She frowned, not getting the connection between money and the disconcerting bedroom games.
“Take your shower and meet me in the dining room.” He pressed a light kiss to her mouth before donning his clothes. He returned to the bath to hang up his towel and left the bedroom.
Discussion
. A euphemism for the fights they’d had about her broken promises. She raked a hand through her cinnamon curls. He didn’t know it, but they were about to have another round as soon as he opened the charge card bill. And next month he’d get the statement for the things she’d purchased today.
She searched for something comfortable but sexy and found slip-on silky pants with a matching tank top she hadn’t worn before, and darted into the bathroom. She pinned up her hair to keep it dry and jumped into the shower. Soaping her body, she wished she could wash away the trouble rolling toward her as easily she rinsed off sweat and cum.
She had good intentions. Why couldn’t she stick to them? She hated disappointing Linc. It reminded her too much of the many promises her mother had reneged on. Every time she lapsed, she felt ashamed—but then became resentful of Linc as if he’d caused her guilt.
After she dried off, she wiped the steam from the mirror and twisted to peer at her ass. Red like a cherry. He hadn’t been kidding. She rubbed her bottom, wondering how long the color would last.
Smack!
The sound of his palm cracking against her ass echoed in memory. Fuck, it had hurt. At the time. Now it felt…warm. Tingly. Good. But then he’d… She massaged her temple.
Don’t go there
. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more: that he wanted to do that to her or that she’d let him. Been turned on by it. Had come like an exploding star.
And what did it mean that he’d said he’d gotten those ideas when they started fighting about money?
“Meet me in the dining room,”
she mimicked his deep voice. Rather imperious of him. He’d been acting dictatorial lately, come to think of it. She’d give him a meeting in the dining room! Yes, she overspent. Yes, she’d gone back on her word a time or two. He didn’t need to tell her she was screwing up; she knew that. She was trying! Nobody wanted a baby more than she did. But Linc had insisted that they wait until they could afford one. Another example of his domineering ways of late.
She ached to be a mother, to rock her baby and lavish her daughter or son with all the love she hadn’t received because her mother had been too drunk or too hungover to care. The prospect of parenthood scared her sometimes, causing her to question if she could handle it. But of course she wouldn’t be doing it alone like her single mother had. Linc would be with her every step of the way.
She touched the subcutaneous birth control patch on her arm, due to be replaced soon. Accidents happened, didn’t they? What if she forgot to make an appointment?
No. No. Shame on you for even thinking about that.
Hiding a few items of clothing was nothing compared to getting pregnant accidentally on purpose. She would have to try harder not to shop so much. Shore up her willpower. Once they beefed up their savings, her husband would be satisfied, and they could start a family.
Through two closed doors, the bedroom and bathroom, she heard the bellow.
“Regina! Come here, now!”
He’d opened the charge card bill she’d brought in with the mail.
Chapter Three
Linc drummed his fingertips on the dining table, fury beating a tattoo in his brain. All their talks, her promises, accounted for nothing. He couldn’t believe it when he’d opened the charge card statement and read the bottom line. At first he feared someone had gotten their number and gone on a shopping binge. But after he examined the itemized list, he recognized his wife’s favorite haunts. She’d broken her promise. Again.
He believed she was sincere at the time she gave her word, but she caved under temptation or stress. The high—the reward—of buying something proved greater than the satisfaction of not buying it and, apparently to her, greater than the negative consequence of his anger.
They’d traveled this road so many times, he’d reached his wit’s end. The closer they got to their goal, the more she spent. But if anything positive could be derived from this setback, it reinforced his conviction that the proposal he’d been considering was the right way to go. He eyed the article he’d cut out of the
Sentinel
to show Gina:
CITYSCAPE UNCOVERED
MEN’S ROD AND CANE SOCIETY
SPARE THE ROD, SPOIL THE WIFE
Sentinel
“CityScape” columnist Cassidy Myles had infiltrated a secret organization in which couples practiced domestic discipline. The men of the Rod and Cane Society assumed responsibility for leading their households and, when necessary, took their wives or girlfriends in hand. Disciplined them by spanking. From the scathing tone of the exposé, Ms. Myles did not agree with the practice, but to Linc it provided a beacon of hope.
He’d attended a public Q and A on domestic discipline offered by the Society. The organization and its principles had impressed him. Since then, he’d chatted with the Society’s vice president, Jared Traynor, and his wife, Melania, and Elizabeth Alexander and her husband, President Otis Davenport. Gina had no idea her boss, a woman she held in the highest regard, was a spanked wife. That Liz and Otis testified to the benefits of domestic discipline in creating a strong and blissful marriage had convinced him to give it a go.
A successful marriage wasn’t a fifty-fifty partnership; it required that each partner give 100 percent. That meant he had to step up and provide the guidance his wife needed. Jared and Otis had cautioned that being head of household wasn’t easy, just the opposite. It required a man to set aside his personal desires for the good of the family and his wife’s well-being, communicate proactively, address behavior head-on, and follow through with decisions and discipline, no matter how uncomfortable.
Linc had lost count of the number of times he’d said nothing but paid the charge card bill to avoid unpleasantness. Domestic discipline offered an alternative; he didn’t have to fight to do the right thing.
Calmness settled over him.
Gina appeared in the doorway, rubbing her palms on her slinky pants, looking guilty as hell. She hadn’t bothered to don a bra, leaving her nipples free to tent her clingy tank top. She had luscious tits: full, with very large areolae, nipples that distended to an incredible length when stimulated. After the way he’d sucked and pinched them, they were still swollen and hard. He could tell the pants she had on would show off the contours of her sexy ass.
Had she dressed to distract him, to butter him up? He wouldn’t put it past her; she’d done it before. While he wasn’t immune to her charms, his new resolve assured that his decision would be made by his big head, not his little one.
“I’m sorry I yelled,” he said.
Gina blinked.
“Not what you expected me to say?” Amusement tickled the corner of his mouth. He gestured to the table and sobered. “Please sit. We need to talk.”
She winced as her bottom touched the unpadded wooden chair seat. In the near future she’d wish she’d chosen different dining furniture.
“Do you know why I called you?” he asked.
She flicked her gaze to the three-page credit card statement spread out on the table, and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to spend so much.”
“We can’t continue like this,” he said. “This isn’t working—”
She jerked in alarm.
Her hands rested on the table, and he threaded his fingers through hers. He squeezed her hand, held it tight. “We go through this every month. You agree to limit your shopping, and then you go way over. I get mad; we fight. You promise to do better, but nothing changes.”
Her hand twitched, and she dropped her gaze.
Linc took a breath. “I realize now I haven’t been doing everything I can to help you. I need to do better, before you can do better.”
He almost laughed at her surprised expression.
She wet her lips. “I don’t understand.”
“What I’m going to suggest will shock you. You’ll need time to adapt to the idea, but I’m not going to back down.” His stomach tightened, and he swallowed. DD provided an option, but it would not make the discussion or her reaction go any smoother.
Linc took a breath. “I see the solution I’ve come up with as our last hope. I love you, Gina, but our marriage is in trouble. I don’t trust you anymore.”
Her eyes welled with tears. His heart contracted at the hurt on her face, and he rushed on with the purpose of his talk. “We need to do something different.” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, and released her. He slid the
Sentinel
story across the table. “I cut this out of the paper a while ago.”
She dropped her gaze to the article. She widened her eyes before angry color flooded her face to her hairline.
“I accept responsibility for the success and happiness of our marriage. I want us to try domestic discipline. In the future if you break your promises, you’ll be spanked.”
She dropped her jaw. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. It’s no joke,” he spoke softly.
“You’re as crazy as they are.” She threw the article at him. “I read it when it came out.”
She shoved back her chair and stomped around the dining room, waving her hands. “This is the twenty-first century! What gives you the right to tell to me what I should or shouldn’t do, let alone
punish
me for it? Do you think I like everything you do? Maybe I should spank you when you put your beer on the coffee table and leave a ring or when I have to pick up your dirty socks or when you—”
She froze and gaped at him. “Oh my God! The spanking was some sort of practice session! Wasn’t it?”
In the past, her anger would have incited his, and they’d end up in a shouting match. Being HoH, he needed to control the situation, rise above emotion. He hadn’t expected immediate acquiescence, and she wasn’t far from wrong in her assumption about the spanking he’d given her. He’d been advised by the men of Rod and Cane to test her submission and inclination to obedience, to determine if DD might work for them. Each partner had to commit to it and have receptive personalities and/or values.
He’d decided to spank Gina under erotic rather than disciplinary circumstances to assess her reaction. Anal dominance offered another way to assert control. She’d responded better than he’d hoped to the finger fucking.
“Are you satisfied with our marriage the way it is?” he asked.
“Well, until today!” she huffed.
He remained silent, waited for a truthful rather than snarky answer.
“Of course I am!” She wavered. “Mostly. Until you get on my case about buying stuff.”
“I don’t want to ‘get on your case,’ Regina. And I want to be satisfied all the time. I don’t want to dread opening the bills, to fight with you about money, to doubt your word.”
“And spanking me will achieve that?”
He recalled her receptive, submissive response in the bedroom. “I think so.”
“What if you do something wrong?”
“That’s a valid question.” He nodded. “If I disappoint you, you should bring it to my attention. I promise to listen and consider your point of view. But domestic discipline permits only one leader, and if we don’t agree, I’ll make the decision. ”
She gestured toward the charge card bill. “Hypothetically, if I agree to this crazy idea, would you spank me for that?”
“Not this time.” He gathered up the pages and neatened them into a stack. “Because these charges occurred prior to this discussion, I won’t count them against you, but anything from this moment forward falls under the agreement.” He paused. “So if you need to come clean about anything else before we begin, now would be the time.”
She snorted, but a faint blush tinted her cheeks.
He waited. “No? Okay then.”
He’d bet it all, and the time had come to spin the wheel. “Do I have your consent?”
She crossed her arms. “Do I have a choice?”
“Yes.”
She arched eyebrows that she had plucked and waxed at probably the most expensive salon in town. That was on the bill too. “What’s my other option?” she asked.
“You can allow our marriage to die a slow death.”
“You’re not being fair.” She glowered.
“I am fair. And realistic.”
She shot him another angry glance, jumped from her seat, and ran from the room. Seconds later the bedroom door slammed.
Linc sighed. He gathered up the article and charge card bill and strode to his office. He awakened his computer and found the motorcycle Web site still on the screen. He was doing research to help an intern at the firm, a newbie rider, pick out a good used bike. As a college student, Linc had worked at a motorcycle dealership. He used to own a chopper and would have liked one again, or maybe a touring bike, but he had higher priorities now. He only wished his wife did.
At thirty-five, he was a mere five years older than she, but her lack of self-control made her seem much younger at times.
He closed the page and went to their bank’s Web site to send an electronic credit card payment. He didn’t know what he’d do if Gina didn’t consent to domestic discipline. Her shopping merely symptomized a deeper issue: the woman he loved more than anything, the one he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with, couldn’t be trusted to keep her word. Every new bill represented a broken promise, a betrayal of trust. Their marriage could not survive under such circumstances. He didn’t want to bring a child into the world knowing he or she would soon be living in a broken home. He would do anything to save their marriage—but would Regina?
“Okay.”
His wife’s voice startled him. He whipped around in the chair.
“I’ll try
your
domestic discipline.” She emphasized the possessive pronoun.
It wasn’t
his
domestic discipline but
theirs
, but he wouldn’t argue with the semantics. Relief washed over him. They had a chance now.
She planted her hands on her hips. “But I reserve the right to call it off if it doesn’t work out.”
“We’ll give it a year and reevaluate,” he said.