Speeding Toward A Spanking, Part Three

Hey My Friends!

Wow. Is my head full of clay. I’ve been working 12 plus hour days trying to get my novel ready for my agent. I’m hoping to be done by the end of next week. We’ll see.

So that’s it. All I’ve done the whole week is work on the book. And I have very little mental agility left. Thankfully, we’re going to a dinner party tomorrow night, which will be a nice break and then it’s back to the grind. Oh, well. At the end of the month, Hubby and I are going on a romantic beach getaway to some fancy-schmancy place in Monterey. Room’s got a fireplace and a wet bar and all that crap. Greatly looking forward to it.

But until then…WORK!

So here’s the third part of Speeding Toward A Spanking, soon to be found in my upcoming release, Hanky Spanky.

Big hugs to all you lovely people and see you next week!

Michelle


Zane continued to stare a hole through her. Then he started laughing, but he wasn’t amused. “Oh, yeah, I’ll get the car fixed right away. So you can go eighty-five without the car shaking. Oh, man, girl. Well, I know what I’m doin’ tonight. Makin’ a point with my girl. Who obviously totally ignores what I say as soon as I turn my back. What did I tell you about speeding? Huh? How many tickets did you get in the past three months?”

She winced. “Just two.”

The guy’s dark brow furrowed to the point where it became one continuous brow. “Two and the last one cost you a thousand dollars because you got too many in too short of a time.”

“Well, I didn’t get a ticket today,” she said in her defense, then caught herself. “I shouldn’t be arguing with you.”

“No, you should not be. God, girl, I love you,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t even have to catch you doin’ bad things, you just tell me.”

Her shoulders slumped, she began picking at her food. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry. Not now that she was facing a spanking. Damn this! Why couldn’t she keep her stupid mouth shut? She walked into this one. Walked into it!

As she tried to eat, Zane worked himself up. Finally, he glared at her. “Where the hell were you speedin’ like that? Where did you go?”

“Took some shots down in Monterey—“

Even more alarmed, he asked loudly, “Monterey?”

“Yeah, Bobby John needed some new shots of his car.”

He seemed floored. “Jesus Christ, so you drove all the way there today and all the way back?”

“Yeah.”

“I told you I wanted to know if you left San Francisco.”

“Oh… right. Well, honey, you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you. So I drove down and came back. It was no big deal.”

“Except that you sped all the way down and all the way back,” he fired at her.

“No, just on the way back. The traffic sucked on the way down.”

Zane glowered at her. She shriveled under his fiery green gaze. “You know what you’re gettin’ after dinner?”

She nodded miserably. “I know.”

He shook his head and frowned. “You can avoid the punishment spankings, you know?”

She looked at her plate. “I know.”

She saw him glaring at her out of her peripheral vision. “Damn you. Eighty-five? Tell me you didn’t go any faster.”

“I didn’t go any faster,” she replied quickly. She obeyed him, didn’t she? She told him what he ordered her to tell him. She hoped he didn’t catch on.

Of course, he did. “You did, didn’t you?”

She turned to him and tried to appear unruffled. “You just—”

He pointed a long finger at her. “No smart ass remarks. Did you or didn’t you go faster than eighty-five?”

Her mind raced to find a way out. “Only when I passed this car on Highway One.”

His full sensual lips were tight, his eyes were green glowing coals. “How fast?”

“I don’t want to—”

“Lila!”

“Ninety-five!”

His jaw dropped. Not a good sign. “Ninety-five?!”

She stared down at the table again. “Uh… yeah.”

“And how many miles an hour is that over the limit I gave you?”

“Twenty-five miles an hour,” she admitted reluctantly. Thankfully, he didn’t know that she’d gone a hundred and ten miles an hour over his limit on that track.

“So guess how many swats you’re gonna get on that bare butt of yours?”

She looked up at him, alarmed. “Bare butt? That’s not fair!”

He jabbed a huge finger into her face. “You don’t tell me what’s fair, I tell you. You put yourself in danger, Lila. Again, after I spanked you after that last ticket. You promised me you wouldn’t speed.”

“You said I could if I was passing someone.”

“I did. But—”

“Well, I was passing all kinds of people,” she said. And then she realized how bad it sounded. Damn it! How stupid was she?

“Lila!”

She snorted, disgusted. “Shoot.”

Zane put down his fork and pointed towards the living room. “Okay, living room now. I have to handle this now.”

“But Zane, I—”

His gaze seared her. “Lila, living room, now!”

“But I’m not done.”

“Yes, you are. Don’t make me ask you again.”

Her limbs feeling heavy, she pushed herself away from the table. Her legs shaking, her stomach in a knot, Lila shuffled miserably out of the kitchen.

Zane walked past her and sat down on the living room couch, his massive legs stretching out in front of him.

“Okay, girl, you know the routine, pull ‘em down,” he ordered curtly.

As she unbuckled her belt, she fought the tears. She hated it when he was mad at her. She hated it when she disappointed him. But she hated it even more when he spanked her for real. She loved their play spankings. That was fun. But when he meant the spankings, they were awful. The man was way too strong and his hand was so large, her entire butt fit into it. Which meant when he spanked her, he hit her whole rear at once. Her lower lip began trembling, her hands shook as she worked her zipper.

While she knew he didn’t enjoy hurting her, he certainly enjoyed exercising his power over her. The man was a power-hungry hardass. He Who Must Be Obeyed. He’d warned her the first time she’d gone out with him, what kind of a man he was. She just didn’t think he meant it. Everyday it became clearer that he’d told her the truth. Zane was an immovable force. Mr. Rules. When it came to his edicts, he had no sense of humor and saw her indiscretions in black and white. She was wrong, he was right. End of story.

She had to admit, however, her life was much less scary since he came into it. She didn’t find herself clinging four hundred feet above the city streets by just her numb fingers. She hadn’t almost died from a stunt since she’d been with him. His “edicts” had kept her alive and safe. Damn it. Why didn’t she have any self-control?

©2008, Michelle Carlyle