Cowboy Daddies: Two Western Romances

by Amelia Smarts;Jane Henry

  “And if I refuse?” she asked.

  He placed his hands on his hips, matching her stance, and scowled. “Is that what you’re doing? Refusing? You think you’re in any position to refuse?”

  “Uh…” She glanced away, and when she returned her gaze to him, she said in a faux brave voice that didn’t fool him, especially since she stammered her answer. “Yeah… I’m not even hungry. Just take your horse and… and fuck off, okay?”

  He’d had enough. She’d stolen his horse and insulted him instead of apologizing, and now she was swearing at him. There was no excuse for any of her terrible behavior, and he wasn’t about to tolerate more of it. “All right, that’s it,” he growled. “Seems like the seat of your jeans is in need of a good dusting. I warned you.” He strode to a stump, sat down, and proceeded to roll up his sleeve. “Come here and lie over my lap.”

  Her mouth dropped open. He’d finished securing his sleeve and had splayed his right hand on his knee before she found her tongue. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to just walk to you to get… s-sp…”

  “Spanked?” he finished for her. “Watch your language, especially when you’re about to be punished. And you are going to come and present yourself over my knee because if you don’t do so in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to do it for you, and if I have to do that, it won’t be a few swats with my hand. I’ll take my belt to you.”

  Her eyes rounded into two large saucers. She shook her head. “Okay, okay. You win. I won’t swear anymore, and I’ll ride back to the barn and accept a meal.”

  He almost smiled, remembering how he used to promise to behave in the vain hope it would get him out of a punishment, but it was always too late, just like it was too late for her. “You certainly will, after your spanking.”

  She took a step back. “Please… Don’t hurt me.” Her eyes had lost all of their defiance and conveyed only fear.

  She was right to be apprehensive about a spanking. Spankings hurt, after all, but he didn’t like that she looked so afraid. He held out his hand, and his voice was gentler when he spoke. “Come here. It’ll hurt, but not too badly and the pain won’t last.” He wouldn’t abandon the discipline. He always followed through on his word, but he almost wanted to forego it after seeing the look of fear in her eyes.

  Luckily, his words seemed to allow her fear to abate slightly, though she still looked plenty worried. He was pleased when she walked to him, and when she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her over his lap, that earned her a ‘good girl.’

  Her jeans stretched tight around her cheeks, prominently displaying her feminine curves. She was a pretty little brat, and she seemed so very small and vulnerable now that all her big talk had gone silent and she was positioned to receive a spanking. When he smoothed his hand over her bottom, her breath hitched. His hand looked giant resting on her small form, and it made him aware of how much he would need to hold back in order not to punish her too harshly.

  “So, you’ve been calling me Dad like a rebellious teenager and goading me, which makes me believe this kind of paternal discipline is just the thing for you.”

  Her legs dangled helplessly in the air, as he positioned her forward a bit and wrapped a hand around her waist to hold her in place.

  “I won’t call you Dad anymore,” she whined.

  “Probably not,” he agreed.

  Without further delay, he set his jaw and began the task of thoroughly whipping her little behind. After less than a minute of applying his palm to her wriggling cheeks at a steady, no-nonsense tempo, she began to show signs of distress. Her little yelps became more drawn out, soon morphing into cries, and she tried to twist out of his grip. She hadn’t asked him to stop, though, so he knew it was her pride that was feeling the most hurt.

  “Learning something from this?” he asked, while continuing the spanking.

  “Yes!” she said in a strangled voice.

  He paused, resting his hand on her bottom. He could feel the heat emanating from underneath her jeans. Her twin cheeks would be a healthy pink color by now, if not red.

  “What have you learned?”

  “Um, not to steal?”

  He landed another swat. “That’s not what this punishment is about.” When she didn’t offer the correct apology after a pause, he continued spanking her.

  “Please!” she cried. “I don’t know what you want me to say, I can’t think when I’m… getting spanked.”

  “Okay, I’ll make it simple for you. Repeat after me.” He landed a hard swat. “Say ‘I’ll obey you and ride Glaze back to the barn, like you asked me to. Then I will accept a meal from you.’”

  She repeated it back to him, word for word in a subdued, respectful tone.

  He smiled, pleased that she was complying. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so quick to mock someone trying to help her in the future. With a sudden wicked compulsion to punish her for calling him Dad derisively and pointing out his age, he ordered, “Now say, ‘I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.’”

  “Oh, my God. That is so fucked up,” she said in a high-pitched squeak. She squirmed furiously, trying to get up, but he easily kept her pinned over his lap.

  “Language!” he barked, and gave her a few more whacks. “You started it. And fucked up or not, it’s teaching you some humility.”

  She moaned. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a good girl… Daddy.” The last word was uttered in a sneer, but it was good enough for Clay.

  “Then your punishment is over.” He relaxed his hold on her and rubbed his hand around her bottom, soothing the ache he’d caused.

  She relaxed over his lap, staring down at the dirt as he traced circles around her punished seat. He had assumed she would fly off his lap at the first opportunity, but she remained resting there, accepting his soothing hand. He loved how she looked and felt. She was so little and yet curvy and sexy as hell. He wondered how much she hated him at that moment. Probably quite a bit.

  When she continued to give no sign of wanting up, he asked, “Ready to go, darlin’?”

  It was then that she burst into a torrent of tears, surprising Clay. He’d expected her to mouth off to him again or give him the silent treatment. Hearing what seemed to be genuine sobs of grief, he did the only thing he knew to do. He pulled her up and positioned her to sit on his lap. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, allowing her to cry against his shirt. “Shhh,” he said. “It was just a little spanking, not the end of the world.”

  “I-I-I never cry,” she managed to say between sobs.

  “I can see that,” he said teasingly.

  Clay wasn’t used to comforting a girl in such a way. Though he believed the spanking was well deserved, now that she was sobbing against his chest, he wondered if he’d been too harsh with her.

  “It’s n-not fair,” she stuttered, hiccupping.

  “What’s not fair?”

  She drew a shuddering breath and said, “It’s not fair that you punished me. I always wanted a daddy, but if I had a real dad he would take me to Disneyland and give me a pony and shit. He wouldn’t just spank me.”

  His initial impulse was to laugh because of the way she’d explained herself, but that was soon replaced with an ache in his chest. She had a good point, and it made him feel bad that he’d taken on a parental role only with punishment, and not with anything more positive.

  “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” he heard himself saying. “I think you’re right. Daddies reward their little girls when they’re good, and I want to do just that. It’s only fair, since I spanked you.”

  She looked at him with such a hopeful expression with her tear-filled blue eyes that he felt a lump growing in his throat. He swallowed it down.

  “Like how?” she asked, sounding exactly like a hopeful little girl.

  “Well, I’m not exactly sure how yet, but I’ll think of something by the time you prove to me you’ll be a good girl.”

&n
bsp; She nodded and blinked a few times, spilling the last of her tears. He stood, walked with her in his arms to Glaze, and helped her up to the saddle. “You okay to ride?” he asked, handing her the reins.

  She nodded and sniffled. “M-my necklace,” she said.

  Clay nodded. “I’ll get it, one sec.”

  “I have a little suitcase under the first bunk,” she told him, as he was walking away.

  He retrieved the necklace and the suitcase from the bunkhouse and handed the necklace to her when he walked out. She fastened it around her neck as he secured her suitcase to his gelding. Soon they were on their way.

  “So, will you tell me your name now?” he asked.

  “Abby,” she said, sounding shy.

  “Nice to meet you, Abby. I’m Clay.”

  The horses clipped along a few steps before she spoke again. “You own this ranch?”

  “Mm hmm,” he answered.

  “I used to work on a ranch from age twelve to fifteen. I learned how to ride and take care of horses. I would’ve taken good care of Glaze.”

  “Yes, I can tell you would have. How old are you now?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Young,” he stated. He hesitated asking the next question, knowing it was personal, but hell, he’d already spanked her and he wanted to understand her situation better. “And where’s your family, Abby?”

  “I don’t have one, except for my little sister. She’s still in foster care, living at a crowded home in Dallas.”

  Suddenly her rebellion and reticence to accept a favor made quite a bit more sense to him. He didn’t imagine she’d had much in the way of a stable authority figure growing up. They rode in silence the rest of the way.

  Clay spotted Shane through the open doors of the barn, tossing hay into the loft. “Hey, Shane, look what I found!” he called out.

  Shane walked out as Clay hopped down from his horse. “Found Glaze and the thief. Pretty little thief, ain’t she?” He winked at Abby, who blushed. “Anyway, she decided to return the horse without any trouble. Shane, meet Abby. Abby, meet Shane.”

  “Hi,” she said. She swung a leg forward over the pommel and landed on the ground awkwardly.

  “That’s no way to dismount a horse,” Clay scolded, unable to resist saying something. It was plumb dangerous, and he intended to see she dismounted properly in the future.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, and if Clay wasn’t mistaken, a note of her former defiance was present in her tone.

  Clay directed his attention to Shane. “I’ll explain about the theft later. Will you call the police and let them know the matter has been settled? Abby and I have reached an agreement of sorts.”

  Shane gave him a quizzical look but must have read the signals correctly to know not to query his friend on the decision. He agreed to call the police and put the matter to bed, and Clay and Abby headed to the ranch house in Clay’s truck.

  Chapter Two

  Abby sat at the long mahogany table next to Clay, feeling misplaced and underdressed. For the first half of the meal, she’d been too hungry to notice or care, but now that hunger wasn’t gnawing at her gut, she was fully aware of how much she didn’t fit in at the rich rancher’s house.

  Her cheeks flamed as she recalled how she’d completely lost her cool. She couldn’t believe that after a few smacks on her butt, she’d been reduced to a sobbing little girl, feeling like she was being punished by a real daddy. He wasn’t her daddy, of course, but in that moment, it had sure felt like it. She’d experienced all the emotions she imagined she would have felt if she were being punished by Daddy for being naughty—helplessness and anger, then remorse. After the spanking, she’d allowed herself to feel self-pity, something she very rarely tolerated.

  Whatever strange magic had resulted from the hard-handed rancher’s discipline, now the spell was broken and she was dealing with reality. She couldn’t believe she’d actually called him Daddy! And then she’d let it out how much she wanted a nice daddy. Where had that come from? And what did he mean by saying he would reward her for being good? Perhaps he had just said it in the moment to calm her down.

  She glanced at him while he was busy sawing a piece of his roast beef. He was so good-looking. He had thick, dark hair and a tanned, chiseled face. He looked like he’d just walked out of an outdoorsman catalog after modeling how to chop wood or something. She wished she’d met him under different circumstances. She wished she was a normal woman wearing nice clothes and a little makeup and that she’d happened to meet him in town.

  She wished everything was different, really. She wished she had parents. She wished she didn’t constantly worry about her little sister getting to college. Daisy was smart, and Abby was determined that Daisy would have the opportunity to live out her dream to study music. Abby didn’t have dreams, so she didn’t mind saving all the money she earned to help her sister. That was one thing Clay had been wrong about. She did work to earn money. She just didn’t spend it. She couldn’t afford to rent a place and save for her sister’s college tuition.

  “You should finish your milk,” Clay said, interrupting her thoughts with his low, sexy voice. “Good for your bones.”

  Her belly did a little flip, as it had every time he’d used that lecturing, paternal tone with her. She rolled her eyes to try to cover her physiological reaction to his daddy-like tendencies, which only caused him to continue admonishing her.

  “That eye-rolling of yours is very disrespectful, Abby, but you’ve had a long day so I’m going to let it slide.”

  Abby clenched her thighs together and stared down at her plate before reaching out to pick up the glass of milk.

  “Good girl,” he praised, after she took a few sips.

  It was absurd, but his condescending praise made her feel a few inches taller. She swallowed and tried to access her sense of self, which she reckoned she must have lost somewhere along the journey from the bunkhouse to the ranch house. For reasons unknown to her, she couldn’t think of a single sarcastic comment. Instead she addressed him shyly. “Thank you for supper, and for not turning me in to the police. I’m grateful.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, aren’t you sweet as pie now? Seems you just needed a little something to eat to make you less cranky, huh?”

  “I was pretty hungry,” she admitted.

  “You’re tired too,” he declared. “After supper, I’ll show you to the spare room. It has an attached private bathroom where you can clean up. Then I want you to go straight to bed.”

  Her mouth fell open, and her belly did another nervous little flip. Their weird moment together after the spanking had happened more than two hours ago, but he was still acting the same, like he really was her daddy. “You want me to stay here? You’re putting me to bed?”

  “Yep,” he said with a wink. He leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. “Grumpy little girls get sent to bed early. Then tomorrow morning you and I are going to have a nice, long talk about a few things.”

  She felt as though she should argue with him, but the truth was she really did feel tired and going to sleep in a nice bed sounded like absolute heaven to her. “Thanks, Clay,” she said. “Or should I call you Daddy?” she asked, trying to be funny and flirtatious.

  “Clay is fine when you’re not being punished, unless you prefer to call me Daddy all the time,” he said in all seriousness. “Finish your milk.”

  Oh, God. She felt her pussy clench and imagined that she had just soaked her panties. What was it about him mentioning punishment that made her desperately want to fuck him? The spanking had hurt like hell, but looking back on it, remembering her helplessness, the stern timbre of his voice, and his unrelenting palm against her bottom—it aroused her so much she squirmed in her seat. You’re seriously fucked in the head, she told herself.

  She drank the rest of her milk, which earned her another handsome smile.

  “Can I help with the dishes?” she offered.
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  He shook his head. “Nope, and it’s time for you to go to bed,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

  She followed him up the stairs to the spare room, hardly believing what was happening. What was this? Was she in the middle of a fucked-up Disney princess movie and Clay was some kind of kinky, benevolent Prince Charming? Surely it was all too good to be true. Instead of spending the night in an abandoned bunkhouse or jail, she was spending the night at a house nicer than any she’d stayed in before.

  “You get a good night’s sleep,” Clay said from the doorway. “We’ll talk more tomorrow about what we briefly discussed earlier.”

  “Which part?”

  He smiled. “The part where I said you need a daddy who’ll reward you. Now be a good girl and get some rest.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest as she observed his face. “You were serious about that?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I don’t speak idly. Good night, Abby.”

  “Good night, Clay,” she managed to say softly before closing the door. She stared at the knob in stunned silence for a moment, wondering what tomorrow held and both nervous and excited about it.

  She turned and surveyed her space. The queen-sized bed took up the majority of the room, with its large, solid-wood frame complete with wrought-iron headboard. A lamp with a base fashioned out of moose antlers stood atop a nightstand that matched the wood of the bedframe. The two other pieces of furniture, a three-drawer dresser and table-like desk, matched the lamp’s base, with handles also made of moose antlers. A round, maroon southwestern rug with some type of native design covered much of the hardwood floor. Though the room was distinctly masculine in appearance, it smelled feminine, like lavender.

  Abby indulged in a long, hot shower and was thrilled to discover a razor in the bathtub, which she used to shave her legs and the tuft of fur between her legs. She loved feeling clean and hadn’t enjoyed such a luxurious showering in some time. Upon climbing into bed, she realized the smell of lavender was emanating from the four-billion-thread-count sheets. Its effect was calming, and it wasn’t long before she drifted to sleep.