When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“Now unfasten your pants and lower them, then lean against my desk,” he continued, his matter-of-fact manner only amplifying the surreal sensation fogging her brain. He couldn’t be serious. He wanted to spank her? Lucien Sauvage? “You can go if you choose,” he said, not unkindly, when he noticed that she didn’t move and continued to stare at him in disbelief. “We won’t do this thing unless you are in full agreement.”

“That’s blackmail,” she whispered.

“No. You are not my employee, Elise. I have never offered you a job. I have never offered you anything but this relationship, which will be carried out by my rules, and mine alone. You pushed yourself in here. This isn’t about blackmail or harassment. This is about what you need; what I think you were asking for marching in here uninvited today. If you plan to live here in Chicago, if you are to be in my life, I will not allow you to manipulate and defy me. You will receive the discipline you require—and if I sense that you submit, there will be pleasure as well. If you can’t agree to that, then there’s the door.”

She didn’t move. She couldn’t.

He nodded once, seeing that she’d made her decision. Elise realized dazedly that she had, indeed, decided. He turned and walked over to a large antique cabinet. He opened one of the doors and she glimpsed an expensive stereo. Suddenly, the sounds of Beethoven’s rich, penetrating fifth symphony filled the air. She stared at Lucien stupidly as he returned to her.

“Do as I told you,” he said, not unkindly.

She glanced once at the door and back at him. His face was hard, but she saw something in his eyes—not gentleness, necessarily, but compassion . . . understanding that this was not an easy thing he was asking of her, but that he asked it anyway.

“I hate you, Lucien Sauvage,” she said as she began to unfasten her pants, the hissing sound of her voice barely rising above the swell of the music.

He nodded once matter-of-factly. “But you will still do as I say.”

She jerked down her pants as a defiant reply.

“Lean over the desk,” he said.

Her held breath burned in her lungs and blistered her throat as she did what he said. She’d never been punished before. She’d never voluntarily given up control to a man. This was an entirely new experience. She couldn’t believe she was allowing it to happen. What did it mean, that she was? Anger, bewilderment, and excitement twined in her and tightened around her lungs. Her breath hitched when Lucien stepped closer.

Something hot and forbidden surged through her pussy. She felt his hand at her hip. His long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear. A tendril of excitement flickered through her clit.

“Do you have to?” she asked shakily as she felt him lower her panties.

“Always,” was his reply. He released the skimpy underwear and it bunched next to her pants at her knees. She squeezed her eyes tight when she felt him lift her chef’s smock, fully baring her to his gaze. Mortification swept through her. Lucien would never believe it if she told him—so she didn’t say a word—but she wasn’t used to such intense intimacy.

She trembled with excitement when Lucien’s hand brushed against the sensitive skin of her right buttock. He cupped the flesh and squeezed. Liquid heat rushed through her pussy, the strength of her response confusing her. It was as if her body had a mind of its own. Her brain certainly hadn’t given her permission to find his possessive touch on her ass so arousing.

“You’re lovely. I will find it exciting to punish you. Very,” he murmured. “You may find it arousing as well, but it will also sting. That’s the consequence of your behavior. Even though I will enjoy this, today it will only be a punishment. As I mentioned, we will take things at my pace.”

She turned her chin. He saw her bewildered expression.

“We won’t be having sex after I finish,” he explained patiently. “That will come another time.”

She listened to all of this in anxious amazement.

“Elise?” he prompted. “Am I making myself clear?

“Yes,” she croaked.

“I will spank you with my hand twenty times. It will burn, but you need never fear that I will cause you any lasting harm. It isn’t my intention, now or ever, to harm you. Do you understand?”

No, she didn’t understand. She couldn’t comprehend anything that was happening. Why was she letting him do this to her?

Discipline. Need.

She recalled him saying those words last night and bit her lip, her anticipation more acute than she’d ever experienced in her life. Was it true? Was that the reason she’d come on her flagrantly rebellious mission today? Hadn’t he hinted what would happen if she stayed with him last night?

And she’d returned, determined to provoke him . . . into this?

“Elise?” he prompted.

“Yes, I understand,” she said in a choked voice.

He lifted his hand from her ass.

Smack.

She whimpered at the burst of sensation. He spanked her again, a brisk slap of skin against skin, and her eyes sprang wide.

Oh. It stung, but it was also exciting to feel Lucien’s hand come into contact with her bottom, that quick flash of sensation. It was intimate, too, something about the secretiveness of what he was doing here in the midst of a business—the fact that she was letting him do something so personal to her, so illicit—was also thrilling.

She stared sightlessly at the blotter. His hand landed again and she suppressed a gasp, not of pain, but of an incendiary emotion she couldn’t name or control. It was as if his spanks were causing some friction in her, forcing something to the surface with his blows that she’d rather keep buried. He paused with his hand on her, his light caress almost as volatile as his punishment.