No in Between (Inside Out #4)(25)

“You still don’t trust me.”

“What? That’s crazy, Chris.”

“It’s accurate. In the back of your mind, you still think that if something punches my buttons like Dylan did, I’ll leave. I told you. I’m not leaving, and I’m not letting you doubt us anymore.”

“I don’t doubt us.”

“You do. But we’re going to fix that and I’ve already figured out there’s only one way to do that, aside from me melting down and you realizing that I’m here to stay. I’ve taken things slowly to protect the trust between us, but we’re ready for what comes next, and I’m going to push you and push you hard. I’m going to tear down every inhibition you own until I own them. I’m going to make you crazy wondering what will be next and even crazier when it comes. I’m going to take you to places you think you can’t go, and find out you can. And when you say ‘I do’ to me, there won’t be any doubts or any barriers left. Are you prepared for what that means?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s what I’ve been asking for.”

“Then we start now.” He turns me to face the counter, shocking me by yanking my skirt up and palming my cheeks. His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I’m going to spank you. There won’t be any foreplay or f*cking after. It’s going to sting. You will not cry out. When I’m done, I’m leaving, and you will bring your pretty little backside and sit down next to me like nothing happened. And when I’m ready, I’ll f*ck you. Choose now. Accept it or not.”

The idea is horrifying and sexy, and I’m wet and aching and so many things at once that I can barely breathe. “I . . . yes. Yes, I do.”

He yanks my panties off and stuffs them in his pocket. His hand comes down on my backside and it’s such a shock, I barely swallow my yelp. Already his palm is on me again. I try to count. Three. Four. Five. Oh God. Six.

He turns me to face him, his hands going to the counter, not touching me. I’m panting in pain and pleasure, my knees weak. “Pull your skirt down and come back to the table. I want you there in two minutes. If you take one second longer, I’ll bring you back in here and spank you again. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He turns and leaves the bathroom.





Eight



It hurt in a bittersweet, arousing way, and while I felt exposed and vulnerable, I’ve come to know those things arouse me in ways I never thought possible.

Rebecca’s words replay in my mind as I grab the sink to steady myself, the ache in my backside radiating down my wobbly legs. I’m warm all over, wet between my thighs, and so aroused that Chris’s absence hurts far more than his hand. Until now, I had never understood what drew Rebecca to this kind of encounter. It’s like I am spinning terrifyingly out of control, and yet somehow it’s delicious in a forbidden, fantastic kind of way. Chris is pushing me. I want to be pushed.

His warning plays in my mind. I want you there in two minutes. If you take one second longer, I’ll spank you again. While the spanking isn’t such a horrible threat, my bottom is still ripe from Chris’s palm, leaving other parts of my body eager for the rewards of meeting his demands.

I yank open the door and rush down the hallway, stopping at the curtain, where I have a moment of apprehension and not because of what’s happened with Chris. Because I’d left here angry with David, who is too observant for my own good right now. Silently I lecture myself about being cool and unreadable, like that will suddenly change how transparent I am. Chris ends my fretting by dragging the curtain back and I am instantly captured in the smoldering embers burning in the depths of his hot stare. He studies me for a moment, satisfaction slowly lighting his eyes, and I can feel the heat of my cheeks that matches the burn of my body. He knows I liked what he did. He liked what he did. And he really likes that I followed his orders.

He reaches for my hand, pulling me into the booth, his touch downright scorching. “You’re late,” he reprimands softly, and this time I am happy to discover that David is, once again, on the phone.

“I was standing right here,” I point out as he reaches around me and shuts the curtain, then settles back in his seat, his body angled intimately toward mine.

“Good try, baby,” he says, pinning me in a sizzling stare. “But I know you know that isn’t going to work.” His lips hint at a curve and if a tiny part of me worried that a spanking in a bathroom would make me feel awkward with Chris, it hasn’t. In fact, as he brushes my hair behind my ear, his fingers linger on my skin and he says, “But I promise to kiss it and make it better,” there is a warm sense of expanding intimacy between us. As if we’ve climbed a wall and we’re finally standing on top.

“Get back to me,” David says loudly, ending his call.

Chris’s gaze lingers on mine a moment, and with evident reluctance that pleases me, he leans back against the cushion to face David, who is staring at us. And staring at us. Seconds tick by and my fingers curl into my palms with the sudden fear he somehow knows about my burning backside.

“I was a dickhead, Sara,” David blurts out, reminding me of what Chris had successfully made me forget. He’s right. He is. But thankfully he’s a dickhead who doesn’t seem to know my panties are in Chris’s pocket.