The Sons of Johnny Hastings Box Set

by Patty Devlin

  “You mean to spank me? Now?”

  “Yes, once we get on the train we will have little privacy. Stand up, please, and place your hands flat on the vanity.”

  “But, Clint, if I’d stayed at the boarding house as you’d asked, Lord knows what Homer would have done to me.”

  “I realize that, sweetheart, but you inevitably went from the frying pan into the fire by renting out a horse and traveling into unknown territory on your own. There were other options open to you. Can you think of some of those?”

  She frowned, knowing exactly where he was going with this. “I suppose I could have asked for help.”

  “You suppose?”

  “Okay, I could have asked for help. I could have gone to the sheriff and reported Homer.”

  “Yes, you also could have gone to Reverend Mitchell. He would have helped you. Instead, you purchased a horse and a weapon, which you had no idea how to use. I think you are intelligent enough to know the other options, but instead you took the opportunity to follow me, which was your goal all along. So once again, the end justified the means. Just like the train trip. You saw nothing wrong with following me alone. The only regret you have expressed for that reckless action was that you got caught.”

  She bowed her head, looking at the hands that were twisting in her skirt. He was right. In her mind, as long as she got her way, how she went about it was not of much concern.

  “Look at me, Emmalee.”

  Reluctantly, she tilted her head back to look up at him. At this close range, she had to angle it way, way back. He noticed the awkward bend of her neck and squatted down in front of her. His hands bracketed her hips and gave her a little squeeze before he spoke again.

  “You will find, sweetheart, that I don’t give you orders haphazardly or just to hear myself speak. They are thoughtful and for your benefit. I love you and want to protect you so that I, and the babies we will have in the future, have you around for a very long time.”

  “I love you, too, Clint, but you are overprotective. What if I disagree with your orders?”

  “You talk to me about it.”

  “But I did!”

  “You can always talk to me about something that you disagree with, but that doesn’t mean I’ll concede. If my decision differs from yours, you’ll have to accept it. I am your husband, and since I have your best interests in mind, I will always err on the side of caution. You will just have to learn to adapt.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair. It’s like being a child.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it is the lot of a woman to be cared for by a man. In your case, a married woman, whose husband will not allow this kind of impulsive, reckless behavior to continue. Would you rather go through life dealing with all the Homer Bartons of the world by yourself?

  “No.”

  “You will follow orders in the future?”

  “Yes,”

  “Good, let’s get the reminder out of the way and then we’ll get lunch.” He rose, pausing halfway to kiss her forehead affectionately. “Please stand and place your hands flat on the vanity.”

  She blinked, but then did as he asked. Unfortunately, this position put her directly in front of the mirror. She saw her nervousness reflected along with the rise of a blush in her cheeks.

  “Must we do this in front of the mirror? It’s disconcerting.”

  “I like to be able to see your face, to gauge your reaction. This works for me just fine.”

  More heat rose to her face, and she frowned. He wasn’t going easy on her that was for sure. The next order proved her point.

  “Pull up your skirts in back.”

  Heavens to Betsy. He had adjusted her clothing the last time. Was he serious? A quick glance at his face told her he was. Her reluctant hands reached back to comply. When she had her skirts bunched up at the small of her back, his hands joined hers, folding the excess material out of his way. She assumed this extra humbling detail was also part of the lesson and reminder he’d mentioned, and so far, it was highly effective. She would remember this part, no problem.

  When she had exposed her linen-covered bottom, she returned her hands to the uncompromising wooden surface. She wouldn’t be able to hold on, or dig her nails into it, while he walloped away on her behind. As she watched him in the mirror, she saw where his gaze was affixed to her backside as he untied and lowered her drawers. His fingers grazed her skin and set off the same sensations as always when he touched her so.

  Squatting behind her, she felt his fingers at her ankles.

  “Step out, Em.”

  Surprised that he didn’t just leave them at her ankles, she lifted one foot at a time while he tugged her thin drawers over her half boots. Now bare below the waist, except for boots and stockings, she watched as his eyes returned to her bottom and his hand came up to caress her exposed skin.

  “Spread your legs a bit more and bend over farther.”

  At his softly spoken words, the familiar quickening reappeared low in her belly. Wishing he would forego the spanking and love her instead, she did as he asked by lowering herself into what she felt surely was a thoroughly wanton position.

  His free hand rose to her back and pressed her down. Through the thin material of her summer dress, she could feel the heat of his hand between her shoulders. The man was like a sorcerer casting a spell, enchanting her mind and body. With a look or the simplest of touches, he ignited her passions. His more intimate caresses drove her wild with desire, even his spankings—although leaving her bottom smarting and her skin ablaze—aroused her near madness. Was she insane to be aroused by his punishments? If she was, she didn’t care; even mad as a march hare, she loved the man and all the wonderful things he did to her.

  His free hand picked up her hairbrush from the dresser. The lean fingers wrapping around the smooth handle made her insides clench with need. That was it, proof positive she’d rounded the bend from sanity to derangement. What sane woman would become aroused by a paddling?

  The cool, smooth surface stroked her skin as he spoke. “This will be a bit more biting than my hand, sweetheart. I intend for the lesson to stick.”

  The first splat of the brush fell immediately after that, followed by another and another. The light-weight brush packed quite a sting, and by the fifth stroke, she was hissing. At the eighth, she was squirming, and on the tenth, she cried out his name.

  He paused, his hand moving lightly, soothingly, against her hot flesh. The coolness of his hand was in stark contrast to her fiery skin. If felt good, and she rocked back, seeking more of his touch.

  “Be still, Emmalee, we are almost through.”

  Almost! Oh dear, she thought the ten he’d given would be it. She glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His expression was stern and not one bit pleased to be doing this. The next stroke of the brush fell lower near her upper thigh. “Clint,” she gasped, “that was my thigh. Please be careful.”

  His eyes met hers in the mirror. “That is what I intended. You’ll feel these when you sit down over the next several hours. They will remind you to be more cautious and to listen and follow. Five more and we’ll be done.”

  What had once been an innocent grooming tool had turned into a wicked implement of punishment. Five from the brush seemed like ten times as many from his hand. By the time the last had landed, she was stamping her feet from the sting, Clint’s arm around her hips keeping them still.

  The brush clattered to the dresser top, and she knew it was over. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Clint moved in behind. With one hand alongside hers on the dresser, he encircled her waist and bent forward, burying his face in her hair.

  “Do not make me repeat this lesson, Emmalee,” he growled with intense emotion.

  “I won’t, Clint,” she said, her voice breathy with tears of regret. “I’ll listen and heed your instructions in the future. I promise.”

  “I hope so, sweetheart, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  As he held her, he pressed in
to her, and Emmalee felt the rough material of his tweed trousers abrading her tender skin. She also noticed the hard length of him prodding her from behind. He was as aroused as she was.

  Soon the discomfort was forgotten as his eager hands began to move, sliding up her torso. When he reached her already swollen and hard tipped breasts, she threw her head back, pressing her chest into his hands, offering him more. At the same time, she spread her legs, canting her hips so that his hardness pressed firmly against her needy center.

  Without warning, Clint pulled her upright, his fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse. He peeled back the sides, exposing her camisole and corselet. The latter she had picked up while shopping earlier that day, feeling it appropriate for summer travel as it was light-weight and much cooler than the requisite full corset with heavy panels and stays. When Clint’s fingers came across the satiny garment, he left it on. Instead, his fingers curled into her camisole and tugged it down. Her full breasts popped free to quiver and settle lewdly atop the firm edge of her corselet. Em had no idea when she’d bought it that it would add so enticingly to their erotic display in the mirror.

  The baring of her body by his insistent hands thrilled her to no end. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she tried to recapture the breath arrested in her chest by his demanding actions. Her head fell back as his hands captured her eager flesh. He groaned, reveling as he toyed with her, gently squeezing and molding the quivering mounds of her breasts. His thumbs grazed the peaks then captured them between thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching until she cried out with pleasure.

  In the mirror, she watched his hands move over her, his face in her neck, kissing, licking and nipping her tender places. She also saw her mirror image and was stunned at the transformation. No longer the sweet, innocent miss she saw there each day. Instead, her face had taken on a sultry expression: skin flushed, mouth parted, tongue peeking out to wet her dry lips, and her eyes were half-lidded with arousal.

  “This is what I see when I love you, baby. You are stunning, so lush and pleasing, and your body responds beautifully to my touch. You are mine, sweet Emmalee, my woman, my temptress, my love. All mine. And I need you, right now.”

  He guided her forward over the vanity again as he released his belt and buttons. As he loosened his clothes, Em was unable to take her eyes away from the temptress in the mirror. Up close, she saw that her green eyes were dark with her passion, her lips were swelled and reddened from biting her lips, and her breasts, already bulging out of her top, now appeared obscenely large and vulgar as they hung down, swaying and bouncing with her slightest motion.

  She gasped in delight when his fingers found the dampness between her thighs. He flicked the bud at the top of her slit before they dipped inside her. Two fingers, she gauged by the stretch in her tight channel. She groaned and rocked against him, wanting more. He then disappeared from sight, crouching low behind her. The long lick of his tongue made her squeal with pleasure, although her jaw dropped in shock.

  “Clint! Your tongue—and mouth—on my—Oh, dear! Certainly, that is not done!”

  “Ah, but it is done, my love,” he said with his lips pressed against her, “and quite enjoyably, I must say, when done by me.”

  The feel of his teasing lips, his deep chuckle and warm breath, vibrating as he spoke produced a cry of sheer delight from Emmalee.

  “In fact, you taste sweeter than honey, so it will be done by me quite often I would say.”

  He then proceeded to devour every inch of her, licking and lapping at her most secret places. When she could barely think enough to breathe, he ended his torture by driving his amazing tongue deep inside her. It pushed her over the edge. She convulsed around him, her hips jerking reflexively as her climax overtook her.

  Legs weak and trembling, she was afraid they wouldn’t be able to hold any longer. Her nails scrambled for purchase against the hard, unyielding wood, and she feared that in an instant she would be on the floor at his feet.

  Of course, Clint saved her from such a fate by standing and plunging deep inside her. Hands bracketing her hips to keep her in place, he began to move fast and hard. Feverish with desire, he pulled her upright, one hand seeking her breast, the other sliding up her chest and around her throat, coming to rest under her jaw. He angled her head enough to take her lips in a thorough kiss that left her breathless.

  “Watch, baby,” he urged huskily, turning her face toward their reflection. “As the pleasure overtakes you, see how damn beautiful you are.”

  As he thrust into her, driving them both to another release, she watched. She saw how beautiful they were and how together they found unsurpassed pleasure in each other’s arms.

  Chapter Nine

  The Pullman car of first-class travel far exceeded the bare bones essentials she had experienced in second-class from Boston. The benches were thickly padded with rich velvety fabric, and there was sufficient room to accommodate even Clint’s long legs and her large carpet bag. Above their heads was the berth that could be pulled down for sleeping on their overnight ride through the flat lands of Nebraska. By morning, they were told, when they pulled into Cheyenne, Wyoming, they would be able to see the Rocky Mountains in the distance.

  They pulled out on time at four o’clock sharp, and Emmalee was glad to leave Iowa behind, although considering how memorable her wedding night was, she would never forget her time there. She was ready for Nebraska and beyond until she saw the river bridge crossing, which from the distance looked like it was constructed of nothing more than chicken wire and tooth picks. She thought there was no earthly way that the bridge would withstand the weight of the fully loaded train.

  She mentioned this to Clint who looked up from his paper and smiled. “Come here, nervous Nelly,” he said as he patted the bench beside him. “Close the drapes and quit gawking. We’ll be across before you know it, and all your fretting will have been for nothing.”

  Grumbling, she did as she was told, snuggling under his arm, using his chest as a pillow. “Nervous Nelly, my foot. Being prepared is better than sticking your head in the sand like an ostrich.”

  Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he gave her a good squeeze. “My mother would say, ‘Quit borrowing trouble, Em.’ Why don’t you find a book to read from the library in the back?”

  Sitting upright, she twisted her head and, sure enough, saw two large, fully stocked bookcases. “How wonderful,” she said, grinning with delight.

  Climbing over Clint’s outstretched legs, she was off in a flash, perusing the 200 or so leather-bound titles. The amused chuckle that followed her down the aisle didn’t bother her a bit. She returned with a collection of poems and short stories by Edgar Allan Poe.

  As Clint eyed the title on the spine, he questioned her choice. “A bit gruesome before dinner don’t you think?”

  “No. The more horrifying the better,” was her grinned response. She had forgotten quickly her vow to forswear all things gothic and horrific; the genre to her was hard to resist. She curled up in the seat, using his body as a backrest, and tucked her skirts around her.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Very, but you’ll have to stop talking now or you’ll distract me.”

  He chuckled again and she lent a small grin. The last few days were rough, but they were back on track with the easy banter and camaraderie they had shared before the dratted Pinkerton man had arrived in Boston with his letter. That reminded her...

  “Honey, do you think Delia is making a mistake? Not wanting to meet her other brothers, I mean.”

  “I do, but it is her decision to make. This came as quite a shock to me, so I can empathize with her as well as the four men I’ll meet in Denver. However, her story is not mine to share. Nor is it yours, young lady.”

  Twisting to look at him, she exclaimed, “Clinton Ryan! I am hurt and offended that you think I would break her trust. I am however going to soak up every detail and nuance of each one of your brothers and commit it to paper. That way she can
have all the facts before deciding to completely shut them out of her life.”

  “I had intended to do the same.”

  “You did? I’m surprised.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You’re usually so sensible and pragmatic, not wishful and romantic.”

  A surprised look crossed his face, turning quickly to a frown. “You make me sound rather boring. Am I such a stick in the mud, Em?”

  “You can be serious, but you have a playful side. When you let that Clint come out to play, we always have a marvelous time.” His eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. He was such a handsome man. Her heart raced just to be near him.

  “I thought I was quite romantic earlier today.”

  She blinked, her turn to be surprised. That he would bring that up. Leaning in, she commented, just above a whisper, “A spanking is not what I had in mind for romance, husband.”

  “Baby, I was referring to what came after.”

  Her eyes zoned in on his lips, remembering how he had kissed her… there.

  Clint and his playful side had emerged lickety split, the dratted tease. He aptly read her thoughts, threw his head back against the cushioned bench and roared with laughter. Other passengers turned to stare, and Em knew from the heat in her cheeks that she flushed ten shades of red. Pushing away from him, she turned and tried to concentrate on her book. She failed miserably because her mischievous man reached out an arm, snaked it around her waist and hauled her back into his side. With a kiss to her temple, he promptly returned to his paper.

  Emmalee decided it wasn’t worth fighting over and looked around for her book. It had slipped to the floor. Before she could reach for it, a gloved hand grabbed it. Her eyes shifted to the woman, who graciously held it out to her. Warm brown eyes in a finely lined face twinkled back at her.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Newlyweds?”

  Emmalee smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we’ve been married all of four days. How could you tell?”

  “My dear, you are glowing, but your husband gave you away. He is very attentive and hasn’t stopped touching you in some way since you boarded. It is very sweet.”