Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

LAYLA

"I trust you've taken good care of her?" Tristan's voice fills the bar. Spinning on my stool, I find him in a different set of clothes with damp hair.

"Did you shower?" I ask with a hint of confusion in my voice.

"I fucking hate the smell of hospitals." He turns me back to face the bar and wraps his arms around me from behind.

"They took real good care of me," I taunt. "Liam used about twenty different paddles on me, and Finn was talking about chasing me through the woods of Central Park."

"Is that so?" Tristan teasingly snarls against my ear, as he tightens his grip on me both of his brothers quickly negate my allegations.

I try to hold my laughter as I watch them backpedal, but it's futile.

"That little brat in you wants to cause trouble today, I see." I feel Tristan smile against my cheek .

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," Liam huffs. "I do not need to get the bloody snot beat out of me as part of your fucking foreplay."

Looking down, I notice the fresh cut on Tristan's knuckle. I rub my finger against it, and he grabs my hand. He gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze and places a chaste kiss against my cheekbone.

My phone buzzes on the counter before me. Tristan reads the screen over my shoulder, and there is no denying his displeasure. "Jorge?"

"Oh, shit!" I exclaim. "I forgot we were supposed to be meeting for lunch today.

"Did you ask for permission?" Tristan's voice is gruff in my ear.

"Seriously?" I huff. "Are you jealous?"

"Do I need to be?" His tone remains serious and harbors a tinge of jealousy as he swipes open my phone and reads the message.

JORGE

Where are you, sweetie?

Not helping Jorge…

"He'd be significantly more interested in fucking the four of you than he would me," I laugh.

"Stay here." His tone lightens, and he hands me back the phone. "I'll order in some lunch, and you can show him around the club while I go over a few things with my brothers. When we're all done, I'll take you home. "

"I'd rather?—"

"I'm not asking, mo cuishle. " Tristan interrupts me. "You need to learn that I know what's best for you, and my decisions reflect that. It would behoove you not to disobey me right now."

"I have it on good authority she's never been spanked," Liam chimes in, softening the mood. "You know, if you need help with some ways to correct her."

I'm at Tristan's club.

The sex one. Next to the bar where that asshole spilled a drink a me.

I type my response, knowing that Tristan is still reading over my shoulder.

I'm going to do as he's asking, but I'm also going to ensure he knows that I don't like it.

Come here instead.

He's offered to buy lunch.

I'll show you around the club.

And there's free drinks.

On my way, sweetie.

"The asshole, huh?" Tristan spins my stool and leans close before whispering, "I know what you're doing, mo cuishle . The question is, do you?"

Arching my brows, I shrug my shoulders.

"I am not above correcting you in front of them," he threatens.

"You wouldn't."

"He would," Liam and Finn respond nearly in unison.

"You're all full of shit." I roll my eyes and shake my head.

Tristan pulls me from my stool and bends me over the counter until my face is pressed against the cool, white marble. My eyes dart to Liam, Conor, and Finn on the other side of the bar as Tristan takes his time inching my long skirt up my legs. I stand rigid, calling his bluff.

The soft fabric dusts against my upper thigh, and cool air hits my ass. I suddenly realize that I have been outplayed. He was not bluffing. Not in the slightest. I squirm against the bar and squeal, "Tristan."

He slips his fingers into my hair and holds my face against the bar as he throws the gathered fabric of my dress up my back. Leaving me completely bare and exposed, with every set of eyes in the room focused entirely on me.

It's fucking exhilarating .

"Never been spanked?" His hand rubs over my ass, warming my skin. "Did you know you liked being on display?" he teases, leaning over me.

"I don't." His short, dark laugh quickly lets me know he knows I'm lying.

Lowering his voice so that only I can hear, he whispers, "Your glistening cunt disagrees."

He places a feathery kiss against my ear before standing. He continues to rub over the skin of my ass. "You're going to tell them what a good girl you want to be for me with every strike of my palm."

His hand hits my ass, the slap echoing around the room as the sting spreads across my skin. The eyes on me all eagerly wait with anticipation, and I mutter, "I want to be a good girl."

My breaths come out as sputters, and my heart pounds. The anticipation, excitement, and embarrassment all coursing through my body and throbbing in my pussy.

"You can do better than that." He strikes again, and I yelp.

"Mmm…I want to be your good girl." The words breathlessly tremble over my lips as Liam licks his.

Everything about this feels wrong, but the building ache between my thighs disagrees. Letting Tristan command me as everyone lusts over me has me teetering on the edge.

"Are you going to be my good fucking girl?" Tristan tightens his hold on my hair and swings his hand again.

"Yes," I pant. "I'm your good fucking girl."

Tristan grabs the fabric of my dress from my back, and it flutters down over my ass and around my legs. Keeping his fingers entwined in my hair, he helps me from the bar and pulls me into him.

"I like when you're my good fucking girl," he growls and pulls my face up to his before pressing his lips to mine. Pulling back a breath, he whispers, "Now, behave for me, and I'll show you how fucking much when I take you home."

"Yes, Sir."