The Discipline

by Jade A. Waters

  “I hear that,” Ansel said.

  “That’s because he’s the stowaway!” Evan stuck a thumb in his direction as Ansel met my eyes.

  “It’s been awhile, but yes, at one time, I hung around this family like glue. Or at least, with Evan. Dean a bit, too.” He glanced at Dean. “Those were the days, huh?”

  Dean’s forehead scrunched and his mouth shut tight while he reflected. But when he responded, his voice was flat. “That was a different time.”

  Curiosity tripped through me. “Um, cryptic. Stories?”

  Dean said, “No.”

  No one else was volunteering, either. In fact, everyone suddenly looked glum.

  What was I missing?

  When Ansel sat back, his frown slowly shifted into a wry grin and he waved it off. “It was stupid man shit. No big deal.”

  “Daddy?”

  Everyone turned to see Katie pattering into the dining room. She snuggled up against Evan’s sleeve, her face indented with marks from the couch cushion.

  “Hi, sweetie. You okay?”

  “It’s loud,” she said.

  “All right.” Evan stood and hoisted her up, balancing her on his hip. She buried her sleepy face into his shoulder. “I think that’s my cue.”

  “Ah, poor Katie.” Dean jumped up and rubbed Katie’s back. His care with her brought another quiver to my belly. She adored him too, which was evident in the half hug she gave him before Dylan kissed her cheek. Dean said, “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

  “Bye, Katie doll,” Luka said.

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured. I followed after them once Dean swung by the kitchen to grab one of the leftover containers, and we escorted Evan to the door with Katie cradled in his arms.

  “Really nice to meet you, Evan.”

  “You too.” He peered around Katie’s head. “Keep my brother in line, would you?”

  “Will do.”

  Before we could get back to the dining room, Ansel rose from the table and walked over. “I should probably get going, too.”

  “Okay. Thanks for coming.” Dean shook his hand.

  “You bet. And great to meet you, Maya.” A crooked smile crossed his lips when he stepped through the door and looked back at me, and though I tried to pick up anything else between him and Dean, I got nothing.

  Dean smiled and waved. I said, “You too.”

  “Eat and run, huh?” Dean had turned away from Ansel’s departure to Dylan, Luka and Sam crowding the entryway.

  “Ah, whatever. Thanks for cooking,” Dylan said.

  “You got it.”

  “It was totally great hanging with you, Maya.”

  “Absolutely,” Luka said. He and Sam surrounded me to peck both of my cheeks in unison before hugging me good-bye. Luka gave Dean a thumbs up that made him roll his eyes, and then Dylan gave me a big hug as well.

  “Bye, guys. Drive safe, okay?”

  “For sure.” Dylan waved the car keys. “I’m on it. These two aren’t allowed behind the wheel.”

  “No way.” Sam embraced Luka, a little wobbly on his feet, and Luka’s hiccup affirmed their wise choice. Once the three of them left, the door closed after them. I folded my arms over my chest.

  Dean took a huge breath. “There you have it. Christmas Eve.”

  “We survived!” I said, easing into his arms.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head and I pressed my lips against his chin.

  “I thought it was fun. You’re all from the same tree, clearly.”

  “Think so?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Dean nestled me close before leading me back into the kitchen. There, he grabbed two fresh wine glasses from the dishwasher and poured us each half a glass. He’d had complete and utter command of the kitchen, the dinner, the company, all of it—but when he handed my glass over, he looked wiped. I tried to mask my smile while he took a sip and stared at me. “What?”

  “Nothing. I had a great time.”

  “Me too.” He rested a hand on the tile countertop and leaned against it, swirling his wine in his glass. “My crazy family didn’t scare you?”

  “Are you kidding?” I propped myself back against the counter. “That’s not crazy at all. High energy, but not crazy. Wait till you meet my brother at Selby’s wedding, and multiply that energy by ten. That might be crazy. And with Selby, wow.” I lifted one hand to the back of his neck and sipped my wine, enjoying the feel of his hair on my fingertips. I’d picked up a good buzz—part from all the wine and the rest thanks to the vibe of hanging with his family—but it was enough to warm my cheeks and free up my tongue. “Your family’s fabulous. Dylan’s a total doll, and Luka, what a character! He’s almost...effervescent.” Dean smiled at the description. “Evan was nice, too. He seems like a good dad.”

  “He is. I’m glad he was nice. Sometimes he can be an ass.”

  I snickered at Dean’s bluntness. “Really?”

  “Yep. The divorce kicked him in the teeth, and he works a lot to help with Katie. He’s happier, but tired. Grouchy.”

  “Understandable. But Katie must lift his spirits?”

  “She does.”

  “I can see why. You have yourself the most adorable niece, you know?”

  Dean tipped his glass. “I do. She’s the budding diva of our sailing trips when she comes along.”

  “I bet.” I slid my fingers down his arm, tracing the line of his triceps. “I liked them all. Your friends, too.” The momentary weirdness I’d caught crossed my mind, and I said, “Hey, what was that whole good-ole-days bit?”

  Dean didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his glass to take a sip. A flicker crossed his eyes in that stormy churn that often reminded me of the bay, but he shrugged. “Story for another day.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Because.” He scooted closer, taking a distracting grab of my hip to tug me in, but I kept going.

  “Because why?” I softened my voice, pleading with a bat of my eyelashes for him to share whatever this mystery was that I got the sense he was avoiding. Dean didn’t budge, not even in the roam of my fingertips around his neck before I tipped in for a kiss. “Fine,” I teased. “Be cryptic. Maybe you’re grumpy.”

  “Grumpy?”

  I pursed my lips, bolstered by the alcohol in my veins. “Yeah. Because in-control Dean sure got a lot of teasing from his brothers. Player-player’s got a girlfriend, and everyone loves to keep razzing him about it.” I bit my tongue as Dean’s eyebrows knitted together. I was used to his pensive expression when he’d think up all the naughty things he was about to do to me, but this one was different. Almost nervous.

  Had I made him nervous?

  When Dean still didn’t say anything, I opted for a different tact. I grabbed his hand, pressing it against my chest. The strength of his body soothed this close, but his eyes were distant as he grazed the space between my breasts. “I’ve been thinking, you know.”

  “About?”

  I cupped his ass, noting the subtle lift of his eyes and the slow flare of his nostrils when I squeezed him through his jeans. “Christmas surprises.” He cocked his head. “Things we’ve talked about trying...”

  Dean straightened up, and my grin spread over my lips. My pulse started to speed, but I didn’t hold back.

  “You’ve been an awfully good boy, Dean.”

  “Have I?”

  “Uh-huh.” My words came out loud, confident. The entire evening and the preparation for this family event he wanted to share had made me feel closer to him. “You’ve been so good, I was thinking I might just let you spank me tonight. Over your knee and everything.” My heart thumped as Dean’s eyes lit up, his fingertips frozen on my chest. “But I want it clear it’s because I want to try it. Not because I need or deserve any form
of punishment.”

  “I understand.” Dean lowered his glass to the counter and leaned nearer, his breath teasing my cheeks and lips. The air between us shifted, electricity sparking as he backed me into the counter, taking the cue. Taking his control. The aroma of Christmas dinner saturated the kitchen, but this close, I smelled the amber on his skin, felt the way the hairs lifted on the back of my neck like they tended to do when we were about to play. His voice dropped low. “You bringing this up turns me on.”

  “Does it?”

  He rolled his hips up, the hard bulge in his jeans answering my question. Dean resumed the course of his fingers along my sternum, hooking one beneath the top button of my shirt before he paused. “Are you sure?”

  “It’s only a spanking.” I raised my eyebrow in a dare. But knowing it would be the event—a focused moment of discipline meant to boil my blood and rile me up—my heartbeat grew loud.

  Dean’s eyes locked with mine. When he took my glass in hand and set it on the counter with his, my body responded from inside, every inch of me pitching closer at the measured weight of his gaze. He unfastened the top button of my shirt, then the next one down. As Dean pushed the sides apart and gently kissed my neck, my eyelids fluttered. “Where should we do it?” My heart damn near leaped out of my chest at the gritty, throaty sound of his voice.

  “A chair, obviously,” I teased. I caught his hands and wriggled from between him and the counter, and once I led him to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair, Dean swung his head back and forth.

  “You are such a sass.”

  I winked, but Dean lurched. He slipped his palms under my hair and around my neck, drawing me up for a kiss so deep my temperature skyrocketed. When he slid his fingers up to clench the hair at the nape of my neck, he tugged until all I could see with the angle of my head was him.

  Pins and needles bathed my arms in the long minute he stared over me. This was what I loved, craved... I whispered, “Well?”

  Dean released me. He sat in the chair, and my groin clenched.

  I stepped up against his knees, my body trembling with arousal and the slow movements he took to peel my shirt fully off before letting it fall and stripping me of my bra. His fingertips left fire in their wake, and he fingered the waistband of my jeans while he sat forward, layering kisses over my belly. He took his time to shuck my pants off and to the ground. The wait made me unbelievably wet, my scent rising between us when Dean raised two fingers to my panties and tested the lace with a soft groan.

  “You letting me do this—I can’t explain how excited it makes me.” He eased his hold down my legs to pull off my shoes, then circled my calves and smoothed over them. I traced my fingers along his jaw and into his hair, struggling to stay upright, his fingers cruising up and over my thighs. Once he weaved his touch back to the fabric that hid me from him, he dipped his fingers in the slightest bit to push the lace inside. I sucked in a breath. “And you’re so wet. Silky.”

  “For you.”

  Dean’s touch lightened, taunting and sending waves of ferocious heat through me even though he hadn’t done anything save for strip me down.

  For a spanking.

  I clenched my fists at my sides. Dean kept stroking the fabric between my legs. Finally, he lifted his gaze.

  “Will you lay over my knee, Maya?”

  Ripples of excitement flocked my spine at the glisten of Dean’s eyes. Already, I was floating. When he guided me to the right side of his knees, his touch shot tingles through my limbs. I folded over his legs, the roil in my belly there, but waiting...waiting... The urge to giggle over this staged moment played over my lips. It almost felt more extreme than the times we’d been in public, where my every move was on display by his command. This was a play between us, him preparing me to take the slap of his hand in a dramatic show. The thought flooded my cunt while Dean arranged me with my head and arms draped downward, my hips over his thighs. The position was precarious at first, but he palmed my thighs and shifted me around, hitching one leg beneath my hips to aim my ass up.

  When his movements ceased, he mumbled, “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “You’re gorgeous like this. And your beautiful ass in these panties isn’t making this view any less extraordinary.”

  My nipples peaked. Dean ran a finger along the lace trim of my panties, and my breath hitched. He pressed his forearm gently between my shoulder blades and grabbed my waist to steady me, his cock nudging my side through his jeans. In the tiny adjustments he made of my body, he grew ever harder against my hip. I felt the speeding gust of his breath hitting the skin of my ass from above.

  “Touch me, please,” I said. Dean rested his palm on the back of my thighs and I growled. “Not there.”

  “Where?” He moved his hand along my skin in a tantalizing, daring slide.

  “Higher,” I murmured, shocked at myself, at how strong the urge had become to do this. On edge, I dipped my head low. The movement rubbed my clit against his thighs. I took advantage with a rock to feel it again. Dean crooked a thumb under the waistband of my panties, holding it there for far too long. “Please, Dean.”

  His cock lurched beneath his jeans. Instinctively, I laced my fingers together, astounded by how erotic this felt, how Dean’s slow tug on my waistband made me ache. He gripped my side tighter with his free hand and teased my underwear down, stopping it under the crease of my ass cheeks. When he swept his fingers over the curve of my ass, he warmed my cheeks against the air that kissed my exposed flesh. An eternity passed like this, both the pressure of his forearm and the whoosh of his breath charging me up. I wished I could see his face, know the look in his eyes while he stared at my ass and I waited for something I couldn’t believe had me this excited.

  Dean said, “You’re gorgeous. So sexy, trying this with me.”

  A second later, the weight of his palm crashed against my ass. The sound was the first thing to jolt me; the clap spread under my skin, jarring across my cheek. Dean kept his palm on me after he struck, perhaps gauging my response while I lay there. Rivulets of sensation traveled into my hips and fueled the urge to grind against him again as I gasped.

  “Maya?”

  “It’s okay.” I adjusted myself in his lap. What had been more delicious, the feel of his fingers making contact with my ass, or the maddening rub of my clit? I said, “Again.”

  “Jesus...” Dean struck. This time, I squirmed, then arched my back to raise my ass up. The space between his hand and my skin hummed with potential, and I curled my fingers tighter together, trying to wrap my brain around how good this felt. When he clapped his hand against me again, he didn’t pause after. Several strikes came in quick succession, alternating between hard and soft, flat palm and cupped hand, on either cheek. Tiny bursts of air wisped out of my throat, and a delirious, floating sensation spurred the grinds I snuck against his knee. I tried to contend with my thoughts—a flurry of surprise, shock and...arousal. As blood warmed my ass cheeks, the sound of my heart filled my ears.

  We were panting.

  “Your ass is this perfect, lovely dark pink.” Dean hitched his knee upward a few inches and I whimpered. My clit was raw from the friction, and when he caressed my ass, the tenderness soothed the subtle burn of my skin. His dick throbbed against my side, taunting through his jeans, making it impossible not to want him, more. “I knew this would be hot, but this...”

  He startled me with a sneak of his fingers between my thighs, sinking them in me in an instant. “Oh fuck!” I shrieked.

  “Maya, Maya, Maya...” Dean slid his fingers in and out, the intensity forcing me to bow down my head. My face burned, my thoughts running wild. How could this really turn me on so much? I arched my ass up more, needing Dean’s fingers farther inside, and he groaned before shoving them knuckle deep with a hard lift of his knee.

  “Yes!”

>   But he yanked his hand away. He rested it on my ass, letting me feel my stickiness.

  “Please,” I begged. I buried my mouth into my clasped hands, out of my mind. Dean dug his fingertips into my ass cheek and pleasure reared up inside. My pulse was spastic, my breath ragged.

  Dean’s voice came to my ears heavy and gruff. “Again?” he asked.

  I wanted exactly that.

  I bobbed my head. More swats warmed my ass, but harder each time. Left, right, left, right, pause... Dean changed the hold of his hand to make each strike feel different—one a sharp sting, the next a gentle pat. I gasped each time, and when he rubbed my skin after, I ground against his knee. My body quaked with the most intense urge to cry, to laugh, to come.

  Frenzied, Dean clasped my waist to shuffle my panties off my thighs, then he bid me to spread my legs farther apart. The next time he slapped, he aimed lower. The ends of his fingers smacked my cunt.

  “Fuck, yes!” I moaned.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes!” How, I didn’t understand, but I shifted about, wanting more. Needing more.

  Dean made contact again. I moaned before rocking against his knee. Once he plunged his fingers inside, I couldn’t have resisted the onslaught if I tried.

  Ecstasy cascaded through me in a full body rumble. I’d shifted so far over Dean’s lap I bit down on my clenched fists while he kept fucking me with his fingers. I convulsed around his thrusts, wails streaming from my throat. Even with my eyes pinched shut I saw stars. Dean stole his fingers away and wrapped his arms around my waist, his whisper hoarse when he lifted me off his lap and laid me down on the floor.

  “Sexy, desperate girl.” His mouth plundered mine, his hand in my hair, the other one unfastening his belt and tearing down his zipper. Dean pushed inside me so fast I gulped for air. In the spread of my eyes, I caught the glaze of his. He grabbed onto my wrists and pinned them above my head to use them for leverage. He withdrew and thrust again, his cock thick, his eyes flickering with such love as he sank into my depths. “Christ, Maya.”