by Megan McCoy
Starting to writhe frantically, she had finally kicked her panties and shorts down to below her knees. Wouldn’t be long now. And there came the begging. He had to admire her stamina today. She’d held out a while, and he could almost feel the heat radiating off her bottom. Like someone had told him once, ‘bottoms can take a lot’ and he planned to give her a lot.
“Please! No. No more! Stop!” She wailed.
Should he answer her? Could she hear him? She could probably hear his tone, at least. “No. You aren’t near done yet.” That sounded authoritative, he thought.
“I’ll be good,” she sobbed.
“Yes, you will be good and I’m going to make sure of it,” he told her and didn’t stop the steady thwack of the cutting board on her bare skin. He went a little lower and heard the satisfying screech and the hard jerk that made him know that connected to her brain. She tried to crawl off his lap, so, reluctantly, he trapped her legs with his, tipping her forward more but stopping the kicking he’d been enjoying so much. However, this position made her legs spread and he got a nice view of all the parts he’d be enjoying later.
“I can’t,” she cried.
“You don’t have an option,” he said, and tipped her up further. He’d be aiming a few on that very tender spot between her bottom and thigh and seeing if that made her jump and rub. He was in the mood for that. He hadn’t been in the mood for this, but he’d done his best to indulge her need. Gearing up he did four hard smacks and then to the sound of her choked sobs, grabbed her by the shoulder and stood her up.
It was apparent in her actions she didn’t realize what she looked like or that it was over. Grabbing her rear, she rubbed frantically and bounced up and down on her toes, howling, eyes shut, mouth open and then lifted her knees, prancing just a bit. He’d done a fine job.
He was about to order her to the corner when she sank down on the floor and began sobbing. Huge big heart broken sobs that tore at his heart. He couldn’t deal with this.
He did what wanted to do, which was sit down on the floor with her and scoop her up onto his lap, while she sobbed, in pitiful barely breath catching sobs onto his shoulder.
Patting her back, he put on his best soothing voice, “Shh, baby, I got you, it's okay. Calm down.” Alarmed, he worried if he’d really hurt her or what. All he could do now was offer comfort. “Hey, hey,” he brushed her dark hair back from her eyes and decided to let her cry a few more minutes. Maybe that was what she’d been after all along, a good long stress relieving cry. But he had to pet her and hold her and yes, even rocked her back and forth like he did Blaze when he’d been little.
He was too old to sit on the floor. He held her tight, and stood, carrying her to the rocker where she sat on his lap, and continued to sob brokenly. He felt better in the rocker. Stronger, more in control. She cuddled up on his lap like a little girl and he wanted to do nothing but protect her and love her.
“Liz, baby, talk to me. What’s going on?” he prodded while rubbing her back and holding her close.
She shook her head and sobbed harder.
Damn. This wasn’t good. This didn’t seem like a bridezilla tantrum but he didn’t know what it was. Had he screwed up?
He screwed up his courage. No. He hadn’t. He’d done the right thing. He just needed to deal with the fall out like a man. Like a Lyon man.
Cole strolled along the path to the lake. What would a Lyon man do? He didn’t know. His dad, while a good man, had been in a constant battle with his mom, he’d rarely been home and Cole didn’t have many memories of him. He’d found out when he grew up that her mom had her own issues, but at the time all he knew was that his mom and dad fought all the time his dad was home.
After the crash that claimed his dad’s life and sent his mom to prison, he lived with Jeb and Rose. Kids weren’t supposed to know things, but he never heard Jeb raise his voice with Rose. They never fought like his mom and dad had. However, he did hear the sounds of an occasional spanking, and he never knew two people more in love than Rose and Jeb. His active teenage brain made the leap and he knew he would never be the man his dad was. He much preferred the model that Jeb set for him. Didn’t mean he knew it all, he just knew he wasn’t going to be a fighter. He’d be a solver. That’s how Jeb seemed to him. He figured out the problem and he solved it.
So far in all his relationships, he’d managed to be just like Jeb. Many women didn’t need to be spanked, but the few that did, well, it wasn’t a problem for him.
This woman was different. She wasn’t a petulant spoiled brat, acting out for attention. She needed something more. He paced through the woods, contemplating if he could give her what she needed or if she should be sent along her way before he got in any deeper. The former was tempting, the latter seemed unthinkable.
He’d only known her a couple of weeks. He didn’t know why he was thinking along these lines. Hell, they hadn’t even had sex yet, a slight issue he planned to modify as soon as he thought she was ready. A life with her, would never be boring. He had never wanted boring, but he did want stability in his life, knowing what would happen when he woke up every morning. He would always be surprised with Rayne. Continuing to walk, he ended up in front of her cabin.
Happenstance?
He didn’t know.
Knocking gently on the door, he heard nothing but the TV from inside. “Rayne, you there?” he called.
“Yes, go away,” she said.
She sounded odd, he thought. Tired? Maybe. “Rayne, let me in.” He really wanted to see her. Needed to see what this weird attraction was, if it was real or if it was something he dreamed up because he was hard up.
“Go away, Cole, I don’t want to come to the door, I’m not dressed,” she said, plainly.
“That’s okay, I don’t care. Can I just come in for a few minutes?”
“It's unlocked,” she said.
He walked in, hoping she really wasn’t dressed, because he was a male after all, but she was. Sitting in her recliner with a drink in her hand, staring at the TV. Her t-shirt almost wasn’t see-through, and her hair tumbled around her breasts. Legs covered by a blanket thing of some kind, he could see fuzzy slippers peeking down at the end.
“What are you doing,” he asked, planning to drop into the recliner next to her, but it was full, so he pulled up a chair from the small kitchen table.
“Watching TV, obviously,” she said, not looking at him. “Oh, where are my manners? If you want a drink, I heard there’s a lovely bar down in town.”
“No, thanks, I’m good,” he said, slowly. “Are you mad at me about something?”
“Nope.” she said succinctly. “Why would I be?”
“I can think of a lot of reason,” he said, turning the chair around to straddle in and watched her twist her hair in her fingers.
“Can you?” she said, sarcastically, still not looking at him. “Name one.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good use of time,” he said. The rum bottle didn’t look too far gone. “Why don’t you just tell me what the problem is.” It wasn’t a question. It was stated plainly.
“Because,” she finally turned and glared at him. “Why? Why do I owe you anything? I do my job, I get my paycheck, and the boss gets to get his jollies spanking me once in a while. What’s not to love about life here?”
Well, that was pretty plain, he thought. “The scenery is nice,” he said, softly.
“It's pretty on TV too,” she said, turning her face back toward it. “Look at all the man candy on there.”
“Man candy?” What the hell was man candy? Like eye candy? Women.
“I probably just need to leave,” she said. “I told Liz I’d bake her cakes. Do you know she’s really pissed off about her cakes?”
“What?” Women just, talked. Why? “Why is she upset about her cakes?” he asked, carefully. Did this have something to do with her mood? “Did she upset you?”
“Of course she upset me!” Rayne put the handle to her recliner down so she
sat straight up. “Why wouldn’t she upset me?”
“Because she asked you make cakes? You knew you were making cakes for her wedding,” he said. Damn, maybe he really did need a drink.
“The cakes have nothing to do with me being upset,” she said slowly as if he were a child. “I said Liz was upset about the cakes not me.”
Deep breath, boy, Cole told himself. One thing at a time. “Why is Liz upset about the cakes?”
“Because no one told her the wedding was as big as it's going to be till I did. Why wouldn't she know? She should have known. It's her wedding after all and it was mean of you all to make me tell her.”
“Tell her what?” Was she being deliberately obtuse or was there something he wasn’t catching onto?
“That her wedding was three or eighteen times bigger than she thought it was. Matt knew, Candy knew. Why didn’t Liz know?”
“Why would I know?” Cole could feel his palm start to itch. Someone was cruising for a bruising and he was about ready to give it to her.
“Because you are a damn Lyon male, and you are all alike!” She stood up and the blanket covering her legs feel to the floor. The floor light behind showed every curve and color underneath her thin t-shirt thing that barely skimmed her thighs. And she had no underwear at all on. Brilliantly, all he could do was stare. Her legs were pale, long and damn. She was all curves and all woman, and he couldn’t stop looking.
This. He needed this. Her.
Standing up, he took the space between them in two long strides and pulled her in his arms, kissing her hard. The alcohol must have had some effect on her because she kissed him back with abandon.
She’d been drinking he reminded himself. He wasn’t going to take advantage of a half-naked drunk girl. That was just a whole lot of wrong. But nothing wrong with holding her and kissing her, while she ground against him. He felt himself harden in response. Who was he lying to He’d been hard since she stood up.
Rising on her tiptoes, she whispered, “Please?”
Oh, God. Please what? He knew what. He wished he knew how drunk she was. He just couldn’t, but he could take her to bed, at least. Get her tucked in and suddenly, she shoved him, hard. Pushing him away.
“How dare you,” she snapped. “I’m throwing myself at you and you’re thinking about it? What kind of worthless piece of crap male are you? I could go to the barn right now and find six or eight cowboys who’d love me to ride them.”
“No, you couldn’t,” he said, firmly.
“Why? Think I’m too ugly for anyone to want me?”
“Men should be lining up to have sex with you, but no, you aren’t doing that.”
“Can if I want to,” she said, childishly.
“I won’t allow it,” he said and walked back over to her.
“You won’t let me have sex with other men and yet you won’t have sex with me? Yeah, that’s the kind of man I want. Bossy, impotent, and mean.”
Crushing her in his arms, he said, “I’m bossy, but not impotent or mean. But you are asking for a good paddling. Which I’m going to deliver, and then tomorrow when you are all sobered up, I’ll be glad to make love to you till you scream as loudly as you’re going to right now. “
“Don’t you dare,” she said, and seemed to suddenly realize the state of her clothes. Or lack thereof.
“Never dare a Lyon,” he said, and took a step forward to grab her by the arm. Two steps later they were on the bed, he was sitting and she was across his knees with her shirt riding up over her very bare behind.
“Damn, girl, you’re hot,” Okay that slipped out, and he focused on what needed done. She needed to know he could be relied on to do exactly as he said, every time he said something. Flipping up her shirt to the middle of his back he hid the sound of him swallowing hard by smacking on her creamy white bottom. Immediately she shrieked and his handprint showed up, red but fading quickly. He made a matching handprint on the other side and then began a steady staccato of spanks while she bucked and twisted and screamed like he was killing her.
“Settle down, it's just a spanking,” he scolded.
“It hurts!” she complained, and tried to roll off his lap. Yeah, like he’d never seen that move before.
“It's supposed to hurt. That’s what gets your attention,” he informed her. Man, her sweet butt had already turned pink and it was getting harder to distinguish his hand prints. He’d always thought a drink or two helped you deal with pain, but apparently, he was wrong about that. She was howling as if this was the first time she’d been spanked. Well, it was the first time she’d been spanked bare bottomed, and that made a big difference, both in the pain and the embarrassment issue. He wondered if she had a clue what all he could see, but he loved the fact she was unshaven and her hair down here matched the hair on her head… He liked his women to look like women and not little girls.
This one was all woman, even though she was bare assed over his knee getting paddled. He intended for her to get past whatever it was she was so pissy about and then tomorrow… yeah. Tomorrow.
A while later when her formerly pristine bottom was hot and red and throbbing, he stopped, and pulled her up. Then picking her up he walked to the bed, and pulled the blanket down with one yank, and dumped her unceremoniously on the sheets. Crying, she rolled over immediately on her stomach and he had to pause to admire his handiwork. He’d done a really good job of getting his point across. She stretched out and grabbed her pillow, her eyes tear filled and almost closed. Yeah, she’d had a rough day. Even though her breath still hitched and hiccupped, he knew she’d be asleep in a few minutes. Between the drink and her emotional upheaval, she’d be exhausted and out for the night. He waited till her breath evened out, then covered her with the sheet, almost wincing at the site of her red bottom. Damn, that was going to be sore tomorrow. But if he had anything to say about it, and he hoped he did, other parts of her would be too. He couldn’t wait.
Chapter 11
Liz stretched. Where was she? Oh, bed. How did she get here? Last thing she remembered was being over Matt’s knees again and searing pain in her bottom. She still had on his shirt, but nothing else. He however, was propped up right next to her acting as if they didn’t both have to be at work, her eyes flew to the clock, half an hour ago.
“Shit,” she said, and started to tumble out of bed. “We’re late.”
“Nope,” Matt rolled over on top of her. “We’re off. I called us both into work and Dad is taking Ben to work with him today.” She tried to push him off but not hard. Shoot, the man felt so good. Bare-chested and hard muscled.
“I can’t call in sick on my last day in over six weeks. I’ll be lucky to get my job back,” she said. “It's just wrong.”
“Wrong or not, that’s what happened and we have more things to think about than your job, right now,” he put both hands on either side of her and all she could do was look up at him. Was there anything better than the feel on him on her? She sure didn’t think so.
“How’s the butt,” he nuzzled his nose against her breast and made her smile. Okay, she liked that, and a day for them. They did need to talk.
“It hurts like it always does after you spank me like a brute,” she complained.
“A brute?” he smiled and she almost melted. Her hot cowboy.
“Yes, a big mean brute,” she said, and smiled back.
“Roll over, let me kiss it and make it better,” he said.
“How about kissing it with coffee breath?” she asked, smelling the coffee the automatic timer on the pot had ready for them.
“I guess that could happen. But you will not put any clothes on. I might need easy access to any part of you at any time,” he said, and it didn’t sound like he was joking, so she just nodded.
“I promise,” she said.
“You go to the bathroom and do what girls do, and I’ll bring us coffee,” he said.
Smiling, Liz did as she was told. Halfway to the bathroom, she frowned, though. The wedding. Tha
t was what she’d been so upset about. She remembered what his spanking and sex had blocked out of her mind for a few hours. Sleep was always good and made things seem better in the light of day.
Coming back after her morning ablutions she smiled again at the little tray Matt had on the bed. Coffee and rolls. He pointed to the bed, “We’re not leaving this bed till we talk until both of us are sick of the sound of our own voice.” How did he sound so firm and commanding and yet still so loving? It baffled her. She didn’t need to understand though, she only needed to do what he said, and talk. First coffee.
Coffee. Strong and black, just like she liked it. Sweet and tangy orange roll from Jenn’s skilled baking. Okay she began to feel fortified.
They ate in silence until he took the tray away and held out his hand for her coffee mug. Reluctantly she gave it to him. She didn’t want to. It felt like a defense. Something she could hold and feel protected. But. That was silly. She didn’t need protected from him.
He was her protector.
Handing him her coffee mug, she said, clearly and plainly, “I don’t want to get married.”
Cole looked over at Rayne, sleeping like the angel he knew she wasn’t and that he didn’t want her to be. Curled up on her side, and smiling in her sleep, she was a redheaded darling. She’d wake up soon and start spitting fireballs the color of her hair. Damn, he loved her.
Cole rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. Damn, he did not love her. He barely knew her.
What did he know about her? That she seemed alone in the world. That she was a hell of a chef. That she wanted to go to New Orleans for a reason she didn’t really know. He wondered if her New Orleans was like his Rose’s Ranch—things will be better once you are there. And most of all he knew that she needed someone to take her in hand and help her be the woman her damaged little self wouldn’t allow out. Too defensive. Too scared. Too quick to go on the attack.
