Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(40)

“And will the other sinners be joining us tonight? Or will this ‘matter’ be for my benefit alone?”

The slight twitch of his lips sent a zing of arousal through me. How could I be so completely turned on by Noah, consumed by thoughts of what had almost happened between us, and then turn around and get wet for Caleb? Don’t forget what almost happened with Kingston . . . and what did happen with Alek. Maybe Moira was right about all this. I shoved the reminders away. Thinking about them when I was already feeling some kind of way was not going to help me get through whatever Caleb had in store.

“Your punishment is yours to serve and benefit from alone.”

“Can’t wait. So . . . if I’m not going to be kneeling, what am I going to do?” I glanced around to see if I could get a hint of what to expect.

He gestured to the simple chair in the center of the sparsely decorated room. “You may choose your punishment tonight. You put the safety of everyone in your class at risk by spilling the blood of Callie Donoghue. As challenging as she may be, you broke a cardinal rule. Blood is a trigger for many of us. And some are less controlled than others.”

“But I didn’t—” I broke off, frustration leaking through my voice. Then I sighed. “Never mind. It’s not like you’re going to believe me anyway. No one else ever does. What are my choices? Polish a crucifix? Write lines from the Bible? How does one repent for something they never did?”

A flash of something like tenderness passed over his features. “You may choose tedium or something more . . . direct.” His gaze flicked to a large bowl on his desk. “This bowl contains fifty-nine glass beads mixed in with identical beads of pure silver. Pick out every silver bead until only the glass ones remain. Endure the pain, and our session will be done sooner.”

I wasn’t known for my patience, so having to do such tedious menial work sounded like absolute torture. I wasn’t afraid of the silver burning my flesh, but what the hell was the point of sorting beads? What was it going to teach me, besides more creative ways to curse as the stupid things slipped through my fingers, making me have to fish them out over and over again?

“What’s behind door number two?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“Corporal punishment.”

“Wait what? You’re going to beat me?”

I swear to God, his palm twitched. “Spank. Not beat.”

Why . . . why did that make my insides flutter? “I’m sorry, I think I just had a stroke. Did you say you were going to spank me? Like I’ve been a naughty girl? What the hell kind of university is this?”

“You have been. And, yes, if you choose this punishment, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your insolent arse until you can’t sit down without a reminder of what my palm felt like on your skin.”

I had to look away; the intense searing heat of his gaze had me all twisted up inside. Made me want exactly what he was offering. Wait. Was I actually considering this? Did I want to feel Father Gallagher’s hand smacking my behind?

Yes. Yes, I did.

What did that say about me?

Fuck it. It would be over faster than bead counting, and while everyone would see the welts silver would leave on my fingers, no one would be the wiser if he left marks on my ass. He probably didn’t think I would ever even consider it. Well, the joke was on him. He wanted to spank me? Fine.

“I await your decision, Miss Fallon.”

“Do it.” I jerked my chin up, infusing my gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “Shall I bend over the desk, or . . .”

He took in a sharp breath, loud in the cavernous office, then with carefully controlled steps, made his way to the chair and sank down. “Over my knee.”

I stared at him for a long, drawn-out moment, still not entirely sure this was happening. His chest rose and fell, his nostrils flaring slightly as he fought to control his own breathing. He raised a challenging brow. Like he was calling my bluff.

But I wasn’t bluffing.

I walked over, my hands twitching slightly with nerves. Standing in front of him, I moved to bend over his lap, humiliation rearing its ugly head. I fought through the emotion because I’d be damned if he’d see what this cost me.

“Bare bottom, Sunday. That’s the only way this works. Purification through pain. Skin to skin is more painful.”

I snapped my head up to look at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me! There’s no way people actually let you do this.”

“You’re the first to choose my hand over the beads. Would you care to change your decision? I could also get a paddle if you’d like?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go to hell, but for some reason, it was more important to me to prove something to him. Or maybe to myself. I’d picked this path. It was time to see it through.

“Just get on with it,” I gritted out, shimmying out of my compression tights until they were around my thighs.

A low rumble curled from his chest, and he reached for me, grabbing my wrist and tugging until I was laid across his lap, my feet barely touching the ground, hands bracing myself on the exposed portion of the chair. I could feel every rigid muscle in his thighs. Could smell his dark and deadly scent. Could feel the tension between us snap tight as piano wire.

His large, cool palm brushed across the back of my thigh before caressing my ass cheek. “Brace yourself, and with every strike, own your mistake.”