I’d tried everything to calm my anxious brain.
Thinking positive thoughts.
Nothing fucking worked.
I heard John Brownstone moving back and forth between the house and the garage. He was busy, and I hated to interrupt, but I needed him.
“Yes, babygirl.” His tone so tender, I nearly melted.
Through clenched teeth and a closed throat I asked, “Will you spank me?”
His eyes lit up. A grin blossomed across his face.
“Yes! Absolutely! Get your ass in that bedroom and strip!”
The story of what happened will be written soon enough, but this image serves as a reminder that I asked for it, and I received.