He Knows How to Handle Me

Why is it that when I am in the mood, I've been reading some sexy stuff on my e-reader and I am all relaxed and ready to get my freak on that Mr. McKay is busy with work? Or watching football? Or tired?

Why is it when we are busy and rushing and I am stressing about every minute detail I have to keep swatting his hands away from my waistband?

Finally, he traps me, he lures me in. His hands tug at my pants. I groan and make a distressed noise (but really don't try so hard to get away).

He pushes me down, over his knee, whips my pants and panties down to my knees. I wriggle a little and try to get my mind to be quiet.

He begins to spank me, hard, and it makes me rear back. The running list I have in my mind gets jumbled. Wait, what did I need to do again?

His hand presses down between my shoulder blades, pushing me back down. I let out a sigh of defeat and rest my cheek against the mattress beneath me. He continues to spank, hard, loud slaps against my unprotected ass.

My feet dance beneath me, I stomp against the floor as he has me effectively pinned and I have no other place to wriggle. My body heat elevates and I push out the breath I've been holding. "Ouch," I pout. Although, the beginning was worse. The sting has built now and I am warm all over.

But he stops at my word. Rubs a hand over my heated skin. Gives me one extra smack that makes me squeal and pulls me up.

"Better?" he asks, as he kisses my forehead.

"Yes." Because I am. The anxiety welling up inside of me is gone. I still have the list in my mind, but it no longer seems so daunting.

"We don't have time now, but I am going to fuck you later."

"Okay," I say with a smile. Disappointed that we have no time.

"Come on," he says, pushing me to my feet. "We're going to be late."

We weren't late, we were right on time. And without all the snapping and snarling that happened earlier in the day. I love that he knows how to handle me.