by Jane Henry
Her body lifted to meet his as he nipped again, this time his other hand reaching under her blouse, both breasts caressed in his rough hands, as he kissed and nipped, and she thought she would implode from her want and need. She had to have him. She was his to command, or take, if only he didn’t take and leave.
I don’t trust myself to stop.
“God, Maverick,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
Celia squealed as his hand twisted her breast, a gesture meant to stop her short, not cruel, but not sensual.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” he growled in her ear. “And believe me, baby, I have no intention of stopping.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, thank God!” she hissed.
He took his mouth off hers and stood, carrying her in his arms, as he brought her over to the bed and placed her gently down.
“Are you sore, baby?” he asked. “I can do all sorts of things for you without having to take you. We don’t have to—”
“Please, Maverick.”
They both knew what she asked for. They’d waited so long. The need was so strong, their desire for one another a palpating presence that begged to be satisfied. He knelt above her, taking both of her little wrists in his huge hands, and pinning them firmly, but gently above her head.
“Let me,” he said, gently nudging her knees apart. She spread her legs, and he lowered himself down on her, his body flush up against hers, though he held himself apart just enough not to smother her. It felt nice, his warm body up against hers, and she pressed her hips forward, harder, grinding against the breadth of him, not ashamed or embarrassed, silently telling him to keep going.
Maverick kissed a trail from her neck, down the length of her chest, all the way down to her hips, and when he got that low, she bucked in anticipation of the feel of him. But she wanted him in her. She needed to feel him, the strength and rawness of him filling her. They needed to be united, closer, their passion forged in a bond that could not be undone.
His teeth nipped the edge of her skirt, and she moaned out loud as his tongue reached out and stroked her bare skin. Her skirt was on the floor, and then his hands reached for the edge of her top. Lifting it up and over her head, he pulled until it was off, and tossed it gently aside. She lay below him, wearing nothing but a slim pair of lace panties and a silky bra. The warmth of his breath caused her to rise to meet him.
“So beautiful,” he groaned. “God, Celia, you’re more beautiful than I even imagined.” His voice shook with emotion. Even now, she couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking of her that way. When? How?
“How long, Maverick? How long have you wanted me?” she asked.
“Since that day I spanked you on your birthday,” he groaned, his tongue flicking out again and licking her bare skin.
She moaned. “Why did you wait?” she whispered.
He sucked the tender skin just at the top of her thigh. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had, baby,” he whispered. “I was a fool.”
Tears came to her eyes, and she felt them wet her cheek, moaning as he licked and sucked the top of her thigh.
“I need you,” he whispered. “Do you need me, Celia?”
All she could manage to eek out was a loud sniff.
“God, Celia,” he said, sitting up. “You’re crying. This was what I was afraid of. This is—”
“No!” she said, a sob escaping as she sniffed again, but he still held her hand and she couldn’t hide her face from him. “I’m not crying because this is wrong, Maverick. I’m crying because this is so right.”
His eyes heated, and he was removing his jeans, his eyes never leaving hers.
There was no more that needed to be said.
He lowered himself on her, the warmth and strength of him intensifying her need. He gently spread her legs and slowly, so slowly, entered her. The fullness of him was so satisfying she moaned out loud and silently begged him to thrust harder, take her, claim her as his own.
He didn’t need to be begged.
Deliberately, firmly, he built a rhythm, his head dropping to her chest as he groaned and climaxed, her own shattering climax and moans mingling with his.
* * *
One month later.
Maverick glanced at his phone and growled. She was late.
She was so getting a spanking for this. Three times in one week she was late, and he’d told her in no uncertain terms, if she were late again when he gave her a time to be home, he’d spank her.
He didn’t want to spank her tonight, but he also knew he couldn’t let it slide. She was a tough one, that girl of his, and she needed the dependency of his sternness and consistency. Still, her timing sucked. His apartment was filled with red roses and softly glowing candles, a tray in the fridge of food waiting for her.
Maverick had paid his neighbor to take Marianna and his mom out to a movie. Even though the two of them were thrilled with the new arrangement, occasionally he and Celia needed a little privacy.
He was glancing out the window when he saw her peel into the driveway. He growled and simmered. That would be another ten.
Her gorgeous, jean-clad legs trotted down the stairs, and he watched from where he stood, her lithe figure coming to him.
Home to him.
He could kick his own ass for not having done what should’ve been done so long ago. She was so right, here with him. She was fiery and sassy, but so very perfect for him. And she told him he was everything she’d ever wanted. He would try to be. Every single damn day, he got up with the determination that he would be the man she needed. He sighed.
And the man she needed right now was man enough to spank her ass.
The door opened and she came trotting in. She froze when she saw him, and glanced at the clock above the sofa.
“Oh,” she said, her mouth forming a perfect “O.”
So damn cute. Not fair, how cute she was.
“Oh is right, young lady,” he said, arms across his chest. “What time did I tell you to come home?”
She bit her lip and her cheeks flushed. “Six,” she said.
“Mmm hmm,” he continued sternly. “And what time is it now?”
Celia glanced at the clock. “Um, I think that’s fast.”
He growled.
She sighed and looked to the floor. He worked hard at keeping a straight face.
“Six-thirty.”
“Try that again.”
“Six-thirty, sir,” she said, her voice dropping.
He stood, and moved over to the sofa. He sat heavily and crooked a finger at her. Still biting her lip, she walked over to him, dragging her feet.
“Pull ‘em down, and get over my lap,” he said. She moved quickly to obey, unfastening and pushing her jeans down, bending over his knee so that her body was on the sofa, her legs dangling helplessly.
Without prelude he raised his large hand and brought it down with a resounding smack, not too hard, but not too soft, either. She was little, much smaller than he was, and he had to temper his strength when it came to spanking her. Fortunately, their frequent erotic sessions had given him a good taste for where her tolerance lay, and he knew just how hard to deliver.
Another stinging smack on her upper thigh, and she yelped. Again and again, he brought his hand down firmly, alternating where he spanked her.
“When I tell you to come home, I expect you to obey me,” he said. Swat! “You need to account for traffic, and timing, and if you find that you’re going to be late, I expect a call.” Whack!
“Not a text from your car!” Smack! Smack! She’d learned that lesson just last week.
He continued to spank her firmly, and she took her spanking like a champ. When he was done, she was sniffling quietly, and he lifted her back into his arms.
“Am I clear?” he asked, still stern, and she nodded repentantly.
“Of course,” she whispered, humbled and thoroughly chastened. “I’m so sorry, Maverick. I’ll do better.”
He pulled her close to him and
he kissed her forehead.
“I know you will, baby,” he said softly. Now that the punishment was over, they could put this behind them. He’d cleared the air and given her the discipline she so desperately craved. He wasn’t angry with her anymore, and he was ready to move on with the night ahead.
Why was she crying?
“Celia?” he asked, and she sniffed even louder, her head on his chest, the tears coming fast and furious.
“I’m not sad,” she said. “Oh God, Maverick. You have no idea. No idea how badly I’ve wanted this. How badly I’ve needed this. And I don’t mean I’ll act out so you’ll punish me. No! No, it’s not that at all... I’ll try so hard to please you. I promise you, I will!”
She sniffed, and he held her close.
“You already do, Celia. So much, baby,” he said softly.
Lifting her head, she suddenly looked around the room and noticed the candles and roses. She blinked in surprise.
“Maverick,” she whispered. “What is this?”
“A special night.” He gently pushed her off his lap and onto the couch. “Get yourself situated, and stay there.” He pointed a stern finger at her and she nodded obediently.
He went to the fridge and pulled the tray out, walked back to where she was, and sat down with the tray between them. When he lifted the lid, she laughed out loud.
“Creamy select milk chocolate icing!” she squealed. “And the mini pretzel rods. You even got the crunchy peanut butter,” she crooned. She reached her hand out and then stopped, wide eyes looking up at him. “May I?”
“Help yourself,” he chuckled. “I found wheat-free pretzels that don’t taste like shit. But don’t overdo it, or you’ll end up right back where you were a minute ago.” He placed a large finger under her chin. “You got me?”
She bit her lip and nodded vigorously. “Yes, yessir, I promise, sir!”
He chuckled as she took a large bite. “Yum. Oh my God, I swear this is the antidote for post-spanking. Who knew?”
Celia froze, pretzel halfway to her lips, as her eyes fell on something. “What’s that?” she whispered. A large card and a small white box sat on the table in front of her.
He shrugged. “Oh, just something I should’ve gotten a long time ago,” he said casually.
She swallowed.
“Season tickets to the Jets games?” she quipped, voice unnaturally high, despite her bravado.
He shook his head. God, he loved this woman. He reached for the small box and card, handed her the card and watched as she opened it eagerly. Her eyes misted as she read the card, and placed it down gently next to her.
“You know I love you, too,” she whispered.
He nodded. He dropped to one knee before her.
“This is the one and only time you’ll ever see me on my knees before you, girl. So burn this in your memory. Okay?”
“Something tells me I’ll never forget,” she whispered. He opened the box and she gasped. He’d brought Marianna with him to pick it out, and she’d picked a ring fit for a princess.
“I love you, Celia,” he said, the words coming as naturally as if he’d been saying them his whole life. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We’ve waited too long, and I won’t wait another minute. Will you marry me?”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes again, her snack forgotten.
“Yes, Maverick, yes, a thousand yesses!” she said. He grinned, as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“You know I’ll expect you to obey me,” he chuckled, “none of these games or fooling around. You’ll do as you’re told or you’ll end up over my knee. You know that.”
She smirked up at him, a teasing glint her eyes that still glistened with tears.
“Love, honor, and obey,” she whispered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, big guy.”
The End
Jane Henry
Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. In 2012, she became interested in the D/s lifestyle, and has discovered her love for writing romance with a D/s twist. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.
Visit her blog here:
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Please contact her via email:
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Don’t miss these exciting titles by Jane Henry and Blushing Books!
Begin Again: Bound To You Book 1
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Come Back To Me: Bound To You Book 2
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