could have grabbed her again, but he refrained. She was angry, and discipline was only making her angrier.
“Sarah…”
“Shut up! I hate you!” She grabbed her jeans from the floor and shoved her legs into them before stuffing her feet into her shoes, not bothering with socks.
“Sarah…”
“I hate both of you!” She screamed the words at the top of her lungs, meaning them with every fiber of her being.
“Sarah!” John snapped her name. “That’s enough. You’re throwing a tantrum like a little girl.”
“That’s how you treat me, John, so I might as well act like one. You tell me what to do, where to stay. She tells me when to eat, when to go to bed. I want to go back to my house! I want to go home!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Fuck this. I want out of here.”
She turned around and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming both the bedroom door and subsequently, the front door, behind her. The whole house shook with her fury and John was half-worried that the glass in the door might have shattered. He made his way downstairs in Sarah’s wake, but waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs was Anne. She put her hand on his arm. “Let her be,” she said in calm tones.
“I’m sorry,” John said. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I can understand her reaction,” Anne said. “You punish her a lot.”
“I…” John frowned, realizing what Anne had actually said. “You’re saying this is my fault?”
“I’m saying listening might be better than talking with your palms,” Anne said. “There’s a whole lot locked away in that girl, and I don’t think you’re going to whip it out of her.”
“I’m not trying to do that.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“She’s got an attitude,” he said. “And she puts herself in dangerous situations, and…”
“And you think the way to protect her from herself is to make yourself her keeper. But you can’t be there all the time, John. She has to at least internalize a part of what you’re doing, and she won’t do that as long as you come down on her like that. She’ll run, she’ll hide, she’ll fight, but she’ll never give in.”
“So what do you suggest,” he said with a sigh.
“A little chivalry and romance never hurt.”
“So she goes out, does god knows what, and I’m supposed to bring her flowers and take her to dinner?”
Anne cocked her head to the side. “Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Brought her flowers or taken her to dinner?”
“Uh…”
It occurred to John that Anne was right. He had not spent any time being romantic with Sarah. From the beginning it had been about protecting her, imposing discipline, boundaries, rules, and sex. Hot, hard, sex. Good sex. Very good sex. But there was more to love than that, and it was time he showed Sarah what that was.
* * *
Sarah sat uncomfortably in a nearby park and cried. She was so miserable, not because John had smacked her butt. She’d known that was going to happen. She probably would have been disappointed if he hadn’t, if she was totally honest with herself.
“He’s going to hate you now,” she told herself. “All he wanted was for you to have something nice, but you broke it. You made him punish you. If you’d just been good, he would have been happy with you.”
Lecturing herself didn’t make her feel better, but it did make her feel as though she was doing something. If John wasn’t around to spank her, she’d just beat herself mentally. At the end of the day, it was all the same to her. Pain was pain and she deserved it. Why else would her life be so unbearable? Why else would everyone and everything she loved be taken from her?
Just as she was sure she could never be more miserable than she was in that precise moment, her phone vibrated with a message. From John.
Dinner. 8 p.m. tonight?
Really? She texted the message back.
Really. But it’s an invitation, not an
“Sarah…”
“Shut up! I hate you!” She grabbed her jeans from the floor and shoved her legs into them before stuffing her feet into her shoes, not bothering with socks.
“Sarah…”
“I hate both of you!” She screamed the words at the top of her lungs, meaning them with every fiber of her being.
“Sarah!” John snapped her name. “That’s enough. You’re throwing a tantrum like a little girl.”
“That’s how you treat me, John, so I might as well act like one. You tell me what to do, where to stay. She tells me when to eat, when to go to bed. I want to go back to my house! I want to go home!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Fuck this. I want out of here.”
She turned around and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming both the bedroom door and subsequently, the front door, behind her. The whole house shook with her fury and John was half-worried that the glass in the door might have shattered. He made his way downstairs in Sarah’s wake, but waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs was Anne. She put her hand on his arm. “Let her be,” she said in calm tones.
“I’m sorry,” John said. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I can understand her reaction,” Anne said. “You punish her a lot.”
“I…” John frowned, realizing what Anne had actually said. “You’re saying this is my fault?”
“I’m saying listening might be better than talking with your palms,” Anne said. “There’s a whole lot locked away in that girl, and I don’t think you’re going to whip it out of her.”
“I’m not trying to do that.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“She’s got an attitude,” he said. “And she puts herself in dangerous situations, and…”
“And you think the way to protect her from herself is to make yourself her keeper. But you can’t be there all the time, John. She has to at least internalize a part of what you’re doing, and she won’t do that as long as you come down on her like that. She’ll run, she’ll hide, she’ll fight, but she’ll never give in.”
“So what do you suggest,” he said with a sigh.
“A little chivalry and romance never hurt.”
“So she goes out, does god knows what, and I’m supposed to bring her flowers and take her to dinner?”
Anne cocked her head to the side. “Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Brought her flowers or taken her to dinner?”
“Uh…”
It occurred to John that Anne was right. He had not spent any time being romantic with Sarah. From the beginning it had been about protecting her, imposing discipline, boundaries, rules, and sex. Hot, hard, sex. Good sex. Very good sex. But there was more to love than that, and it was time he showed Sarah what that was.
* * *
Sarah sat uncomfortably in a nearby park and cried. She was so miserable, not because John had smacked her butt. She’d known that was going to happen. She probably would have been disappointed if he hadn’t, if she was totally honest with herself.
“He’s going to hate you now,” she told herself. “All he wanted was for you to have something nice, but you broke it. You made him punish you. If you’d just been good, he would have been happy with you.”
Lecturing herself didn’t make her feel better, but it did make her feel as though she was doing something. If John wasn’t around to spank her, she’d just beat herself mentally. At the end of the day, it was all the same to her. Pain was pain and she deserved it. Why else would her life be so unbearable? Why else would everyone and everything she loved be taken from her?
Just as she was sure she could never be more miserable than she was in that precise moment, her phone vibrated with a message. From John.
Dinner. 8 p.m. tonight?
Really? She texted the message back.
Really. But it’s an invitation, not an
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