Pace noted with no small sense of pride that her bottom was quite red, which was probably why she'd whimpered so enticingly when he'd rolled her onto it.
On the return trip, his touch was a bit heavier, leaning toward massaging but not enough to put her to sleep.
Jayne couldn't believe what he was doing—no one had ever taken the time to see to her like this. She'd done this—occasionally—with Jake when they were first married, but he never bothered to reciprocate. She should have known that Pace would be more than willing to do this for her. But she still worried that she wasn't going to be able to respond to him, even though she could feel that her body was generously slickening itself in preparation for him.
And when he'd very carefully rolled her onto her back again to continue his ministrations, she luxuriated in his touch, doing exactly what he had told her to do, relax and feel, and she was being positively flooded with sensations that tightened her nipples and made her want to arch into his touch. But she didn't.
When his fingers had again ended up in her hair, Pace let them trail down the center of her body—forehead, nose, lips, chin, down a very slender, elegant neck to her collarbone, which had her trembling, but in a good way, he thought. They continued down, between the twin slopes of her breasts, down the center of her belly, to her bare lips.
Then, as he leaned forward to press his lips to her ear and his fingers between those enticing nether lips, Pace whispered raggedly, in the throes of his own renewed passion, "Open your legs for me, my Jayne."
But they didn't budge, not in the slightest.
His fingers didn't push at all. He wanted her to obey him.
"Jayne." It was more of a warning than he was usually going to give her, but she ignored it. He could see that she was tentative and hesitant about what she was doing, as she should have been, having already been spanked once.
And he was less likely to be patient with her because of it.
Again, she found herself flipped, like a rag doll, onto her stomach, held down, and spanked quite sternly. He did much less talking during this spanking than he had any so far, essentially just repeating his demand once while he was diligently making her backside even redder and sorer than it already was.
Jayne, who had always pictured herself as stoic through a spanking, when she used to fantasize about them, was anything but. Every smack that landed on her previously tenderized flesh hurt a thousand times worse, she was certain of it. It was horrible, and she wanted it to stop, but he didn't show any signs of slowing.
"Ow, no, stop, Pace! Stop!" She found herself begging, to no avail.
"I will stop when you agree to obey me, lovely," he stated, his voice encouraging but firm.
He couldn't just be spanking her with his hand, could he? It hurt like the dickens, and even though she knew she was likely to lose him when he couldn't achieve what he wanted to, as it continued to fall in a rhythm and with a painful accuracy that took her breath away, Jayne finally cried quits.
"Yes! I'll obey you! Pace! I-I'll do it!"
He held her in his arms this time for a while, until she'd stopped crying, whispering soothing things to her and rubbing her back before he laid her on it again, his hand finding that spot immediately.
Pace gave her an expectant look, and she obeyed him, moving her legs well apart but looking away from him, for a reason he couldn't fathom and didn't want to address at this moment. It was too incredibly important to him that he pleasure her, that he show her that she could enjoy sex, as it seemed she hadn't all these years.
So, he, as his fingers began to claim that very intimate spot, attuned himself to her as best he could even though her face was turned away from his, but he could still hear and see her breathing, feel her shudder once, slightly, as his fingertips encountered her clit.
He noted with satisfaction that it was quite swollen, and when he moved further down, his whole hand was nearly flooded with the undeniable evidence of her desire. He very nearly whooped at that but managed not to. She was lying there, so stiff and tense, that he wanted to jolt her out of it.
"Someone likes to be spanked," he teased.
"No, I do not!" she countered very forcefully, making as if she would get up and fight him about that.
"Stop."
That was all he said, but it was more than enough.
"I'm not going to belabor the point, but it's true, and I'll tell you how I know at another time. I don't want you to think about that right now, though. Settle back."
Pace set about making certain that she couldn't think about anything but what he was doing to her, coordinating bringing his slick fingers up to her clit at the same time he leaned down and took a ripe, pink nipple into his mouth.
He thought she jumped at least fifteen feet off the bed at that, and it got her to turn her head, especially when his lips clung to that hard berry, his fingers brushing teasingly, at first, then more firmly over the pearl between her legs.
"Pace," she breathed, and he could feel all of that tension draining from her as he continued to flick her nipple and her clit at the same time and in the same rhythm.
"Yes, darlin'?" he asked, mouth still buried against her breast.
"What are you doing? I-I-I've never felt like this before."
He couldn't help but lift his head and look down at her, knowing he was wearing a triumphant smile. "Oh, honey, that is such a shame. But no more. I'm going to make you feel like this—and much, much, better—every time we make love."
With that, he moved his big body down between her legs, deliberately forcing them wider as he caught a nipple with his fingers, instead, and began to pluck at it.
Jayne was lost in a sea of overwhelming new sensations. She didn't know what to say or do, and she knew she was moaning like a porn star, her breathing rapid like her pulse, feeling utterly out of control, and yet she was perfectly okay with it, because she was with Pace.
Parts of her wanted to panic at the thought of losing control, but her mind kept repeating that this was Pace, and she could look down and see him between her legs, eagerly lapping at her, rubbing and flicking and paying attention and adjusting his rhythm and motion to what he thought she liked the best.
He could feel the tension gathering in her lower body—good tension this time—reaching down to press two fingers of his free hand into her, hard, seating them to the hilt in one swift, sure motion.
She actually screamed at that, and her hips jerked, but his mouth rode her as determinedly as he had so many recalcitrant horses, never letting go, never letting up.
When she was seconds from orgasming, Jayne suddenly became afraid, and she was so far gone that she didn't even think about it. She cried out to him. "Pace, no, I'm scared!"
He left off instantly, which made her groan and him grin, although he hid it. His hands found hers, and he laced their fingers. "You know I would never hurt you, right, my Jayne?"
"Y-yes," she answered, although her butt might have strenuously objected to that.
"And that you're safe with me?" he asked, voice in a deep, soothing, almost vibrato.
"Y-yes."
He was thrilled to the core at her answers, but he put that aside. "Then you must trust me, Jayne. I know it's new and different and a little scary maybe."
Then he had a thought, and he switched his position so that he was lying next to her instead. It might not be as fabulous an orgasm as he could give her with his mouth, but that wasn't what she needed this time. She needed him to be close to her, to reassure her with his presence and his body, when something was happening to her that she couldn't control and it scared her.
"You can grab onto me anyhow, any way you want to, baby. You won't hurt me." He was staring straight into her eyes. "But I want you to experience this. I promise you that, when it's over, you'll wonder why you were ever hesitant about it—it's that good." He kissed her deeply then pulled back. "Trust me."
Jayne wasn't sure whether it was an order or a question, but she didn't get time t
o think about it. He was worrying her nipple with the edges of his teeth, and the pads of his fingers were driving her crazy, gliding over and around her clit mercilessly.
Her muscles began to tense again, and she felt an unusual tingling, and the pleasure built even more quickly than it had before, until it burst inside her and she clung to him, heaving and gasping and groaning all at the same time as her entire body contracted in an unbelievably ecstatic spasm that she wanted to go on forever. And it did.
Pace didn't want to overwhelm her, but he did want her to know that she could have more than one climax, so he was very persistent, brushing her clit very lightly throughout. And, to his great surprise, not long after her first, she was thrown into her second explosion, and he held her as she clung to him through it again, loving the fact that she was turning to him for solace. He held her in his arms for a very long time, reveling in every single second.
She had relaxed into a puddle at first. He thought it was the first time that she'd ever really just let go for him, and he couldn't have been happier. Hell, he was more ecstatic about her pleasure than his own, by far. But then, she began to grab at him in a different way, twisting and groaning within the confines of his arms, fingers digging into his skin.
"Honey, what is it?" he asked, trying to push her a bit away from him so that he could look into her eyes.
But she fought him, burying her head against his chest and weeping piteously.
Pace didn't know what to do or why she was crying like this, but it sounded as if she was being torn apart.
So, he held her as best he could, waiting for her to be ready to talk to him about it.
And it didn't take her too long, for which he was grateful.
At first, she was just murmuring against his chest, but it rapidly became louder and angrier, until she pushed herself away from him but not looking at him, and he understood what she was raging about.
"He told me I was frigid! He made me feel like I was defective, less of a woman! But it was his fault!"
Sighing heavily, Pace gathered her to him. She was snarling and pounding on his chest and crying and screaming at the same time, and he just surrounded her with himself as much as he could, holding her, rocking her, murmuring soft, meaningless things to her and just being there for her and with her.
Finally, she lay curled up against him on his lap like a child, spent, until, suddenly, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, almost pulling herself up on him. "I-I'm so sorry for doing that—"
But Pace cut her off. "That is a spankable offense, angel. No apologizing to me for crying or being emotional."
She shrank a little at the disciplinary note in his voice, but not much, and he didn't sweat it, because she was still holding onto him very tightly.
"Then, thank you," she croaked, "f-for everything."
He chuckled softly. "Especially some very particular things, I'm guessing."
"Pace!" she chided through her blush.
He caught her eyes. "I'm very sorry that he put you through that. But he's over, and now you know he was wrong."
Jayne nodded. "About so many things."
He wanted to ask her if she'd done anything toward divorcing him, but he wasn't sure he should at this point.
Then she came out with, "I've already started divorce proceedings," and looked up at him shyly. "I want to be free."
He hugged her tightly, rocking them both, and saying, "Just so you can be claimed again," he commented boldly, wondering what her reaction would be.
Jayne looked up at him, her palms framing his beautiful face. "Yes, but by such a better man, hopefully." Then she looked down for a moment and back up at him. "I know it's too soon to say it, but I-I think I—"
"Love you?" Pace said at the same time she did, kissing her with every bit of love in his big body.
When he pulled back, she sighed, "Oh, God, yes!"
Jayne sat up to kiss him again as he wrapped her into the warmest, most loving hug she'd ever had before he laced his fingers into her hair and nuzzled her nose, whispering with poignant reverence, "I love you, too, Jayne." Then his mouth found hers again. "You won't ever have to be afraid again."
Epilogue
Just when Jayne thought that things couldn't get any better for her, she fell in love with Pace and he with her. Although she still wanted them to take things slowly—even though she knew that Pace would have married her the very second her divorce became final—she stuck to her guns. Every time he tried to rush her, she gave him a look, and he backed off. At first, he'd get all guilty and explain about how much he wanted her to be his wife and how he wanted them to be together forever, but eventually, when she did that, he would close his mouth and then just say one, very potent thing, that he found that her ex had never once said to her.
"I love you." Pace said it a lot, casually, impromptu, and especially when they were making love.
He had awakened her passions, although she was still delightfully, sweetly shy about them when he had her beneath him.
He even, at one point, not long after their first time together, showed her how he knew that she liked to be spanked.
They were alone in the house—Auntie 'Bwownie' and Hank, who had arrived to visit for a little while, had taken Braeden to a rodeo, and then they were going out to dinner. Jayne knew they were just trying to give the new couple some time alone together, but she was not about to disabuse them of that impulse, either.
Jayne had been developing a little bit of a sassy side—taking after his sister, no doubt—which Pace frankly enjoyed. He loved that she felt comfortable enough to tease him. But he wasn't about to allow her to get away with anything, either, because of it.
She was in the living room while he was making them lunch. Because they knew that Brownie and Hank were going to take care of Brae for the day, they had slept in and made glorious love before venturing out into the rest of the house, in search of food. It was nearly noon, so Pace was making them a kind of brunch, with steak tips, onions and peppers, scrambled eggs, homemade hash browns, and raisin bread.
She hadn't even bothered to get dressed yet and was sitting in his ginormous chair—which she had decided she liked a lot, with or without him in it—while he attended to her as he seemed to like to do.
The first thing he did was bring her a mimosa, which she'd never had before. "It's mine," he'd said, handing it to her. "See if you like it, and if you do, I'll make you one."
It was excellent. She generally didn't like champagne or wines, but that tasted mostly like orange juice to her, so he brought her one.
"Not too long now, princess," he promised, kissing her hard then leaning back up to head back to kitchen duties.
It was a fantastic meal, and halfway through it, he took her plate away and began feeding her himself, complaining that she didn't eat anywhere near enough.
"I do so."
All he needed to do was raise one eyebrow at her, and she felt a tingle between her legs and a warming of her behind that she couldn't ignore.
"I don't want you to think I have a hang up about it. I don't. All I want is for you to be healthy, Jayne." He tipped her chin up. "Understand?"
"Yes," she said, pouting prettily.
"Good. Now have another piece of steak," he said, holding it up to her on her fork.
"No."
It was soft but undeniably defiant, and she wasn't looking at him anymore, which was a telltale sign that she thought she was probably doing something she shouldn't.
"Jayne."
It was all the warning she was going to get, and she knew it. So, the moment her name was out of his lips, she shot up and ran out onto the deck.
And the little minx had an enormous smile on her face while she did so, he noticed immediately, as she stood there practically daring him to come after her. Which, of course, he did, standing slowly and moving the plates to the end of the table for some reason she couldn't fathom.
Why wasn't he chasing her? She should have been
very careful about what she asked for, because in less than a second, he was barreling toward her. She led him a merry chase around the house as he kind of loped around behind her while she sprinted everywhere, one of his steps equaling about three of hers.
The deck had a door that led to the kitchen, so she circled back into the house, ran around the great room and living room, then tried to head down the hall to his study, but she didn't make it. Big, strong arms closed around her waist and lifted her off the floor.
"No! I don't want to eat anything more!" she half giggled, half yelled.
He held her at his waist as if she was a sack of potatoes. "Well, now, because you were so naughty, you won't have a chance to eat anything more until you have to sit back down in your chair on a very sore backside, I'm afraid, sweetheart."
When he'd gotten them back to the dining room table, he put her on her feet, keeping her close to him with one arm while he assessed that the table was clear, then he looked at her.
She was practically sparkling with the excitement of being chased. He adored how she was blooming now that she was in a relationship where she felt valued and cared for. And this was just another part of that, as far as he was concerned.
He put her in front of the table then bent her over it, keeping her there with his fingertips poised on her mid-back.
"No, Pace!!"
"Absolutely yes, Jayne. You can't possibly think that you're going to get away with running away from me, can you? You know better than that. I will always find you and bring you back to be spanked."
As he gathered her t-shirt—which had been one of his—up her back in one hand and slowly relieved her of her panties with the other, leaving them around her ankles in case she decided to kick, he remembered something. "And, as I recall, you are one of those lucky women who liked being spanked."
"I do not!" She tried to get up at that, all affronted, but he held her in place with ridiculous ease.
"Let's just see about that, shall we?"
His Runaway Bride Page 13
