“These are the dates . . .” He paused, eyeing her cautiously.

“Yes?”

“. . . that both sets of my grandparents got married.”

She arched a brow at him. He couldn’t be serious. Shouldn’t they be something less . . . sappy?

“You don’t believe me? It’s true. Both sets of my grandparents had serious romances going on, and stayed married until they died. Maybe it’s not very cool for a guy to want to immortalize that with ink, but it reminds me that life isn’t all about paying bills and collecting shit.”

Oh God. He was serious. That was possibly the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

When he looked at her weirdly, she realized she was smiling up at him like a giddy schoolgirl. She gave her head a shake. “That’s really cool, actually. I didn’t expect that.”

“Did you have fun the other night?” he asked, as if struck with the urge to suddenly change the subject.

Maybe he didn’t like looking like a romantic sap. Did he think it ruined his image? Because she was pretty sure girls would be crawling all over him if they knew.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” The challenge in her tone surprised her more than it seemed to surprise him. It was a curse that whenever she got horny, she got bratty. The more turned on she was, the brattier she acted. And right now, her heart was pulsing in rhythm with her clit.

Ambrose arched a brow. “It seemed like you enjoyed yourself, but I like to ask subs outright. It’s better to have clear communication than be left guessing and get it wrong.”

“That’s very responsible of you.”

“I’m not an asshat Dom. I care about what subs want and feel.”

In that case, I want to feel you inside me.

She squirmed, suddenly flushed.

“What was that thought?” He narrowed his eyes. “You just gave me the naughtiest look I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled slyly. He wasn’t going to get it that easily.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“You’ll have to guess, Sir.”

Keen interest stirred in his gaze. “Someone wants to play again?”

She stayed quiet, refusing to deny or confirm. Let him figure it out. Playing coy was one of her favorite games, and it drove good Doms crazy.

“Tell me the dirty thought you just had,” he ordered. The rumble in his voice made her shudder.

“How do you know it was dirty?”

“It wasn’t?”

Many thoughts about him were dirty. She merely smirked.

“Should I force the answer from you?” He shifted as if he were uncomfortable, which only made this more fun. “You like role-play. Should I interrogate you?”

“Sharp metal objects are a hard limit.”

He chuckled. “How about spanking?” Did his hand just twitch? “Is that a hard limit?”

God, she hadn’t been spanked in ages. It’d give her a good idea of what his potential was. Slightly, she shook her head.

A second later, he swung her over his knee. She yelped in surprise. Changing into a short skirt and leggings when she’d gotten home had been an excellent idea. Would he do what he’d promised in the club and pull them down?

Fuck. She was wet already. Her breasts poured out of her bra—a hazard of being a DDD—and her nipples tightened.

But she wasn’t easily cowed, and he needed to know that. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by a hand spanking? Please. I’ve played with canes, Sir.”

He chuckled. While she hung over his legs, she wondered if he was the kind of Dom who could make her scream. Unlikely with just his hand. Maybe he had a belt he could take off. Or she could get her toy box from the other room . . .

Smack.

“Ouch!” A wide streak of heat spread from where he’d hit her. “Where did you get the paddle?” Did he keep one in his back pocket?

“That was my hand, sweetheart. Still not impressed?”

Whack.

“Fuck.”

He paused then ran his hand over her ass, soothing the sting there. Maybe she was slightly impressed. He had a fucking hard hand.

“You gonna tell me what you were thinking, or should I keep going?”

After two smacks? He had to be kidding.

“Huh? Did you say something? I just dozed off.”

He laughed, making her body shake against his. “Such a little brat.”

Yes, Sir!

“Your safeword is ‘red,’” he said, serious now. “If you don’t want to play, I suggest you say so now. Otherwise, you’re agreeing to be mine. For now.”

He waited. She pursed her lips.

“Since you have a safeword, I’m taking your stubborn silence as consent.” With that, he lifted her skirt and yanked her leggings down, taking her panties with them.

Holy shit. He doesn’t fuck around.

She dug her fingers into his legs and braced herself. Was she afraid of him? There weren’t many Doms that could inspire that in her. That sliver of fear, of uncertainty, was one of her favorite parts. She clenched her thighs together to relieve the ache there.

“Fuck, you have a gorgeous ass,” he mumbled.

Her face heated. Men loved it because it was round enough to grab onto, to hold while they fucked her, or to take a good beating.

Grunting, he adjusted himself underneath her body, muttering something about her killing him. She wasn’t sorry.

A moment later, he brought his hand down on one naked cheek. Hard. She gasped and shut her eyes as the pain peaked then faded. But then he did it again, just as hard. And again. He fell into a rhythm quickly—slow enough to make her feel each one, fast enough that she didn’t have time to recover before the next one landed. And he wasn’t holding back.

Her bratting must have hit a nerve for him to spank her so hard. Still, she was known in the scene for being a stubborn bottom. She had plenty of cushion back there.

Minutes went by, and he kept going faster and harder. At least it felt harder. Her ass was burning now. Worse than the last session she’d had with George, a top from the club. And he’d used an actual paddle.

Unable to stop herself, she started to squirm, trying to dodge the blows. He held her easily and kept up his unrelenting assault. Damn, he had a hard hand.

The pain was intense and she started to kick, then twist to free herself. Tears pricked her eyes. She was gasping for breath. But no way would she safeword for a fucking hand spanking.

Her suffering became obvious, to her shame, when she couldn’t keep the yelps and whimpers in anymore.

“Ambrose,” she finally pleaded, in a voice almost too small to hear.

He stopped.

“Did you have something to say about my hand?” He rubbed his hand over her sensitive skin.

Her thighs clenched as wetness pooled there. God, how could she be so horny after that?

When she didn’t answer, he flipped her to kneel between his legs. Her face was probably bright red, but she hoped he didn’t see the tears in her eyes. Thankfully, she managed not to let them fall. She was putting her reputation to shame. What kind of brat cried during a hand spanking?

“A brat masochist.” He tsked. “You are a handful, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer, figuring the question was rhetorical. Also, she didn’t want to embarrass herself with a trembling voice.

“Did you think I couldn’t hurt you? Hmm?”

She nodded.

“And now what do you think?”

He wouldn’t let her get away with not answering, she was sure of it. After a deep breath, she pulled herself together and said, “You have a hard hand, Sir.”

Chuckling, he ran his hand down her hair, tenderly, as if it would make up for the other pain he caused. It didn’t. “I know you’ve played with canes, but I’m not the kind of guy to jump into that. I need to know your pain tolerance first. Not to mention, I call the shots here. Not you. I don’t tolerate topping from the bottom.”

“But, Sir . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m so good at it.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it. But that’s what frustrates you about other Doms, isn’t it? They let you get away with it. You know deep down inside, that’s not really what you want.”