by Measha Stone
“I kinda figured.” She tried to smile, to bring some lightness to the dark tension surrounding them, but he didn’t return it.
His hands went to his belt and unbuckled the leather strap. Her ass clenched in reaction, and she bit down on her tongue to keep from begging him to forgive and forget. He might be able to, but in the end they would both walk away resentful. Because once again she wouldn’t have taken what she needed, and she’d have that craving digging at her.
He ripped the belt from the loops in one quick pull, the sound making her jolt. It wasn’t like she read in books. It didn’t sound sexy. It was like a dark beacon, calling her to her punishment. No, she didn’t like that sound. The books got it all wrong.
“Step over to the chair,” he ordered.
Her feet must have heard the same deep dominant voice she did because before she even thought to move, she obeyed.
“Take down your pants and your underwear to your knees, lift your shirt, and place your hands on the seat of the chair. I want your ass high in the air for me, presented for my belt. You’ll take fifteen lashes, not one less. If you get up, you get an extra. If you try to block with your hands, you get an extra. If I have to stop to put you back into position, you’ll get a second spanking when I take you home.”
Take her home? Three words. Simple and probably meant nothing to anyone else who might have heard them. But it meant he wasn’t just going to punish her and leave. He wasn’t going to let this ruin them. Stephanos had been right. This was going to put them back on the track her lie had derailed them from.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I want to hear, yes, sir.” His voice hardened.
“Yes, sir.” Tension eased in her chest with the phrase. Shouldn’t it be difficult, saying it to him? They were casual—this was all just part of their roles. Not real. Nothing substantial.
“Now, Sophie,” he urged when she remained motionless.
She reached under her blouse and yanked on her leggings, pulling her cotton briefs with them until they bunched at her knees. She pushed harder on the back side to be sure they were even. Such a silly thing to be concerned about with him standing there gripping a belt in his hand.
Lifting her shirt up her back until her full ass was exposed, she bent and pressed her palms into the wood seat of the chair. Even with the heat on in the club, she felt a chill on her exposed skin, sending a light tremble through her. It wouldn’t be chilly for long, she knew.
She kept her eyes down as he stepped around her, his booted steps echoing. Didn’t matter the walls were basically hanging fabric. Everything amplified in that moment.
His fingertips rested on her right cheek, and she whimpered.
“I’m not going to warm you up for this. I’m just going to use the belt,” he warned, and she nodded. What else was there to do? Have a discussion about it? He wouldn’t go harder or longer than she could tolerate or harm her. Trust. One of the single most important elements of the relationship she claimed she wanted. And she’d broken it with a dumbass lie.
Tears burned her eyes before he lifted the belt. But they spilled upon first contact.
“Ow!” she grunted with the first fiery stripe. He pulled back and unleashed the second and the third.
Just like Stephanos, he didn’t give her a moment to recover from the first before going to the next. Tears dropped onto the seat below her.
She wiggled a little at first, but on the fifth stroke, she moved her ass to the right, making him miss his mark. The tip of the folded belt lashed at her hip, and she squeaked.
“Get back in position,” he ordered.
She nodded and moved back to where she’d been.
Had he stopped? Did she just earn an entirely new spanking?
“That’s an extra one,” he declared and brought the belt down again, this time lower, right on the crease where her thighs and ass met. Oh fuck, it burned like hell.
She bit down on her tongue, her lips, everywhere trying to persuade her mind to dwell on the pain somewhere besides her ass. This wasn’t like when she dug her nails into her palms, or when he smacked her while buried deep in her pussy. This was raw, urgent pain.
The strikes kept coming, and her mind continue to focus on him.
Her fault. This was all her fault. She’d done this. She’d made this happen.
By the twelfth lash, her elbows buckled, and she had to push herself back up. He paused, giving her a moment to reposition and suck in much-needed air.
“Almost done,” he said, his fingertips once again touching her ass. The lightness of it a promise, a possibility of reconnecting. Throughout the spanking, it had been his belt touching her, not him. She’d been disconnected.
He flattened his hand on the small of her back. Not to keep her in place, he was bringing them back together.
She sniffled and blinked a few times, shedding more tears.
Each time the belt landed, she moaned. Light sobs tore through until she finally gave in and let her chest explode from the guilt, letting it all fly out in tears and shaking limbs.
He gave her the last lick of the belt, reminding her she was getting it for moving, then stood back from her.
She pressed her face into her arm and continued to cry. She expected him to put his belt back on and get her a tissue, but she didn’t know him as well as she thought.
He carefully pulled her panties over her ass, letting the elastic snap in place at her hips. Hanes again. Dragging her leggings up, he didn’t protect her burning cheeks from the material as he put them in place as well.
“Come here,” he said, urging her to stand.
She faced him, quickly wiping the tears and what little snot had snuck out from her crying. He shooed her hands away and pulled her into his chest, smoothing her hair from her face and planting soft kisses on the top of her head.
“That was hard,” he said as though confessing. “You okay?”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded and clutched at his shirt, not wanting to let go. Just needing him to keep holding her in place, because if she looked up at him, if she saw the care and adoration matching the tone in his voice, she would fall apart.
And she worked so hard to keep herself together.
“The next time I rip off my belt like that, I want it to be right before I sink my cock into you and make us both fucking explode. Understand?” He kept running his fingers over her hair, soothing her.
“Yes, sir.” She took a trembling breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied, and I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Thank you,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head again. “I didn’t see your car in the lot. You cabbed it?” he asked, not letting her go yet.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if I’d be drinking or not, so I played it safe.”
“Good girl.” He kissed her again then patted her back. “I’ll get you home and put you to bed. Straight to bed. No touching your pussy, either. You’ll have to wait until I give you your next orgasm.” Pulling away from her, he raised her chin with his fingers until she met his gaze.
She had to look like such a fucking mess, but he still appeared to be something from a Greek mythology book. “Yes, sir. I understand.” But she didn’t like it.
He dragged his fingers through her hair and tilted her head back farther, bringing his lips down on hers. The warmth of his lips spread through her body, momentarily making her forget the pain in her bottom, and the weariness in her body. With such an easy touch, two lips touching hers, he wiped away the residual fears, the lingering doubt, and left a calm, confident heat.
When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. “I’m trying to go slow, Sophie. I’m trying to keep this casual for you, but nothing about you is casual.”
The heated words simmered through her. He didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.
She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. Her heart ached to scream back that she agreed, she knew what he meant and w
anted to dive in all the way with him.
She opened her mouth, ready, willing, but clamped her lips closed. There were too many what-ifs. Still things that weren’t decided. It wouldn’t be fair—to either of them.
“They probably want to finish closing up,” she whispered after a long moment passed in silence.
He kissed her forehead. “Yeah. We should get going.”
He grabbed his jacket, buckled his belt, and slid his hand into hers.
For the moment, she’d find comfort in his touch.
But only for a moment.
Chapter 19
“How is that even possible?” Scott glared at the medical examiner in the M.E. office.
Dr. Greene slid his hands into his the pockets of his lab coat and shrugged. “It happens. There wasn’t a question of the identity, as far as we knew, so there wasn’t a rush on the testing.”
“But now there’s a question of identity?” Sophie asked, coffee in hand.
“It’s complicated. You see, we ran the results of your victim through the data base. We do that to see if it triggers anything in cold cases or missing persons. And we found a match, but it’s not an exact match.”
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. Obviously, he should have spent more time studying biology in high school instead of practicing his chemistry with the homecoming queen.
“Can you explain that in English?” Sophie asked, her tone tight. At least Scott wasn’t the only one confused.
“Yes, there’s a small mutation in the sample we sent off. So, the sample from your victim matches another profile almost identically, except for a tiny mutation that wouldn’t have been caught except for some really stellar work on the part of one my technicians. He’s got a knack for finding the little details. It’s actually quite—”
“Yeah, I’m sure it is, but I still don’t get it. The match was a match, but not really?” Scott pressed on, running low on patience.
Dr. Greene cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back. “Yes.”
“Okay, so how does that change things here?” Scott tried to focus all his attention on the doctor. He shifted his body to the right, bringing himself a little closer to Sophie. She didn’t move away. He took it as a good sign.
“Well, the profile we found is for Susan James. A rape case that went unsolved about ten years ago,” Dr. Greene said.
“Wait. But you just said the DNA you sent from our victim doesn’t exactly match that profile,” Sophie pointed out.
Dr. Greene huffed. “Yes. Your victim doesn’t match the profile. But the profile has your victim’s name on it. Same age, appearance is identical. You’re dealing with twins, detective. And you have the wrong one in my lab.”
Scott closed his eyes. They had the wrong victim. He could laugh. It would feel good to relieve some of the tension, but he held back.
“So, who the hell is the victim if it’s not Susan James?”
“The unfortunate woman in my lab’s name is Sabrina Charleston. I took the liberty to send a request out for all of her records and get you more information on the real victim.”
“So, where the hell is Susan James if it’s her sister who’s dead?” Sophie asked, irritation seeping into her tone.
“That’s why you’re the detectives, and I’m just the lab rat.” Dr. Greene smiled.
“Right,” Scott said. “Thanks.”
“Thank you, Dr. Greene. Did you have any more information about the bruising on the report?” Sophie asked.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry I missed you yesterday. It was such a slight discoloration, I nearly overlooked it. That’s why it wasn’t on the preliminary report. The bruising is around both forearms, but just over the tops, as though she’d been tied down to a chair. There was also some fingerprint bruising under her arms, like she’d been dragged.”
“Okay, thanks. That actually makes sense now.” Sophie nodded.
“If you need anything else, just let me know.” The doctor gave them each a dismissive smile and went back into his lab.
“That makes sense?” Scott asked with raised brows.
“Yeah. She was tied down to the chair so she couldn’t get up and leave, but when she was shot and fell over, she would still be too close to the chair, right? The force of the bullet would have thrown her further away, but the binds kept her secured. So, the murderer had to reposition her body at least a few inches to make it look like she fell from the chair. We should get forensics to examine the blood splatter again and see if it matches my theory.”
“If the shooter manipulated the body afterward, there should be more evidence,” Scott added as they climbed the stairs toward their department.
“I think everyone jumped on the suicide bandwagon too quick and overlooked things. We’ll have it all combed through again. But in the meantime, what I don’t get is where the hell is Susan James. I mean, her twin sister is killed in her own apartment, but she’s nowhere around? And what about that email?”
“The email doesn’t exist. I have the two confessors coming in this afternoon for more questioning. Obviously, they were put up to confessing, especially since the person they were claiming to have killed isn’t even fucking dead.” Scott stopped at the top of the stairs. “This is one of the most fucked up cases I’ve had.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Sophie laughed. A light sound, easing the tension between them.
After his slip in letting her know he was having trouble keeping things casual between them, he worried she’d run for the hills. But he couldn’t help saying it.
Sure, he was pissed she’d lied to him. When he arrived for the rope demonstration, he was disappointed it had been changed, but once he saw her sitting in the audience, he chalked it up to fate.
He had expected her to take her punishment; she had too much pride to walk away from it. She knew she’d lied, and Chase had been right. The guilt had been written all over her. To not punish her and relieve her of the heavy burden would have been cruel. But he hadn’t expected her reaction. He hadn’t spanked her as hard as he would have a more experienced submissive. She’d never had a belt spanking before as far as he knew, so he went lighter. Still marked her ass pretty good, and holy fuck did those marks play through his mind all fucking night, no matter how many times he jerked off.
Seeing her cry, feeling her chest heave against his own with her sobs had taken the little seed of hope she could be something more and fertilized it until he lay awake most of the night trying to figure out how to make her his. Really his. Like, forever his.
That she wasn’t hiding from him this morning gave him more hope. That she actually texted him with a good morning and offered to pick up coffee for him on her way to work nearly sent him through the roof of his Mazda.
But it was small steps. Like Dani said, let it simmer, until it all comes to a boil. Until then, he needed to keep things as casual and as aloof as possible with her. He didn’t need her running scared now.
“So, where do you want to start?” she asked.
“Let’s watch the security footage from the apartment again. I know they said they only saw her going into the apartment, but since we know she isn’t really her, we might be able to see something else,” Scott offered.
“Good idea. I can handle the witnesses, unless you want to join in?”
“If you need me, call me. I’ll be watching hours of footage.” He smiled then gestured for her to move to the side of the hall with him. “How are you feeling today?” he asked in a soft voice so not to be overheard.
She glanced around, a light pink taking over her cheeks before she answered. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“And your—” She pressed her fingertips to his mouth to stop him. He smiled, savoring the scent of coffee lingering on her, and pulled her hand away.
“Naughty, naughty,” he teased in a low whisper.
“I’m fine there, too.” She looked away but smiled. “Sir.”
Did heartbeats actually skip? Maybe he was coming down with a heart
murmur, brought on by the sweetest tone speaking such a heavy word.
“Good. Let’s not repeat that lesson anytime soon.” He wanted to brush the errant strand of hair from her face, cradle her cheek, and kiss the breath from her. But they were at work. So he straightened to full height instead. “It will be worse if we have to.”
Her eyes widened, and she jerked her head up to look at him. Her hair fell over her shoulders in thick waves. Running his fingers through the curls became a priority, and he mentally counted down the hours until they could get the hell out of the station.
“Got it.” She blew out a burst of air, making her lips vibrate in a less than ladylike fashion. “I need to get to work, or we may have to take a really long smoke break to your car. And neither of us smokes.”
He laughed, and how fucking good it felt to laugh with her.
“Okay. I’ll get to my stuff, you get to yours, and we’ll meet with Captain Peterson at four thirty. He wants an update, and then we can wrap for the day. Sound good?”
“Absolutely.”
“Think you need alone time tonight? You didn’t really get it last night,” Scott remarked.
“I dunno. I feel like there’s a few things on my list you haven’t gotten to yet.” She winked. Was she trying to make him walk through the damn precinct with a fucking hard on? Not that she needed to try. Her formfitting black slacks achieved the goal easily enough. Even if they were offset by the sneakers she wore.
“Ah, teasing. Well, you’ll have to see where that gets you. Now get back to work,” He spun her around and sent her off with a resounding smack to her ass.
She gasped and set a hard glare on him while stomping away.
Shit. They were still in the hallway. She made it so easy for him to forget everything other than her. A quick glance around assured him no one had seen. Thankfully.
Giving her a smack when they were alone was one thing, jeopardizing reputation at work was completely different. And he wouldn’t do that to her.
Keep your fucking head on straight! Work then play.
