Mac's Winter Spanking - Sex Stories

Mac's Winter Spanking

Luke let himself into the apartment. It was flooded with light and sound, but that was normal now that he lived with Mac. She seemed to switch on everything in one room and then exit to the next without turning anything off. The television was on in the living room, along with all of the lights. He could hear music playing in the kitchen and the sounds of her talking on the phone. She was cooking, he paused to sniff, no, she was burning something. He didn't care, he was starving and tired and he missed her. He placed his suitcase next to the couch and looked around. The apartment was freshly cleaned, she'd even put all the Christmas decorations away. Cleaning was not one of Mac's favorite things to do. Before catching his flight back to New York from LA he was treated to some salacious pictures on a tabloid website of his errant fiancee. He did not approve of public displays of intoxication, like dancing on tables. He guessed the tidied apartment and home cooked meal was supposed to get her back into his good graces. He walked into the kitchen. She couldn't hear him approach over the music. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a kiss on the top of her head. She let out a startled shriek, then giggled and swatted him away, saying goodbye to the person on the phone. “You scared me half to death!” She was still laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling her body close to his. “Sorry.” He leaned down and kissed her. He peeked ...

... past her at the pots bubbling on the stove. The counters were covered in cutting boards and spices. “What are you making?” “Arrgh,”she moaned. She flipped a spoon into the sink. “It started out as one thing, seriously though, thirty minute meal my ass! It took me thirty minutes to chop the freaking vegetables.” He leaned against the counter and listened as Mac continued her tirade about cooking times and burning cream sauces. He scooted her onto a stool at the kitchen island and began completing what she started, cleaning as he went. He opened them both a beer and shrugged off her protests that she had been trying to cook for him. If he wanted any chance at a meal that wasn't over cooked, he was smart to finish it himself. “You did all the hard stuff, babe. You know I hate chopping. Tell me about your day, I was cooped up on a plane all day.” She smiled back at him and settled onto the stool, more than happy to talk rather than cook. Within minutes he had them tucked into some sort of pasta dish with vegetables and a light sauce. He didn't know what her original intention had been but he made them an edible dish. “You cleaned up. The apartment looks good,” he said between bites. A blush crept across her cheeks and it confirmed his suspicion that she had been cleaning right up until he walked through the door. The scent of lemon pledge still hung in the air. His girl was nothing if not last minute. “Thanks.” She pushed her vegetables around on her plate. “What?” He put his fork ...