Read Spanking Ms. Whitman for Free Online Page B

downcast, and a single tear tracing down her cheek. Tenderness washed over him and all his sensible decisions disappeared like smoke into a cloudy sky.
    I want it all. I want her.
     
    Mr. Marks acknowledged her greeting with a curt nod and she began the endless trek to where he waited in front of his desk.
    “Lift your feet, Mona. Don’t shuffle.”
    Startled, her eyes left the burgundy sea and met his level gaze. Her hands, fisted to control their trembling, shook harder, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. “Yes, sir.”
    He pointed at the chair she’d occupied before and waited until she’d stepped—not shuffled—the rest of the way to him and planted her backside on the torturous wooden seat. She wiggled, trying to find comfort, but a sharp look stilled her.
    Such an uncomfortable chair, it’s amazing no clients have complained if they had to sit here. . Something about the wooden seat…. Dammit! I really was out of it to let this slip past me.
    “This isn’t your regular guest chair!” The words flew out before she could stop them. “I’ve sat here a hundred times—maybe more—and not on this instrument of torture.”
    He chuckled, the low rumbling sending goose bumps up her arms. “I wondered if you’d noticed earlier. How do you like it?”
    She hesitated, biting her lip. But, he’d asked. “I don’t like it…sir.”
    “Good.” He sat in his comfy leather chair, resting his elbows on the padded arms and steepling his fingers as he watched her with casual interest.
    A long moment dragged by while she did her best not to move. The slats under her butt were just wide enough apart for the edge of each one to make itself known to her still-tender backside. If it was uncomfortable earlier, it was three times as bad now. She shifted to the side and threw him an apprehensive glance. To her shock, the corners of his full lips shot upward in …a grin? She looked away and back, but he watched her with seriousness and no trace of a smile remained. Perhaps she had imagined it.
    “Feet flat on the floor.”
    Without questioning, she uncrossed her legs.
    “Sit up straight and fold your hands in your lap.” He spoke the commands in a low, carrying voice that brooked no disobedience and while her breath hitched, her core clenched. Her traitorous nipples peaked and pressed against her bra. She fought the urge to leap from the chair, rip her clothes off, and fling herself naked across his desk.
    But, that wasn’t what he’d asked—told—her to do. I only wish he would. Her cheeks heated at the thought and burned when he quirked a brow.
    “I’m tempted to offer a penny for your thoughts, but we have some matters to attend to, and I’d rather not delay.”
    “Yes, sir.” Her ankle crept over its mate and she forced her foot back to the floor, holding her folded hands in her lap by main force of will.
    “We began something earlier today, before we were interrupted. Do you still want to continue? I need to know whether you’ve had any second thoughts.”
    “No, Mr. Marks.”
    He cocked his head. “No, you don’t want to continue?”
    “No, I haven’t had second thoughts..”
    “For clarity, state what you expect to happen here tonight.” His gray stare unnerved her and a trickle of perspiration ran down her temple. It itched and she wanted to brush it away, but didn’t want to defy him by lifting her hands.
    “I-I thought you were going to spank me.”
    “Yes, we can begin there, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page. I can tell you what I have in mind, but I need your agreement before we begin. Do you understand?”
    Mona couldn’t speak. She tried and to her mortification croaked out an unintelligible sound. He seemed to understand.
    “Would you like some water?”
    She nodded, desperate to cool her dry throat. When she moved to stand, he waved her down.
    “Stay where you are.” He retrieved a deep blue glass bottle from the bar refrigerator, twisted the cap off and