fine.” He leans across me to fumble on the bedside table, then drops the menu onto my chest. “Choose something, then you can hit the shower. I’ll join you when I’ve phoned our order down. And tomorrow, we go shopping. A pretty dress, I think. On expenses.”
I wriggle into a sitting position, propped against the plump pillows. “I don’t care how pretty it is, a dress won’t suit you. And you don’t have the ankles for strappy shoes.”
Harry chuckles, the sound one of satisfaction rather than mirth. I glance up at him to catch a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Ah, have a care, Hope. Your sassy mouth could get you in trouble. You should realize that by now. Or are you deliberately being a brat?”
“A brat? What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you sassing me because you want the spanking that will follow?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Hell, I would. Will.”
“No. No, I…”
“I think yes, Hope. The chicken salad looks good. With a side order of fries?”
My head is reeling. “What? Yes, anything. You are not going to spank me.”
He ignores my statement, preferring to reach for the hotel phone and punch the key for room service. He rattles off our order, adding a tray of tea, fresh orange juice and a cheese board to the tally. He replaces the handset and turns to me.
“Where were we? Oh, right, your first spanking. You can get used to the idea in the shower. Come on.”
He grabs my hand and before I can muster further protest he’s tugging me across the bedroom in the direction of the en suite facilities.
Chapter Six
“I would never harm you.”
Harry murmurs the words into my ear as he massages shampoo through my hair. I’m leaning against the tiled wall, my head tipped back to give him access. My hair is short and easy to manage, but it’s incredibly nice to have someone else wash it for me. Harry’s hands are efficient, competent. I have no doubt he could deliver a very effective spanking. I take a few seconds to consider his reassurance before I respond.
“I know that. But you would hurt me. Spanking hurts.”
“It does, that’s true. But pain and pleasure are almost the same thing, don’t you think? Or they can be.” He continues to massage my scalp, increasing the pressure of his fingers as I contemplate his cryptic reply. Oddly enough, I think I do know what he means. Sort of.
Back in my days as a competitive athlete I used to push myself hard, daily. My coach would urge me on, and I did as I was told, resolute about stretching my boundaries, bettering my previous achievements. My lungs would be burning, my legs close to collapse at the end of a hard sprint, but the exhilaration was total. That was pain and pleasure mingled, the thrill of success dragged from the grueling punishment of supreme effort. I loved it, thrived on it. I miss it still. I’ve never felt anything like that since. Perhaps Harry is offering me an alternative.
Could I do it? Could I even consider it?
“How would you do it? I mean, what would I…?”
“Your bare bottom, my bare hand. At least to start with. You might acquire a taste for the exercise, in which case I’d have to find something more imaginative for you.”
“Yeah, right. I doubt we’ll find an Ann Summers in the Scottish Highlands.”
“Ann who?”
“Ann Summers. A sex shop. For the handcuffs and, and—stuff.”
“Ah, right. I see. We won’t be needing Ann Summers. I can get all the ‘stuff’ I’ll need in a grocery store. Certainly enough to give you a good time.”
I turn to gape at him as he sprays the water onto my head to rinse away the lather. “A grocery store?”
He nods. “A roll of adhesive tape and a bottle of baby oil would be enough for most things. And a whole lot of condoms, obviously. You already saw what we could achieve with just a few neckties. The rest is just props. Sex toys are nice, good fun to play with, but what really matters is what happens in here.” He taps my
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