mutters. “Lea got kidnapped by a Mafia prince. Now they’re married.”
“Your best friend got married and that drained all the excitement out of you?” I question. “No, that isn’t it. You were really happy at the wedding. You couldn’t stop grinning, and I thought you were going to kill someone to get that damn bouquet.”
Sarah looks down at her lap again and fidgets with her vape, then she brings it to her lips for a quick puff. There’s more to this story, I can tell. I don’t need to know, but I want to.
“It’s a lot of things,” she says, almost dismissively. “Lea’s grandmother dying. Trying to look after her, while barely being able to look after myself. My podcast… nobody is listening to it. My job fucking sucks, and if I don’t figure out how to turn my podcast around, I’ve got to stop doing it. Find a real job or go back to school… that’s what my mom wants.”
There’s truth in her words, but she’s still not telling me everything. I could drop it. Ishoulddrop it. But I want to know the real reason.
