Claimed By The Devil - Joanna Blake Page 0,70

had a lot of plans of what to do with that early afternoon sun.

The first thing on the agenda was definitely a spanking. If I needed to use a firm hand with her, I would. Gladly. I would be more than fucking happy to make her ass jiggle.

My girl needed some discipline now and then to make her see the light. She was young. It was my responsibility.

Never mind how fucking hard my cock got at the thought of pulling her panties down to her knees.

“What is all this?” a soft voice said from behind me. I turned to see her staring in awe at the shelves I had built. I was only about halfway done, but the tack room was really starting to take shape.

“I thought it was time to fix up some stuff around here. The house, too.”

“You . . . did all this? When?”

“Off and on over the past few weeks. I just hung the shelves a few days ago.”

“How did I not notice?”

“Sweetheart, you’ve had a lot on your plate,” I said, coming to kiss her. “Speaking of plates, it’s time for lunch.”

And your spanking, I thought with a twist of my lips. Plus, whatever comes after.

We went back to the house to eat. Lunch was cold chicken and macaroni salad. We washed it all down with iced tea. We spent a little time talking about where I was with paying off the property's debt. And then we talked about some of the improvements I wanted to make to the house and the stables.

After all, I wanted to give her time to digest before I put her over my knee.

"Now we have to talk," I said ominously. She gave me a startled look.

"Didn't we just . . . talk?" she asked nervously.

I shook my head slowly.

"No. Now we need to talk about what you said at breakfast."

She did that cute little eyelash flutter she did when she was nervous or taken off guard. The girl was so new to this, almost everything I did took her off guard. It was cute, but it reinforced how young she was. It was a stark reminder that I was the experienced one. I needed to take care of her.

And if that meant turning those sweet cheeks of hers pink from time to time, I was definitely up for the job.

“Lie over my lap,” I said patiently, moving into the living room armchair. Melissa shifted from one leg to the other. She looked like a cute little bunny staring at the big bad wolf.

Which was pretty fucking accurate when I stopped to think about it.

“Now, Melissa.”

She did as I asked. I took my time pulling her jeans and panties down, then looking her over. She had smooth, round, glorious ass cheeks that were about to start bouncing.

I let my hands wander over her luscious behind. She squirmed a little bit. I bit back a smile. This was serious business.

"Describe yourself to me," I said in a deceptively calm voice.

"I am . . . nice?" she said questioningly. I chuckled.

"Yes, you are. I meant describe yourself physically."

"I am . . . sturdy."

I smacked her ass.

"Wrong answer. Try again."

"I am . . . I have nice eyes?"

"Understatement. Your eyes are beautiful. But keep going."

"I have good curves? That's what Becky said."

"Now we're getting somewhere," I said, rubbing her soft skin. "What about your legs?"

"My legs are . . . kind of short and stumpy," she mumbled. I immediately brought my hand down on her ass. Twice.

"Try again," I commanded gruffly.

"My legs are . . . strong."

I sighed, rubbing her sweet tushy.

“Better, but not good enough. Let's try this. You repeat after me."

"Okay," came the muted reply.

“I am a beautiful young woman.”

She mumbled the words. I smacked her ass. It jiggled satisfyingly.

“Say it again. Louder.”

“I am a beautiful young woman.”

Smack. Jiggle. Repeat.

“Again. Louder.”

“I am a beautiful young woman.”

I smacked her ass again, but not quite as hard.

“Better. Again. Louder.”

“I am a beautiful young woman!”

Finally, Melissa said it loud enough. But there was something else. Her voice had nearly cracked. It took me a moment to recognize the wetness against my jeans. Melissa was crying.

“Honey? Did I hurt you?” I pulled her up and around so that she was sitting in my lap. Relief flooded my body when she shook her head. But she wouldn’t look at me. “Then what?”

“It made me feel weird, that’s all.”

“Weird how?” I asked tenderly, brushing her hair away from her damp cheeks.

“Like I was lying. It doesn’t feel