Page 9 of Hunter's Baby Girl

Chapter 5

“Bath’s ready,” Hunter said, so I got up and walked upstairs to the bathroom. And I was taken aback by what greeted me.

“I found a few candles,” he said, and I smiled when I saw how he’d lined them up along the edge of the sink. The clawfoot tub was full of sudsy water, and from my MP3 player on the shelf came soft, soothing music.

“Thank you. This is so sweet.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, almost shyly. “Do you want to be alone?”

“Actually . . .,” I hesitated. “I don’t. I’d rather you stayed with me.” I felt incredibly vulnerable, and there were a million thoughts and feelings running through me. I didn’t want to be alone. Then, I had a thought.

“Would you be interested in joining me? In the tub?” I asked.

“I don’t want you to think I ran a bath just to get in with you.”

“I don’t think that. Please. Join me.”

I slipped off my thong and pulled the tee over my head. That was enough to convince him, and I couldn’t help the half-smile that pulled at one corner of my mouth as he quickly shed his own clothes. He got down to his jockey shorts, and I bit my lip in anticipation. He took a deep breath and pulled the shorts down.

I forced myself to stay silent instead of gasping at the sight of his penis. It wasn’t porn-big, but it was flipping fantastic, even flaccid. In fact, he was a completely glorious specimen all around. I had known how beautiful his chest, shoulders, arms, and abs were already. They were sculpted, but not ripped. I immediately thought of Ryan Gosling in that Crazy, Stupid Love movie. He was my desktop wallpaper for a long time.

His legs were toned and strong, too. I wondered what he did to get them in such great shape. When he turned slightly to get into the tub, I was treated to the sight of a perfectly round, firm ass. He could have been a nude model. I gave a silent prayer of thanks.

Once he was settled against the back of the tub, I climbed in and sloooooowly sat down, then backed myself up against him and placed my forearms on his bent knees. The water was deliciously warm and scented with my lavender bubble bath. I leaned my head back against his chest and let out a deep sigh.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

I thought about it for a moment. “I’m pretty good,” I told him. “Maybe a little confused.”

He ran his hands up and down my arms. He wasn’t being sexual per se. Just comforting. “Tell me about it,” he encouraged.

“I never thought I was this person,” I admitted. “I never saw myself as the girl who gets off on being spanked.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with that,” he reminded me. “It’s not easy seeing ourselves as someone other than who we thought we were, but that’s part of growing, too. If you enjoy it, and you’ve found someone who enjoys doing it to you, and you’re not hurting yourself or anybody else . . . who’s not asking to be hurt” — I giggled, and he continued — “then it’s all good.”

He picked the sponge up off the little rack on the edge of the tub and submerged it, then squeezed it out over me. I sighed and groaned a little. It felt good to be taken care of.

“So how did that go for you downstairs? Was everything okay for you?” he asked quietly as he sponged my back.

“Yeah, it was great,” I admitted. “The hair pulling was a little harsh, though. My scalp is starting to sting a little bit.”

“So call off all hair pulling?” he asked.

“No – a little yank is nice. I generally like it,” I told him. “But that prolonged yanking doesn’t really do it for me.”

He mulled this over. “Point taken. I’m glad you brought it up.”

I leaned against him again, and he started massaging my legs. I felt any and all tension leave me.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally got the courage to say.

“Mmm-hmm,” he answered as he massaged.

“Why do you try to hurt? Like, I got the feeling that you were trying to hurt me and kind of liking it a little. It happened on Friday, too. Do you get off on that? I mean, it’s okay if you do. But if that’s going to keep happening, I think I should know about it in advance. Does that make sense?”

He was quiet for a long time. I got nervous, worried that I’d crossed some line. Was this like Fight Club? Were we not supposed to talk about Fight Club? But he kept washing my back, squeezing the water from the sponge over my body. I supposed if he was angry, he’d storm out. For a long time, all that could be heard was the soft music and the sound of water gently splashing.

Finally, he spoke. “It’s funny, I guess I hadn’t thought about it before now. Doesn’t it seem strange that a person would do something for a long time without considering why they do it?”