“Put me down you oaf,” Skylar squealed as Rand settled her over his shoulder. 
“Not until ye learn to listen to me and do as I tell ye.”  He would not relent on this point.  The stubborn woman had to be taught a lesson.  He was tired of her rudeness, arguing and disobedience.
With sure steps, he carried her across the wooden floor to his bed.  When he stood her on her feet, he held tight to her waist.  She’d not wander the ship, nor leave this room til she understood he was master and commander, in complete control of her fate on his ship.  Settling on the bed, he pulled her over his knees.
“What?” she shrieked.  “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her imperious tone irritated him.  “What I should have done the first time ye talked back to me.”  With the palm of his hand he slapped her backside, a solid thwrap that resounded throughout the cabin and stung his hand.
“Ow, you bastard.” 
She wriggled against his groin trying to get free, but her attempt to escape another blow failed, only quickened his cock until it was as hard as a stanchion.  He struck a second time.  “Ye shall speak to me with respect.”
“Not on your life.”
“Such disrespect.”  Rand spanked her bottom again, enjoying the feel of her clad cheeks warm against his palm.  When she moved against him again, he groaned.  Damn the wench!  Her motions against him were far too arousing.
“Does striking a woman turn you on, Rand?  Do you get off on making a woman helpless?”
He spanked her again.  He didn’t know her expressions, but the meaning was clear.  Every time she moved against him his arousal became harder.  “Ye know what ye do, wench.”  He grasped at something to say to her taunt.  “Ye like the spanking I’m administering.”
“I’m sure you’d like to believe that,” she retorted. 
He swatted her again.  The heat of her buttocks seeped through the cotton of her breeches.  “My statement can be proven.”
“Like hell.”
Grasping the waist of her breeches, he yanked them down.  The scent of her arousal tickled his nostrils, inflamed his own desire to greater heights.  Her cheeks were a lovely bright red, a thin piece of material barely covering her wares.  He rubbed his forefinger along the seam of her ass, stopping when he touched the hot moisture between her legs.  Rand leaned over and neared her ear.  “I heard what ye said, missy.  About thinking ye loved me.”
“You heard wrong,” she gasped.
“Then why are ye wet with desire?”  He stroked his finger against her damp folds.  The heat of her flesh, her desire, her shortness of breath told him all he needed to know.   Rubbing back and forth, he found a tight knot of skin and slicked her moisture around the hard nub.  Her breathing came faster, her control slipping.  She could argue all she liked, but the evidence was between her legs, beneath his fingertip.