He leans in, but before he can kiss me, I press a hand to his mouth. “Uh-uh,” I chastise him, glamour in my voice. “You don’t get a kiss for that.” At my words, he pulls away a little, his eyes bright. “What do I get?” he says, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous grin. A spanking, my siren whispers. Let’s make him give himself a spanking. He’s been a bad boy. I almost laugh at the thought. “You get the pleasure of avoiding my siren’s wrath. She wants you to spank yourself.” The appropriate reaction is to be horrified at the thought. Too bad the Bargainer is decidedly
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