Wild Wisteria

by Maddie Taylor

  His hand came up, two long fingers lying across her lips to silence her. “You misunderstood. Leniency to me meant my bare hand and this.” He held up the long handled bath brush that usually hung by their claw-foot tub in the bathroom. Her mouth fell open as she took in the oval head of the brush, nearly the size of his large hand. Clearly, she had misconstrued his definition of lenient.

  “Uh, Luke—”

  “Quiet,” he ordered. “I think you’ve said more than enough. You’ll discover in a moment that this fine piece of pine indeed packs a wallop. Also, your argument over why you deserve the strop is sound and convincing—the Lady Godiva crack notwithstanding. So, you win, baby. You’ll get at least five from the leather on top of what I had planned and before we’re done here, you’ll know you’ve received the sound spanking you so richly deserve and clearly expected.”

  She paled, her lowered lashes not effective in hiding her embarrassment when she realized what a fool she’d made of herself this time.

  His fingers moved, sliding from her lips, curving with the others to cup her cheek, lifting her face and holding it gently, so she couldn’t turn away or hide from him. Then he murmured firmly, “Look at me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, seeing immediately the fiery determination in her husband’s compelling face.

  “Tell me truthfully, what has you so riled up, Wisteria?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly, feeling at sixes and sevens, her emotions flying from one extreme to the other.

  “Think about it for a moment and see if it comes to you.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if you told me? You obviously have an idea.”

  “No. Quit being difficult and do as I ask.”

  An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the rush of air in and out of her mouth from her agitated breathing. She stared off into the shadows as she searched for the answer he sought. When she turned her thoughts inward, she came to a stunning conclusion. “I think I must be nuts because I want you to punish me, Luke. And I don’t want it to be a few token swats because you feel sorry for what I’ve gone through. This was a monumental mess of my own making and nothing short of a walloping will be enough to assuage the guilt eating me up inside.”

  His hand moved, strong fingers at her jaw turning her face up to his. His face above hers, so handsome in the soft glow of the candlelight, revealed his understanding. “If that’s what it takes, so be it. You’ll feel my hand, the brush, and the sting of the strop. I’ll do so to ease your guilt and because I don’t ever want to feel that kind of fear again. I love you and I want you to realize with each stroke, that I will do anything, even blister your tail raw, if it keeps you safe in my arms. You and Micah have become my entire world, and I won’t risk losing you. One day, I hope you’ll understand that.”

  Misty with tears, she replied, “I do, Luke. I took unacceptable risks and told lies that not only hurt us, but dug myself deeper in trouble. I won’t do that again, I swear, and I’ll accept the punishment I deserve, especially if it earns your forgiveness.”

  “You’ve already earned my forgiveness, darlin’,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath her head and lifting her mouth to his. “Maybe when we’re through here, you’ll forgive yourself.” After a lingering kiss that was warm, sweet, and full of promise, he stepped back. “There will be more of that after we’re through. Right now, I want you to turn back over and get ready for your punishment.”

  The thought of what would come after heated her body, not as much as his palm, the paddle, and leather strap were going to, but she readily agreed, with a soft “Yes, sir” as she rolled and assumed her previous bare bottom up in the air position.

  Luke moved in beside her and with the flat of his hand on her upper back, applied firm pressure holding her in place. The touch of his hand was comforting in that moment, but her hands still curled in the quilt as she prepared to hang on.

  He handed her a pillow. “We wouldn’t want to wake Micah, darlin’.”

  She nodded and gripped the pillow with both hands.

  His bare foot nudged her legs farther apart. “Make a wide base.” As she shifted, his warm hand slid up the back of one thigh and over the globes made taut by her position. She muffled a groan as his fingertips dipped inside her cleft and slid down to delve between her folds. His hum told her what she suspected; she was wet with desire for him. Hoping that it would be so when they were through, she braced herself for the first lash, jumping when his hand brought heat to her skin. A good dozen spanks were laid across both cheeks and upper thighs, after which he rubbed and squeezed until the sizzling fire melded into a warm, tingling sensation that she’d felt before. It wasn’t so bad.

  “You’ve got a rosy glow to your skin already, darlin’. The bath brush will up the ante a bit, I’m afraid.”

  The surface of the smooth wood was cool against her already heated skin as he rubbed the back of the brush in small concentric circles all over her spanked behind. It felt good, but it didn’t lull her into a sense of ease. He’d warned in a roundabout way that the brush would pack a wallop. When he drew it away from her cheek and brought it down swiftly with a resounding crack, she had to admit he knew what he was talking about. The splat of wood striking skin echoed in the room. He didn’t wait before he lifted it for another smarting blow. From one cheek to the other, he alternated smacks to each upraised cheek, then delivered equally sharp whacks to her uppermost thighs one at a time, creating a pattern of four with the lightweight wood paddle. He switched it up, moving side to side, in reverse and crosswise until her entire backside was aflame.

  She lost count as a rhythm of whooshes and cracks intermingled with her ‘unfs’ and ouches, which added to the pitter-patting of her feet as they beat out a cadence on the rug-covered floor. Her accompanying sounds had risen in volume when at last he stopped and his hand replaced the pine paddle. He murmured soothing sounds as he rubbed her burning cheeks, keeping it up until her breathing had slowed and her feet had stopped tapping.

  “How are you doing, baby?”

  “My bottom’s on fire, Luke.”

  “I imagine so. It’s about to get hotter, you know?”

  “Yes, sir. I figure the leather will be the culmination of it all.”

  “This is true, darlin’.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pick up the wide worn leather. “I use this almost every day,” he murmured as he folded it in half, holding the hooks on one end with the leather loop in the other firmly in his big hand. “I’ll never look at it the same way.”

  She squeaked when it connected with her hot skin, but he simply stroked it along the curves of her behind, lightly at first.

  “You asked for this strapping, darlin’. Remember it well so you don’t warrant another in the future.” With that ominous admonition given, he brought the looped strap down swiftly and evenly across the center of her bottom. The crack of leather bouncing off skin echoed in the room and was followed by the hiss of her sharply indrawn breath. A sting ten times worse than his hand flared along the line where the lash had struck. In seconds, another line of fire disbursed across her skin an inch or so higher. Her hands curled into the pillow as she yelped at the intensity of the blow. A third stroke followed, whooshing through the air and exploding even more sharply. Then came a fourth and a fifth. By this time her feet were dancing in a rat-a-tat rhythm on the floor and her hands flew back intuitively.

  “Grip the pillow, Wisteria, that’s what it’s there for. I don’t want to lash a finger by mistake.”

  “That was five, wasn’t it, Luke?”

  “Yes, darlin’, I’ll stop if you can tell me you’ve absolved yourself of your guilt.”

  She hadn’t, more’s the pity; the lingering blame and regret inside her told her it wasn’t enough. Slowly, she moved her hands back up by her head. Before the next stroke fell, he ran his hand over her burning behind. “I think we’ll both know when enough is enough. These next strokes will be lo

wer, where you’ll feel them each time you sit tomorrow. Hold on, baby.”

  Fire ignited and made her catch her breath; as it did, she turned her focus on what could have happened to Micah. And how his life would have been impacted if something had happened to her. Then she thought of Luke, who loved her, and the pain he would have had to endure if she’d been truly lost to him, to them both, forever. That lasting agony was nothing compared to a little sting on her bottom. She gave herself up to the rise and fall of the lash as tears began to flow. Sure it hurt, leather applied to a tenderized backside always would, but the pain in her heart was what bothered her more.

  “I love you, Luke,” she called out with the next lash, her voice raw with fervency. “And I love Micah. I swear never to put either of you through something like this ever again.”

  With that heartfelt vow, she felt the ache around her heart release at the same time the belt hit the floor. Luke came up behind her and bent over her back, his hands sliding beneath her belly as his lips grazed the back of her neck. He held her like that, enfolded in his arms and his love, as she wept in a cathartic healing.

  “Do you feel better, baby?” he murmured in her ear when her sobs had died out long minutes later. “Have you found your absolution?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, focusing on the strength and heat from his body, not her burning behind. As he held her, whispering soothing words interspersed with soft kisses, another burning ache began kindling inside. She wanted him, to feel the driving strength of his body inside, needing the intimate connection that signified their unity and love. “Will you love me now, Luke? Prove to me that I’m truly forgiven?”

  “With pleasure, darlin’.” He spread hungry kisses along her shoulders and down the line of her spine. When he crouched behind her, he did the same for her hot and tingling bottom. It felt like the searing end of a hot fireplace poker and she wondered if it was glowing red the same way.

  After gently spreading wet kisses and licks that soothed the blaze somewhat, he parted her thighs and licked slowly between her wet folds, lapping and circling the aching nub in front and then diving into her center. She gasped in blissful agony when his thumbs dipped between her cheeks and spread them apart. The heat of his tongue licked upward and between, swirling around and around the tightly held hole. Then he rose above her, and she heard a rustle of clothes. Before she could catch her breath, he was surging inside, her juices so plentiful that she heard the long wet glide of his shaft as he slid in and out.

  She arched her back, sending him deeper and pushed up on her hands. “Take me harder, Luke.”

  He slammed into her, going so deep that she grunted and shifted forward, grasping for purchase against the force of his thrusts. His stroking hands slid to her front and latched onto her dangling breasts, anchoring her with his strength. He then surprised her by pulling her upright until her back met his chest, and her head rested upon his shoulder. As he drove up into her, one hand skimmed upward, moving along her throat until he cupped her chin, angling her parted lips up to his. His eyes blazed down into hers as he spoke urgently.

  “I love you, Wisteria. Never doubt my love.”

  Her hand rose to cover the one grasping her breast as the other curled up and around the back of his neck, dragging him down the fraction of an inch needed for their lips to touch. She returned his words with the same intensity. “I won’t.” Her speech was broken by gasps for breath. “I love you too, Luke, more than I ever thought possible. Please, please, don’t ever doubt that I do, either.”

  With a low groan that rumbled through his chest, he took her mouth, his tongue plunging inside as his hips continue to pump steadily. It wasn’t enough. He seemed to understand her need because his hand lowered and curved around her thigh, lifting it up until her leg hooked over his arm. Spreading her wide, he sank further with each powerful and all-encompassing stroke, making her cry out with the entirety of his possession. His belly slapped her tingling, hot cheeks, but she didn’t care, relishing each touch and exquisite sensation. His hand left her breast and captured the hard bud at the front of her sex. Lips joined, tongues tangled as his fingers danced over her sensitive flesh, all as the hard length of him drummed relentlessly inside her. The combination sent her over the top, moaning into his mouth while she convulsed around him, quaking in his arms in ecstasy.

  Instantly, he dropped her leg, bending her over. His fingers curled around her hips, steadying her as he surged into her from behind. In another few strokes, he too reached the pinnacle of his release, calling out her name while he came hotly into her body. After a brief shuddering pause, he sighed heavily and unhurriedly slid in and out a few more blissful times as his breathing slowed.

  Completely spent, her arms gave way and she collapsed limply atop the bed when he withdrew. He lifted her, practically tossing her up on the bed and crawling in after. Then he wrapped her up in his arms and sealed her lips with his.

  “Damn, Mrs. Jackson, I like how you make amends.”

  She wiggled as his hands curved around her bottom and squeezed. “In light of your style of forgiveness, I think I can excel at repentance, but can we leave leather straps for extreme infractions? That really stung.”

  He lifted his head and scowled down at her. “I thought we put an end to extreme infractions?”

  “Oh, well, yes,” she stammered, her face flushing hot. “Of course, we did. In fact, I plan on being so open and honest, we can toss out all of your belts. In fact, I think you’d look splendid in suspenders.” Luke chuckled, so she pressed on. “And a beard! You would look so very handsome in a beard that we could get rid of that wretched razor strop. And while we’re at it, there are entirely too many wide straps cluttering up the barn—”

  “Those are reins and cinches, darlin’,” he said, laughing. “How do you expect us to drive cattle without bridles and saddles?”

  “Bareback?” She blinked innocently.

  He smacked her ass lightly. It was enough to make her squirm in reaction, pressing her body more closely against him to get away from his hand. As her nipples rubbed along his chest, they hardened, her body still alive with sensation. This reignited the hunger she felt for her husband and she hooked her leg over his, pressing her damp curls against his rousing cock. This garnered his full attention.

  “Let’s see how adept you are at riding bareback.” With that, he moved her astride his hips and with his hands to guide her, proceeded to teach her a whole new set of riding skills.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  All conversation stopped, the raucous laughter quieted, and the piano player halted banging out a poor rendition of “Camptown Races” on the out-of-tune upright as four very well turned-out ladies who one wouldn’t ordinarily expect to see on this end of town entered the Red Eye Saloon. Big George Gleason stood at their backs. Arms crossed over his massive chest exposing bulging forearms and biceps, the former saloon muscle man was busy casting withering glares at any man who might dare to venture their way.

  Wisteria’s original plan was to go alone, leaving Micah in the care of one of her sisters. Jenny, who had moved into her new house, was the closest and her first option. Her plan had held up under her scrutiny for about two minutes.

  “No! Absolutely not.” Jenny declared. “Believe me, the voice of experience, a Jackson man has an extremely low tolerance for a wife who goes off on her own. If it’s to town, you can expect not to sit comfortably the next day, a saloon will likely see you standing for a few days, but a saloon with an upstairs brothel…” Her hands went to her backside, which she rubbed as she shuddered. “Let’s just say I don’t personally recommend it. Can’t you send a note?”

  “She saved me, Jenny, a note seems rather disproportionate. Besides, it’s important to me that I deliver my message face to face.”

  Jenny tilted her head as she considered Wisteria; at length she pursed her lips and made a definitive nod. “If it’s important to you, by golly, you should do it, but you’re not going alone.”