by Loki Renard
“What do you want, Marnie? Do you want me to spank you? Is that it?”
“No,” she said hoarsely, her fingers twisting in the towel.
The longer she was out of the shower, the paler she looked. He noticed that she was breathing faster than she really should have been, and there was a tremor in her hands as she adjusted the towel. Her pupils were dilated too, her nostrils flaring. If she were a horse, she’d be about to bolt.
“Marnie,” he said, softening his tone. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she insisted.
“Don’t lie to me, little girl.”
* * *
“God! Just leave me alone, Sam!”
Marnie was asking for the one thing she really didn’t want at all. Actually, she didn’t ask for it. She shouted it. At full volume.
She didn’t want him to leave her alone, but she didn’t want to admit what was going on either. She was melting down, that’s what was happening. She was freaking the fuck out, for no reason other than the bathroom was too small and the light had gone out and now she really, really needed someone to hold her.
“That’s it,” he growled, advancing on her.
She expected him to grab her and smack her. What she didn’t expect was to be picked up over his shoulder in one swooping motion and be carried into her bedroom, the towel that had somewhat protected her modesty left behind on the bathroom floor.
“Sam! No!”
He sat down on the bed, slid her naked body down from his shoulder, and pulled her into his lap. Not over it, thank god. His big arms wrapped around her, and his fingers found her chin, forcing her to look into his steel blue eyes.
“That is not the way to get me to leave you alone, little girl,” he growled.
She felt her breath catching in her throat as she looked at him. She was naked! He didn’t seem to care about that though. He had lecturing to do, and he was obviously going to do it.
“Is that really what you want? Because right now you’re doing everything to make me whip your ass as long and as hard as I can.”
Marnie shrank down in his arms. She had a sense of his strength, and knew he was capable of carrying out the threat. She might be in real trouble now.
“No,” she whispered.
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
“I got scared,” she mumbled.
“Because the light went out?” His voice was softer now, more encouraging. There was none of the judgment and disdain she’d feared.
“Because I freak out sometimes,” she mumbled, tears coming into her eyes as she told him the last thing she wanted to admit. “I just… get scared for no reason. Ever since the quake. It’s so stupid. I hate it.”
His arms tightened around her, snuggling her close against his powerful male body. She felt the soft knit of his sweater against her naked curves, his pants a little rough against her bare bottom.
“The quakes must have been really scary,” he said, speaking softly, his deep voice soothing her. “Sometimes, when something really scary happens, your body remembers it for a long time afterward. It’s not stupid.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, trying her best not to cry. “Because I came here, and I was so stupid I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be doing and then you yelled at me because I don’t know about horses, and I slept with you and… I’m so dumb!”
“You are not dumb,” he rumbled as she started to cry. “You’re stressed and you’re tired and I’ve given you a harder time than I should have. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about what happened over the bike…”
Marnie started to cry even harder. He wished he hadn’t slept with her. She didn’t blame him. “It’s my fault, I know I’m gross. You must think I’m such a stupid slut.”
“Don’t you dare talk about yourself that way!” Sam’s censure snapped her out of her self-pity. “I don’t mean I’m sorry about what we did. I’m sorry that we did it so quickly, before you even had a chance to settle or get to know me. I should have waited. It would have been better for you, but I wanted you, so I took you.”
His words made her quiver low in her belly. Yes. He had taken her. He had taken her and she had forgotten about everything except him. For the first time in weeks and weeks, she’d actually been free of the stress of the earthquakes and everything she’d lost. Her tears dried as she remembered how he’d held her down, fucked her thoroughly and then kept her in place, displaying her pussy to the world. She wished she hadn’t told him to let her up. She wished they could do it again. Now. Her nakedness, which had been so shameful at first, was starting to become an advantage. There was nothing to stop him from pulling his cock out and pushing it inside her again, fucking her until she forgot about the very concept of fear.
“Sam…” she said his name huskily. “I wanted you too.”
“I know,” he said, shifting her a little on his lap, moving her just the barest fraction away from his crotch. “But I want to take my time with you, Marnie. You deserve that. You need time to adjust to things here. And there’s a lot of adjusting to do. I’m not an easy man to work for, let alone to be with…”
“Yeah,” she said with a little giggling snort. “I reckon!”
“Right, so, let’s get you dressed,” he said, sliding her onto the bed.
She sat there, pouting as he retrieved her suitcase and slid it up onto a small chest of drawers, sliding the zippers open. She thought about complaining about her privacy, but as he reached into the suitcase and pulled out a pair of panties with pink hearts on them and turned to her with a smile, she didn’t think she cared very much about her privacy anymore.
“Legs out,” he said, crouching in front of her.
“You’re not going to dress me, Sam.” She blushed incredulously down at the handsome man with the brilliant blue eyes who was handling her underwear.
“Oh, yes, I am, little girl,” he rumbled, sliding one leg of the panties over her raised foot as she offered it in spite of her objections. “And then we’re going to go and eat some tea.”
Marnie held his gaze as Sam slid the underwear up her legs, his fingers brushing the inside of her thighs as he raised them higher. She wiggled her hips, trying to brush her pussy accidentally-on-purpose across his fingers. It didn’t work. Instead, Sam frowned as he pulled her to her feet and gently put the underwear in place, snugging the elastic firm around her hips.
“Right. Pyjamas.”
“I don’t want to wear pyjamas,” she protested. “It’s not night-time yet!”
“Pyjamas are just what you need, little girl,” Sam insisted in a gravelly voice. “We’re not going back outside today; we’re going to have dinner, sign your employment contract, then go to bed. We have an early start in the morning, remember.”
Marnie groaned. She hadn’t forgotten, but she was hoping he had. Or that he was at least going to ease her into it gently. Getting up at half past five in the morning would be akin to torture.
While he was turned around fishing in her suitcase for more clothing, Marnie glared at his back. She remembered how nice it had been pressed up against that same broad back on the bike, how strong it had felt. She felt herself blush even more as she remembered what had happened on that bike and what had come straight afterward. She wanted to do it again. She really wanted to do it again.
Smiling mischievously, she pouted her lips just slightly, in the way that she knew made her look sexy, then folded her arms across her ribcage, just under her breasts, the pressure of her arms thrusting her breasts up and out, making her bosom look far more impressive than it actually was.
“These ones?” Sam held up a pair of pink flannel pyjamas with black cats on them and turned to her. His eyes widened as he automatically glanced at her chest, holding the pyjamas out in front of him, sort of like a shield. Like he was protecting himself from something… from her. Quickly, he looked away, perhaps trying to pretend that her pose, the one she was putting on especially for him, didn’t affect him at all. But it did;
she’d seen his reaction, the way his eyes had burned with lust, the rather large bulge tenting the front of his jeans. She smiled smugly. He wanted her; good.
“Those ones,” she confirmed.
It was a bit embarrassing, having a man handling her sleepwear. Especially when the only sleepwear she’d thought to pack was so childish, in stark contrast to the skimpy clothes she’d been wearing all day. If she’d known someone as sexy as Sam would be seeing her night attire she would have found a sexy sheer lace nightie to wear or something, not the comfy, worn PJs she’d had for years—a birthday present from Grandma. Although, if she were honest, she hadn’t actually been thinking too much at all when she’d stuffed the only clothes she could find into the suitcase. She hadn’t really considered what she might need, and most of her stuff had been destroyed by the liquefaction anyway. Her favourite pyjamas were probably lucky to escape the oozing muddy liquid that covered nearly everything else.
Sam was so close she could hear him breathing, the raspy inhalations coming in a quick, shallow rhythm. He was so close she could stretch out her hand just the tiniest bit and run her fingers up the front of his thigh. Sparks zinged between his jeans and her fingertips, her skin on fire as she worked her way slowly up his leg, angling inward, toward his crotch. The hard muscles of his thigh rippled beneath her touch. He sucked in a breath. He felt so good beneath her hand. It felt so right to touch him on her terms, rather than the other way round. It occurred to her then that this was the first time she had touched him voluntarily. She’d been in his arms, she’d hung on around his waist on the back of the motorbike, and she’d been across his knee getting her butt smacked, but touching him now, feeling his body beneath her hand, in control, was entirely different. Electricity bolted through her, tingling her spine, setting her nerve endings on fire.
Her fingers rested at the base of his fly, just briefly, then she spread out her hand, cupping his balls in her palm, feeling the weight of them even through his jeans. She squeezed lightly. He froze.
“No.” Sam’s voice was hoarse as he grabbed her wrist and held it away from him, his palm clammy, his fingers far too tight around her. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No. Get dressed.”
Tears of rejection pricked behind her eyes and she felt her face flame. “You don’t want me,” she whispered, barely able to hold herself together. But she would not cry. Not now. Not because of him.
“Oh, I definitely want you, little girl,” Sam growled. “But I need to do what’s best for you.”
“You don’t know what’s best for me.”
* * *
What the hell was he doing? He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be in her room with her, especially not when she was mostly naked, her forearm hoisting up her beautiful breasts, making them look even more voluptuous and tempting.
She was right: he didn’t know what was best for her. If he did, they wouldn’t be in this situation right now. She wouldn’t be sitting mostly naked on the bed and he wouldn’t be holding her pyjamas, having just slid her knickers up her thighs and over her hips, hiding her most intimate places from his view. He could still see her in his memory though, the glistening folds of her pussy, wet for him, pink and swollen with arousal.
The gentle slide of his fingers up his leg nearly did him in. He knew what she was doing, the little brat—her intention was written plainly all over her face. She was trying to seduce him, and a damn fine job she was doing of it, too! But he couldn’t let her. Not after what he’d done to her on the bike. He still wanted to kick himself for taking advantage of her like that. Not that he regretted their fucking, but he should have known better. He did know better. Aunty Magda would have his guts for garters if she knew he was treating the new hand in that way. And judging by the utterly devastated look on Marnie’s face right now, he’d not only ripped her heart out when he’d pulled her hand away from him, but he’d trampled on it, too. Knowing how much he’d hurt her made him feel worse.
He needed a cold shower. He needed to do something, anything, to get the thoughts of the beautiful blonde sitting on the bed in front of him out of his head. She wasn’t his plaything, she wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his new employee. What kind of asshole was he, giving into temptation so quickly?
“I’m sorry, Marnie, I really am.”
“Fuck off.” It was a snarl, but filled with pain.
“You wanted me to leave you alone,” he reminded her gently.
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind?” she yelled at him, tears streaming down her face now, but her voice strong. “You can’t really be that much of an idiot, can you? I’ve changed my mind!”
As close as she’d been to making him lose control with her seduction, the sudden petulance was not a turn-on. At all. He didn’t sleep with women because they cried and demanded it. Marnie was tired and stressed, but there was no excuse for this behaviour whatsoever. She’d been disrespectful from the beginning, and he was about done with it.
“Don’t speak to me like that, Marnie.”
“Like what? Calling you an idiot? That’s what you are. An idiot! A stupid damn dumbass!”
“Get dressed,” he said, his tone clipped. “Now.”
“No!”
She didn’t pick up on his change of tone, or if she did, she didn’t sense the warning. Either way, Sam was done arguing with this bratty little girl.
He grabbed Marnie and proceeded to physically wrestle her into her pyjamas. She cursed and swore and squirmed as he pulled the top over her head, resisting him while he did his best to push her arms into the sleeves. She was acting like the little girl he described her as being, and not in any kind of charming or sweet way. She was a little hellion in dire need of proper discipline. His palm caught her deserving bottom several times, painting the soft flesh outside her panties with bright red fingerprints. When her top was on, he pinned her on her back on the bed using his body weight, pulled the pyjama pants up and over her feet and legs, and yanked them firmly into place.
Marnie yelled blue murder throughout the whole proceedings. Anyone would have thought she was being tortured. Never in his life had Sam seen anyone fuss this much over putting their clothes on. If she put half the energy she put into resisting him into paying attention and learning her new job, she’d pick it up in no time.
She was finally dressed, but he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long way. Now he could turn her over his knee and give her what she really needed, and that’s exactly what he did. Before she could mouth off yet again, he yanked her up from the bed and pulled her over his thigh, locking her legs between his legs by closing the other one. This wasn’t going to be any warning ass warming. This was going to be the real thing.
“You want to sleep with me, Marnie?” he lectured, his palm meeting her ass firmly. “You behave yourself. You do as you’re told. You don’t swear and scream and yell at me like a spoiled little girl.”
“Why not! You keep calling me that!”
He laid into her then, his palm meeting her butt a good dozen times. He’d tried to ease her into this gently, but Marnie just kept pushing. No matter what he did, she acted out. She’d probably hate him for this too, but he’d rather she hated him for this than let her carry on thinking that shit was going to fly.
The sound of his hand meeting her ass was like gunshots echoing around the room, followed by the higher pitched plaintive cries that escaped her with every swat. She was still noisy, but at least she wasn’t swearing and yelling at him anymore. She was too busy getting thoroughly spanked. Her gasps and yelps sounded perfect to his ears, just the right blend of shocked and plaintive.
Hopefully she was learning her lesson and he wouldn’t have to hear her call him a dick again. And what else had she called him? Idiot. That’s right. Letting out a little growl, he hooked his hand in the back of her pyjamas and panties, pulling them down just below her ass. Her cheeks were an even pink colour. Good start, but not nearly enough. He set about making it a prope
r red, whipping his palm against her cheeks over and over until her toes drummed against the floor.
Marnie wasn’t going to curse at him again. She wasn’t going to call him disrespectful names. She wasn’t going to just demand sex as if he were her personal fuck toy. This little girl had a lot to learn about a lot of things, especially about him.
“When I tell you to do something, you do it,” he lectured as she writhed over his lap. “You don’t answer back. You don’t call me a dick. You sure as hell don’t refuse to put your clothes on. As for the rest—I’ll let you know when I’m ready to fuck you again, Marnie. Understand?”
She didn’t answer. She was too busy snivelling.
He smacked her bare ass hard. “I said, understand?”
“Yes!” She squealed the word.
“Good.”
He held her in place, one hand fisted in the back of her pyjamas, the other resting on her hot ass. It looked perfect like this, two squirming red rounds and the little cleft between them where he knew she would be hot and wet. His lust rose, but he pushed it back down. Now wasn’t the time.
“Get up,” he said, pulling her to her feet. There were tears running down her pretty face. She looked at him with a wounded, doe-like expression. That didn’t please him either. There was no need for her to be feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t been hard done by. This was what brats got. As far as he was concerned, she was damn lucky he hadn’t taken his belt off for her.
“Go stand in the corner.”
“What?”
He got up, grabbed her by the back of the collar, and marched her into the corner of the room. He pushed her firmly into it so her nose was pressed against the very apex, then took her hands and put them on top of her head.
“They stay there, and your butt stays bare until I say so,” he told her. “Move a centimetre and we’ll start all over again.”
