12 Naughty Days of Christmas - 2016

by Jenny Plumb

  “Good.” He inserted a finger under the base of her panties and flicked them out from their hiding place between her bottom cheeks and lowered her skirt, patting her bottom gently. Then he released her neck, letting her stand up.

  Virginia could feel her face flaming. She was so embarrassed, but she held her head up high, with as much dignity as she could muster. She saw the half-smile on Shane’s face, but she avoided his eyes. Her lady parts were still quivering and the air felt thick between them. Why on earth was a spanking having such an effect on her? Even worse, was Shane aware of what was going on between her legs? She shuddered at the thought.

  Cautiously, Shane opened the bathroom door and peered outside, before taking her hand and stepping out. He held her fingers firmly encased in his as he led her back up the aisle of the plane to their seats. She looked at the ground. It was quite dull, really, aeroplane carpet. A charcoal grey colour, it was dismal and dreary. Much the way she felt right now.

  Shane waited in the aisle while she took her seat, then he slid in next to her. Mercifully, the lady in the seat next to her appeared to be asleep, her earplugs lodged firmly in her ears, her seat reclined slightly and her eyes closed. Still, Virginia was too mortified to look anywhere but her lap, as her face burned in shame. How many people had heard her getting spanked? How many others would have guessed, just from watching them over the past hour? She wanted to die. She wished a hole would open up in the floor of the plane and suck her out into oblivion; anything would be better than this: sitting there, embarrassed and sore, with a brutish, sexy tattooed bodyguard sitting next to her, from whom there was no escape.

  She woke up with a start to find the plane rocking violently as they flew through turbulence. I must have fallen asleep. She was lying all over him, her head on his shoulder, one of her hands resting on his thigh. She’d drooled in her sleep, there was a wet patch on his shirt where it had collected on his shoulder and trickled down his front. Embarrassed all over again, she pointed it out to him, but he just smiled and shrugged, clearly unbothered by her sharing of bodily fluids. She shook her head in amazement. What kind of man was he? How many men were there out there who would smack her bottom in the aeroplane toilet one minute, and let her drool all over him in the next? The man just didn’t make sense.

  He remained calm and unflustered as the aeroplane rocked and rolled for the next hour. The seatbelt sign lighted and stayed on, and flight attendants moved around the cabin tending to frightened passengers as best they could.

  Virginia held her head in her hands. Is this how she was going to die? On a plane somewhere in the middle of the ocean, angry at her father?

  She felt a hand on her shoulder, just resting there, giving her comfort. She could feel the strength in his fingers, reassuring her.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, smiling at her. His eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled, making him seem much less ferocious than he’d been in the tiny aircraft bathroom not so long ago.

  “How do you know?” she whispered, her shoulders shaking.

  “It’s nearly Christmas. Planes aren’t allowed to crash just before Christmas. It’s in the rules. Don’t you know that?”

  Despite herself, she giggled. Shane squeezed her shoulder. Then the plane jolted again, tipping sideways before bumping violently and righting itself. Virginia clutched the armrest frantically, her knuckles going white.

  “I hope it doesn’t crash. I didn’t say goodbye to Daddy.”

  “Would you like me to spank you, to relieve you of your guilt?” Shane suggested, his light-hearted tone suggesting he was joking, but his stern expression making her not so sure.

  “No!” she protested. “I do not! I’m still sore from the last one and besides, the seat belt sign is on. We can’t leave our seats.”

  “I can work with that,” Shane informed her. “A spanking works just as well on the front of your thighs as it does on your bottom. Want me to show you?”

  “No!” she yelped, her hands hurriedly letting go of the armrests and going to her thighs, her fingers spread out, to protect herself from Shane’s hard hand.

  The plane rocked again, shaking for several long seconds, then a short break, then it bumped again a few more times. Shane didn’t even flinch. Why was he so relaxed? Wasn’t he even a tiny bit afraid? Terrified, she stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle her scream as the plane lurched violently again.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Shane slid his arm around behind her shoulders, pulling her in towards him, holding her close. His protective embrace did make her feel somewhat safer, and for some reason, with him holding her like that, she believed his words. She believed that somehow, he had the power to keep them safe. After all, wasn’t it his job to be her protector?

  Shane kept holding her and slowly, she calmed down. Her breathing became slower and more regular and the tension started to flow from her tightly-clenched muscles. She relaxed against him. His body was so hard against hers, so powerful, so chiselled – she could feel it even through his shirt. He’d be an impressive specimen without clothes on… Don’t go there! Her rational inner mind scolded. She closed her eyes. That tattoo on his neck – how far down his body did it go? Did it travel down his torso, to spread like hot liquid over his sculpted chest? Did the tribal pattern swirl around his pecs, decorating them, darkening them, the ink wrapping around his hard body to cover his broad back, as well? Did it go down his arms, its tendrils kissing his biceps? Was the intricate curling, swirling Polynesian pattern telling a story carved into his muscular forearms?

  She snuggled against him, smiling as his arm tightened around her. She clutched his shirt frantically as the plane dropped rapidly, shook, rocked, bounced, and then continued on. He wrapped his other arm around her too, encasing her completely. “It’s okay, Virginia,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

  As she rested against him, listening to the beat of his heart thudding in her ears, she remembered his hand smacking her bottom in the aeroplane toilet. He’d seemed like such a brute then. Like he didn’t care about her at all. And hadn’t he even told her as much, that he didn’t care about her? What had he said? I’m not too fond of you myself… that was it. So why was he holding her now? Did he consider it part of his job? She’d had plenty of bodyguards before, but none of them had ever treated her the way Shane did. Certainly none of them had spanked her – they wouldn’t have dared! But neither had they held her. They had protected her, kept her safe, shielded her, but that was all they did.

  She remembered how the punishment had made her feel. She could feel the heat of her arousal, the tingling in her pussy, the tightness in her breasts. His huge hand warming her ass had done that to her. And now, as she rested against him, she was confused.

  Six hours into the journey, Virginia was over it. She was squashed, cramped, hungry, tired, irritable, and angry at her father for making her travel commercially, and in economy class no less!

  “I hate this plane. It’s so cramped,” she grumbled, stretching out her legs only to kick the seat in front of her.

  “Shall we go back to the toilets for round two?” Shane asked softly, the threat in his tone only barely disguised.

  “No.” She pouted.

  “Then be good.”

  “I don’t want to. I want space!”

  “Shall we go for a walk around the plane?” Shane suggested, stretching in his seat.

  “No.”

  “Sit there and quit complaining then,” he growled.

  “This is going to be the worst Christmas ever,” she grumbled petulantly.

  “It might well be,” Shane agreed infuriatingly cheerfully.

  “I hate you,” she snarled at him. Why was her father doing this to her? Was it really because of the last party where she’d got herself into trouble? That was her bodyguard’s fault really… he’d been the one getting paid to look out for her and keep her safe. So why was she the one getting punished? Why was she the one on the
squished commercial aircraft being flown to the other side of the world while everyone else got to stay in Hollywood and attend all the A-list parties?

  Shane ignored her insult.

  “I said: I hate you!” she reminded him, in the most venomous tone she could muster.

  “I heard you.”

  “Don’t you care?”

  The infuriating man shook his head. “Not particularly.”

  Virginia wanted to scream. She was so frustrated! How could Shane remain so cool, calm and collected while she felt like her world was falling apart? It wasn’t fair! She closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her head in her hands as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. She didn’t want to do this; she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to spend Christmas in a country that was no longer ‘home’ to her; she wanted to be back in Hollywood where she belonged, shopping and socialising with her friends, being followed by paparazzi and gracing the front covers of the tabloids in situations that were sometimes less than flattering.

  But confusingly, more than anything, she wanted the drop dead gorgeous tattooed hunk sitting beside her to actually care about her. He was her one constant right now, and it was important to her that he care.

  Shane watched the distress of the girl sitting next to him and his heart broke for her. When he looked at her, instead of seeing just the brat that everybody else saw on the surface, he saw what was beneath: a hurting young woman who had lost the people most precious to her at a young age and had been floundering in a deep sea ever since. Like nearly everyone else in the world, he’d seen the grainy pictures of her vomiting her guts out in the gutter, stumbling around on the arms of various inebriated men, and snorting what appeared to be cocaine, along with several unglamorous photos of her giving photographers the finger. But he’d also seen pictures of her dressed up attending red carpet events, fancy galas, dinners and awards nights. He’d seen the class and sophistication she showed when she was of a mind to. And he understood her struggles, her inner turmoil. That floundering feeling was devastatingly familiar to him too.

  Tentatively, he reached out a hand to touch her, resting his fingers lightly on her back, between her shoulder blades. He could feel her body trembling beneath his fingertips. Slowly, he flattened his hand, lowering his palm to her back, spreading out his fingers to cover as wide an area as possible, and moving his hand from side to side, slowly, wanting to reassure her, to comfort her. He knew there was nothing he could say to ease her distress, so he remained quiet, hoping his sense of calm would rub off on her.

  She whimpered, then let out a strangled sob. He let his fingers wander down to her neck, tangling in her hair at the nape, the pads of his fingers massaging the back of her scalp lightly. It seemed to help; she took in a deep, shuddering breath then exhaled loudly, before sitting up. Her eyes were wet with tears, and smudged mascara trickled down her cheeks in a thin black trail. Wasn’t there such a thing as waterproof mascara? She looked a mess, a pitiful mess. Twisting his body so he could pull the freshly starched hanky out of his back pocket, he rested one hand against the top of her head.

  “Let me… hold still.” He spat on the hanky to moisten it, but she reared back and slapped his arm. Electricity zinged between them, her fingers burned his skin.

  “You’re not touching me with that!” she shrieked. “Yuck!”

  Grinning at her, he stuffed it back into his pocket. “Fine then, stay that way. I think you look cute with mascara running down your face.” He winked at her, and finally she did it. She smiled! She was truly beautiful when she smiled; her golden hair shimmering around her face, her blue eyes sparkling, perfect white teeth framed by full, red lips – kissable lips.

  “I have make-up remover wipes in my bag. I’ll get them.” Pulling her bulging purple leather handbag onto her lap, she rummaged inside, finally extricating a shiny green plastic packet. Considering the contents of her overflowing handbag, he was surprised she was able to find what she was looking for so quickly.

  She tossed the packet of wipes into his lap and looked at him, waiting.

  He didn’t move.

  She swallowed. “Please?”

  Her intention was clear, but he debated with himself for several long seconds over whether or not he would make her say it, the whole thing: Please help me, Shane.

  She pouted. She was so cute when she pouted, it was easy to see why she was so spoilt. It would take a man of steel to be immune to her charms. He gave in, peeling back the sticky plastic tab, freeing a soft, wet wipe.

  “Sure. Hold still.”

  He cleaned her gently, wiping away both the running mascara and the foundation she’d covered her face with, exposing the ginger freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. Freckles… he was a sucker for freckles. He sucked in a breath. Don’t go there, the sensible part of himself warned. Stay away. You’re doing a job; nothing more.

  Virginia’s heart had been beating so rapidly she was afraid Shane would hear it, as he’d carefully wiped her face. She didn’t remember a bodyguard having ever cleaned her up before – handing her a towel was usually their limit. Despite his slight arrogance and his firm hand, she quite liked the way he took care of her.

  When she wanted to walk around the plane, he walked with her. When she had to use the bathroom, he waited for her outside the door. When she wanted to sleep, he wrapped his arm around her and she slept with her head pillowed on his solid chest. He was always there. His manly presence was the one thing she was coming to rely on, and she found herself liking it more and more. And the closer they got to New Zealand, the less she thought of home and the lavish parties she would be missing out on, and the more she found herself looking forward to Christmas with her grandparents. As she relaxed back against the seat she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Perhaps this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad, after all?

  Chapter 3

  The walk through Auckland International Airport from baggage collection, through Customs and to the arrivals lounge seemed to take forever. Virginia’s heart was in her throat the whole time as she hurried to keep up with Shane’s long strides. She knew Nan and Pop would be there waiting for her, and now that she was back in the country of her birth, despite her initial reluctance, she was excited at the prospect of seeing her grandparents again.

  She looked longingly at the Duty Free shops but Shane shook his head.

  “Stop telling me what to do!” Virginia demanded. “You’re not the boss of me!”

  Shane raised one eyebrow on his devilishly handsome face. “Really? You really want to test that now?” The stern look he gave her made her want to sink through the floor, but she held her chin up defiantly. He was not the boss of her; no way would Daddy allow that!

  Then he waved his hand dismissively. “But if you want to waste your limited spending allowance on alcohol and perfume, be my guest. Just don’t come complaining to me when your credit card reaches its limit.”

  Virginia halted. “What’s my limit?”

  “A thousand dollars.”

  “Is that all?” Virginia shrieked, horrified. How on earth was she expected to have a decent Christmas with such a small amount of money? “Is that per day, or what?”

  Smirking, Shane shook his head. “No. Not per day. It’s your limit for the month.”

  “What! I can’t survive on that!”

  “You don’t need to survive on it, that’s your spending money. I have a separate card for essentials and emergencies.”

  “Give it to me then,” she demanded, holding out her hand.

  Shane shook his head, his smirk grown even wider. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re a bastard,” she spat at him, her voice tinged with fury.

  She jumped as Shane’s hand connected with her backside with an almighty wallop, the loud cracking sound echoing around the long corridor.

  “We’ve already had one conversation about you speaking to me with respect,” Shane reminded her, his voice a low, scolding tone that turned her insides to mu
sh. “Do we need to pull your pants down and have another one?”

  Virginia felt her face flaming red with embarrassment. Shane was speaking quietly, but she knew the people walking nearby would have overheard his threat. She rubbed her burning butt absently; she wanted to fall through the floor. How dare he spank her in public like that! It was so humiliating! Tears burned her eyes. She’d only been on New Zealand soil for a few minutes and so far, it wasn’t off to a very good start.

  She cringed when Shane hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. She wanted so badly to avoid his eyes, but he wouldn’t let her.

  “I didn’t make the spending rules,” he growled. “But I’ll be enforcing them.” His tone made it clear that it was final; there would be no negotiation on her spending limit. Somehow, she’d have to get through Christmas without feeding her shopping addiction. How on earth was she going to survive?

  Sulking, she tromped off down the hallway after Shane and the luggage, leaving Duty Free and temptation far behind them.

  Her grandparents were waiting in the arrivals lounge, right at the front at the gathered crowd. Letting out a squeal, Virginia ran to them, excited to see the people she loved so dearly, but hadn’t seen in so long. Shane stood off to the side as Virginia embraced the elderly couple, wrapping her arms around both of them, breathing in their scent. They still smelled the way she remembered – Pop of stale tobacco and Nan of lavender. The familiar smell that she’d all but forgotten made the old memories come flooding back… She was home.

  The flash of a camera went off behind them and for a moment, Virginia thought she was back in Hollywood. Paparazzi followed her everywhere there; for some reason, her picture on the front cover sold magazines. But she hadn’t expected to be photographed quite so soon here.

  Expertly, Shane shielded her with his body as he guided her quickly out of the airport, dodging through the crowds and losing the photographer amongst the large groups of people. Nan looked flustered.