“You can’t. I’m too old, a woman grown. I’m a mother, not a child to be chastised in such a way.”
He captured her wrist and moved it out of his way, holding it alongside her hip. “I’m a believer that a woman is never too old for a good old-fashioned spanking, and you, Mrs. Jackson, more so than anyone, have a meeting with both my hand and a hairbrush that has been a long time in comin’. Now be still and take your well-deserved punishment like the grown woman you claim to be, lest I add a few strokes with the razor strop I keep in the bathroom.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Obviously, your recollection of that long-ago night in the barn is a bit muddled. I dare what I please, wife. You don’t know me well enough to understand that, but you will. And tonight is the first step in that direction.”
He was done speaking after that as his open hand came down in a sizzling slap across her bottom. It was followed quickly by another. Soon a series of smacks rained fire down on the twin globes of her exposed and vulnerable behind. Muffled oomphs and squeaks slipped between her closed lips as she tried to keep from waking Micah. The onslaught, however, was too intense and she found it difficult to keep still and quiet.
“Luke, it stings.”
“As intended, darlin’. It’s a spanking, after all.”
Biting her lip, she resigned herself to endure, but he redoubled his efforts on a particularly sensitive spot, down low where the curve of her cheek met her thigh, delivering a flurry of heat in alternating explosions until she cried out.
“Please. I’m sorry, truly.”
“I believe that you are, but I’m not done quite yet.” He lifted one knee, which sent her head toward the floor and angled her behind toward the ceiling. The swats that fell next were the hardest of all. A half dozen at least connecting with each lower crease where her cheeks met her upper thigh. Her attempts to muffle her cries long forgotten, she let out a howl of pain and regret. Only then did he stop.
His hand rubbed gently over her burning skin for a moment as he murmured softly, “Once this punishment is complete, you’ll be forgiven and we’ll move on with a fresh start.”
She sighed heavily with relief. “I appreciate the chance to start over.” Her hands on his thigh, she pushed, blessedly thankful it was over so soon.
“Uh-uh,” Luke corrected as he put her back into position with a steady hand on her upper back. “I said once it’s complete. You’ve still to experience the brush.”
Before she could protest or question his next move, he lit into her cheeks with renewed vigor, building anew a conflagration of stinging blows that spread like a flashfire across her already heated skin. As he soundly paddled the entire area of her up-thrust behind, the ignominy of the scene—his using her own hairbrush for the punishment—was not lost on her, it was compounded.
“Wait. I apologized!” she shrieked.
“So you did, little one, and I accept it; however, these final strokes go beyond that. They are the appeasement of which I spoke.”
In rapid succession, ten more fell on alternating cheeks until her behind was aflame and her husband placated. Then he stopped, the clatter of wooden brush on the floor giving her hope he was done for good this time. He flipped her right side up next and set her on his lap, his hand tilting her face up to his.
“It’s over and done with, darlin’. From here on out we have a clean slate.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied while trembling in his arms.
“Lie to me or run again, Wisteria, and you’ll feel the strap. Is that also clear?”
“It’s as clear as day and as tangible as the blisters on my freshly tanned behind, sir.”
He hugged her close, laughing softly. “Then let’s begin as we shall go on, especially in this room. Kiss me.”
Her eyes flew open and she recognized the tender look as well as a spark of desire that hadn’t been there since that morning-after long ago. The flicker of wanting that persisted between her thighs whenever he was near flamed to life, rivaling the heat on her backside as she lifted her mouth to his.
His tongue traced over the fullness of her lips before plunging between them. Instantly, she was swept back to their first night together, her body responding as it had then to his touch, the need to have him building inside her. Her gown was whisked over her head and the next instant she felt the mattress at her back, the weight of his big, hard body pressing her into its softness. She ignored the tenderness of her heated backside as it brushed against the linens, too distracted by his eager mouth and exploring hands, forgetting the ache entirely as his broad hand slipped beneath her. His palm lifted her, his fingers flexing and molding to the contours of her curves. Another ache took precedence entirely. She opened her legs, wrapping them around the backs of his thighs as his hips aligned with hers. The rough denim of his trousers abraded her intimate flesh, arousing her so much she pulled free of his mouth, arching her head as she called out his name.
“I can’t wait either, darlin’. I’ve got to have you, now.”
She felt him ease away and heard the pop, pop, pop of his button-fly denim trousers, then he was back with her, his generously proportioned shaft gliding into her. It had been a long time and the stretch, despite her readiness, caused a twinge of discomfort.
Sucking in a breath, she tensed as he pressed inward. Her teeth caught her lower lip, willing herself not to cry out, afraid he would stop if she did. His head came up, his eyes gleaming bright with passion as he stilled, allowing her time.
“Relax,” he murmured, his thumb sweep across the wetness of her lips, easing free her tortured lip. As his hand held her cheek gently, he dipped his head, his tongue soothing the swollen pink skin before pressing a gentle kiss against her open mouth. He continued in this tender, patient manner until she moved. A slight shifting of her hips a few moments later, which was the message he was waiting for.
He eased out ever so slowly and sank gradually back into place. “Better?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You’re very tight.”
“Yes, well, it’s been a long time—”
“I understand, darlin’.”
“Jarrett, he and I didn’t… Not after the beginning when—”
His lips stopped her. “He’s gone and that’s all I need to know, Wisteria.” He pulled back further, his return path easier this time. “From now on you’ll only have memories of me.”
“That’s all I ever wanted, Luke. I’m so sorry for what happened.”
“Shh, you’re forgiven, remember? This is our wedding night. Our fresh start.”
“Can it really be so easy? A spanking and I’m forgiven?”
The slow drag of his long, hard shaft receding was followed by a surge as he filled her to unimaginable depths. “Do you need more to believe you’re forgiven?” The hand on her bottom squeezed in gentle reminder.
“No. I think you appeased my guilt at the same time you placated your anger.”
“With you tight as a hot velvet fist around me, darlin’, I can barely remember my own name, let alone stay riled, though maybe you should quit while you’re ahead.”
Thinking that was sound advice, she said no more, beyond speech the next moment anyway, as he slid out, returning so quickly and deeply that her breath caught in her throat. As he set up a steady gliding rhythm, she clung to him, the conversation forgotten. Soon she was clinging to him as each plunge took him to the hilt. He wasn’t immune, his breathing as ragged as hers as he built his pleasure along with her own. Burying her face in his neck, she breathed an open-mouthed kiss there as with one more thrust, he sent her soaring in a glowing spiral of pure ecstasy. He followed with a few thrusts, pounding out the tempo of his own satisfaction. In a moment, he growled, sending a deep feeling of peace and contentment flooding into her as he too yielded his release.
In the aftermath, shivers of delight followed the slow caress of his hands along her skin. When he withdrew from her body, he turned them onto their sides, keeping cl
ose as he tugged the covers over them both. She savored the feel of his long frame curling around her much smaller one. From the breadth of his hard chest against her back, to his heavy arm wrapped around her waist, and the hand curved around her ribs with his palm resting below her breast, she felt enveloped by his strength. The pleasant press of his semi-hard shaft against her still tingling behind reminded her of that night in the barn and the passion that followed. Then and now, it had been explosive, which gave her hope for the future. If desire still existed between them, perhaps in time something more would grow. She snuggled into his embrace, his arms tightening around her as she did so, making her feel secure, and for the first time in many, many months, she felt safe. She relaxed, which was something else she hadn’t done in a long while, as a blessedly deep and restorative sleep claimed her.
Chapter Twelve
The days and weeks that followed saw the three of them settling into a routine. As if he had an internal clock that told him the instant the sun peaked over the horizon, Luke would wake bright-eyed for the new day. Each morning he’d reach for her, and the cuddle they shared in their big warm comfortable bed would, more often than not, turn amorous. Nothing long and leisurely like the evenings before. There were chores to do and Micah woke soon after his daddy did.
It often amazed Wisteria how alike Luke and Micah were. Both father and son were morning people, which she wasn’t at all. Luke would wake early and hop right out of bed, while she tried to pry her eyelids open and get her mind to function. As she struggled to keep from falling back to sleep, Luke would rouse her with insistent kisses and his big hands would stir her bare body beneath the covers—sleeping without a stitch was something he insisted on as well. His morning touches weren’t nearly as thorough or prolonged as those at bedtime, but they still stirred her, making her burn just as hot, bringing them both to breathless, heart-pumping, boundless satisfaction no matter that it was hurried.
He’d then roll them both out of bed, having figured out already that Wisteria would nod back off in the heavy-limbed lethargy of the afterglow, if he’d let her. With another kiss or a gentle swat on the behind to get her going, he was off to the barn to see about his early morning chores. Dressed and dreaming of a steaming cup of Arbuckle’s, Wisteria would first check on Micah, stepping over Lady in the process, who had taken to sleeping on guard outside his room. As she opened the door, she was greeted, without fail, with a sleepy-eyed grin from her beautiful boy. Cooing and talking nonsensically, he’d giggle at her silliness while she got him ready for the day. Then she’d nurse him, holding him close while still warm and tousled from his bed, enjoying a quiet moment with him before beginning a busy day. They would then head downstairs where Micah would play contentedly as she cooked Luke a hearty breakfast.
He’d usually come in before she was finished and feed Micah his porridge. After talking quietly about their plans for the day while they ate, he’d drop a goodbye kiss on the top of his boy’s head, or bury his face in his neck and blow giggle-inducing noisy kisses, and sometimes he’d give him a few tosses high in the air until he was squealing and breathless, all of which any baby would love, and this one did, being especially enamored with his daddy. His mother got a different kind of goodbye kiss entirely. Luke never left without seeing that she got one, and after a few days, she decided she’d missed it terribly if he did.
Her days were spent caring for Micah and the enormous house Luke had built for the family he’d dreamed of having one day. She’d questioned him with a frown if he planned to fill all of the eight bedrooms, which included six spacious rooms and a master suite on the second floor and an additional two on the third. He’d laughed at her stunned look, telling her they’d work on filling the second floor and then talk about the finishing the third. When she’d blanched, he’d hugged her close and reassured her that three sons was sufficient as long as he also got a black-haired, violet-eyed daughter to go with them.
“You understand that isn’t guaranteed, right?” she’d asked, pointing out he had two brothers.
“Certainly,” he’d said with wide-eyed innocence, “but we can keep trying until we get it right. Why do you think I built all those bedrooms?”
“Land’s sake,” she’d murmured, feeling done in already at the idea of six, let alone eight children. However, Micah was the joy of her life and such a sweet baby, if the others that followed were as good, she’d have no problem filling Luke’s big house with children. She also wouldn’t mind spending her days caring for the house, enjoying the domesticity it entailed, after practically living on the trail as a child. When they did light somewhere, they invariably picked up and moved on after only a few months. So, she liked the idea of putting down roots and living out her days in one place, especially if it turned out to be the big beautiful home that her husband had built, with her children and grandchildren all around her.
Often she’d be taking a skillet of cornbread from the oven when Luke’s boots would thud on the back stairs. At those times, if she’d glanced up, she saw through the window that the sun was dipping over the western mountain ridge. He was right on time, as always, home for supper. For Wisteria, it was the best part of the day, with the two of them spending time in each other’s company, learning more about one another and playing with Micah.
Their little boy was full of eager excitement as he became upright and mobile, beginning to explore his world from a new perspective. He was full of such boundless energy that they endeavored to find ways to keep him busy and burn off some of that eagerness. This included spending time outdoors playing, taking walks in the warm summer evenings, or twilight rides in the trails in the woods behind the house.
Usually Micah rode with Luke, although a few times they rode triple with Wisteria riding between his legs, leaning contentedly against his chest with their little one snug on her lap. Track easily carried their combined weight on these occasions when Luke felt a need to ride further and show off one of the many special spots on the ranch, like the pond where he and his brothers swam as kids, or the high point that overlooked the winding creek for which the ranch was named. He delighted Micah a time or two by catching lightning bugs in a jar, which had fascinated the little boy, who clapped excitedly as they flickered in the dark or when freed, flitted away or landed nearby.
The end of the day chores, which Luke had managed for years as a single man, were turned over to a ranch hand so he could spend more time with his new family. Otherwise, with bedtime for Micah coming so early, he would miss too much. In bed most often after a bath and a bedtime story, the latter a task Luke took on himself most nights, enjoying cuddling the warm, fresh from the bath, sleepy baby who curled comfortably on his daddy’s broad lap where he inevitably fell fast asleep before the end of the first chapter.
Wisteria loved the bond father and son were forming, with Luke interested and involved in all aspects of his son’s life. He looked for every opportunity to spend time with Micah, and by extension, with her. She couldn’t deny the twinges of guilt she felt as they grew closer, knowing her actions had kept them apart for a full year. She tried not to dwell on it, especially since Luke hadn’t mentioned it further after their ‘fresh start,’ but it nagged at her often.
Running a large cattle ranch didn’t allow him much free time, even with plenty of help, so he took advantage of the opportunities that arose. One of which was coming home for lunch when work brought him nearby. One day, it was well past noon and Wisteria had given up on seeing him. She was playing with Micah on the thick braided rug in the parlor, her bodice still open from having fed him. As she rolled to retrieve a toy he’d thrown off course while trying to teach him to play catch, a movement at the door startled her. She sat bolt upright, shrieking at the large shape of a man looming in the doorway.
“Easy, darlin’,” his familiar voice drawled.
Her hand flew to her chest as she squinted up at him; the sunlight streaming in from behind was glaring and placed his face in shadows. “Luke, you scar
ed ten years off my life.”
He took a few steps into the room, his handsome features coming into view as he tossed his Stetson on a side table. Crouching down in front of her, he drew a finger along the gaping neckline of her blouse.
“You should close and lock the door when you nurse him, darlin’. I could have been a ranch hand or any visitor coming to call.”
When she looked down, she sucked in a startled breath, seeing the inner aspects of both breasts practically spilling from her blouse. Her hands flew to her buttons, but he stayed them, his thumb sweeping inside and grazing a firm, pointed nipple.
“Leave it,” he whispered. “You’re never more beautiful than this way.” He was bending his head for a kiss, when Micah took that moment to express his displeasure at being ignored. With a squeal, he hauled himself up by Luke’s shirtsleeve and launched his little body at his chest, wanting to play. With adult playtime clearly over, Luke graciously complied by planting his denim-covered rear on the rug beside Wisteria and lifting his son over his head.
Watching Luke swooping Micah high as if he was flying, she warned, “Don’t forget, he just ate.”
Luke instantly stopped and settled him on his chest with a toy instead, having been on the receiving end of his son’s post-prandial surprises before. Wisteria laughed at his hasty reaction. Reaching out, she rubbed first her husband’s shoulder, then patted her son’s back before pushing up on her knees.
“I’ll go make you some lunch.”
Luke shook his head, shifting the boy into one arm as he encircled her hips with the other. “Not quite yet, darlin’. This is a nice break from herding cattle.” His interest wandered to her exposed chest and his warm brown eyes twinkled. “Besides, the view from here is breathtaking.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she accused, although without any heat in her words. She didn’t mind curling up next to him while watching them play. Before long, the baby began to rub his face and fret, a sure sign it was nap time. With a skill seeming born of years of practice, rather than the few weeks he’d actually had, Luke snuggled him upon his chest where he promptly went to sleep.
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