Free Things Made Right by Tymber Dalton

think you can do that, you will ask me to help you, or to help you find a tutor who can help you. You don’t have to work while you’re in school because I can take care of us. So you have no excuse not to study. For any grade less than a B, you will get twenty-five hard smacks with a paddle. And I mean hard ones.”
    She nodded, her brain a rainbow-swirled ocean of pleasure. “Yes, Sir.”
    He smiled, looking happy, lighter than she could ever remember seeing him, as if joy had been lacking in his life. “You’ll have chores to do, sweetheart. And if they’re not done the way they’re supposed to be, you’ll earn punishment.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    He leaned in and kissed her again, devouring her. “I swear to god I’ll make you happy, baby. I’ll protect you. And right now, I’m going to make you come again. I want to feel that sweet pussy of yours that I now own grabbing my cock.”
    It wouldn’t take much. She was close anyway.
    “You never fake an orgasm with me,” he said. “If you don’t come, then you don’t come. But I catch you faking them, you’ll get another twenty-five hard ones with a paddle.”
    “Yes—ah!”
    She couldn’t finish because he’d carried through on that promise, at least, to fuck another one out of her.
    “Good girl,” he gasped, speeding up, fucking her harder, deeper, perfectly, as if made to fit her body exactly. All pleasure.
    Except for the chafing of her sore ass against the bed.
    It was only after he’d finished that it struck Loren they hadn’t used a condom. Not that it mattered, she supposed, but she wasn’t on the pill again yet.
    He fell still kissing her, as if savoring her. “Love you so, so much, baby.”
    “Love you, too, Sir.”
    He nuzzled her nose with his. “You sure you want this?”
    “Yes, Sir. Just one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I’m not back on the pill yet.”
    “Oh, shit!” He sat up, releasing her arms. “Lor, I’m sorry, I—”
    She reached up and touched a finger to his lips. “It’s okay,” she sadly said, bursting into tears.
    He rolled her onto her side, into his arms, holding her, stroking her hair. “Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. Dammit, I didn’t even think about that.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
    He pressed his lips against her forehead. “It does matter, if it’s what you want.”
    She realized he had followed her train of thought without needing a conductor to give him directions. “What if I can’t ever have kids?” she tearfully asked. “Will you still want me ?”
    He tipped her face back so he could look into her eyes. “For starters, the doctors said it was too soon to tell. But we need to get you back on the pill. The discussion about having a baby is moot until you’ve got your degree.”
    “I need to work while I’m in school,” she said. “We’ll need the money.”
    He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Wait here.”
    “Why?”
    He arched an eyebrow at her.
    “Yes, Sir,” she quickly said.
    “Good girl.” He kissed her. “I’ll let that one go.” He climbed out of bed and disappeared into the living room. She couldn’t help but watch his ass as he walked out of the room.
    He was a damn good-looking man. Especially naked.
    He returned with several pieces of paper and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp before he sat on the edge of the bed. Then he laid the papers out on the bed.
    “Pick one,” he said.
    As she squinted, she realized what they were. “Acceptance letters?”
    He let her snuggle against his side, his arm around her shoulders. “Yep. You pick.”
    “But…” She stared at them. There were eight of them, from law schools all over the continental US. From Pennsylvania to California, and Florida to Illinois. “You want me to pick your law school?”
    He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I want you to be happy. I don’t give a shit where we live as long as you’re happy there. You pick.”
    “But your family is here.”
    “So?