False Pretenses (7 page)
Dan pivoted in time to spy a ginger fur ball disappear around the corner of the house.
Emma clapped her hands to her face. “Darn it. I left the door open again."
"I'll get him.” Dan sprinted down the sidewalk but slowed when he reached the corner of Emma's house. He didn't want to frighten the animal into running.
"Jinx? Here, Jinx,” he yelled in a hushed tone. Dan scanned the street, expecting to see the cat beating a hasty trail down the road, but there was no sign of the fleeing feline. Emma was right; Houdini would have been an apt name. How had the escape artist disappeared so fast?
"Here, kitty!” he called, then spotted a flash of movement and whipped around to see Jinx jump onto the hood of his SUV. Dan tiptoed to the car. “What are we going to do with your mistress?” Clearly Emma hadn't learned her lesson since Jinx's last escape. He scratched the cat behind the ears, and Jinx purred.
"Let's go inside.” Dan picked him up and carried him to Emma.
"Oh gosh, thank you! I could have been looking for him all night."
Dan scooted the cat inside the house and firmly shut the door.
Emma curled her lips downward. “Why am I so careless?"
"Perhaps because your inattention hasn't resulted in consequences,” Dan suggested quietly, his desires assuming control of his brain. “You want to keep Jinx inside, but other than the inconvenience of rounding him up, nothing happens when you don't follow through.” His heart leaped at the direction in which he was heading, while his common sense and conscience rang the alarm.
Tanner, don't go there.
He continued. “Maybe you need to experience some.” Every muscle in his body grew taut as a bowstring, and his cock swelled. Why the fuck was he doing this? Emma's ass would be the last thing he saw before she hightailed it away faster than a cat on the lam.
"What do you mean?” Emma frowned with confusion.
Dan crossed his arms to keep from touching her. “Perhaps a spanking would remind you to be more careful in the future."
Her jaw dropped. “You-you want to spank me? For real?” she squeaked.
Now I've done it!
He'd obviously lost his mind to some sort of lust-induced insanity. While his stomach lurched with dismay, his ever-optimistic cock throbbed.
He had one last chance to pass off his comment as a joke and leave Emma with, if not a favorable impression of him, then at least not an unpleasant one. “Yes, I want to spank you,” he said instead.
He was fucking, squirrel-assed nuts.
Eyes round, Emma swallowed hard, as if something had stuck in her throat. “All right."
Chapter Seven
"What did you say?” Dan dropped his folded arms to his sides.
"I said yes, I'd like you to spank me,” Emma repeated, spelling it out with perfect clarity. Through interviews and discussions with spanked wives, Emma had learned that ambiguity had no place when it came to discipline. One needed to be very precise in expressing one's needs and limits.
But while her voice sounded strong, her stomach churned like the heavy-duty cycle on her washing machine. Nerves, she decided, even though her pussy flooded with enough moisture to soak her panties. The prospect of a spanking did not excite her. Absolutely not.
She would participate for her story. Period. During the silent drive home, she'd mulled over their earlier conversation about spanking. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have Dan strike her ass with his strong hands. The idea didn't turn her off as much as she had expected it would, and realizing that, she decided she would be remiss if she didn't experience a spanking for the Rod and Cane column. Even though she'd done the research, her knowledge was all on paper—she didn't
know
. She could only surmise from what other women had told her. She had secondhand facts.
Hadn't she gotten down and dirty and climbed into garbage Dumpsters? Spent a night on the street with the homeless lady she'd written about? Stomped grapes for her column on winemaking? How could she in good conscience write about domestic discipline without ever having been spanked?
Personal experience would build credibility, enrich her story, make it more visceral for the reader, and who better to do it with than a superhot guy she liked and trusted? Dan wouldn't hurt her. Well, no more than what a spanking would entail.
She wet her dry lips. “That is, if you're okay with it,” she said with faux calm, as if the invitation had been her idea and not his.
"Oh, I'm okay with it.” His gaze glowed as if lit from within. “It's all I've thought about all evening.” His chest rose and fell with his breath. “The truth is, Emma...I like to spank my sexual partners."
There it was, the missing link. It all made sense now: the way he'd squeezed and kneaded her butt when they'd fucked in the shower, the way he stared at her ass. Six months ago, his admission would have shocked her, scared into her fleeing in the opposite direction. But after the stories she'd heard...
"I wasn't entirely honest. I don't want to spank you because of Jinx, but because I like you and I'm attracted to you. But I don't want you to agree just to please me,” he said.
What a coincidence that she'd met a man who enjoyed spanking just as she wrapped up the Rod and Cane story. Or maybe not happenstance at all. She raised her gaze skyward. Perhaps the stars had aligned or some planet had shifted into retrograde, as Summer might say. No, Summer would be horrified her daughter even contemplated permitting a man to spank her.
Emma studied Dan's serious face. He'd been the one to broach the subject at dinner—and the one to end it after she vehemently denounced the practice. Well, duh. She mentally thumped herself on the head. That was when his mood had changed. He
had
been trying to tell her he wanted to spank her.
"I'm not,” she answered truthfully. “I want to try it. With you.” Not so very long ago, she would have crossed him off her list of potential dateables. But now? She couldn't do that. Didn't want to. She liked him too much. The idea of walking away from him twisted her heart. She didn't spurn Melania's friendship because the woman liked being spanked. So why reject Dan's affections?
But being friends with Melania doesn't jeopardize
your
ass.
"Are you sure?” Dan shoved his sleeves to his elbows, revealing strong, corded arms. The span of his shoulders stretched the fabric of his sweater. Stubble darkened his jaw. Gone were the boyish dimples, the easy grin. His skin seemed taut across his face. In contrast to his hesitant words, his presence and posture exuded dominance.
"Yes,” she lied with as much confidence as she could muster.
Dan cupped her neck and jaw, then tilted her head back. With his thumb, he stroked the underside of her chin, then homed in on the throbbing pulse in her neck. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
"A little,” she admitted. “But more curious.” She didn't want him to back out because he thought she wasn't ready. Her stomach fluttered with a foreign sensation. She marveled at the paradox: being naughty got one spanked, so why did the prospect of a spanking feel naughty?
"It's normal to be apprehensive,” he said. “It's part of the experience.” He paused. “I'll make it good for you, Emma. I promise."
Good grief, he made it sound sexual. Maybe it was for him, but for her, it represented a career move. Hands-on research. If her panties had dampened, it was because Dan got her hot and bothered, not the notion of being spanked. She refused to consider the possibility that submitting to that kind of dominance turned her on. Hear her roar. She was a strong-willed, independent woman, not some collared submissive who asked permission to speak.
He claimed her lips in a gentle but possessive kiss. Under his tender onslaught, she melted against him, and her tension drifted away like jacaranda blossoms on the wind.
It rushed back when Dan squeezed her ass hard and broke off the kiss. “Let's go inside,” he said. Emma's stomach lurched. She snagged her purse from the chair on the porch where she'd deposited it and led the way inside her house.
Spanked woman walking.
She pressed her lips together to smother a spate of nervous giggles.
Dan shut the door with a soft but final-sounding click. The hairs on her nape prickled with awareness. A single lit lamp cast the room into shadow, leaving the corners hidden in darkness. Playing for time, she slowly stowed her purse in the foyer closet.
"Well,” she said with false brightness. “How do we do this? Is there enough light? I can switch on more lamps. Do you want to do it in the living room? What do you want me to do?"
Dan gently stroked her face with the back of one finger. “You don't have to do anything, Emma. I'll take care of everything."
Every cell in her body danced with trepidation and excitement, the latter in a professional way, of course. The knowledge she gained from being spanked would promote her story from merely good to wow! She would pay close attention to what she experienced so she could accurately record the details later.
Dan engulfed her hand in his much warmer, stronger one and led her to the sofa. The oxygen froze in her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
As he stepped about her small living room, switching on lamps, she perched on the arm of her sofa, swinging one leg. When the room was illuminated to his satisfaction, he approached her. “I'd like to use a hairbrush I noticed in your bathroom drawer yesterday."
"Oh!” She widened her eyes. “I assumed you would use your hand."
"I will to start with."
A freak storm rolled in, sucking the air from the room and spiking the temperature. Her mouth parched like the Mojave Desert in August, but moisture drenched her southern region.
"Whatever you want,” she said. “You're in charge."
Dan disappeared down the hall, and Emma pressed her chilled hands to her heated face. Had she really told him he was in charge? Men and women were equals! She'd forged a life and a career to ensure she didn't need a man. She wanted one, but she didn't
need
one. And here she was, a grown woman about to bend over a man's knee. She assumed it would be an over-the-knee spanking—she didn't even know that for sure. So what the
hell
was she doing?
Emma lowered her hands and straightened her spine. She would inform Dan she'd changed her mind about this ludicrous idea. She did not need a spanking to finish her story. Journalists wrote about their subjects all the time without firsthand experience. Nor should she let Dan spank her just because he was handsome, sexy, and could make her come like a bottle rocket. A woman had to set boundaries. Decision made, she could breathe again. Almost.
She heard a drawer close in the bathroom, and moments later, Dan reappeared.
"Dan, I think—” Her words fell away at the sight of the brush in his hand. Of all of them, he'd chosen the acrylic one with the wide, flat head and short rubber bristles used for detangling. Nervousness broke through the dam of bottled emotions and erupted in a burst of laughter. She clapped a hand to her mouth as her shoulders shook.
"What's so funny?"
Tears welled in her eyes. “Th-that's called...that's called...a paddle brush!"
"I guess I picked the right one, then.” He smacked it against his thigh.
Her laughter died. The words to tell him there would be no spanking clogged in her throat when he set the hairbrush on her coffee table. She gaped at the object she used every single day as if she'd never seen it before.
Dan inched by her and sat in the middle of the sofa, then extended his hand. “We'll sit for a bit. I'd like to hold you."
It wouldn't hurt to
sit
. She allowed him to pull her to his side. She would speak up as soon as her voice started working.
"Here. On my lap."
Emma snuggled against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her arm with a tenderness that might have been calming if not for his erection pressing against her bottom. The idea of spanking her had made him hard, and his arousal ignited hers, causing her clit to pulse, her nipples to bead.
Who do you think you're fooling? You got wet as soon as he suggested the spanking. What about that, huh?
Shut up!
Emma rebuked the taunting little voice inside.
Dan tightened his embrace and kissed her forehead. “I can feel your heart racing,” he murmured. “Trust me, Em.” His breath warmed her ear, and a shiver skittered up her spine. “We'll begin slow, start out easy."
She noticed he didn't say he was going to
go
easy, only that he'd
start
easy.
Tell him now!
Dan brushed his hand down her back to her hip, then trailed over her thigh before embarking on the return journey. In a single fluid motion, he shifted her. Emma blinked in surprise to find herself facedown, butt-up over his lap, her feet braced on the sofa arm. How had he accomplished that so easily? Beneath the softness of her tummy, the solidness of his cock pressed into her. Emma's breath seized up in her throat once again. He removed her glasses, set them on the table beside the hairbrush, and her world fuzzed to a soft blur.
He pinned her to his lap with an arm anchored across her lower back while he massaged her right ass cheek with a gentle but sure touch. Hyperawareness burned through her dress, through her panties to her skin and deeper, until her entire body quivered at the cellular level.
Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!
Emma didn't need a robot's voice from an old TV show to tell her she'd miscalculated. Now she was prone over a man's lap—a man with a raging hard-on—seconds away from being spanked.
Call a halt, Emma. Call a halt.
Dan rubbed and squeezed the moons of her butt. “When you adopted Jinx, you accepted responsibility for his well-being."
Jinx? She frowned.
"You know it's dangerous for him to wander outside."
Oh yeah. Jinx. The darn cat was the reason she was in this predicament.
