Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Oh, God. The mailbox. I backed the Jeep at full speed right over the concrete planter and into the metal mailbox post. The back fender of the Jeep is now completely wrapped around the tilted post.
I rub my bruised forehead. It hurt a fuck-ton in the moment, but the pain has already diminished, which seems strange.
I’m way more concerned at this point about what Wilde will do when he sees the extent of the damage. Or worse–oh fates–what Logan will do or say.
I’m so fucked.
So very fucked.
I drag in a sobbing breath and burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt your Jeep. I’ll pay for it to be fixed. I’ll give you my college money. Please don’t tell your dad.” I try to focus on Wilde’s face through my tears. “Please? Can we figure something out?”
Wilde seems to have calmed down. “Okay, Rayne. Go inside the house. Let me get the Jeep out of the planter before someone sees what happened out here.”
Relieved that Wilde at least knows what to do, I obey, walking on trembling legs into the house where I sink into the sofa. I think I’m in shock because absolutely no thoughts move through my head. I note no passage of time.
I’m not aware of anything until Wilde comes back into the house and shuts the door.
That’s when the tears automatically start to flow again. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for it. Please don’t tell your dad. Please–”
Wilde holds up a hand, and I stop, mid-plea. “You can keep your college money, Rayne.”
I stare up at him in surprise. When is Wilde ever magnanimous?
“I’ll probably be able to work off the repair at the auto shop. And yeah, we can keep this between the two of us.” He tips his head and gives me a cocky grin. “Right after I turn your ass red.” He sits down beside me as I launch to my feet. Wilde catches my waist. “Or you can deal with the wrath of Logan. You may have noticed he can be a real hardass.”
I go still, considering his offer.
His right-hand trails down from my waist, along the outside of my thigh to grip my calf. “Look, Rayne,” he says softly.
I look down and gasp. The place where he bit me has already closed. It’s still sore. I see the teeth marks, but they look a week old, rather than fresh. I have super-healing abilities now!
When I meet his gaze, I find something unfamiliar there. Appreciation? Wonder? Almost like reverence. Not for me, but for the wolf inside of me.
“Come here.” He gently tugs me closer. “Your ass is way too spankable not to handle things this way.”
Gah. I hate that it turns me on so much to have him humiliate me this way. I hate that I have no panties on and–
He tips me over his sturdy knees. The t-shirt I was wearing slides up my back. I clench my buttcheeks. “Yeah.” I hear satisfaction in his voice. “This is how I want to handle it.”
My belly flutters. I kick one heel in the air, and then he begins. He spanks me hard, slapping one cheek, then the other, warming the lower half of my ass with steady slaps. He goes for the backs of my legs, then back to my butt, concentrating on the place where I sit.
It doesn’t hurt. I mean, it does, but nothing registers as pain. All I feel is heat. Tingling. A little burn. Excitement. A feverish frenzy of energy swirling in my pelvis. Pulsing between my legs.
Wilde stops and rubs away the sting. Like the first time he spanked me, his fingers wander between my legs. Only this time I’m bare. He can feel the slick of my arousal. The swelling of my lady bits.
“Don’t.” I scissor my legs to keep him out, and he withdraws his fingers.
“Do you ache down here, Rayne-bow?”
I let out an unintelligible sound.
“Do you want me to make it better?”
“No.” I sound sulky. I think I’m pissy over the fact that I’m not going to let him get me off. Because I sort of desperately need to. But I don’t want to give him that power over me.
Wilde rubs a couple more circles around my ass, then starts spanking again. I’m relieved because I needed something–more touch, more stimulation. But that isn’t quite it. It was his fingers between my legs I wanted, not this.
Wilde abruptly tips me up.
“What?”
“I want you over here.” He picks me up with his two hands wrapped around my waist and carries me to the end of the sofa. Then he whips the t-shirt off my head.
I cover my breasts with my forearm. “What are you doing?”
He turns me around and pushes my torso down over the arm of the sofa. “I want you bare for your spanking, Rayne-bow.”