Take Me Hard: Arizona Heat 3

by Douglas, Katie

  There was an A-framed wooden piece of furniture which he’d gestured to when he’d mentioned a tree. I inferred he meant that. Sure enough, he took my hands and helped me to my feet before leading me to the frame.

  “Stand here and spread your legs,” he ordered. I did as he told me, being sure to part my legs wide enough to touch the wood, even though it put my pussy on display much more than I would have liked. He went to a shelf and I watched him pick up a couple of lengths of rope. When he returned, he paused for a moment while his eyes traveled over my body.

  “I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you,” he remarked. Crouching down, he bound one ankle to the wooden frame, so my foot was flat on the floor, then he tied the other ankle. I was spread and secured. My body was open to him. There was nothing I could do to stop him doing anything he liked to me.

  He stood up and roped my wrists together in front of me.

  “You know what happens to bad girls who steal apples?” he asked.

  “No, sir.” I imagined it was going to be something related to spanking and sex, but I bit back the retort.

  He leaned closer, so his lips buzzed against my ear. “They get punished.” He flipped the rest of the rope over the top of the frame, pulling it so my wrists were raised over my head and my breasts were pulled higher than usual.

  For a minute, he didn’t touch me at all, preferring to look.

  “You’re mine now. Bound and helpless,” he told me. I caught my breath while a trickle of liquid made its way out of my opening and down my leg.

  “You could do anything you wanted, sir,” I breathed, wanting to explore how that admission made me feel. More aroused than ever, judging from the frisson that tingled through me when I spoke.

  “Don’t move.” He went away for a moment, and returned holding a riding crop in one hand.

  “Oh, no, sir, I’ve learned my lesson! I’ll never steal apples again. I’ll be good, sir.” I sank deeper into my role as I went with my instincts to avoid getting cropped.

  “I’m sure you’ll never do it again. But this punishment is for what you did, not what you’re going to do, and I need to ensure the lesson sinks in.”

  My heart rate soared as he touched the tip of the crop against the white flesh of my breasts, where he’d trailed his fingers earlier. The cold, smooth leather was intoxicating already, and my pussy ached to be filled.

  The crop circled first one breast, then the other. Like before, he never touched the most sensitive flesh of my areolas or nipples. He was the master of teasing me.

  Sliding it lower, he moved to my clit. I squeaked and shook my head. If he decided to crop me there, I was sure it would hurt a lot worse than anywhere else on my entire body.

  The tip of the crop lingered for several seconds, as he held my gaze. My face must have been pleading, while his was definitely controlled. He regarded me impassively for a long moment, while the crop remained in place. As time went on, I was more and more certain he was going to do it. When he suddenly raised the crop from my delicate flesh, I flinched instinctively, scrunching up my eyes, but nothing came.

  “You’re not ready for that,” he murmured, and when I opened my eyes again, he was moving around behind me. Without warning, the crop snapped down straight over my ass hole, and I yelped at the shock of pain that ignited the nerve endings again.

  The burning sensation was short lived, and I made myself take slow breaths, in through my nose, out through my mouth, while I tried to get my nerves under control. Some part of me was really buying into this scene and it was getting hard to know whether I was acting or reacting.

  The crop landed again, in the same place. My legs tried to close, but they couldn’t because my ankles were lashed to the wooden frame. He’d planned this. I was trapped. For stealing apples.

  “You ain’t getting away that easy,” he drawled, snapping the crop against my right thigh. I realized he’d not used anywhere near the full force of the implement on my butt, because the sharp bite against my inner thigh reminded me of the time I got shot with a pellet gun as a kid. It didn’t break the skin, but it felt like there was a hole in my leg. I was grappling with that as the crop landed on my left thigh in a similar place, and it was too much for me to keep quiet. I cried out in agony and his hands were immediately stroking my thighs, rubbing away the pain.

  “Oh, did that hurt, little miss?” he asked gently, but there was no mistaking the taunting tone beneath his soft words.

  “Yes, sir, it hurt,” I said, pretending to take his question at its face value. I even injected some slight indignation into my voice.

  His hands moved upwards, circling my waist, and before I knew it, he was at my ear, speaking so quietly I barely made out what he said.

  “It’s a punishment. It’s supposed to hurt.”

  My spine flexed and a split-second of moan came out of my mouth before I cut it off abruptly.

  “I hope you’re not getting aroused by your punishment,” he remarked, in a louder voice, as his hands left my waist.

  “No, sir!” I lied. The shaft of the crop slid into the cleft of my ass, and he pressed it firmly against me, moving it along my wet channel until it rubbed against my clit. Of their own accord, my hips rocked against the shaft, trying to get more friction.

  He withdrew it, and I sighed in frustration. It seemed like he was going to tease me forever while I could do nothing to touch myself.

  “You’re soaking wet.” He wiped the shaft of the crop against my leg, and I felt the liquid lingering on my skin. “It’s very bad to get aroused during a punishment. Wantonness is not becoming in a young lady.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I spoke breathily, too far gone to do anything else.

  “For your loose morals, I’m going to swat your ass twenty times.”

  “I need to learn my lesson, sir.” My voice struggled. He trailed the crop over my butt cheeks and I wondered how bad this was going to be. Last time he’d cropped my ass, he’d done it in a sensual way that had awakened things inside me I’d never known about before. Given how much pain he’d inflicted with two swats to my legs today, however, I was learning a healthy fear of the crop. It seemed it truly was an instrument of pleasure and pain.

  I didn’t have long to wait before he brought the crop down on my left butt cheek. It felt like a small animal had snapped its jaws around my globe, and I squeaked as instant, sharp pain spread through the small square where the crop had landed. I hadn’t processed that fully when he landed it on the other cheek.

  I squealed and he swatted my cheeks hard and fast, covering my ass in the small bites of red fury. Combined, they were far worse than any individual stroke, and the constellation of pain made me wail. At the same time, however, my pussy was openly dripping with desire. The conflicting signals my body sent out were confusing.

  The little swats only seemed to build, until by the time he stopped, my whole butt felt covered in angry bee stings. I was gasping for air but I didn’t understand why. My clit throbbed.

  “Now six more, for the apple.”

  I wailed in defeat. This would last as long as he wanted it to. The knowledge was simultaneously frustrating and arousing. The crop landed low, in the little cleft between my ass and thighs. If it was possible, it felt worse, there, than higher up. He caught the other cheek in the same place.

  A moment later, the tip of the crop tapped against my ass hole again. I twisted my hips as my legs futilely attempted to make me run away. The idea of getting punished there again was unnerving. He was cropping much harder than the first time he’d landed it there, and I didn’t want to know what this was going to feel like.

  I didn’t have a choice.

  “Please, no!” I protested, but he didn’t listen. The crop landed hard against my puckered hole and I shrieked in distress when the sharp burn exploded, seeming to get inside my ass at the same time.

  He landed it again, and I was close to tears, but I really didn’t want to cry in front of him, especially not right
now. I held it in.

  “How many are left?” he asked me, walking around to my front so I could see him.

  “Two, sir.”

  “Where do you think I’m going to land those?”

  Was this a trick question? He could do it anywhere. My whole body was spread before him.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Here. Let me give you a clue.” Instead of a hint, however, he whipped the crop down on my left nipple and I shrieked like a banshee, my knees bending as much as they were able, while my restrained legs attempted to kick.

  The crop tapped against my other nipple, foreshadowing what he was about to do, and I shook my head, but this time, I couldn’t take my eyes off the brown leather crop, contrasting so beautifully with my pale skin.

  I saw him lift it quickly, snapping it down hard and landing straight on my nipple. I fought my bindings again, but it had no effect. I was still tied up and the pain was immense as it flooded my upper body from both my nipples. It traveled down to my clit, making it throb with more urgency, and my wail turned into a moan.

  “That’s two apples,” he said, sounding serious. “Now for the third, I’m going to fuck you.”

  “Yes, sir.” I had no energy or will to even pretend to fight him.

  “Keep your ass where it is.” He placed the crop on the floor out of the way and walked around behind me again.

  “I mean it, don’t move.”

  I heard a condom wrapper opening. My pussy pulsed with the desperate urge to be filled.

  He lined up his cock with my hungry hole, and I let him thrust into me roughly, fully seating himself with a groan of satisfaction. His hands gripped my hips and my pussy clamped down around him. I didn’t think I could last very long. My body needed to climax or I might break.

  He fucked me vigorously, filling my aching sheath with exactly what it craved, rubbing against that place deep inside me that was a tight bundle of nerves. The angle changed how he felt when he took me. Forceful. Controlling. I was powerless to stop him ravishing me.

  When his hands moved up, he cupped my breasts. The sensation felt caring, until his thumbs and forefingers found my nipples. He pinched, hard. The punished pink flesh burst into flames re-ignited by his harsh touch. He held them tightly. I shook my head from side to side trying to shake the pain out of me. It burrowed deeper, sending hot sparks to my clit. I moaned when I’d intended to scream. The pressure in my core was too much. I couldn’t take it much longer. Relentlessly, he continued to fuck me, and I bit down on my lip to stop myself screaming.

  The movement of his cock ignited delicate tingles. Little starbursts exploded in my sheath. Warning signs that something was about to happen.

  “You’re gonna come in a moment,” he predicted.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He pinched harder and I wailed.

  “Come for me, little missy,” he growled. The sharp pain forced my orgasm over the edge and I exploded, screaming, bucking against him, pulling on the ropes above my head. He fucked me harder, losing himself inside me while simultaneously drawing out every last drop of my orgasm, and I shook as intense sparks of pleasure detonated in every part of me.

  He stilled, and I felt his cock swelling. A moment later, I slowly floated back down to earth. We stood locked together, gasping for air. I wondered if he was as stunned as I was.

  Eventually, he pulled out and quickly untied me. He scooped me up, just as he had before, and carried me downstairs to his bed. There, he held me, never leaving me. Reassuring me that he never would.

  “That’s the third apple,” he remarked. I giggled and nestled against him.

  * * *

  Clay

  I held her and thought about how lucky I was to be here, in this moment. But it was also bittersweet, because I knew she wasn’t staying. I didn’t want to try and convince her. How does a man ask a woman to abandon her dreams just so he can hold her every day for the rest of their lives? It would be criminal for me to say anything.

  No, if she wanted to stay here, she had to come to that conclusion by herself. I wouldn’t be the one to stop her achieving her potential. Not for little old me. It wasn’t right. But the knowledge that she had to move on someday really marred what should have been a perfect moment.

  She was so young, I knew there must be other things she needed to do before she settled down. I was twenty-nine, and only barely at a point in my life where I might feel ready to start a family and stop going to BDSM clubs. She was eighteen. She was barely an adult, and there were so many life experiences she couldn’t possibly have had yet, growing up in a small town in Alabama.

  Had she ever learned the hard way not to drink a whole bottle of Jack Daniels? Or sat up all night with someone and just talked until the sun came up? Had she ever fallen so hard for someone she shouldn’t, who had tossed her love aside like it was garbage and left her crying and alone? Had she stared into the window of a jewelry store and just dreamed? Did she ever have to bury a friend far too soon?

  She’d never even owned a car, yet. Or lived by herself. And while I could offer her a comfortable, happy and easy life here on the ranch, I knew she needed to go out and do all of those other things, the good and the bad. Making her stay with me, just because it was what I wanted, might work out fine in the beginning, but anyone could see it was an accident waiting to happen. She’d get restless for the life everyone but her had lived.

  Even a year or two would make all the difference.

  I’d seen how relationships changed people, as first Lawson then Barrett had fallen deeply in love and settled with a girl. She needed a strong sense of who she was before she could be part of us. I couldn’t live with the idea of taking her away from all those experiences that would make her grow into herself.

  But part of me wanted to ignore all that and tell her she wasn’t leaving. Not now I’d found her.

  I was torn between what I ought to do and what my soul screamed for, and I went to sleep thinking this was exactly why I shouldn’t have slept with her in the first place.

  Chapter 8

  “If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.” — Dolly Parton

  Kinsley

  I felt his arm around me before I opened my eyes. He was holding me close and daylight streamed in through the windows.

  Something was making a noise.

  It was a phone, but not mine.

  “Clay? Hey, Clay!” I reached back and shook his shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  “Your phone.”

  “Screw it.” Had he forgotten about his brother?

  “It might be Alana at the hospital.”

  “Shit.” He rolled over, and I felt cold where his arm had been.

  “Yeah?” He talked into the phone and I reflected I wanted him to stay with me forever. I turned in bed and propped myself up on one elbow, taking in the muscles across his shoulders as they tensed and relaxed, rippling softly while he listened to his phone call.

  “Few more days? Sure.” He nodded, and I watched his tousled golden hair move. Oh boy, even just looking at him was making me want him to fuck me again. I’d never felt like this about anyone and the depth of my attraction scared me.

  “Just let me know, and I’ll be there.” He ended the call and I quickly moved my eyes to the pillowcase, as if there was anything interesting about it.

  “Are they done?” I asked.

  “No. There’s been some complications and she’s still in labor.”

  How long did it take for babies to come out? I had no idea. “Will she be okay?”

  “I guess so. I mean, I don’t really know all the details but she’s at a good hospital and Lawson will ensure she gets the best care. All we can do is wait to hear what’s happening.”

  “We should visit as soon as we can.” I hadn’t known her for very long, but I knew Alana’s family weren’t around, so she probably relied on her friends.

  “We will. But you’re not allowed to worry. As I said, Lawson w
ill take care of it all.”

  When he used that tone, my legs turned to jelly a little. He kissed me on the nose and I sighed.

  “Stay here, beautiful. I’m gonna make breakfast.”

  He moved out of bed and I watched his ass while he pulled clothes on and left. To make breakfast. For me.

  I was so lucky.

  A ringing sound near my head made me scramble around for my phone. It had fallen down the side of the bed in the night and was echoing. I forced my hand between the bed and the wall and dragged the errant device back up again.

  Unfamiliar number. I sat back on my heels and answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Is that Kinsley Bergman?”

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Who’s calling please?” I hoped it was an L.A. casting agent who had seen my profile online. And who else would call unless I knew them? I didn’t know many people.

  I wasn’t even in L.A. and I might already have an audition. I held my breath and waited to find out.

  “This is officer Daniel MacGuire, from the Birmingham Police Department. Could you come to the precinct this afternoon? We need to ask you a few questions.” Now he mentioned it, I realized his voice sounded “normal” to my ear. People from California talked completely differently.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t; I’m in Arizona.” My stomach felt like it had faded clean out of my body. Was I in trouble? No. In my gut I knew it was something to do with my family.

  “You need to come to Birmingham as soon as possible.”

  “What’s this about? What’s happened?” Why wasn’t he telling me the reason?

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you over the phone, ma’am.”

  “You can’t just leave me in Arizona not knowing! At least tell me if it’s about my dad!”

  “Not your father, no.”

  I finished the call then let my phone fall to the bed. I flopped onto my back, kicking my feet onto the pillow, and I stared up at the ceiling.

  What the hell was going on and why did I have to go back to Alabama?