Her Knight In Faded Denim

by Carolyn Faulkner

  And it wasn't likely to ever break, although that wasn't for lack of trying.

  The mirror always had Rissa howling, from the first stroke to the last, and there was a very long time in between there. By the time he stopped, she was hoarse from it, and her bottom looked quite unhappy, just as she did.

  "What do you say, my darling. Do you need a taste of the cane to help you remember that I am never going to find it acceptable for you to put yourself in any kind of danger?"

  The very instrument to which he referred was already in his hand, being rubbed up and down the ravages of her angry, carmine backside.

  "No, no, please, I don't! Not the cane! Please!" she wept.

  But almost before she had finished her pathetic plea, he laid six soul-rending tracks across her bottom and the backs of her thighs, without giving her any time to come to grips with each individual stroke. He simply laid them on her as quickly as he could, then put everything away, leaving her – for a very short while – to try to cope with what had happened.

  Then he released her and removed the blindfold and she fell into his arms, but he wasn't quite done with her.

  Rissa found herself arranged at the end of the bed, legs spread and Dodge kneeling eagerly between them.

  "Dear God, Rissa, I can't believe you're dripping wet!"

  She was in an agony of ecstasy as his mouth closed over her clit and her bottom sizzled into the comforter at the same time. The combination of the two caused a conflagration inside her that had her bucking and writhing and cursing his name because of it but moaning it like a prayer within the next second, as she alternated between the two sharp sensations.

  Finally, with his insistent ministrations, infinite pleasure won out. Even when he knew that she was very close and he grasped her white-hot cheeks in his palms, he countered her agony with the ultimate in ecstasy by drawing her delightful parts even further into his mouth, opening her with two fingers, then three, and rededicating his lips and tongue to her service.

  She couldn't even scream, because she'd done too much of it while he was blistering her butt, but Dodge knew what she meant when her mouth opened and her entire body arched against him, hoarse moans mingling with the sounds of his eager suckling as he brought her to paradise again and again, before finally claiming her for himself.

  The move was accomplished with a minimum of fuss. Sophie got into the swing of things, although she took care to remind her sister that she would miss her terribly, she was beginning to see the truth of what Dodge had said about how he felt about her sister.

  Neither of them was allowed to lift a thing – Dodge knew that Sophie had back problems, and he was even a little Dommish with her when he came over to her house with Rissa to fetch her things. He played it off by saying that he didn't want Sonny coming after him for laying his wife out when he should have been doing the heavy lifting, anyway, not that Sonny would ever do that.

  It wasn't as if she had a ton of stuff here, anyway. Like usual, with Rissa, it was all clothes and shoes, but Dodge made nary a comment as he loaded box after box into the back of his truck.

  He even went so far as to hug Sophie when they left with a whispered, "Thank you for taking such good care of her. I've got it from here." And he added a dry peck on her cheek.

  Rissa was a little verklempt at leaving her sister's house, surprisingly, and Dodge reached over to squeeze her hand sympathetically, and then suggested something to help her take her mind off the subject. "We should have them over for dinner. I don't think Sophie's ever seen the house, and Sonny's only been there a time or two."

  "Good idea," Rissa agreed, wiping the tears away. "And I promise not to cook. Is it terribly uncouth to ask someone to dinner and then ask them to bring the dinner, too?" she asked innocently.

  As it happened, it took Rissa a while to find a job, during which she decided she would teach herself to cook. With all of the cookbooks and videos and stuff online, she figured she'd be a whiz in no time.

  And she had to hand it to Dodge. He never said a nasty word about any of her abysmal attempts. Not the flat cakes, not the roasts that were charred on the outside and raw on the inside. Not the chunks of potato-rocks that had been in the stew she'd had in the Crockpot for – she'd timed it – fifteen hours, and were still fit to throw through a window, which she was just about to do until Dodge's fingers wrapped around her cocked arm and relieved her of the offending vegetable.

  "Shall we go to Michel's?" That was the fancy restaurant he had taken her to, early on. Dodge hoped that some – real – good food and dancing might help take her mind off her troubles.

  Rissa wasn't going to be cheered up that easily. "But I just ruined a meal that cost almost as much as going there!"

  "I know, Shorty. Maybe cooking just isn't your thing?"

  In desperation, she called her sister on their way to Bangor and then wondered why she hadn't thought about calling her before. Sisters were cheap, and hers knew how to cook up a storm!

  Sophie told her what she had done wrong with everything she tried and then offered to come over to help her cook dinner for the four of them.

  "Oh, that sounds wonderful!"

  They set a date to get together in a week or so, because Dodge was going away to a conference. Rissa couldn't attend with him because she'd gotten another interview at the place where she'd blown it when they were first together, and she fully intended to dazzle the crap out of them this time and get that friggin' job.

  The maitre d' greeted them warmly; they had been to this restaurant several times since the first and had become familiar with some of the staff. Rissa was surprised, though, that they didn't end up at their usual table, but rather in an even more private booth to the back of the restaurant, not that she was objecting.

  Dodge twirled her onto the dance floor, first thing, and she melted into his arms. She might have had a hard time with learning to cook, but thanks to his…private lessons, she found she adored dancing with him and was never ready to leave the floor when he was, although he was quite insistent when he took her hand and led her back to their table.

  Their traditional shrimp cocktail awaited them, although she knew that they hadn't ordered. He'd apparently set it all up for her, the sweetie.

  They had everything exactly as they had the first time they'd eaten there, down to his key lime parfait and her mud pie, including the boxes of food they took home in the truck of his SUV. Only when the evening ended, he didn't take her straight home. They ended up at a boat launch ramp in the middle of nowhere.

  But Rissa remembered it from the first time he had spanked her, for hauling off and kicking him under the table.

  He left the engine on, because he knew she'd be cold otherwise, and drew her against him. "Do you remember where we are?"

  "Yes," she drawled suspiciously. "Are you going to spank me again?"

  "Do I need to?" he countered.

  She hated it when he did that, as if she was going to give him reasons to spank her! No way! Her momma didn't raise no fools! He found quite enough of those on his own. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt her, as far as she was concerned, although she knew he didn't subscribe to that philosophy at all.

  "No, of course not," she answered, a little too innocently.

  "Uh huh. Why do I doubt that severely, Marissa Jean?" he asked, kissing her lightly.

  "Oh, I don't know. Because you're a cop and you're naturally suspicious of unusual situations."

  "And you behaving yourself is definitely that," he agreed, a little too heartily for her tastes.

  She blew a raspberry at him and tried to snuggle down next to him, but she couldn't get comfortable. Something was poking out at her, and it wasn't the usual, she didn't think, unless he'd transplanted it…

  "What is in your pocket? It's uncomfortable, whatever it is."

  Dodge reached in and brought out a blue Tiffany's box, saying innocently, "Oh, you mean this?"

  Marissa just stared at the box, unable to believe what she wa
s seeing. It was a ring box, no doubt about it.

  She gulped and whispered, "That's it, I think."

  "Well, this is something I've had for quite a while now – since not too long after I pulled a sassy city girl I know out of a snow bank."

  "That long?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

  "Oh, yes. It took me a bit of digestion, but I knew a woman who needed to be taken in hand when I saw one."

  "They why did it take you so long to ask me out?" She smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Sonny had to practically twist your arm, he said."

  "Well, that's what I let him think, anyway. Besides, at first you were so annoying that I figured I'd have my way with you once, or twice, if I was lucky, and you'd flit right back to Dixie."

  That earned him another swat.

  "But then you kicked me, and I knew I had a live one on the line." He opened the box and presented the huge princess cut diamond solitaire to her. "I'd get down on one knee, but the truck doesn't really allow for that. I thought the sentimental setting might make up for that."

  Dodge took her left hand in his and looked into her eyes. "You're mine in so many ways, Marissa Jean, and I want to make it official. I want you to wear my ring and my name, and I want to make my life with you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

  She was already crying, but she wasn't doing anything else.

  He didn't think that was a very good sign. He hadn't considered that she might turn him down.

  Then she launched herself at him, and he was thankful for the locked door behind him or they both might have ended up in a heap on the tarmac.

  "Oh yes, please, I will! Please, please, please!"

  When she was finally wearing his ring, he kissed her finger and said, "I can't imagine being happier than I am at this moment, Shorty. There's no one better for me than you."

  She teared up again, echoing his sentiments.

  The one problem they had was that Dodge wanted to get married immediately – within the next month or so. But neither Rissa nor Sophie wanted to have any of that. They wanted a big elaborate wedding, with all of their friends and family and tons of booze and cake, in that order.

  Dodge, however, was adamant. All of that would take about a year to plan – six months at the least, if they toned down what they wanted – and he wasn't about to wait that long. He wanted her to be his wife now, not some time down the road when they could get a huge party planned.

  And he didn't like to put his foot down on things like this – as he knew he could, and so did she – because he liked to see her happy. So he came up with a compromise that he thought everyone could live with, maybe, of doing a small civil ceremony now, in the fall, and planning a big reception for late spring, early summer of next year. That way, Rissa and her sister could plan, organize, and shop to their heart's content, and their friends and family would have more than enough warning to attend.

  He presented his proposal – his second one in less than a month – to his love and his, hopefully, soon to be sister-in-law over dinner at the diner one night. Sonny was on duty, so he had the women to himself.

  Sophie sounded much more accepting of the idea than Rissa did.

  "But what about my dress? I won't need a beautiful wedding dress if I don't walk down the aisle."

  Dodge closed his eyes and cursed cable television, along with whoever had come up with the "Say Yes to the Dress" show, and any and all of its permutations. Now that they were getting married, Rissa was all about the dress. She was even seriously considering going to Kleinfeld's to get one, even though she knew that Dodge wouldn't care whether she wore a forty-thousand-dollar dress or a four dollar one.

  But if they got married at the courthouse, there was no need for a dress like the ones that danced through her head night and day.

  She'd never had a wedding day, and she wanted it to be done right.

  Finally, they all compromised. Dodge got his almost immediate wife when they married – with Sonny and Sophie as witnesses – at the courthouse. But he had to agree to get married again, next spring, in the Methodist church that Sonny and Sophie attended, so that Rissa got her big gown and everyone got a huge party, afterwards.

  The planning – thanks to the two girls – went very smoothly, and in January, for the June ceremony, he kissed his wife and sister-in-law goodbye at the Bangor Airport when they did make the threatened trip to Kleinfeld's. Dodge really wanted to go with them – not that he had any big interest in wedding gowns, but as protection. He didn't like sending either of them off to the big city without him.

  The girls thought that was endearingly cute and left him, anyway – eagerly.

  She had an unlimited budget, which was something that there had been a bit of an argument – however one sided, since she had ended up over his knee – because Rissa had wanted to pay for her own dress, which Dodge thought was ridiculous. He was paying for the rest of the whole she-bang. Why not the dress?

  But he understood that this was something she had been anticipating all her life, and he extracted a promise from her – in the most unusual, most pleasurable way – that if she saw something she really liked but couldn't afford, that she'd let him get it for her.

  She thought she knew what she wanted, but ended up vetoing the ball gowns because she was too small and got lost in all that lace and tulle. Instead, she found a gorgeous cream-colored gown that was very simple but extremely delicate, with a muted background of light green vines and pink roses. Rissa fell in love with it, and it was well under budget.

  She ended up back at her sister's house the night before the wedding, so that Dodge wouldn't see her in her dress until he was traditionally supposed to. She and Sophie, who was her only attendant, stayed up a bit that night with a bottle of good tequila that had been one of Dodge's wedding presents to her, hugging, kissing, and laughing about where they'd ended up in life.

  "I certainly never expected to get married," Rissa confided in Sophie a bit loudly.

  Sophie snorted. "You never thought you'd get married? I never thought you'd get married, either, you know. I know you. You're my bratty little sister. What man is going to put up with you smacking him around and kicking him under the table?"

  Rissa was rolling. She hadn't told her sister about what had transpired between herself and Dodge on their first date, because she wouldn't have wanted to hear it at the time.

  "William Everett Perkins, that's who – despite the fact that I kick him."

  "To Dodge!" Sophie lifted her shot glass, and Rissa did the same.

  Too bad neither of them was quite that happy the next morning. Luckily, the service wasn't until two in the afternoon, and by that time, each of them had been able to down a considerable amount of very strong coffee.

  Sophie did double duty, walking her down the aisle with Sonny on her other arm, then taking her place beside her sister as her matron of honor.

  Rissa had taken his breath away when she appeared at the other end of the aisle, between the double doors that lead to the altar. She looked magnificent, and he was surprised to find his eyes filled with tears.

  She floated down the aisle to him, and he took both of her hands in his, whispering, "You look gorgeous, my love."

  The ceremony was traditional, but relatively short. As soon as they were pronounced man and wife, Dodge indulged himself in a kiss, during which he dipped his bride nearly to the ground. "Sentimental Journey" began to play through the speakers, and he and his bride danced their way back down the aisle, until the end. Then he just had to do what he always did for her, and gathered her into his arms for the trip to the limo.

  The reception was wonderful, with food catered – as a special request – by Michel's, and hours of dancing, drinking and chatting with family and renewing old acquaintances.

  As she sat on her husband's knee, at one of the big tables full of family and friends, someone tapped on Dodge's shoulder, and he shook hands with the older man, then introduced him to his new bride.

 
"Rissa, this is Mark Dailey. He's the sheriff over in Pollock."

  Rissa wanted to sink into the floor at her own wedding. She'd had no idea her husband had invited Mark Dailey to the wedding.

  She extended her hand to the man, who shook it but looked very confused at the same time.

  "Your wife and I have met, Dodge. She was over to the station a while ago. She's going to do a shift with one of my deputies sometime next month – I think she arranged it for the week that we're all in Chicago at that convention."

  Dodge's eyebrows had lifted well past his hairline, and Rissa could feel that every inch of him was tense. She wanted to bury her face in his tux, but didn't figure that would go over very well.

  "Well, Mark, thank you for humoring her, but I'm afraid my wife won't be able to make it."

  "No? That's a shame."

  He drifted away, just as Rissa wished she could, but someone's hard arm around her waist prevented her escape.

  Dodge whispered into her perfume-scented hair, "You're in big trouble, Mrs. Perkins."

  Rissa grinned broadly at him, peppering his face with kisses. "I love you, Mr. Perkins," she singsonged, hoping against hope that it would help, somehow…not that it ever had.

  "I love you too, honey," he sang back to her. "But you're still in trouble."

  "Damn."

  The End

  Carolyn Faulkner

  The words “spanking” and “discipline” have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine. She knows she's not alone.

  Writing started as a way to explore her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for her own good.

  Today Carolyn is the author of dozens of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with her husband and leading man.

  You can read an interview with Carolyn here:

  http://www.blushingbooks.com/blog/?p=175