Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,19

gently coaxed.

It was the gentleness that undid her. This was so strange, not at all how she would have thought a spanking ought to go. Not that she’d spent much time wondering about spankings, but shouldn’t it have been angry and violent? By its very nature, shouldn’t it be dreadful and unpleasant?

It didn’t feel that way. Daddy was anything but angry. His face was calm, welcoming, even. His hand, still stretched out to hers, was steady.

She had all the choices in the world, yet none at all. Maybe it was simply the choice she didn’t want to make. Maybe it was the choice she deserved. Either way, she finally accepted it and let herself be drawn facedown across that waiting lap into a position as old as misbehaving young ladies and the people who deigned to correct them.

His thighs beneath her belly were hard and sturdy. As he hooked her waist, his arm was strong as banded steel, adjusting her up and over, then dropping her nose to within inches of the floor. She knew his hold would be just as once it was wrapped around her. That came just seconds later, much sooner than she was braced for.

Georgia locked her lips to keep back a mewl of uncertainty—why was she letting this happen—but he had her pinned. His arm locked her into place, his free hand resting on top of her skirted backside while her feet dangled off the floor just behind her. She could see them, the tips of her feet waving in empty air through the rungs of the dining room chair he sat on. It was awkward, unbalanced, uncomfortable, and about to get a whole lot worse. One little phrase could stop it all—her safeword—but she wouldn’t say it, not only because she couldn’t pay for her own stupid car repair. In the end, she would pay him for it, anyway. Every single penny, plus some for his time and labor, just as soon as she could, she would pay him back for everything.

She rolled her lips and kept them closed, from start to finish, determined not to say a word because she deserved it. Everything he gave her—she deserved for her dishonesty, her manipulation, for not having planned this out better. Above all, deep down, she knew all those things wrapped up together were really very small and insignificant—she deserved it because she felt bad. And maybe, just maybe, once it was all over, she wouldn’t have to keep feeling that way.

“What brought you here?” he asked as if she didn’t already feel terrible enough.

“An interview,” she admitted, staring at the kitchen linoleum not two inches from her nose. God, she felt like crying, and he hadn’t even started yet.

“No, I mean, what brought you here?” He patted her bottom, bent as it was over his lap.

Oh.

“I agreed to something when I couldn’t pay for it. I…” She hesitated, shoulders slumping. “I lied.”

“What should you have done instead?” he coaxed when she stopped.

Was he going to make her say all of it? Bad enough she knew what she’d done. The last thing she wanted to do was hear herself admitting it out loud.

“I should have told you I didn’t have the cash and asked if there were any alternatives.” Although, if broken down to the absolute nitty-gritty, she had kind-of-sort-of asked to pay in alternative ways.

No way was she going to remind him of that, though.

“And what did you do instead?” he continued with soft-spoken ruthlessness.

Damn it.

She’d have squirmed if he wasn’t holding her so tightly. His arm across the small of her back kept her exactly where he wanted her. His hand, now resting on the curve of her bottom, was a burning reminder of what was about to come.

“I asked for… um… other ways to pay.” It was the best that she could do.

“You offered yourself in place of money,” he clarified.

She didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse than she did right now.

“Yes.”

“Do you think maybe you’re worth more than that?” he gently countered.

Georgia didn’t need the spanking anymore. She was already blinking back the sudden burn of rising tears.

She sniffled. “Yes.”

She felt the subtle movement as Daddy nodded above her. “So do I.”

He spanked her then.

In all her life, Georgia had only been spanked a handful of times. Most had comprised nothing more than an attention-grabbing swat, all of which had been delivered long before she turned five and for offenses, she couldn’t remember. This offense, she didn’t think