Red Skye at Night by Ashe Barker Page B

He watches me, his lip quirking. “No, I thought not. So I hired you to drive me, paid you a bloody fortune in fact. But it was worth every penny because it got you here. With me.”
    I gaze at him as if through a fog, peering to make out his features, battling to drag some sense or sanity from this madness. The mist starts to clear, slowly dissolving. Harry’s face comes into sharp focus. I open my mouth, and words come out. No one is more surprised than I am. “I might have agreed to the orgasms. And what about the purring? You promised me purring.” Is it really me saying these things?
    Harry lounges against the pillows, the atlas abandoned. He inclines his head thoughtfully. “That too. And of course I haven’t spanked you yet.”
    “Maybe you need to put that right then. After all, a deal’s a deal. But if my bottom’s going to be sore, I definitely won’t be driving.” No, this can’t be me. Some inner demon has taken control of my tongue. Bring it on.
    Harry’s answering grin is nothing short of lecherous. “Agreed. Which means I’ll be taking first shift in the morning then. And you can lose that towel.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Am I really doing this? I must be—there’s no other reason I can think of that I would be kneeling naked on a bed about to lay my body across Harry’s lap. No other explanation for my presenting my bare and vulnerable bottom for him to spank. I sneak a glance at his right hand, and I wonder if he’s done this before.
    Idiot, of course he has. The question is, how much experience has he had? Enough to know how to really hurt me? Or perhaps how not to hurt me at all? Because it’s really all the same thing, isn’t it? Pleasure and pain, two extremes with a wide expanse of gray in between. And where am I in all that grayness? I expect I’ll know soon enough.
    “How should I…?” I look to him for guidance, for a clue as to how this ought to be done. It should be obvious. It isn’t.
    “Face down, your hips on my lap. Just however feels comfortable to you.”
    I’ve dumped my towel, as instructed, though it seems Harry saw no pressing reason to be rid of his. It remains knotted around his waist and the telltale bulge under the thick fabric suggests he is as aroused by this as I suspect I may be. In truth, the exact nature of my response remains right now something of an unknown quantity, but arousal might be the nearest description. That or sheer terror. I offer no further comment as I shuffle into position beside Harry and lean forward to position myself across his body.
    “That’s good. Wriggle a little farther forward if you could…”
    I oblige, to be rewarded by a soft tap on my bum. “Great, that’s just fine.” He continues to massage my bottom, his palm firm and warm, feeling slightly roughened against my skin. “Do you have any questions?”
    Just the obvious. “Will this hurt? A lot, I mean?”
    “Yes and no. Yes it will hurt, but no, not a lot. Well, not too much. I’ll take it easy on you, and I’ll stop when you ask me to. Fair enough?”
    My heart is in my mouth, but still I manage a feeble little nod.
    “Ready?” Harry’s voice is soft, his tone gentle, despite what I know will be coming next. I’m struck by the insane thought that here I am, at my most vulnerable, yet I still feel entirely safe with him. And any remaining ambiguity in my response dissipates. I am aroused. Very aroused indeed. I writhe, trying to rub myself against the towel under me. Harry chuckles.
    “I think we should get on with this.”
    Me too. “Ouch! Ouch, that hurts.” I jerk, try to roll from his lap as the sharp pain of the first slap radiates across my undefended right buttock. A firm hand in the small of my back puts a stop that.
    “Keep still.” The command is terse, and very effective.
    I stop wriggling and concentrate on steadying my breathing. “You took me by surprise,” I accuse him, peeved.
    “I did ask if you were ready. Can we continue now,