Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,60
she looks really cute like that. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” she greets me with a full-tooth smile, her eyes gleaming. “I’m sorry for not calling back yesterday. Um, I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, of course. Do you wanna go upstairs?”
“Sure.”
I invite her to my room and close the door behind us. Since it’s a sunny, warm day, Petra and I go to my private terrace and sit on the lounge chairs. “Alright, what’s up?”
Petra seems pretty anxious as she says, “First, you’ve got to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
I raise my brows at her statement. Like, doesn’t she trust me enough? “Alright, I promise.”
But Petra doesn’t seem pleased. “No, it has to be more serious. You need to make an oath.”
What the fuck? “An oath?” I repeat, squinting my eyes.
“This is super serious. I need you to make a solemn promise first.” Petra reaches down and takes my left hand, laying it flat and palm down. Then she puts hers under mine and says, “Raise your right hand.”
Oh boy. I do so, enjoying her little show.
“Emma Hasenfratz, do you solemnly swear not to repeat, under any circumstance, what I’m about to tell you? And that you will honor your oath until the end?” The way she says it sounds super serious though.
“I do, babe.”
“You are under oath,” she reminds me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ms. Hasenfratz will keep her mouth shut.”
“Perfect.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s pondering how to even start. “Do you remember when we hung up yesterday?”
“Yeah…” And I also remember she didn’t call me back like she said she would.
“Well, afterward, I met Alex in the trophy room I told you about, and he…” Words seem hard for her to get out as Petra becomes mute, her eyes darting down to her lap.
“He?” I repeat.
“He did something I’m very confused about.”
“Such as?”
Her cheeks bloom with heat, and I raise my brows at the sight. “He…” Blowing out a breath, Petra finally fesses up. “He bent me over and spanked my butt.”
“What?!” I shout, at the verge of breaking into a laugh. “Oh gosh, you can’t be serious.”
“Oh wow. You find it funny?”
“Yeah, like…” I’d love to spank her ass, too, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Alright.” Clearing my throat, I aim for a steadier tone. “And why did he do that?”
Her eyes keep going down with embarrassment as she twists her lips. “To punish me for my behavior.”
Her behavior? I can’t believe Petra could have done anything bad. But even if she did, it must have been cute to watch. “And how was it?”
“It was painful.”
“Yeah, I imagine your butt must have been on fire. But how did you feel about him doing it?”
“I felt… weird.”
“Weird?”
“Wet,” she corrects.
“Ah. That’s not the same thing.”
“I just… you know, no one has ever done that before.” This has to be the naughtiest confession I have ever heard. Picturing Petra getting a spanking is too delightful to be true, and I feel the urge to prepare a joint to smoke while she gives me all the dirty details. “Where are you going?” she asks, seeing me leave the terrace.
“I’m just getting a little something.” Yeah, and since Yara took all my cigarettes, I just have weed left.
When I come back with a sealed bag, rolling papers, and filters, Petra rebukes, “Weed? Really?”
“Why not?” I sit beside her again, grab a joint filter, and start rolling it. “Okay, so what’s next?”
“He asked permission to discipline me in the future.”
“Oh,” I say, staying focused as I now drop some herbs on the paper. “That’s interesting.” Then I pinch and roll it before licking the edge like an envelope to seal it. “And what did you say?”
“I have to give him my answer after thinking it through.”
I look around for a lighter, and a smile escapes me when I remember Yara’s metallic one is in the changing room. I stole it when she was getting dressed so I could keep a little something of hers until we meet again in December. “Gimme a sec.” I run back inside, leaving Petra behind, asking where I’m going as I rush to the changing room to grab the lighter. Then I return to the terrace just as fast. After burning the tip, I take one deep puff and ask, “And how many swats did you get?”
“Um, eighteen.”
“Was he very hard on you?”
“Well, some were quick and soft, others more intense and harsh, but I didn’t cry. He was also