by Sue Lyndon
The thought of her sitting in a posh restaurant footloose and fancy free while he frantically searched for her reignited his anger. Even before her illness, before they’d had to take a break from domestic discipline, she’d never done anything half as naughty as running off behind his back.
First he had to find her and confirm her safety. Then he needed to lay down the law.
Chapter Four
The forbidden fruit she’d picked earlier now tasted bitter. Stephie tried to concentrate on Darla’s tale about her most recent ex-boyfriend begging to be taken back, but her thoughts drifted and her stomach soured. It was two in the afternoon. She wondered if Marcus had noted her absence yet. He’d probably called her. He always called between his classes around noontime. Would he worry when she didn’t answer and return his calls?
Her tummy flipped. Hell yes, he’d worry. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the waiter brought their post-lunch coffee.
“What wrong?” Darla asked. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, I’m listening.” Stephie sipped her coffee.
“So what should I do? Should I take Eddie back?”
Uh oh. Stephie honestly didn’t know why Darla had broken up with this Eddie guy in the first place. Her thoughts had been completely on Marcus. But her sister appeared desperate for advice, and Stephie didn’t want to disappoint her. Especially since she’d taken a personal day at work so they could spend some time together before attending the exhibit tonight.
“Do you trust him? Do you love him? Does he make you feel special and like you’re the only girl on the planet who matters to him?” Stephie asked, and her eyes widened with the knowledge of what she’d just done. Described Marcus. The husband she’d disobeyed and would have to face sooner or later. Knowing him, probably sooner. She’d bet her already sore bottom he was currently en route for New York. She’d turned her phone off, but she suspected it would buzz with a slew of messages and texts after she turned it back on.
Darla twirled a blonde curl between her fingers and sighed. She stared up at the ceiling. “No, Stephie. I don’t trust him. I want to, but I guess I know I never will. He makes me happy sometimes, but it’s not love. I just want to find Mr. Right, you know? Like you and Marcus. You two are so obviously in love. I’m totally jealous.” Darla smiled and shrugged. “Guess my big sister will always be smarter than me, huh?”
Stephie laughed. “Can I get you to put that in writing?”
“Never!” Darla smirked, and the waiter soon appeared with their check.
The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. Stephie knew she should turn on her phone, but the thought of facing Marcus scared her. She wasn’t frightened of him, but she dreaded to hear the disappointment in his tone. Sure, he’d sound angry, but after five years of marriage she could detect all the layers of his emotions. He’d try to be strong and hide his vulnerability, as he’d done during her illness, but she’d still detect it tinging his voice with a soft, wavering note.
Evening arrived, and Stephie and Darla had just enough time to dash back to Darla’s apartment to get ready. After slipping into a flowing, dark purple dress, Stephie finally turned on her phone.
It nearly convulsed and buzzed out of her hand.
Oh sweet heavens, she should’ve at least had the courtesy of leaving Marcus a note. But she hadn’t. She’d been selfish and naughty. Tears clouded her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to hold them in and keep her emotions in check. They had to leave in five minutes. She couldn’t dissolve into a mess. It was her big night. Her first big night in forever, and she planned to own it. To show Marcus she wasn’t a dainty thing to be coddled and kept hidden from the world.
She couldn’t bear to listen to his frantic messages, but she scanned the texts. She blinked back more tears and ended up wiping few away. Dammit. He was worried sick and it was all her fault. She opened a new text and typed his name in.
I’m okay. Please don’t worry. I’m with Darla in New York. We’re leaving for the exhibit soon. I’ll call you later. Love you.
Send. She immediately shut the phone off, knowing if she spoke with Marcus before the exhibit, she’d show up with raccoon eyes from crying away her mascara. Her illness had been no secret, and she didn’t wish for her solo debut back into the art world to be tinged with whispers and curious stares. She’d attended a few functions with Marcus by her side, always the supportive husband, but this was her first time without him. Darla didn’t count as a babysitter.
Rather than navigate through the congested city streets and fight for a parking spot, they opted for a taxi. The exhibit buzzed with people by the time they arrived, and Stephie worked the room after greeting the curator. Darla stuck by her side, until a good looking young man who reeked of money began flirting with her. Stephie winked at her sister and went in search of a cocktail. As she crossed the room with the drink in hand, her eyes locked with a pair of intense, dark brown ones.
Marcus.
Her heart stopped and all noise in the room faded into the background. She attempted to recover from the shock of seeing him, but it was no use. She felt rattled down to her bones. How had he known where to find her? She hadn’t mentioned the location of the exhibit. Insides quaking and churning, she approached him on shaky legs. The heels she’d slipped into wobbled beneath her feet. He closed the distance between them and grasped her forearm with a gentleness that warred with the anger flaring in his gaze.
Goosebumps crawled across her arms and a shiver prickled her spine. He stared at her and his calm anger unnerved her further. Agitation radiated from his whole body. His jaw tensed and she repressed a shudder.
This was bad. Very bad. She’d seriously screwed up. She was in so much trouble.
Or was she really? He’d given her one actual punishment spanking since they’d resumed the DD side of their relationship. It could’ve been a fluke. Maybe he wouldn’t actually chastise her.
She’d find out soon enough.
“Good evening, Marcus,” she said, almost a whisper.
“Good evening, Stephie.” His tone was as hard and unforgiving as his eyes.
She stood taller and lifted her chin. “Thanks for coming to the exhibit, but as you can see, I made it just fine. You didn’t need to go to the trouble.”
The hand on her forearm squeezed. His eyes flashed. A warning.
“You’re my wife. I’ll always go to the trouble.” Again, his livid yet quiet tone struck fear into her heart. If he spanked her for this disobedience, it would be one hell of a spanking.
“How-how did you find the exhibit?”
“I looked through your desk.”
“Oh.”
“Oh indeed.”
She gulped and glanced around the room. No one had taken notice of their strained conversation. Darla was still busy flirting it up with Mr. Moneybags and hadn’t noticed her brother-in-law’s arrival.
Stephie gestured to a bench against the wall between two large paintings. “Should we sit down?”
“All right. Might as well. After all, you won’t be doing much sitting for the next few days.”
She stifled a gasp at his threat. He guided her over to the bench, and they sat side-by-side, staring out at the crowd. Spotlights shone on the surrounding paintings but weren’t directed near the bench, so it provided a safe, quiet area for them to talk in private.
Except Stephie didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ rested on the tip of her tongue, but a simple apology wouldn’t repair the damage she’d done. Marcus placed a hand on her thigh and cleared his throat.
*
He wanted to haul his naughty wife over his lap on the bench, but he couldn’t. They needed privacy. So, until they left the exhibit, he resolved to maintain appearances for her sake. Obviously this exhibit had been important to Stephie, but it wounded him that she’d gone behind his back. His anger flared so hot his ears tingled. He met her worried gaze before leaning over to speak directly in her ear.
“
After the exhibit ends, we’ll spend the night in a hotel before heading home in the morning,” he said.
“But what about Darla? Besides, all my stuff is at her apartment. My car is there too.”
“We’ll swing by her place in the morning to get your things and your car.” He paused and drew back to pierce her with a firm look. “Unless you’d like your sister to hear your spanking?”
The color drained from her face. “Can’t my spanking wait until we get home? Someone at the hotel might hear.”
“No one will hear a thing. The walls at the hotel aren’t as thin as in Darla’s apartment.”
She tensed and glanced down at the drink in her hand. “All right. I should tell Darla. Are we leaving now?”
His mood softened to see her lip trembling slightly, as well as the disappointment in her eyes as she scanned the room. “We can stay as long as you’d like, sweetheart.” He brought her free hand to his lips, kissing the softness of the back of her hand. “I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried about you.”
“I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. I just wanted to prove to you I can do this. I can travel like I used to and nothing bad will come of it. I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” he said. “Even despite this little stunt of yours, I do trust you, Stephie. That’s not the reason I’ve been hesitant to allow you to travel as you did in the past.” His throat tightened and burned. Once upon a time, he’d almost lost her. But she’d been given a second chance. They’d been given a second chance. Except he wasn’t living out the second chance. He’d become stuck in the past, and Stephie’s longing to embrace her life after recovery clashed with his constant worry. “Perhaps I’ve been a little too overprotective,” he admitted.
A smile broke across her face, lighting her eyes. “Just a little?” Her teasing caused his anger to wane.
“Okay, more than a little. But I think maybe we can reach a compromise. One overnight trip a month. Anything beyond that will be subject to my approval.”
Her grin widened. “You mean it?”
Once again, he brought her hand to his lips. “Yes, sweetheart, I mean it.”
Her expression turned playful, and she cocked her head to the side. Mischief lighted her features. “Does this mean I don’t get a spanking?”
“What do you think?”
She grew somber and her gaze flickered around the room. Finally, she met his eyes. “I know I was naughty.”
“Very naughty. You can count on a good scolding before your spanking, too, young lady. I’m not happy with the stunt you pulled. Yes, it got my attention, but your little stunt nearly gave me a heart attack.”
She sighed, closing her eyes as she nodded in acceptance. Marcus didn’t demand they leave the exhibit immediately, but he stayed at her side until the guests began to dwindle and the closing hour neared. Darla seemed relieved to hear they’d be spending the night in a hotel. Apparently she’d met a man at the exhibit and wanted to bring him home for coffee.
Tension swelled in the car as Marcus drove them to a hotel where he’d made a reservation earlier in the day. After checking in, they found their room on the tenth floor and ordered a light dinner. Stephie picked at her food and kept casting him nervous glances. She had plenty to be nervous about, too, because he didn’t plan to go easy on her. He’d punished her thoroughly last week and brought her to tears, and this first real punishment hadn’t broken her. Or him. Instead, it had strengthened their marriage.
He had to remain firm.
Once dinner was out of the way, they cuddled on a couch near the window and gazed at the unending expanse of city lights. He stroked her hair, kissed her neck, and squeezed her hands in his. She remained tense in his arms though, and he suspected the tension wouldn’t leave her until he’d chastised her properly. He leaned back and tilted her chin up. Determination filled him.
“It’s time.”
“All right,” she whispered. Worry flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t try to talk her way out of the spanking. In the past, she’d never tried to talk her way out of a punishment. She joked about it now and then, as she had at the exhibit, but she’d never truly pleaded for him to let her off the hook.
He respected her submission, however reluctant it might be in the face of a spanking, and he treasured her all the more for following his lead. He cursed himself for shirking his duties as head of household since her recovery, but he resolved to think of the last year as a lesson that now paved the way for a time to heal.
He stood up, drawing her to her feet with him. He stared down at her, all sweetness and remorse as her hands fidgeted at her sides. The elegant purple dress suited her figure, accentuating her ample bosom and tapering to her hips, where it flared outward and swept to the floor.
“Remove your clothing, Stephie. Everything.”
Chapter Five
Stephie flushed from head to toe under Marcus’s stern gaze.
“I’m waiting, little girl. Take the dress off and everything underneath it, too. You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Oh, she knew. Sighing, she reached back to unzip her gown. It fell to her feet in a pool of purple silken fabric, and she stood before her fully clothed husband in nothing but a strapless bra and a skimpy thong. She’d lost her high heels the moment they’d walked in the hotel room.
“I’m still waiting.” His gaze swept over her, and her sense of vulnerably heightened.
Closing her eyes, she unhooked her bra and let it slide away. Still keeping her eyes shut tight, she stepped out of her thong and pushed the pile of clothing to the side with her foot.
“Look at me,” Marcus said, his voice deep and strained.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and peered up at him. His sternness remained, and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt while she’d taken off her undergarments. Butterflies flittered in her stomach, and her breathing became labored. This punishment would be different from the one she’d received days ago in their bedroom. Her transgression was so much worse than resistance and being mouthy. She’d planned her disobedience down to the very last detail. “You were very naughty, Stephie,” he said, beginning her scolding. The butterflies in her stomach flittered faster and seemed to rise to her throat. She felt sick with remorse. He’d obviously been sick with worry. All because of her.
“You left town without telling me where you were going. You left me to assume you’d gone to New York. I had to assume that because in your naughtiness, you didn’t even have the courtesy of leaving me a note. Think about that, Stephie. Think about how worried I was when you didn’t answer your phone. Yes, that’s right. Not only did you not have the courtesy to leave a note, but you didn’t have the courtesy to answer your phone or return a call or text message. You had the ability to contact me and you didn’t. Did you see my calls and texts on your cell phone as they came in?” His voice had risen, but he wasn’t yelling.
“I … I turned my phone off.” Oh, she felt miserable. What had she been thinking turning her phone off like that? What if he’d needed to get ahold of her for an emergency? Going off the grid for hours wasn’t acceptable. She was his wife, and while he had never given her rules about staying connected to him via cell phone, the rule was implied. Purposefully keeping herself out of reach was intolerable. Thoughtless and selfish. She cringed inwardly and resisted the urge to cover her nudity.
“But you must have turned it on at some point to send me that text.”
“I decided to send you one text and then turn my phone off again. I’m so sorry. I saw you’d left messages, but I didn’t listen to them. I skimmed the texts, sent you the one text, then turned it off because I couldn’t bear to speak with you. Not right before the exhibit.” She made to lower her head, but he immediately reached out, stilling her movement with a finger under her chin. She had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to look except into his dark, intense eyes.
Tears ran down her cheeks as he scolded her over her irresponsible and careless behavior. By
the time he finished, she felt as chastised as she felt after the most severe spanking in the past, but no, she still had a spanking coming. That knowledge brought more tears to her eyes. She couldn’t recall a time she’d been in such deep trouble. Despite how much the spanking would hurt, she longed to be over his lap. She longed for his forgiveness. To feel his arms around her as he stroked her hair and murmured soothing words into her ear.
Marcus grasped her hand and led her across the room. To the bed. Her legs shook with each step. He sat down and guided her over his lap, and she offered no resistance. The comforter soaked up her tears, and she turned her face to the side, drawing in deep breaths as her anticipation grew.
He positioned her bottom high in the air over one knee and brought his other leg down atop her legs. Tremors ran through her, and she gasped when he cupped her cheeks. He didn’t begin immediately, instead massaging her flesh to prepare her for the imminent spanking. After about two minutes, his hand left her bottom and his other hand pressed down on her lower back.
She pressed her eyes shut, holding her breath. Thwack! The first slap caught her lower right cheek, and the next slap caught her opposite cheek. His hand came down, again and again, the sting building up with each slap until her bottom felt like an inferno. Maintaining silence through the pain became difficult, and her cries soon tore through the air.
“You will never, ever run off without telling me where you are going, young lady. Am I making myself clear?” As he scolded, he maintained a swift pace of spanks, centering most of his attention on the lower curve of her bottom.
“Yes!” She wiggled and reached back to cover her scorched backside. She couldn’t possibly take one more slap. Her flesh blazed and throbbed. Sobs shook her shoulders and tears soaked her face. Shame welled up deep in her chest, her remorse warring with her desire for the spanking to end. She trusted Marcus and knew he wouldn’t harm her, but oh how her bottom hurt. Misery swallowed her whole.
