Page 103 of Hunt Me, Daddy

“You can’t just decide to spank?—”

“I can.”

“Why? Because you’re Bratva?”

“No.”

“Because you’re bigger?”

“No.”

“Because you’re my daddy?” I snapped.

The word crackled through the apartment. There was no taking it back. Ivan’s expression changed so subtly I almost missed it. Heat, dark and immediate, moved behind his eyes.

“Yes,” he said.

He stepped closer.

“I am going to spank you, Kit. Not because you went to your apartment. Not because you wanted something that was yours. I’m going to spank you because you were reckless, because you hid it, and because if you are going to put yourself under my protection, you will not lie to me about things that involve your safety.”

I swallowed and I looked at his hands. They were big. Broad. And entirely too capable of probably stinging a lot on my bare backside. My stomach fluttered with nerves when he moved closer. He took my arm firmly enough that I felt the inevitabilityof it. He led me to the couch, sat, and pulled me over his knee in one smooth motion before my pride found a way to make the logistics worse.

“Oh, fuck,” I blurted.

This was happening.

Really happening.

I was over Ivan Morozov’s lap, my hands braced against the couch cushion, my stomach pressed across his thigh, my legs angled awkwardly toward the floor. His arm came around my waist, solid and impossible, holding me in place without crushing me. My hair fell forward, and the entire world narrowed to the couch fabric beneath my palms, the heat of his body beneath mine, and the humiliating reality that I was about to get the first spanking of my life whether I liked it or not.

“You lied to me and put yourself at risk, didn’t you,little girl?”

My face burned red hot.

Every inch of me burned, actually.

Especially when his fingers went to the waistband of my leggings.

My whole body tensed.

“Yes,” I whispered hoarsely.

Without another word, he drew my leggings down slowly, not yanking, but not fumbling either. Inch by inch, the fabric slid over my hips, and humiliation flared hot up my spine as cool air touched the backs of my thighs. My panties were still in place. They were black. Simple. Definitely not chosen for this because no sane person chose underwear anticipating a Bratva bosswould put her over his knee for lying after she snuck out of his apartment.

Then his fingers hooked into those too and my breath left me.

“Ivan, wait!”

“Yes?”

“Please let me keep them up.”

“No.”

That shut me up so completely it was almost offensive.

He pulled my panties down. It took maybe a second, but it felt like ages as the waistband of my underwear dragged down my cheeks, baring me slowly inch by inch until they were down completely.