her ran deep.
“Headlights,” Mick called from his perch on the sofa.
A few seconds later, Eddie heard the telltale whine and clank of the garage door opening. His tension ratcheted down a few notches. At least she was alive.
But when she came swanning through the laundry room without a care in the world, Eddie lost it.
“Where have you been?”
Whitney’s eyes widened. She stood still in the doorway. “Out with friends.”
“And your phone doesn’t work?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the fridge. “I sent you a ton of texts and called twice and nothing.”
Whitney frowned as she entered the kitchen and put her huge purse on the counter. He didn’t know how she managed to carry that massive thing around without herniating a disc. She rummaged around in it and produced her cell phone. Her finger moved over the screen. “Oops!”
“Oops?” he repeated incredulously. “Oops? That’s all you have to say?”
She shrugged, the movement sending the spaghetti strap of her cocktail dress sliding down her shoulder. “I guess I didn’t hear it in the restaurant or club. Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Eddie tried to control his exasperation. “Whitney, I’ve been worried sick about you. For all I knew, you’d been whacked over the head, thrown into a van, and carted off to some empty warehouse for a gangbang.”
She visibly paled. “Boy, your mind sure goes to some dark places.” Whitney shook her head. “I was out with friends, Eddie. I was careful. I’m always careful.” Huffing, she slammed down her phone. “You’re always harping on me to watch this and that. Don’t drink that. Don’t go there. God!” She threw up her hands. “Stop trying to control me!”
He stepped back in shock. “Whitney, I’m not trying to control you. I worry about you. I want you to be safe.”
“Yeah, well,” she grumbled, “I worry about you, too. And Mick. I don’t request a minute-to-minute update of your day, though.”
Eddie sucked in measured breaths. Her points were valid. He was coming on strong. Maybe he needed to take a page out of Mick’s book and mellow out some. “You’re right, Whitney. I’m sorry if I came across as overbearing. I didn’t mean to.”
Whitney sighed. “Well, you’re right, too. I should have checked my phone. It wasn’t very considerate of me.”
“Come here.” Eddie took hold of her wrist and gently dragged her close. Her soft body molded perfectly to his. His lips ghosted over her temple. The smell of her perfume and shampoo engulfed him. His lips moved lower, and he tasted her sweet mouth.
And alcohol.
His jaw clenched. Gritting his teeth, he silently counted to three. “Have you been drinking?”
“Whitney!” Mick’s voice came from behind. Eddie hadn’t even heard him get up off the couch. The man sure knew how to move with stealth. “I thought we talked about this last week.”
Her lower lip wobbled. Guilt strained her features. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She waved her hand. “You know how it is. Today was busy and bittersweet. I was a jumble of emotions. It was hard to say good-bye. Then we hit the restaurant, and I had a glass of wine. I didn’t even think about it when I got behind the wheel and hit up The Blue Door. I had another drink at the club,” she admitted. “And then I drove home.”
“That’s no excuse, Whitney.” Mick’s strained tone gave away his exasperation. “I have hard shifts all the time. If I want to have a drink with friends, I lock my car, leave it in the hospital lot, and call a cab.”
“I know,” she said wringing her hands. “I’m sorry.”
Eddie let out a noisy breath. There was nothing else to be done. He’d given her a warning last time. He had to follow through with the consequences he’d promised. “Lift up your skirt and put your hands on the counter.”
Whitney squeaked and took a step back. “What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He pointed to the counter. “Skirt. Hands.”
“No. Please.” She appealed to Mick with her best puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t make me do this.”
Eddie wondered if Mick would fold under such intense pleading. To his utter surprise, Mick stood firm.
Mick shook his head. “Last week you promised us you wouldn’t drink and drive. Eddie warned you he’d spank that little ass of yours if you broke that promise.” Mick squared his shoulders. “You’ll take your punishment.”
Whitney’s shoulders slumped with defeat. She practically trembled as she stepped up to the counter and lifted the back of her skirt. Eddie watched as she obediently placed her breasts and elbows on the granite, her palms stiff on the stone and fingers stretched wide. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of her beautiful body properly positioned for discipline. As much as Mick swore he wasn’t into spanking, he couldn’t hide the interest on his face as he moved closer for a better look.
Eddie took up the spot just to her left and stroked his hand down the center of her back. The thin coral fabric of her dress felt so incredibly soft against his rough palm. He fixed the hem of her skirt, tugging it higher up her back to keep the flimsy fabric out of the way. He didn’t bother slipping his finger under the waistband of her pink thong to draw it down. Her pert ass cheeks were plainly visible and unshielded.
Whitney flinched when his hand swept along the curve of her right cheek. Eddie smiled as a bit of his inner sadist slipped out. It probably made him a bastard, but he enjoyed that little prickle of fear that submissives experienced right before punishment was doled out.
And she was submissive. There was no question in his mind. Perhaps she wasn’t as submissive as some women and men he’d encountered in the past, but Whitney’s nature was absolutely that of a woman who enjoyed submitting. She’d never be the type to wear a collar, but then again he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.
But this? Oh, this was exactly the sort of thing he was interested in from Whitney.
“You’ll count each one. Do you understand?” He’d taken a look at some of the books on her Kindle as suggested by Mick. Many of them featured spanking scenes where the submissive counted out each whack. Sure, he was teaching her a lesson, but he also wanted her to find some enjoyment in it.
“Ye-yes, sir,” she stammered.
Yes, definitely a natural. He hadn’t yet asked for the honorific she’d bestowed. “Good girl.”
Eddie drew back his hand and let the first blow fall. It wasn’t very hard, but she still squealed. “Ow!”
“What was that?”
“I mean, one, sir.”
“Very good.” Eddie caressed her bottom, throwing off her anticipations. His second swat was harder than the first and the third even more powerful than the first two.
“Ow! Ow!
With the finesse of a skilled pro, Eddie spanked Whitney’s ass until it was bright red. She wiggled and protested and begged for him to stop. Soon the playfulness left her voice. “Are you going to drink and drive again?” he asked in between swats.
“No, no, sir,” she promised, her voice thick with tears. “I won’t drink and drive, sir.”
Eddie’s hand fell in rapid succession against her supple, blazing red flesh.
“Fif-fifteen, sir,” she sobbed pitifully. “Sixteen, sir. Seventeen, sir.”
“What are you going to do the next time you want to have a drink with the girls?” Eddie swatted her backside again.
“Eighteen, sir.” She tearfully counted. “Call you or Mick or get a cab.”
“Very good answer.” Eddie spanked her two more times. “Have we learned our lesson?”
“Nineteen, sir. Twenty, sir.” She inhaled a shuddery breath. “Oh, yes, sir. I’ve learned, sir. I won’t do it again.”
Eddie believed her. Twenty whacks had reduced her to tears. Whitney had to know he’d give her at least double that number the next time. A little pain could be a good motivator for a girl like Whitney.
Never one to spank ’em and leave ’em, Eddie dropped to his knees and planted gentle kisses on her flaming backside. The red, blotched skin was hot to the touch. He’d been spanked a few times by a Domme and Dom when learning the ropes and knew what the aftereffects were like. Where there was pain, there was also intense
