His Runaway Bride

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Jayne took several swallows from the water he'd given her, then she paused for a second and slid down off the bar stool, crossing the three steps it took to get to him, because she knew he was giving her the space he thought she needed.

  But she didn't want space at that moment. She wanted him.

  Chapter 8

  When she was in front of him, she almost chickened out because of just how big he loomed before her. But then she boosted herself up on tiptoes and wrapped her arms as far around him as they would go. But that wasn't near far enough.

  So, she said, "Hold that thought," went to the dining room and pinched one of the chairs from the matching set. Then she stood on top of it and was pretty much his height.

  "I like this." She smiled, draping her arms around his neck for the first time with ease.

  "So do I," Pace growled, wanting nothing more than to wrap his hands around her and hug her to him, but he didn't want to scare her any more than he already had, although his arms were itching to hold her.

  Then she kissed him, sweetly, at first, then more passionately, fingers finding their way into his hair as she pressed herself against him.

  Still, he held himself off, not wanting to ask for more from her than what she was willing to give.

  "Pace," she asked in a conspiratorial whisper when she finally pulled a little away from him.

  "Yes, Jayne?" he whispered back.

  Her bravery—such as it had been—deserted her as he gazed intently into her eyes. She had to lower hers, for a moment, then brought them back to his.

  "Do you want to…I mean…would you like to—"

  She never did get to finish that sentence.

  He finished it for her by lifting her into his arms and carrying her back into his bedroom, where he turned the light on but dimmed it to very low, setting her down just inside the door as if she was infinitely fragile.

  "—make love to you?" he rasped, finishing her unfinished question.

  She was looking all adorably hesitant again, eyes darting here and there, biting her lip and not looking at him.

  His index finger beneath her chin solved that, not stopping until their eyes met. "Are you sure you want me to?" he asked, not wanting to but knowing he had to.

  "Oh, yes," she breathed. "But will you let me…set the pace?"

  "Of course, darlin'." His cock wasn't very happy with that idea—it wanted to be buried within her right the hell now. But he—all of him—was just going to have to wait.

  If she wanted to do this, which surprised the ever-loving crap out of him in the first place, and she wanted to decide when things got done, he was perfectly fine with that. He might likely die if it wasn't soon, but he'd die a happy man. Unfulfilled, but happy overall.

  Because he'd not been sleeping in his room, he was largely still dressed. He'd taken his shirt off, but he was still in his jeans. And when she sank to the carpeting before him and reached for his belt buckle, he thought he was going to lose the battle right then and there.

  Jayne undid his belt then the button of his jeans and the zipper, which wasn't cooperating because it was pressed so tightly against the rock-hard cock that was behind it. Still, she persisted, pulling the jeans down to the floor, where he stepped out of them.

  Then she rose, and he had to admire every elegant line of her as she did, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and trying to lift it over his head, which she barely managed. But he kept his arms down so that she could take it off more easily. Then, knowing his neat tendencies, she folded the jeans and the t-shirt and put them on top of the hamper.

  He was standing there in a pair of briefs with the waistband pulled well away from his stomach, trying to contain his erection.

  She went to her knees again, and he stopped her. "You don't have to do that, Jayne."

  "No, I'm fine. Really."

  Her eyes were on his, and he saw no sign of hesitancy or shadow of fear there, so he nodded his head.

  Damn, he was downright glorious—long and proud and very, very stiff.

  She reached for him, and again, he stopped her—mostly in consideration of himself, rather than her. For someone who had wanted to control the pace, she was going pretty darned quickly, and Pace worried even more that he wasn't going to be able to go the distance.

  "Y-you don't have to do that, either," he said tightly.

  "I would like to if you don't mind."

  'If he didn't mind.' Jesus. This woman was going to kill him dead, Pace thought.

  But to her, he said, "All right."

  Hopefully, she'd be shit at it, and it would be easy for him to ignore her attempts.

  Unfortunately, the exact opposite was true. She was perfect. She didn't treat him like a piece of meat or act as if she hated it and doing him a huge favor. She acted as if she enjoyed doing it, listening and changing her movements, pressure, the use of her tongue based on what he was saying or doing. And he was saying quite a bit.

  When she'd taken him in her mouth at first, in one long swallow, all the way down to the root, so that her nose was buried in his treasure trail, he almost shot right then and there.

  Then she backed off, using her tongue enthusiastically on the underside, and replacing the loss of her mouth with both of her hands and twisting them, too.

  Damn!

  Then she began a rhythm that was unfailing. She didn't stop, she didn't hesitate, she didn't get tired. Sometimes she moved a hand to gently cup and roll his balls, but other than that, she stuck to the goal, and she was gaining fast on it.

  But that wasn't what he wanted for his first time with her. He wanted to be inside her.

  So—against everything he believed in—he stopped her.

  "Jayne, I mean this in the best way possible, but you are a beast. You are amazing at that; I mean it."

  Since he'd stopped her, though, he could tell she wasn't necessarily sure he was being truthful with her. "But I want you. Your mouth is wonderful. But I want to bury myself inside you."

  More lip biting, but she didn't look afraid, really, just surprised and a little worried? He thought.

  "How about if I do the same thing for you?" Although much more quickly, he thought but didn't say.

  Pace stepped closer to her and pulled her against him for a long, deep kiss, during which he slowly allowed his hands to creep under the hem of her nightie to explore her back. She was just impossibly soft and warm beneath his rough fingertips, and he knew he would never, ever have enough of touching her.

  With the material pooled at his thick wrists, it was easy enough for him to simply raise it up and over her head, letting it float down where it would. He honestly didn't give a crap where it ended up—neatness be damned.

  Because now, she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of pretty panties.

  Jayne automatically crossed her arms over her breasts, which was probably a pretty stupid thing for a grown woman—who had birthed a child—to do, but she felt as if she had to. It had been a very long time since she'd been anywhere near naked in front of anyone, much less a man she didn't know all that well.

  Before he looked anywhere but at what he could see of her breasts, he reached for her arms to move them away, figuring that hers was an act of false modesty, something she thought she ought to do but didn't really want to. But before he got there, his eyes flickered up to her face.

  And there, he could see what he didn't want to, the fear creeping into her eyes, and his hands fell to his sides before he touched her. "Shall we stop, honey?" he asked, voice husky with need. But if she wanted him to stop, he would damn well stop.

  "No," she answered softly, but she still wasn't looking at him.

  "Baby?" Pace crooned. "You are safe with me. Always."

  She nodded. "I-I know."

  He sighed, not wanting to do this if she didn't want him to.

  "Pace?"

  "Yes, honey?"

  "Will—will you do something for me?"

  "Anything, Jayne," Pace ans
wered, and he meant it, too.

  It took her a minute for her eyes to find his, but he stood still and waited patiently.

  And when those big eyes settled on his, she asked him something that, at first, he was sure he'd heard wrong.

  "Would you—would you tell me to—to move my arms?" she whispered.

  "But if you don't want to—"

  "But I do. I want to be close to you, please." She was looking down again then back up at him. "Help me. If you tell me to, I'll be able to do it. I know it's stupid, but when you were spanking me and talking to me before and after, and when you held me in the chair, your voice—the tone of voice you used with me was just so powerful to me." One tear trailed down her cheek, and he couldn't bear it, so he brushed it away for her. "Please?"

  Pace swallowed, his mind whirring with this new information about her, then he wrapped his arms loosely around her, leaning over to whisper into her ear, "Be a good girl and put your arms down for me, sweetheart."

  Of course, he'd known exactly what to say to her, and her arms fell away from her body.

  "Very good girl," he whispered, his heart swelling at least as much as his cock already was. "I'm going to step back a bit, because I want to see you. It's just me, and I'm already more than halfway in love with you, so you have nothing to worry about. I already think you're gorgeous, too."

  He more than halfway loved her? Jayne could hardly believe her ears!

  "Perfection, of course," he pronounced, eyes always moving to hers to judge how she was feeling as he captured them and carefully caressed them. Her nipples were hard and tight, and he saw that as a good sign, but he really couldn't dawdle much if he was going to see to her before he succumbed to his own pleasure.

  "Lie down on the bed for me, my Jayne. On your back. Good girl." She obeyed him immediately, and it amazed him, but he made certain that he always used a very loving, if sometimes stern, tone.

  He stretched out beside her, and she was tense, but he didn't think that she was overly so. Slow, deep kisses helped, especially when he began to gently roll her nipples. She actually gasped, and he had to chuckle. She was acting practically like she'd never done this before, as if she was a virgin.

  From there, his fingertips made their way slowly down that soft skin and slightly rounded belly, to hover above her mons.

  "Open your legs for me, darlin'."

  She did exactly as he asked, and his hand eagerly claimed her there. Not in a rough, marauding manner, like how her husband used to do, as if she had no feeling down there at all, but with gentle probing and light caresses, exploring rather than conquering.

  Pace was trying to find out what she liked, but by this point, he wasn't at all sure he could linger much longer, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to. Instead, he felt compelled to give in to his own desires, hoping she wouldn't hate him too much.

  "Jayne, I'm so sorry, but I have to have you." Within seconds, he found himself buried deep within her, plunging and bucking, more of a slave to his desires than he had been since he was a teenager and entirely embarrassed that this was how he was behaving the first time they were together.

  But, gods, she was exquisite! He could barely believe she'd had a child, she was clenched so tightly around him. He barely noticed, although her arms were around him the entire time, and she'd not raised any objections whatsoever to what he was doing, she wasn't getting—much, if anything—out of it, either.

  But he did notice.

  It took him an ignominiously short amount of time before he came with a long, low growl and much shuddering and shaking. Then he collapsed down on top of her, breathing as if he'd just finished a marathon, breath puffing out of him and into her hair.

  Pace could feel her hands trailing up and down his back, as if she was trying to soothe him, and he thought it was one of the few times she'd touched him without being prompted to. As he continued to work his way through the aftermath, he realized with no small amount of chagrin that he was taking longer to recover from making love to her for the first time than he did actually making love to her the first time, and he knew that could not stand.

  Nor could the fact that while he was shaking and shuddering and panting, she was lying there as if nothing had happened to her, and indeed, nothing had. He intended to rectify that as soon as he possibly could.

  Still, he was so shaken and floored by what had happened that it was several more minutes before he rolled off her, taking her hand and kissing the palm.

  "That was the hardest I've ever come in my life, I swear."

  She colored prettily at that.

  "But you didn't." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

  "That's okay." She tried to tug her hand away, but he wouldn't let go. In fact, he consolidated his hold on her by drawing her into his arms, even though she was still trying to get away from him. Her eyes were down, and she was all tense again.

  Then a thought struck him, and he knew he was probably right about it, whether or not she was willing to admit it.

  "Did Jake bring you off when you had sex, baby? You don't have to go into detail about your sex life with him." He would really rather not know, but he'd listen and try not to cringe if she wanted to talk about it. "Just nod or shake your head."

  She opened her mouth then closed it again, her eyes occasionally darting to his as if to beg him not to ask her this, but she didn't say or do anything in response to his question.

  "Jayne," he intoned, carefully stern with her.

  Her body stiffened more, as if she knew where this was going if she didn't obey him. But she wasn't trembling.

  "Answer me, Jayne. I'm sure you know that there'll be consequences if you disobey me in this, don't you?" With that last bit, his voice was almost sweet, as if he would be terribly sorry to have to spank her over this.

  She buried her face in his chest but did nothing toward actually answering his question.

  Pace wasn't one to shirk his responsibilities, so in a matter of seconds, she found herself on her tummy, with one of his arms lying gently across her back and the other hand smacking down soundly onto her vulnerable behind.

  Smack! Smack! Swat! Smack!

  This was much less of a gentle spanking and much closer to how he would spank her in the future—using almost full force, sharp slaps that drew yelps and squeals from her from the start.

  "You know, Jayne, that I expect you to obey me, and I hate to have to do this when it's a very simple yes or no question, so I do expect you to obey me and give me an answer."

  Pace continued spanking her, watching those lovely, generous cheeks wobble with each smack, growing first a pretty pink, then dusky rose, then downright red as she reacted in that darling, predictable way—which he counted as an achievement—kicking her feet up and trying to twist and turn herself to avoid any possible blow.

  When he thought that he had made his point, he laid his hand down on her sore looking, hot behind. "Well, Jayne?"

  She was sniffling and sobbing, and he very much wanted to comfort her, but he would be obeyed first.

  Until she put her arms up to him and asked, very wretchedly, "W-would you hold me?"

  How could he possibly turn her down? But still, he forced himself to ask, "And you will tell me?"

  She nodded through her tears, and he didn't delay a second before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him, so that they were both lying on their sides, her head on his shoulder as he held her tight.

  As a warning that if she didn't follow through, the spanking would continue, he put his hand over her bottom—and it covered all of it very nicely.

  "You have something to say to me, honey?" he prompted.

  Jayne nodded slowly, speaking quietly and hesitantly, as if she was terribly ashamed of what she was going to say. "N-no, he d-didn't. He didn't c-care whether I got anything out of s-sex."

  Pace tightened his arms around her at that, cursing her husband yet again for being a thousand times an asshole—and a fool. "I'm so
rry, sweetheart. That's terrible." He held her close for several long minutes, then he asked, "Was he your only lover?"

  She shook her head. "No. I-I haven't had many—"

  And Pace smiled. "Well, I can't complain about that," he teased.

  But she wasn't in a mood to smile. "But I had a few."

  "Surely, they satisfied you?"

  But Jayne, looking anywhere but at him, shook her head.

  "No? None of them?"

  He sounded so astounded that Jayne felt even worse confessing this to him, and all she wanted to do was crawl away into a hole and never come out of it.

  But his reaction was not at all what she expected, even though she should have known him well enough to predict it. She had wallowed too far into her own misery and couldn't think that well about anything else.

  Pace cupped her cheek and forced her to look up at him, at a time when that was the last thing she wanted to do. "My poor baby, so overlooked and under cared for." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Well, that's ended right here and now, because I can't be obnoxiously happy unless I know you are, so we're going to get you very, very happy, I promise, right now."

  As his mouth took hers, gently but passionately, he rolled her onto her back, taking his time, his tongue dancing with hers, teeth nibbling teasingly at the tip of hers and playfully worrying her lip.

  Then he caught her eye. "You are to do nothing but relax, my dear, and feel. That's all I will allow you to do, understand?"

  Jayne nodded, looking a bit scared and very dubious.

  But he didn't address either of those things. Pace was of a mind that the fear would drop away as he caressed and kissed her during the course of bringing her to ecstasy, and that in and of itself would solve her doubtfulness.

  At first, all he did was what he'd wanted to do for some time—he touched every single inch of her, except her centers of pleasure, leaving her breasts and that lovely haven between her legs alone for a moment. He began very softly at the top of her head, running his hands through her hair then moved down, using only light touches everywhere, including her back, bestowing sweet kisses wherever and whenever the mood struck.