by Cara Bristol
He bit into her nipple and tugged. Then he teased the other with his mouth to the same length and aching need. Melania moaned. She wound her fingers in his hair, holding his head against her.
Pressure pervaded as Jared pushed two fingers into her channel. Her muscles clamped around him, wanting more. He gave it to her, working a third finger inside, and Melania whimpered at the pleasure of it. He circled her clit with his thumb, driving her wild, decimating any remnants of reservation. She arched her back and surrendered to the sensations, no longer caring that she was in the kitchen, perched in front of her window, the faucet poking her back. She smelled her need, hot and musky, a primal scent of sex, as Jared’s hand grew slick with her juices. Lewd sex noises filled the kitchen—her low whimpers, his fingers squishing in her creaming pussy, his mouth suckling hard at her breast.
Then his magic fingers were gone; his wonderful mouth was gone.
Panicked, she sought his gaze.
His eyes glittered with carnal intent, and he undid his belt and pants. Not bothering to remove his clothing, he shoved his trousers and shorts down. His beautiful cock sprang up, rigid and ready, the crown glistening. Melania’s mouth went dry, and her heart beat a frantic rhythm. Delicious anticipation skittered through her.
In one scoop, Jared pulled her off the counter and impaled her. She jerked in his arms at the familiar burn of tissues stretching to accommodate his girth. How could pain feel so delicious? Moaning in delight, she wrapped her legs around him.
He thrust into her, his fingers biting into her bottom, using his strength to raise and lower her on his cock. She couldn’t discern if he was thrusting or if she was. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating pleasure of having his cock stretching her, thrusting inside her. The hood of her clit was pulled back, exposing the engorged bud to the tormenting friction. The need for release, a release only her husband could give her, wound her into a tight spiral of tension. She clung to Jared, moving with desperation.
“Tell me what you need,” his guttural voice commanded. “Tell me, Melania.”
“I need you,” she moaned, resisting. She knew full well what he meant, and his demand caused a flood of embarrassment to heat her face even as new wetness drenched her pussy.
He shook his head. “Tell me. Talk dirty to me, baby.”
“Please, Jared.” She dropped her back and bared her neck.
“Please what?” He nipped the sensitive skin she’d exposed. He slowed his thrusts to a tormenting slide, denying her the satisfaction she craved.
He bit her again, and the words he’d commanded, that she wanted to say, tumbled out. “Fuck me, Jared. Fuck me with your cock—hard.”
“Ah, Melania,” he groaned. The grip of his fingers bruised her ass cheeks as he drove into her, a man possessed. He pistoned his cock into her sex so forcefully, she half expected actual flames to ignite. Her nostrils flared, and she even imagined she smelled smoke. Knowing he needed her as much as she needed him pierced the sexual haze that fogged her mind, but she jettisoned it, unwilling to think about anything but her body’s demand for satisfaction.
He crushed her lips with his mouth, kissing her fiercely, muffling her tortured moans before moving to her ear. “Mine. Melania. Mine.” Jared punctuated each growled word with a hard thrust.
She gasped as the tension in her clit swelled to a crescendo and detonated in a searing orgasmic fireball. Stars exploded behind her eyes as her muscles went into rigor. Her clit spasmed in painful pleasure as her pussy contracted around Jared’s cock. His body tensed, his cock convulsed, and he came with a roar.
Together they tumbled in a freefall of orgasmic bliss—then crashed to a hard stop as an ear-piercing shriek sliced the air. Jared jerked, and Melania cried out.
“What the fuck—” Jared clasped her protectively against him. He turned his head. “It’s the smoke alarm,” he shouted above the wailing siren at the same time she spotted the gray cloud floating over their heads. She hadn’t imagined the odor of something burning; it was real.
She stared at the smoke streaming out of the oven. “It’s the cookies,” she yelled.
They disengaged, and Jared set her on her feet. He ripped off his shirt and fanned the wailing smoke alarm as Melania dashed to the stove, turned it off, and turned on the fan. She yanked open the window that only moments before had framed their carnal exhibition.
With a potholder, she extracted a tray of charred, smoking blobs from the oven and tossed it in the sink.
The alarm shut off. Blessed silence filled the kitchen. For a long moment they stared at each other.
Jared had pulled up his briefs and trousers, but his pants were still unbuttoned, and his hair stood at all angles. She still wore her skirt, but she was naked from the waist up. The kitchen smelled of sex and burned cookies.
A giggle erupted from her throat. “That was quite a climax. We set off the smoke alarm.”
Jared’s gaze shifted pointedly from the trace of haze hovering over their heads to the tray in the sink. “You think it’s funny?” He regarded her with narrowed eyes. “The cookies have been ruined. The kitchen reeks of smoke.” He stepped toward her. “Leaving food unattended in the oven is dangerous. I’m very disappointed in you. I think I need to teach you a lesson,” his gravelly voice scolded.
She sucked in a shocked breath, her body tensing until she noticed the teasing glint in his eyes, the quirk of his lips. Jared was trying hard not to laugh. His displeasure was all a put-on.
A different kind of flutter shivered through her. With the wisdom of feminine intuition, Melania knew how to goad him. She wanted to push his buttons in a way that only a wife could. Hands on her hips, she struck a defiant pose. “You distracted me, Jared Traynor. I told you the cookies were done. This is your fault.”
“My fault, is it?” Six feet of masculine menace, he padded toward her and stopped an arm’s length away. “So, first you burn the cookies, and now you’re refusing to take responsibility?” He shook his head in mock regret. “You’re a naughty girl. You leave me no choice but to punish you. Severely.”
He gestured toward the dishes and utensils she’d left to dry in the rack. “Is that the wooden spoon you used to make the cookies you let burn?”
“Y-yes.” A warm, liquid sensation curled in the pit of her stomach. Her clit, which should have been immune to stimulation, pulsed. She couldn’t believe she was becoming even the slightest bit aroused by the threat of a spanking. Even a pretend one.
“Give it to me.” He stuck out his hand.
“No.” She stomped her foot and watched lust light up his gaze. Her pussy clenched with an answering need.
“I’m going to spank you extra for that.” Jared’s eyes flashed wickedly.
Melania’s breath was coming in shallow gasps. She flattened her palm against her naked chest to calm her racing, wayward heart.
Before she could blink, Jared lunged and grabbed the spoon out of the rack with one hand and her wrist in the other. As he dragged her toward a counter barstool, she dug in her heels, but her sandaled feet had little traction, and she slid across the tiled floor. He sat down and hauled her over his lap, then flipped her skirt over her waist.
She heard him suck in his breath, imagined his hands shaking as he smoothed his palms over her bottom, caressing each rounded cheek slowly, almost reverently. He sighed heavily, mockingly. “It’s a shame that such a gorgeous ass is wasted on such a naughty girl.”
“I am not naughty. It was your fault the cookies burned,” she protested. “And my ass is not wasted on me.”
“Argumentative too.” He smacked her left cheek with the spoon. A light tap, it bore only a slight sting. Another tap grazed her other cheek.
She squirmed, trying to roll off his lap, but he clamped his arm on her lower back.
“This is for trying to get away!” The spoon descended in a fusillade of butterfly kisses.
A deep-seated craving awakened with a yawn and rose inside her. Her breathing hitch
ed. Because voicing her dawning desire would require admitting it to herself, she couldn’t speak the words. So instead, she kicked.
Jared swung a thigh over her flailing legs and immobilized her. She reveled in his show of superior strength—and his weakness. Beneath her abdomen, his cock hardened. A sensation of warmth, like a dose of hot chocolate on a cold day, coursed through her veins.
She wiggled the best she could to arouse him further. It worked. His cock became rigid.
“Now look at what you’ve done,” he scolded. The spoon left a delicious sting, and Melania whimpered in delight.
Lord help him if this woman ever became aware of her power. All she had to do was wiggle her butt, and he’d drop to his knees and kiss her feet.
Jared had never been much of an ass man, preferring other parts of the female anatomy, but since his marriage to Melania, he’d developed a serious obsession. He adored everything about Melania’s ass: the way it nestled against him when they spooned and when she cuddled on his lap—how it looked bent over his lap. He loved the way she filled out a pair of jeans, and he sometimes walked behind her so he could watch her buttocks shifting. And dressed in a thong? Holy fucking Christ. Whoever designed that piece of silly, useless underwear deserved to be crowned king of the universe.
“Admit you’re a naughty girl, and maybe I’ll let you up.” He grinned wickedly to himself. Not a chance.
“I won’t!” Melania yelled, the response he’d hoped for.
He rewarded her by peppering her luscious cheeks and watched in fascination as her creamy white skin turned a delicate pink. That was another of his favorite things—the way her ass blushed, the way he could make it blush. He caressed the pink mounds, and she emitted a little moan of pleasure. Seeing Melania this way reminded him of the erotic photographs in the men’s den at the Rod and Cane Society. Perhaps he should commission the photographer to shoot a photograph of Melania for his home office.
Or for their bedroom. He didn’t want to share even a glimpse of her ass with anyone.
Jared made a mental note to contact the photographer first thing on Monday.
He delivered two more stinging swats with the spoon. “I think you’ve learned your lesson now,” he said sternly and released her. She wiggled off his lap and rubbed her bottom. Her luscious mouth curved into such a sweet pout, he wanted to spank her again.
Turning her ass a pale pink for play was one thing; reddening it was left for serious discipline. He didn’t want to hurt her. It ripped at his guts to hear her cry and know his spanking caused it. But he stood by the principles of domestic discipline, believed it made for a happier, more harmonious marriage. His father hadn’t hesitated to tan a backside that required it, be it his children’s or his wife’s, and his parents had been as happy as two people could ever be until the day they died in a car accident.
And as much as he loved Melania’s spunk and playfulness, her exuberance needed to be channeled. Unpleasant as a disciplinary spanking was for both of them, it was his duty to ensure she received what she needed.
But this afternoon was all about fun.
Melania stood before him now, her nipples perky and hard, a seductive smile curving her lips, her eyes glowing. He wanted to kiss her beautiful blushing behind and then the rest of her. Yes, he was enthralled with her sweet, rounded ass. But not only her ass. He loved her. All of her. Totally.
Her love, trust, and acceptance meant everything to him.
Chapter Nine
Melania and Jared awoke Sunday and spent a leisurely morning cuddling in bed before enjoying a pancake breakfast that Melania managed not to burn even though Jared kept slipping his hands under her robe to caress her.
It was midmorning by the time she finally showered and dressed for the day. She donned her most comfy jeans and a supersoft, clingy printed tee. She was sorting through the jewelry box on her dresser for earrings when Jared entered the bedroom.
She found the pair she wanted and glanced at her husband. As it was a casual, laid-back day, she’d skipped a bra, and she could tell from the appreciative glint in his eyes that it hadn’t escaped her husband’s notice.
She fastened a loop to her ear and was about to do the other when Jared spoke. “Your father called me this morning.”
Melania’s heart picked up a beat. She’d forgotten she’d contacted her father. Her gaze threatened to stray to the suitcase’s location under the bed, but she forced herself to ignore it and act normally. She pasted an unconcerned expression on her face. “I guess they’re back from vacation, then,” she said nonchalantly, but her hands fumbled with the other earring.
“He said you’d left a message and said it was important.” Jared’s expression was questioning.
Silently Melania cursed dominant males everywhere. She was the one who’d phoned her father, so why was he calling Jared? She nibbled her lower lip as she weighed plausible excuses. There was no good way to explain. “I’m sure I must have thought it was important at the time”—she shrugged—“but I can’t remember what I wanted. I’ll call him later.” That would give her time to think of something to tell her father.
“Okay.” Jared’s features lightened. “What do you want to do today?”
Melania released her tension with a silent sigh. “I don’t have anything planned. What would you like?” The earring was giving her trouble. She couldn’t seem to find the hole in her lobe. Of course, her trembling hands didn’t help.
“There’s an outdoor festival up the coast. We could take a drive and check it out.”
“That sounds nice,” she said. The earring popped out of her fingers, and she watched in horror as it bounced under the bed.
“I’ll get it.” Jared stepped forward.
“That’s okay, I got it,” she said quickly, but Jared was already on his knees, lifting the dust ruffle.
No, no, no. She wanted to yell. She pressed her hand to her mouth as a slow-motion train wreck played out before her.
“Something’s in the way. Ah! Here’s your earring…” Jared trailed off. “What’s this?” He dragged her bag out from under the bed.
Melania’s stomach lurched. “It’s nothing. Here, I’ll take care of that.” She tried to take the suitcase, but Jared’s bulk blocked the way.
“What’s your suitcase doing here?” He shifted his gaze from the Pullman to Melania. A heavy silence sucked the air from the room. Her breathing labored, and Melania could do nothing but watch in dread, rooted to the spot, as Jared unzipped the bag. He flipped back the top to reveal the jumble of her clothing.
Melania stopped breathing as Jared’s frown of puzzlement gave way to head-jerking, wide-eyed realization. For a heartbreaking moment, Jared looked as if someone had died before a door slammed shut on his pain, leaving only anger. The icy look he turned on her chilled her to the bone.
“I’m so sorry.” Melania’s voice quivered. “It’s not what you think.”
Jared rose to his feet. Thunderclouds coalesced in his eyes. “If it’s not what I think, what do you have to be sorry about?” His voice was soft—too soft.
Tears pricked Melania’s eyes. She’d never, ever wanted to hurt him. She wanted to comfort him, reassure him, beg for his forgiveness, but she could tell from his stiff posture if she were to throw herself in his arms, it would be like bouncing off a wall.
Why, why, why hadn’t she gotten rid of the damn suitcase?
“Were you going to wait until I left for work and sneak out? I’d come home and you’d be gone?”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” She touched his arm, but he shook her off. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists.
“Then how it is, Melania? How the fuck is it?” he yelled. She jumped. He’d never raised his voice to her before.
Melania bit her wobbling lip. “I was…confused. After you spanked me. I panicked. I meant to unpack the suitcase.”
“Then why didn’t you? You’ve had plenty of time to do so. Why keep it?”
Ever
y time she’d thought about the bag, Jared had been home. When she was alone, she never seemed to remember. Her hands fluttered impotently. Her stomach churned. How was she going to fix this? “I don’t know.”
“I know why.” His eyes glittered like two obsidian orbs. Two hard, unforgiving stones. “You don’t want to be married to me,” he accused. “The first time things didn’t go your way, your instinct was to run to Daddy.”
Her face flushed with guilt. It had been only one small moment in time that she had panicked. Even if she had left, she would have returned; she knew that now. “I know it appears that way, but—”
“That’s why you called your father.” His voice, calm now, frightened her more than when he had yelled. “You wanted to ask him to take you back.” His cold eyes dared her to deny it.
Melania hung her head. She had no defense. There was enough truth in his accusation to make it impossible to deny. “I wouldn’t have done that. I only wanted space to think.” Her words sounded lame even to her.
“Go home to Daddy, Melania.” Jared dropped her earring into the open suitcase. “That’s where you belong.” He strode from the room.
The bedroom door closed. Melania burst into tears and flung herself on the bed. She grabbed Jared’s pillow and hugged it to her chest. His masculine scent on the soft cotton made her cry harder. What had she done? Why hadn’t she put away the suitcase? She never should have behaved like such a baby and packed it in the first place. She loved Jared. She’d rip out her heart before she left him.
If she still had one. She ached as if the organ had already been torn from her chest. Jared had acted so cold. So angry. She had wounded him so deeply, he didn’t want her anymore. He ordered her to go away. Aching and heaving, she sobbed into his pillow.
All she had to do to prevent this was put away the suitcase. One simple, tiny task. And she hadn’t done it. Why? Was Jared right? Had she kept it so she could escape if she felt the need? She’d been restrained and spanked to tears until she could hardly sit down. The entire disciplinary session had knocked her off balance, sent her reeling in confusion. But she never stopped loving Jared. Never stopped wanting him.
