Obsession (The Mate Games 1)

I had to look away; the intense searing heat of his gaze had me all twisted up inside. Made me want exactly what he was offering.Wait. Was I actually considering this? Did I want to feel Father Gallagher’s hand smacking my behind?

Yes. Yes, I did.

What did that say about me?

Fuck it. It would be over faster than bead counting, and while everyone would see the welts silver would leave on my fingers, no one would be the wiser if he left marks on my ass. He probably didn’t think I would ever even consider it. Well, the joke was on him. He wanted to spank me? Fine.

“I await your decision, Miss Fallon.”

“Do it.” I jerked my chin up, infusing my gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “Shall I bend over the desk, or...”

He took in a sharp breath, loud in the cavernous office, then with carefully controlled steps, made his way to the chair and sank down. “Over my knee.”

I stared at him for a long, drawn-out moment, still not entirely sure this was happening. His chest rose and fell, his nostrils flaring slightly as he fought to control his own breathing. He raised a challenging brow. Like he was calling my bluff.

But I wasn’t bluffing.

I walked over, my hands twitching slightly with nerves. Standing in front of him, I moved to bend over his lap, humiliation rearing its ugly head. I fought through the emotion because I’d be damned if he’d see what this cost me.

“Bare bottom, Sunday. That’s the only way this works. Purification through pain. Skin to skin is more painful.”

I snapped my head up to look at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me! There’s no way people actually let you do this.”

“You’re the first to choose my hand over the beads. Would you care to change your decision? I could also get a paddle if you’d like?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go to hell, but for some reason, it was more important to me to prove something to him. Or maybe to myself. I’d picked this path. It was time to see it through.

“Just get on with it,” I gritted out, shimmying out of my compression tights until they were around my thighs.

A low rumble curled from his chest, and he reached for me, grabbing my wrist and tugging until I was laid across his lap, my feet barely touching the ground, hands bracing myself on the exposed portion of the chair. I could feel every rigid muscle in his thighs. Could smell his dark and deadly scent. Could feel the tension between us snap tight as piano wire.

His large, cool palm brushed across the back of my thigh before caressing my ass cheek. “Brace yourself, and with every strike, own your mistake.”

I didn’t know how I was supposed to think about anything other than the feel of his skin pressing against mine. But sure. I’d think about my mistakes. Namely, this one right here. How the hell was I supposed to hide what he was doing to my body if the evidence was dripping down my thighs?

And why was I reacting like this? He was punishing me, for God’s sake, and here I was practically panting in his lap, begging for it.

When the crack of his palm against my flesh sounded, I jerked in his lap, a soft gasp exploding out of me.

It hurt. More than I thought it would. But I also liked it far more than I expected to. That must be at least part of the reason I couldn’t help the urge to be disobedient, because just one taste of Caleb’s hand on me and I was addicted. I wanted more.

“Do you repent?”

“No,” I growled.

“So be it.”

His hand found me again, this time raining down on the other cheek. I could feel the impression of his palm searing my flesh, the sting sharp and then fading away to a warm glow. I was tingling everywhere. I’d never been so aware of the air on my skin.

He didn’t lift his hand this time. Instead, he circled the place he’d connected with and squeezed.

“God give me strength to deal with you, Sunday Fallon.” Then his palm was gone, but I felt the air shift as he landed another blow on my already stinging cheek.

I grunted, the sound low and needy.More. I needed more.“Harder, Daddy.”

His sharp gasp followed by a growl of, “I told you not to call me that,” echoed through to my core, making me clench my thighs. Then he shifted his hips, and oh, my fucking God, was that an erection?

When his next blow landed, I nearly went cross-eyed from the pain. He’d been holding back, but he really let me have it that time. The part of me that couldn’t resist goading him whispered through my mind,He’s getting off on this.Spoiler, so am I.