skin, the bare slap of his palm meting out firm discipline to the burning, hurting curves of her bare ass was elevating her pain to whole new levels of torture.
This was not the porno she had been looking for, but it was the one she needed.
Clinging to his knee with the hand he didn’t have pinned down, Georgia fought herself to bear what he gave her with what little dignity she had left, but there was no dignity in getting spanked. At the supper table, no less. Because she’d offered herself like a whore to someone she didn’t know, and he thought she was worth better than that.
Georgia lost control. One minute, she had her teeth gritted against what she hoped was the worst—she couldn’t imagine how anything that hurt this much could hurt any worse. In the next, tears were pouring out of her, along with great gusting sobs that weren’t pretty or ladylike, but they were real. They were heartfelt. They were even freeing.
The smothering weight of guilt was only measured once one was out from underneath it. Georgia felt the break inside her, the massive crack of pressure before it released. The intensity of years’ worth of worries, weight, and struggling to make herself into something and someone worth the ideal she had built up in her mind as what she had to be—broke apart.
It broke under Daddy’s spanking hand, shattering beneath the great, walloping swats he delivered over every inch of her bucking, wriggling backside.
It washed out of her, carried on a flow of tears she hadn’t meant to cry, and now she couldn’t stop.
It fell to the godawful teal of his 1950s kitchen floor, pooling with her tears, then somewhere in the aftermath of all her sobbing, eventually just disappeared, evaporated, stopped.
Like Daddy’s hand stopped.
No longer delivering its painful brand of discipline, it came to rest once more, softly stroking the curves of her burning, throbbing, aching bottom. Soothing the hurt he’d created without stealing an ounce of it away, he let her wallow in the heat and discomfort. As mires went, it was far more pleasant than the guilt had been. After a few gentle passes, he pulled her skirt down, covering her nakedness from view, then helped her sit up.
She groaned, once when her sore foot accidentally bumped the floor, then again when her bottom made contact with his hard thigh. She’d never wanted to rub so badly in all her life, but it was just too mortifying. He’d scolded her. He’d spanked her. He’d rubbed her bottom without leaking so much as the slightest hint he might find her attractive. Now here she sat, balanced on a sore butt in his lap, her head on his shoulder, and her face burrowed into his neck as he held and rocked her.
A girl had to draw the line somewhere. No matter how much it hurt, she would not—absolutely would not—rub her butt.
She sniffled, hiccupping on an indrawn breath that brought with it all the comforting nuances of clean houses, car repairs, leftover lasagna, and him. Above all, him. Daddy’s scent.
She didn’t even know his name.
Chapter Five
Kace laid in his bed, the dark of the room hiding the visual his fully erect cock made as it tented the blankets. He thought about little Miss Georgia lying on the couch in the living room, on her tummy. There was just no way she’d be lying in any other pose, not with a bottom as hot as the one he’d dealt her.
God, he wanted her.
Pure physics, he told himself. She was a pretty young woman, and he hadn’t had sex since he’d thrown Iris out of his life.
He’d loved his ex-wife. He’d loved her deeply in ways nobody got past overnight.
He didn’t love Georgia, but he was attracted to her. Strongly. She’d been the perfect little lapful. She’d hit every erotic button he had as he’d spanked her. She even cried pretty, burrowing into his chest for comfort afterward, completely unaware her bottom was still bare, and her pussy would be as well. Or that he had drunk his fill of both.
He’d comforted her with a hug, but in his head, he imagined how good it would feel to put her on her knees, continuing her punishment by fucking her mouth for his own pleasure without orgasm for her in the end.
Naughty little girls who told Daddy lies didn’t get orgasms after their spankings. They got their mouths, or their bottoms, soundly fucked before being sent to