Rod of Correction: Taken and Tamed

by Carolyn Faulkner

  He rolled her onto the side of the bed that she preferred and remade the bed, tucking the sheets in the way he knew she liked – she had mentioned it to him during the course of the day that she hated an untucked top sheet and that she liked heavy, non-down comforters over her, even in summer.

  Finally he joined her there, under the covers, pulling her towards him. She was nearly asleep, and he considered just having her wear the plug for the night, but then it was one in the morning – their last morning together – and he wanted her to be comfortable enough to get some sleep tonight.

  So he rolled her away from him, which he was gratified to hear her protest about sleepily, then he held her top leg well up towards her chest and bent, so that she couldn’t bring it down if she wanted to, but he was careful not to make her uncomfortable in doing so. Then he reached down between her naturally separated cheeks and saw the flange of the plug there, peeping out between them.

  He slipped his fingers between her and the plastic and began to curl them, slowly, which tugged at the plug.

  That woke her up immediately and for some reason, she began to fight him. He abandoned his goal for the moment until he had her completely subdued, but he could feel her seething beneath him. Then he repositioned his fingers and began to pull even more slowly as she panted and groaned and tried to buck him off her every second until it was out.

  “You stay right there,” he bit off as he rose to take care of the plug. He was just about as unhappy with her as she was with him for putting up such a fuss, and when he returned, he drew her into his arms, spooning her, his raging erection like a heat seeking missile, unerringly finding a place right in front of its intended home, not that he was going to do anything about it now.

  She was sobbing softly, and he completely melted.

  “I’m so sorry, Sir. It was just a bad dream and you caught me at the wrong time.”

  He contracted his arms and began to rock her, whispering, “No worries, Sunny. Try to get back to sleep.”

  To his great relief, she was asleep in his arms in seconds.

  Chapter IX

  Sleep eluded him, although he remained in bed, wanting to spend every minute he could with her, even if she was asleep.

  Jeez, he had it bad, didn’t he? He thought, skirting around the epiphany he’d had a few long hours ago that he was already in love with her.

  He rolled towards her, propping his head on his hand and drinking her in. She was even gorgeous in her sleep, her face completely relaxed, those plump lips just slightly parted in a way that made him want to put either his tongue or his cock in there, and he couldn’t decide which, and he wasn’t going to do either, anyway, at least until she’d gotten some sleep.

  He spent the night holding her when she rolled towards him, which he liked finding out was quite often, as if seeking his heat, or comfort, or he didn’t much care what, but he thought it was a good sign that her subconscious thought she needed things from him that he was more than happy to give to her conscious, too.

  He also replayed nearly every moment of their time together in his head. He had an excellent memory – much better than most people’s. It was eidetic, but his episodic memory was above average also, both of which had were an incredible advantage in the business world. When he wanted to do what he was doing now – recall every second he’d spend with someone – he could pretty much do it. That could be both good and bad, but right now, it was priceless, because he couldn’t be at all sure that this wasn’t the only time he was going to have with her. He’d do what he could to persuade her to continue the relationship, wouldn’t hesitate to go well above and beyond, but short of kidnapping her and spiriting her away to some deserted island – of which he owned several – he couldn’t force her to love him or want to be with him.

  He had to admit, though, that the kidnapping idea did have a certain amount of merit. He hadn’t been thinking that such a need might arise when he’d bought them, and they were in his name. He’d be much too easily discovered, blast it!

  The more he thought and remembered, the more he picked apart his own moves and decisions. He began to second-guess the idea that he’d begun something as profound as this relationship with a casual game of chance. Now, having discovered he felt more for her than pure lust, it seemed sordid, somehow, and well beneath both of them. He should have taken her out, flown her to Paris for dinner, done something extravagant that let her know he was interested in her rather than uncharacteristically going with his impulse and risking everything he wanted on the turn of a card - not that it hadn’t turned out pretty well, but he’d just been damned lucky she hadn’t drawn three of a kind to add to her pair.

  Aside from that – and his unnerving inability to last more than three seconds when he was inside her, something which he hoped would diminish over time - Rod thought his biggest blunder was probably that stupid game, because it had made her wary of him in a way that the rest of the weekend hadn’t. He wanted to bang his head against the wall for having even thought of it. It had appealed to her competitive side, but she hadn’t gotten as much out of it sexually as he had, he knew, and he disliked in extreme the idea that she might be even the slightest bit afraid of him.

  Which he knew was ironic, considering the things he’d done to her that hadn’t scared her, but she had consented, and he had been able to assure himself with physical evidence that she was enjoying it, too. Not so much with that horrible idea of his.

  He also thought they got along well when he wasn’t slavering over her like a rabid dog. They seem to have a reasonable amount of common interests; she was smart and funny and quick-witted, and he was willing to forgive the fact that she loved country music. He genuinely liked her, and he knew that was a major component to a long-lasting relationship. When his friends – male and female – had gotten divorced, he had rarely been surprised, because he’d often observed that his friends didn’t even seem to like each other, much less love each other.

  That was why he had issued his first invitation to her to join him and some of their mutual friends for poker at his place, and she’d been just as much of a delight then as she had been when they’d met at a meeting for a board they were both on, and she’d charmed the pants off of him and probably every other man there. Well, that’s what he’d wanted her to do, anyway.

  She’d been invited back – not everyone was – but the whole gang had liked her, and that was a rarity. He took their opinions seriously when considering members of their exclusive little club, as it was a long standing, tight-knit group and he didn’t want to upset the perfect balance they’d achieved.

  If he had to pick a perfect moment from the weekend he knew what it would be, hands down – those long, luxurious moments he’d spent with his face buried in her pussy. There was little he enjoyed more – practically more than his own orgasms. It had every element that appealed to him - it involved dominance, control, a little bit of embarrassment, a lot of blushing, plus more than enough sighs and moans and the occasional wail . . . he didn’t think there was anything he’d change about it – except that he would have kept her on the edge longer, although he conceded that it was probably just about the right amount of time, considering he hadn’t wanted to keep her up all night.

  That he’d save for another time, along with a multitude of other things he was dying to do to – and with – her, and not all of them involved getting her either beneath him or over his lap, although the majority did.

  That was why he had to get her to agree to see him. Hell, he’d even agree to a more vanilla relationship, if that was the only way he could get her to go out with him, and, considering how explosive they were together in a dominant/submissive relationship, that was saying something.

  As he lay there, awash in amazingly detailed, intimate memories, he remained granite hard the entire night, but in case he did fall asleep he’d set his alarm for six forty-five, just before their bet ran out and they both turned back into pumpkins, intending to make use of every la
st minute he had with her to the fullest.

  As his big bedroom grew lighter, he knew the sun was rising, and wished she was awake so that he could take her to the roof where there was another small deck facing east just for that purpose. He was wide awake when his alarm would have gone off, so he reached over and turned it off, then turned towards her. She was lying on her back, one arm at her side, the other bent with her hand beneath the pillow, one slender leg bent just enough.

  He didn’t even bother to formally wake her, but slipped between her legs and was inside her as she awoke to him pumping fast and hard in and out of her, pinning her lower body with his, his hands holding her wrists tight against her hips, determined to commit every breath to memory, in case . . . in case the unthinkable happened and he lost her.

  He fucked her hard, knowing it was probably a stupid thing to do, that last night was so perfect that he shouldn’t even have thought about touching her again this morning, but he couldn’t help himself; he wanted her so badly. He would have given her just about anything to stay with him for another day, but he wouldn’t insult her by offering. She had her own life, and her business successes were one of the things he admired the most about her. He wouldn’t try to demean her by making her look or feel like some sort of high-priced call girl.

  He was so intent, so concentrated, that he didn’t even noticed that she’d worked her arms free. He flinched when she reached up and put her arms around him, lifting her hips to him at the same time as she held his gaze, letting those hands wander down his back to his buttocks, which she grabbed liked she meant it and pulled towards her as she growled low in her throat, asking for more.

  He had a lot more to give her. Rod leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Come when you can,” and was rewarded by a beautiful, greedy smile. A very short while later, her entire body arched, her head whipping back and forth on the pillow as she cried out, reaching up to bring him down for a wet, demanding kiss as he felt her clenching spasmodically around him.

  He wasn’t through with her, continuing to ride her hard, pistoning his cock in and out of her until she’d convulsed three more times, then reaching for his own brass ring and finding it as he thrust strongly into her one last time and collapsed on top of her, panting heavily.

  He started to get up soon afterwards, but she held him there, soothing him with her hands and body, until he was calmer and he insisted on rolling off her.

  “I like your weight on me. It’s much better than a duvet.”

  It was such a weird comparison – or was it a compliment? “Uh, thank you, I think?” he said, laughing with her.

  They lay there for a short time, her head on his chest, his arm around her, with Rod wracking his brain to try to find some glib way to ask her out, or, even better, to spend next weekend with him, too, but nothing came immediately to mind.

  “I had fun this weekend,” Sunny ventured cautiously. He seemed so self-possessed that she thought that, if he had wanted to ask her to stay, or to see her again, he would have done it by now. She didn’t think she had anything to lose by letting him know she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself. And she figured, if all else failed, she would call him mid week and feel him out about their getting together – perhaps for a real date this time, instead of a weekend of wild sex - or maybe a combination of the two.

  She was surprised when he seemed to heave a huge sigh of relief. “You did? I’m glad.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  He chuckled. “Well, consider what I spent the weekend doing to you and you won’t have to wonder why.”

  Sunny trailed her fingers over his stomach, and that was all it took to make him hard again, although he knew it was false advertising.

  “You fed me extremely well -” she complimented.

  “I fed you a ton of junk food,” he countered.

  “You got me some exercise -”

  “I chased you naked around the backyard, and at one point, you were worried I was going to shoot you.”

  Well, when you put it that way, it really didn’t sound very good. “Not really worried,” she corrected. “I just wanted to make sure I understood the rules.”

  He seemed to be very negative this morning for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Hadn’t he enjoyed their time together as much as she had? She would have bet he had before this conversation, but now she was beginning to wonder.

  “I got to see my first shooting star!”

  “Hmm,” he agreed noncommittally.

  “Stop being such a negative Nellie!”

  That got him laughing. He’d been called many things in his life by a lot of different people, but that was definitely a first.

  “And,” she ventured tentatively, because she was still uncertain of its welcome at this point, “I got my first spanking.”

  He hitched her up a bit so he could look into her eyes, as if gauging the truth of her words. “It was your first, really?”

  “Oh yeah, and you had me pegged right from the beginning. That was something I was quite impressed about – I’ve never been called on it before.”

  He remembered the look of mock outrage she’d given him when he’d accused her of that.

  Sunny twirled his chest hair around her finger until he covered her hand with his. “Don’t do that.”

  She stopped immediately, as if he still had the power to make her regret not doing so. “You’ve given me a lot of firsts this weekend.”

  “I have?”

  “Yep.”

  “Like what else?” he asked, sounding much more interested than he had when she’d started.

  “Well,” she blushed becomingly, “my first . . . uh . . .”

  “Say it.”

  She doubted there would ever be a time when she didn’t feel an immediate, almost undeniable urge to obey the command in his voice. “Enema. You gave me my first. And . . . what you did afterwards. That was my first time, too.”

  “Anal? You don’t get out much, to you?”

  She hit him, which she had discovered she enjoyed doing. “Not really.”

  He finally asked her the question: “How long had it been since your last lover?”

  Her eyebrow rose, but she didn’t seem at all offended by the question. “Let me see, what year is it?”

  He sat, less than patiently, while she calculated.

  “Six years? Six and a half or so? Somewhere in there.”

  “I thought it had been a while. You are incredibly tight.”

  She bit her lip, knowing her face was bright red. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Good, because it is.”

  “Why so long?”

  Feeling a little defensive at the question, she countered with, “How long since your last girlfriend?”

  “Not counting one night stands?”

  “Not counting.”

  “I’m forty some-odd now, and I was in my early thirties then.”

  “Wow.”

  “I was busy.”

  “So was I,” she returned.

  “Damn, we’re pitiful,” he pronounced, and she dissolved into giggles before again glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

  “Breakfast?” he offered.

  “If it’s quick,” she said, running into the football-field sized shower.

  He debated joining her there, but thought it might smack of desperation, so he threw on pajama bottoms and a robe on and went downstairs. By the time she got down there, she was dressed again. He missed seeing her in the altogether, and he told her that. She blushed prettily, as she always did, and he told her that, too.

  Sunny was wondering why he was in a robe and pajamas, but she got her answer when two little people burst through the side door and into the kitchen to tackle their uncle.

  “Halt,” he said, and they froze as if they were playing Freeze Tag. “You know better than to storm me when I’m at the stove.” Her body clenched automatically. It was all too familiar with that tone.

  “Yes, Uncle Rod,” they
said in unison, standing stock still and gazing up adoringly at him.

  He dished up Mickey Mouse pancakes for everyone, with real syrup and butter, plus eggs and bacon, then knelt down and opened his arms to them. The kids – two boys – nearly knocked him over with the force of their greeting, both chattering at once about their weekend.

  “Who’s that?” one of them asked.

  Rod brought them over to her and introduced her. “This is Ms. McClure. Sunny, this is Sam and Denny, my nephews.”

  Having had little experience with kids of any age, she offered her hand, and was impressed when they didn’t look at it like an alien, as most kids did.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, boys.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” they answered in unison, taking their seats.

  It was a loud, crazy breakfast, after which he sent the boys in to the den to watch cartoons. “Their mom works an early shift, and she drops them here with me so that I can bring them to school.”

  “That’s very nice of you.”

  “Well, you know, I’m that kind of guy . . .” he said, trying – but failing miserably – to look modest.

  Sunny guffawed loudly.

  “C’mere,” he said, crooking his finger at her. She followed him into his study, where he showed her where his safe was – although not the combination, of course – and retrieved her cell and her keys. They both jangled loudly.

  “I’m sure the world has collapsed without me to keep it twirling on its axis.” At first she had thought she was going to die if she didn’t have her cell or her computer, or preferably both, but now that she had it, all she wanted to do was throw it back into the safe and herself into his arms. She didn’t figure she ought to do either of those things, so she settled for tossing it into her purse.

  “Mine, too, I bet,” he agreed, leaning back against his desk as he watched her, death-gripping the edge of it so that he didn’t reach out and haul her across it, and not liking at all how tense the situation seemed to have gotten. Then he leaned over and grabbed the phone that lived on his desk and punched a number. “Carl, would you come up and take the boys to school for me, please? Yes, thanks.”