For sensitive areas, the note read. Only that and nothing more.
For a long moment Sammi stood in the corridor, clutching the little pot of ointment in her fist so hard that the lid left an imprint on her palm. She watched Roark’s broad back retreating down the hall, seething inside as she glared at him.
Arrogant prick!
Then she stuffed the pot of ointment back in her pocket, turned on her heel, and walked in the opposite direction.
Five
Shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have added the Punishment Clause to her contract, Roark thought as he bid his new assistant farewell and turned to walk down the long silver corridor. That was dangerous and you know it!
But he’d had to know how she would react to a direct order, he argued with himself. He’d had to see if she was the one to try out the prototype—the pieces of the fertility and insemination machine he was working on. He needed an assistant who was submissive enough to agree to the trials yet passionate enough to give him a true reading on each of them. By bending over his desk for a spanking and yet being defiant about it at the same time, Samantha had proved she fit both criteria.
Though he would be lying if he claimed that was the only reason he’d spanked her. He would also be lying if he said that he hadn’t derived any pleasure from the experience.
The defiant little tilt of her chin and the flash of her lovely green eyes as she’d yanked down her panties had gone straight to his shaft. Not to mention the sight of her lovely full ass turning from pale creamy white to sunset red after his three well-placed spanks.
He hadn’t made the offer of the ointment because he wanted to touch her again however—though he had to admit he did want that, very badly. He had honestly wanted to alleviate her pain. She had paid for her insubordination with her submission—there was no need for the discomfort to continue.
Samantha, however, was having none of it. She’d been shifting in her chair at her workstation the whole rest of the day but she still refused to ask him for the ointment. Roark had to admit he admired her stubbornness. But he still wanted to alleviate her pain, which was why he’d slipped the ointment into her pocket with the note.
He hoped she would use it.
Remembering the flush on her pale, freckled cheeks and the fire in her eyes, Roark couldn’t help thinking he looked forward to watching her test the parts of his prototype. It was clear she would give him an honest reaction—which was what he craved.
It wasn’t the only thing he craved, of course, but he knew he couldn’t have what he really wanted.
He couldn’t have Samantha herself, no matter how badly he desired her.
Six
Sammi got out of bed and lifted her nightgown to look at herself in the 3-D viewer yet again.
It was her first night in her new suite—they all came furnished, which was good since getting furniture from Earth up to the Mother Ship would have been a pain. She’d had a quiet dinner alone—telling Meg, who had wanted to have another celebration—that she had a headache—and she was determined to get a good night’s sleep and be fresh in the morning.
Only she couldn’t sleep, damn it! And it wasn’t just because the ghostly handprints of her new boss’s large hand still decorated her ass.
It was because she couldn’t stop thinking about the spanking and the way she’d reacted to it. Submitted to it, if she was being truthful.
Why did I let him do that? she asked herself for the hundredth time as she ran her hand lightly over the tingling flesh. Why didn’t I tell him to shove his job and go to the Seven Hells, as the Kindred say?
She really couldn’t answer that question. True, she needed to stay aboard the Mother Ship, but she probably could have found another job to keep her here. Even if she was just working at one of the boutiques or restaurants that lined the large park-like common area, something would probably have been available.
As for the way a four-hour stint of employment would look on her résumé, she could have just not listed the job at all. The Mother Ship was remote and Roark didn’t seem like the kind to engage in idle gossip. No one had to know that she’d worked for him for half a day and then quit because he wanted to spank her.
But somehow none of those things had occurred to her in the moment. And instead of slapping his face and walking out, she’d bared her ass and taken her spanking like a good little girl.
Or was she a bad little girl in this scenario?
Sammi didn’t know—she only knew she was angry with herself for submitting to the spanking. And even more than that, she was confused about the way the whole situation had made her feel.