by Izzy Slam
I fall back down and yank the covers over my head, grumbling incoherently as my heart quickens.
I have to do something about this, and the only thing I know to do is get even. In this case, revenge isn’t a dish best served cold, it’s a dish best served hot, and I know just how to make that happen.
Smiling, I get out of bed and make my breakfast. It’s nearly eight o’clock—a little early to head to the pond—but by ten a.m. the water should be the perfect temperature, and it will be in direct sunlight so Hawk can see everything.
I finish breakfast, gritting my teeth as the chainsaw continues to annoy the fuck out of me, even with the windows closed, and I wash the dishes before heading to the shower.
I take my time shaving every little sprig of hair from my body—armpits, legs, and yes, even my virgin pussy gets the hairless treatment. As I part my lips to make sure I reach every inch, I notice how wet I am, my folds glistening with desire.
Okay, I’m probably fertile. It happens.
But then I remember that dream I had about Hawk, and I release a soft moan, letting my finger brush over my clit in what I deem to be “accidental” contact.
I push the thought of Hawk out of my head, digging deep in my mind to replace him with someone else—an old history teacher from high school, Mr. Wilson. I always thought he was pretty hot.
I tease my clit for a few minutes, feeling it balloon at my touch as I fantasize about Mr. Wilson touching me there. But damn if Hawk doesn’t keep barging his way in my fantasy, pushing Mr. Wilson out of the way to lift me up, toss me over the desk, and bury himself deep in my cunt.
“Fuck!” I yell, hitting my fist to the side of the shower.
I’m not doing this. I will not allow that douchebag to become a sexual fantasy, no matter how hot he is.
“He’s a jerk, Willow. What the fuck is wrong with you?” This is what I’ve been reduced to: giving myself a pep talk in the shower.
After rinsing, I yank the shower curtain aside and dry off before shimmying a pair of thong bikini bottoms over my hips. I then secure the top half before wrapping a beach towel around my neck. As I step into my flip-flops and head out the door, I notice the library receipt I left in the bathroom is gone. Great. I’ll just bet that motherfucker took it last night. Which means he now knows my name and what kind of books I like.
I also notice the chainsaw has stopped, and I feel a flash of fear, wondering if he’s quit for the day.
I doubt he would. I’m pretty sure he gets off knowing how much the noise irritates me.
And right now, I’m especially thrilled with knowing how much I’m about to irritate him.
“You can look, but you can’t touch. Fuckface.”
Hawk
I get an early start this morning, alternating between the gas-powered saw and my ax because there’s just something about swinging that thing and watching chunks of raw bark fly around you that’s healing for the soul. Plus, it taps into my beast and allows me to vent in a way I can’t with any other tool.
Truth is, I ought not be using the saw at all. That monster requires the kind of focus I’m having trouble with this morning, and all because of a little firecracker named Willow that’s gotten under my skin.
And no matter what I do to claw her out of my thoughts, there she lurks, like only a pain in the ass brat can.
I know I’m a bastard. I don’t need anyone to tell me that. It’s probably why I don’t give a rip-roaring fuck if I wake her up this morning. On the other hand, I’m glad that I’ve now switched over to the quiet ax because I really don’t feel like dealing with her mouth today.
In fact, I think I’ll stick with the ax for the rest of the day if for no other reason than to ensure I don’t have to see her. I don’t need that bullshit or her over-the-top drama.
And I sure as fuck don’t need to deal with the same hard-as-steel boner I had most of the night when thinking about her body, that spankable ass, those blue eyes, and the way she smelled. It took three good jerks to get that chick out of my head last night, and only to wake up thinking about her again.
“God damn,” I curse under my breath as I swing the ax as hard as I can.
It occurs to me that if I can just get through today without seeing her, I’ll probably be in the clear. More than likely, she’s only here through the weekend, during which I’ll be working my day job, splitting logs for the local sawmill.
Good riddance, I think.
And yet, there’s this tug in my gut at the possibility of not seeing her again. And that’s got me irritated as fuck.
I suddenly picture her bent over the stump right next to me, her little hands pressed into the jagged pieces of wood as her ass is laid bare before me. She’s looking at me over her shoulder, those long blond strands blowing in the wind, the sun hitting her skin, and those blue eyes pleading for redemption as I take off my belt.
“No redemption for you, brat.”
I think it may be time to find a local to have a little fun with. One that’s not looking for a commitment, even though that’s not my style. Never has been. But drastic times call for drastic measures. Maybe I can find one that’s got a little sass in her, one who might like a strong man to hold her down and bring his hand to her ass.
I’m thinking about it pretty good when I see Willow in the distance, walking my way. I don’t know what reason she’d have for coming up here, but as she gets closer, the reason becomes apparent. She’s wearing a light orange bikini, a multi-colored towel tossed over her left arm.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
She doesn’t so much as look in my direction as she approaches. But I do. In fact, I’m looking at all of her. It’s impossible not to when a girl’s wearing barely enough fabric to cover a sweet potato.
“Where you going, girl?”
“Swimming,” she states, breezing past me like she owns the place.
The pond is just beyond the clearing—my pond—and I’ve got a bird’s eye view of it from where I’m working right now. As I turn in her direction to remind her of whose property she’s on, my eyeballs damn near pop right out of my head.
The little pistol is wearing thong bottoms. A triangular piece of fabric rests right above her crack where a strap of fabric disappears, accentuating the swell of her cheeks.
Like a dam, the veins in my cock open, throbbing and expanding as they get a quick surge of blood that makes me stiff in an instant.
I don’t even know what to say. I can’t even think right now, damnit. So, I stand there like an idiot as she breezes over to the small body of water, tossing her towel on the ground and placing her hands on her hips.
A growl creeps up my throat as I drop the ax and start hustling in her direction. When I’m about twenty or thirty feet away, she peels the thongs down her legs, her crack opening up as she bends down. Her fingers move behind her, unclasping the bikini top before she spins to face me now.
I stop in my tracks, clenching my fists as she lets the material slide down her arms and to the ground.
My pulse hammers as my eyes move down her body—her small breasts decorated with pink little points and her bald pussy, the lips pressed between her legs and all but begging for my cock.
Jesus Christ. My length twitches in my jeans. I’d have to be dead to not respond to this.
“Don’t look at me, you pervert. Or I’ll call my uncle and the cops and have you arrested.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or roar my anger into the wild. My breathing quickens as I squeeze my fingers into a tighter fist.
“You’re going to call your uncle and tell him you pranced through my property, walked up to my pond, and stripped naked just to tease me? Methinks the cops and your uncle would have something to say about that, little missy.”
Willow shakes her head as she turns around and strolls into the water. “Whatever,” she calls out. “Far as I know, this is my uncle’s land, my uncle’s pond, and if I want to take a swim, I should be able to without some
creep staring at me like a perverted psychopath.”
That’s when I lose my cool. I start chuckling, shaking my head in disbelief. I know the sensible thing would be to grab my tools and high tail it out of here, even though this is my property and she has no right to be here.
But I’m not feeling too sensible right now.
Oh no.
I feel like a wild animal that’s just been released after years of being locked up.
Something inside of me snaps—more like breaks violently in two—and I walk towards her as she makes her way to knee-high water. I don’t care that my leather boots are getting soaked. And I don’t care that I’m about to do something that could land me in jail.
I’m taking matters into my own hands before things get out of control.
She hears me coming and spins around, her mouth opening up in a gasp as I wrap one arm around her waist and lift her up.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks.
Without answering, I toss her over my shoulder and turn around, making a beeline for her cabin.
“You asshole!”
Fuck, I just want to clamp her mouth shut with my hand, feel the vibrations of her screams against my meaty palm. And I just might do that.
She starts to kick her legs as I make my way up the hill, holding on tight as her small body struggles against my muscled frame.
“Keep fighting, Willow. Won’t do you any good,” I snarl, wrapping my arms tighter around her legs as her cabin comes into view.
“Uggh … you’re such a dick!”
I can’t help but chuckle, but it is all rather entertaining at this point, seeing as I have the upper hand, literally, and she’s about to get a spanking. I twist the handle of the front door, relieved that it’s not locked, and Willow’s feet hit the floor the moment I reach her couch.
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” she says, pounding two fists against my chest, making her small breasts bounce lightly.
“Right now, you’re the only thing wrong with me, little girl, and I think it’s time you had a lesson in manners.”
I grip her by the waist and spin her around, folding her in half over the back of the couch before holding her wrists to her lower back.
“What—what do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
“Doing what your daddy oughta. He obviously didn’t raise you right.”
Willow
Hawk’s words cut through me. I start to tell him my daddy didn’t raise me at all but that seems irrelevant right now. I’m so humiliated that he’s overpowered me, but at the same time…
Fuck.
I don’t know the word for what I’m feeling. I’m experiencing a total loss of power and I should turn jerk one arm free and turn around, punching this joker right between the eyes. But instead of feeling homicidal, I’m growing hot all over, and all I can think about is him taking me rough, taking whatever he wants. And me, giving him that one thing I’ve held on to so dearly.
God, it’s like my brain is melting.
His strong hands grope my fleshy hips, making me weak in the knees. I spread my legs and sink my teeth into my lower lip as I await whatever he has planned.
But when his bare hand strikes my ass, I jump in place and twist my head. “What the—!"
He hits me again, one hard slap after the other, and I struggle to get free, the utter humiliation spreading like a drug throughout my body.
“Why are you spanking me? I’m a grown woman!”
He chuckles, his voice deep and raspy. “You are hardly a grown woman. You’re a self-righteous, entitled little brat who needs a daddy to take control of her unruly behavior.”
“A daddy?” I shriek. He has truly lost his mind.
“Yes, a daddy,” he grits out. “Someone to punish you when you step out of line.”
I let out a grunt as he resumes the spanking, and my flesh starts to burn, the heat radiating in waves from my flesh. I dig my toes into the carpet and wonder why he’s choosing to do this instead of just fuck me like a normal guy.
Oh, that’s right.
He’s not normal!
But what does it say about me that I’m not telling him to stop? That I’m standing here with my legs spread, secretly hoping I will feel him penetrate me when he’s done punishing me?
And why is the heat that’s coming off my ass in waves settling in the deepest part of my belly?
The urge to fight Hawk starts to fade away, and I give in to his domination of me, my cheeks going numb as I lose count of how many times he’s spanked me. And right as I fight the moan creeping up my throat, he stops, just like that, pulling me to a standing position and turning me to face him.
He curls a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. There’s a storm brewing in his rich, green eyes, and my legs feel as though they’re about to buckle because, as his lips part, I’m sure he’s about to kiss me.
“Don’t come back on my property again,” he grits out. “Don’t hang out in my work space. And don’t you dare think for one second you can push my buttons to get what you want. You will lose. Every time.”
He spins on his heels and walks out my front door, slamming it shut and leaving me standing there like a complete fool, buck naked and trembling.
I can feel the weight of his anger even after he’s gone. It’s like he’s left a vapor trail of hate. And I don’t know whether to scream or cry. But as I hug my arms, my chin starts to quiver and I release a torrent of tears, falling on the couch and wrapping the blanket around me. It’s a release I desperately need. I can’t remember the last time I cried like this. But obviously my body has been craving it.
Part of why I’m upset is because I know Hawk is right about me. Even though he’s an asshole, it’s probably because I’ve been so rude to him. I deserved every whack he gave me. Hell, I deserved more. And I wish he’d given me more. Tears roll from my eyes to the cushion below as his voice echoes in my head.
You need a daddy to punish you when you step out of line…
Fuck, he’s right.
But don’t daddies also make their little girls feel good, too?
In my mind, I finish the scene, Hawk pulling me into his lap to stroke my hair when he’s done spanking me, telling me I’m still his sweet girl, that he loves me. And then …I feel his erection poking my bottom as he tells me that daddy needs to take just one more thing…
The emotional pain morphs into a sizzling heat that rolls through my gut, settling in that familiar place that I’ve not allowed anyone to touch. My pussy swells, clenches, my clit aching to be touched.
I settle on my back and slide my hand between my legs, feeling the slickness there. After getting my index finger coated in my desire, I brush my clit several times, feeling the heat spread to my chest. My nipples pucker as I bite my lip, bringing myself to the edge of orgasm in mere seconds.
I fantasize about Hawk using his tongue to do what my finger is doing, and I release a breathy moan.
“Oh, yes, daddy…” I murmur, thrusting my hips up.
Just saying the word sends me toppling. My clit throbs as I cum, my body trembling uncontrollably as I keep rubbing the swollen bump, forcing myself to have a second orgasm. It’s too much, this need that I have for Hawk.
I don’t want to need a stranger this much, much less a stranger who’s just as much of a dick as I am a brat.
Then again, maybe that makes us perfect for each other. Not that it matters because he wants nothing to do with me.
Hawk
I head straight to my truck that’s parked at the edge of the woods, and my heart doesn’t slow until I’ve been sitting inside of it for a few minutes.
I hate what Willow is doing to me, making me crave her so goddamn much. I don’t even want to admit how twisted up she’s made me feel, but that little spitfire has got my dick harder than steel, and there’s only one thing to do about that.
I unzip my pants and remove my cock from my jeans before spitting into the palm of my hand. Fuck
, all it takes is a few strokes while thinking about that bald pussy, perky little tits, and cherry red nipples to make my dick throb and leak pre-cum.
I swirl my finger around the head, imagining Willow’s tongue doing things an eighteen-year-old girl shouldn’t even know about. I picture her perfect little ass and how fucking good it felt to spank her creamy flesh, and my balls tighten as I get the release I need.
For now.
There’s a hell of a lot more pent up frustration inside of me. I can feel it. And I know I need to get a grip on it because even if Willow is only here for a few more days, I’m going to be neighbors with her family.
I could potentially see her on a regular basis.
I get back to work clearing the trees, this time switching to the chainsaw because it’s so much faster. And that’s when I start to feel a little bad, just a little guilty, remembering my words to Willow before storming out of her cabin and the way she looked up at me with those eager blue eyes, begging for me to do more than just spank.
The truth that’s hard to admit is that I want her to push my buttons. I think I get off on it, wanting to be a daddy to her. Not a real daddy mind you, but the kind of man who keeps her in check, enforces rules but also nurtures her, paddles her bottom when she’s being a brat and gives her special kisses right where she needs me to.
“Right where I fucking want to,” I growl into the woods.
Fucking hell. Nothing like this has ever even crossed my radar. But thinking about it now, it feels like home to me.
Willow feels like home, god damnit.
I put the whole thing out of my mind as I finish out my day. I don’t expect my little firecracker to make another appearance today. Not after what I did to her bottom, not after what I told her. Hell, at this point, she could be calling her uncle or the cops and having me arrested. And I’d fucking deserve it. Her swimming in my lake didn’t give me any right to lay hands on her flesh, no matter how fucking sweet that flesh is.
