12 Naughty Days of Christmas 2020

by Megan McCoy

  “Pryce, please.”

  He sat back and pulled her quickly over, hoping that she’d be more honest if she didn’t have to look him in the eye. Having her over his lap was intoxicating, though. She wiggled and whined and it was adorable. And he loved how his name sounded coming out of her mouth, a southern trace that was very appealing.

  “Please, Pryce, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to lie and I won’t from now on. I promise! Please don’t hurt me.”

  “It’s all right, sweet girl.” He held her in place with a hand on her back and one on her leg. He liked the braid in her hair. It showed off all the different blonde colors, as well as the pink on her cheeks. He cleared his throat and continued. “I’m not going to hurt you. I never will. I promise you that. This isn’t about hurting you anyway. It’ll smart for a quick minute, and it might be a little embarrassing, but you’ll remember how you feel right now the next time you try and tell me a lie. Is that all clear?”

  She was still and quiet, making him grin, since it was the closest thing to compliance she would ever offer. He didn’t want her too obedient anyway. He was enjoying himself way too much to have this be her first and last spanking.

  “You know what’s coming next.” He reached over and pulled the pleated lavender skirt up and over her back, biting his lip as her white stockings and shiny black ankle boots began to reactively swing around.

  “Pryce!” Her voice was much louder, much more assertive as he pulled the skirt of her dress and her white petticoat over her back. Her innocence would do him in. He was about to lose himself just at the sight of those pristine white ruffled bloomers, and the knowledge that he was the first man to ever see them and what was underneath was almost too much.

  Almost. He tugged the white ruffles split apart, revealing a tight, round, wiggling little behind. He felt his pants tighten and decided that now wasn’t the time to savor the sight of her creamy virgin skin. He raised his hand and smacked it down, the sound echoing around the room along with her short squeal. A pink splotch appeared, forcing him to rethink how hard he really wanted to spank her. It would be memorable enough without being too painful, he knew that much. Every time she looked back at him to protest, her cheeks were flaming.

  “No more lying, no more stretching the truth, even if you think it’s because you’re doing a good thing. There will be genuine honesty and candor between us from now until death we do part. Do. You. Understand?” He’d been smacking her with every word, bringing a bright blush that he really just wanted to sink his teeth into.

  Her feet swung back and forth and she smashed her fists into the bed covers as she replied, “Yes! Yes, I understand!”

  He rubbed small circles over the warmth of her skin as he waited for her breathing to return to normal, then he carefully tugged her bloomers back together and pulled the ruffled petticoat and skirt back down. She tried to push off of him and stand up, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, leaning back against a pillow and making himself comfortable.

  He needed her to be all right.

  So much for revealing nothing.

  His arms were wrapped tightly around her in a hug that was both constricting and comforting. The fire crackled, giving the room a warm welcoming glow, but she didn’t feel welcome at all. She’d been with him a few short hours and he already hated her.

  She swallowed. “Should I… should I leave?”

  She felt his breathing hitch as his hands shifted her around on his lap. His concerned face came into view.

  “Holly, no! I’m… I’m not mad. I’m sorry if I didn’t convey that very well. You’re… like I said before, I’ve never really been married; the previous companions were so wrong for me, they were never my wife in body or heart. I put them in the hotel until the train returned, then I sent them back with the Zacharys. I’ve never really even had a girlfriend. And I’ve never spanked anyone before. I’m not angry and I certainly don’t want you to leave. Please?”

  She thought about laying face down over his lap with her skirts pulled up, listening to his lecture and wincing at every smack of his large hand. He hadn’t said anything about hating her, and she had to admit, her backside was very warm, but not really hurting anymore.

  “I know I’m not what you wanted,” she said, looking down at her hands in her lap.

  He pushed her chin up with a finger so she would look into his light eyes. “And I’m so glad I didn’t get what I wanted, because honestly, I didn’t even know. I didn’t even know that you are what I want.”

  “You wouldn’t have had to spank Darla tonight. Or ever, probably.”

  “And how boring.” He grinned and leaned in, kissing her forehead in an affectionate way. “You make me so happy, Holly. Already, I’m so much happier. I want to take care of you and make you happy. And taking care of you might include a spanking now and then. It absolutely does not mean you make me mad. We’ll learn how to do this together.”

  “Well, don’t worry.” She shifted around on his lap. If that was what he was like when he wasn’t mad, she didn’t ever want to see true anger from him. “That was it. You’ll never have to do that again.”

  Chapter 3

  Silver Creek Ranch Lodge, The Attic

  Well, the accounts of her ancestors were certainly… descriptive. Her great great however many great grandparents had definitely led a different life. For sure. The way they documented or retold every thought, sentiment, even sexual feeling, well, it was a little bizarre.

  Eve closed the black leather-bound book and bit her lip. It was a different time. No televisions or phones for entertainment. All you could do, really, was write down your thoughts and recount them later. But why would they both write such detailed accounts about something so upsetting? Hitting your wife? They’d both addressed the situation with an almost appreciative spin.

  And the thought of it making them aroused, just… ew.

  “Did you eat any- God, it’s freezing up here!”

  “Hello, Bradley. Yes, my day’s been great. How about you?” She grinned up at him sarcastically as she lay on a yoga mat she’d brought up in the morning.

  “It must be fifty degrees in here,” he frowned, reaching down and grabbing her arms. He pulled her quickly to her feet despite her protests about being manhandled and pointed a finger in her face. “And I know you haven’t eaten because the kitchen is just the way I left it last night when I went back to my cabin.”

  She slapped his finger out of her face and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “At your suggestion, foreman, I’ve been up here uncovering the very personal accounts of my ancestors.” She jerked backwards as he grabbed her hand in his, feeling confused as he scowled down at her.

  “Your hands are like ice. Didn’t you notice the temperature? Why didn’t you take the journals downstairs to read? In the central heat? By the fireplace? With a bear skin rug and flannel blanket?”

  “Well as you know, these things read like a romance novel. I lost track of time, obviously.” She pulled her hand back, but he held on tightly.

  Those dark eyes narrowed down at her. “No, I don’t know. What I do know is that you can’t seem to grasp what’s good for you.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one who- Oh!” She tripped over her pink tennis shoes as he tugged her back to a sofa covered with a dingy yellow sheet.

  And then she found herself right there in the pages of the journals she was just reading. Forced face first over hard legs, positioned perfectly to be disciplined by a sizable, irritated cowboy.

  “This oughta warm you up a little. As well as help you remember to eat and stay in the warmer parts of the damned house,” Bradley sternly said, swiping at the dust particles floating around from his outraged attempt at teaching the little adorable history nerd about taking care of herself.

  Eve coughed, tried to suck in a breath, and then coughed again. Her whole body heaved as she wrestled around across his lap.

  “Eve? Sweetheart?�
�� He pulled her up and gripped her shoulders, staring at pink cheeks and watering eyes as her glasses slid down her nose. Something was wrong.

  She suddenly shoved her hand against his face, pushing him back and flipping around to the hard wooden planks of the floor. She reached out for her black satchel and quickly retrieved a little silver inhaler. She shook it, pumped once and breathed in. Twice, and suddenly found him kneeling at her side, his arm around her and holding the inhaler steady at her mouth.

  “One more time,” he instructed, wrapping his fingers around hers and pumping once. She breathed in as instructed, sweat beading on her forehead, then leaned back against his hard body in unintentional relief. A shallow breath escaped as she closed her eyes briefly.

  “I’m okay,” she wheezed, feeling weak as she tried to push up to a sitting position that was anywhere but next to him.

  “No, you’re not,” he snapped, grabbing the inhaler out of her hand and reading the prescription on the side. “You’re asthmatic and you just spent all day in a cold, dusty attic?”

  “What do you know about asthma?” she huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but her voice barely registering as more than a forced breath.

  He didn’t answer as he stood and picked her up in one swift motion, heading for the wooden staircase that led downstairs.

  She only resisted a little, momentarily weakened by the sudden attack. She really hoped she didn’t look too much like a damsel in distress, as he carried her against his chest around the big house.

  When they reached the large living room and the warmth of the fire he’d started earlier in the fireplace, he answered softly as he set her down on the sectional couch more gently than she thought was possible with him. “I’m a vet.”

  She sank into the cushions, letting her head rest on a pillow. Just for a second. She was always a little exhausted after an attack, like she’d just gone for a long run. Her eyes turned up to his as he sat on the edge of the coffee table and tenderly brushed her damp hair off her forehead.

  “Like military?” she asked, more strength returning to her voice.

  “No.” He grinned, hardly masking a look of pain that crossed his face. “Veterinarian. But I also know a few things about the human body.”

  She frowned, feeling relaxed, though. “I thought you were the foreman out here.”

  “Bill was kind enough to employ me five years ago after I lost my license.”

  “Getting too friendly with the animals?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, but failing at hiding a little smile.

  He exhaled as he stood and walked around to add another log to the fire, leaning on the mantle and answering her. “I made the wrong people mad at the horse track when I saw some abuse happening. They saw to it that the Board revoked my license to practice as well as shut down my clinic. Bill thought it was unfair. He also needed someone out here who knew about livestock. So, yeah. Here I am.”

  Eve swallowed and pushed up on her elbow. Okay. He was a little mean and arrogant, and he’d definitely tried to hit her when he’d thought she was being disobedient. But. But what? Jesus. He was sexy as hell. And a vet? A doctor who loves animals? And there they were, sitting in a big house all alone by a cozy fireplace on a snowy night? Come on, Universe!

  Bradley could hardly look at her with a straight face as she stared up at him with her dark blonde hair a mess, blue eyes watery and big, and glasses askew on her face. He was attracted to her. That was for certain. Which was probably why he’d lost his mind temporarily in the attic and tried to pull her over his knee and spank her.

  What had he been thinking? She was fragile. Needed protecting. His protection, more pointedly. He circled the big square coffee table and sat on the edge again, taking her clammy hand even though she tried to pull it back with a frown.

  “Just take it easy, okay? Let me get you some water and more soup. Sound good?”

  “I can get it.”

  He gently pushed her shoulder back down and gave her an indulgent look. “Let me help you. Don’t overdo things right now. I’ll even bring the journals down from the attic for you.”

  “I don’t need…”

  “You will not be going up there again. Clear?” He dared her to argue with a single tick of one eyebrow.

  He saw and heard her swallow hard, as she let her body sink back into the couch cushions with a half-scowl, half-pout.

  “For someone unfamiliar with the Childress family history you seem to be remarkably in tune with the antiquated encounters between my relatives.”

  “Meaning?” he asked, finding that he could listen to her talk all day. He was supposed to be taking care of her and getting her food and water, but he couldn’t wait to hear what came out of those pink lips next.

  “Never mind,” she mumbled, looking down and adjusting her glasses as a little color started to come back to her cheeks. “You told me about them. I just thought you’d read them.”

  “Not mine to read.”

  Bradley walked around her to head to the kitchen. That was a blush. She was embarrassed? What had been in those journals? He figured he’d better do a little investigating once he got some food in her and put her in bed.

  Bed. Damn. She’d produced an entire spectrum of emotions from him in twenty-four hours, something he was entirely unused to. Anger, concern, nurturing feelings, and, yep. Lust. He had to help her to bed later. Christ, did she even know she was having this effect on him?

  Chapter 4

  Silver Creek Ranch, The Hunting Cabin

  It almost seemed like Pryce made up infractions that first week together. She walked to the creek to get some water by herself. Spanked over his knee the second she set the bucket down by the front door. Sitting on top the fence in the corral to feed one of the horses? Spanked over the fence in the corral in front of the horses.

  She’d arrived on a Sunday and by the following weekend she had to count on two hands the amount of times she’d felt his hand smacking against her bare skin. But he was so caring afterwards, which was confusing. He had to have been mad. He was mad enough to punish her. Or discipline her, as he called it.

  Then he’d praise her dinner, help her clean up, and hold her close all night long. But as far as making the marriage official? Well, he hadn’t really touched her. She was beginning to wonder if she’d done something really wrong, even though he insisted she hadn’t.

  “Holly.”

  She knew that tone. She squeezed her thighs together as she set down the knife and potato she’d been peeling. He’d already spanked her that morning for refusing to wear the dresses he’d bought her. But after explaining how impractical they were for all the vigorous activities out on a ranch, he’d listened, indulged her, and finally agreed that pants were more appropriate attire. He even complimented her ingenuity at taking in his pants to fit her small figure.

  Pryce walked in, wiped the sweat off his brow with a bandana, and sipped some water out of a ladle in a bucket. He’d been chopping wood and looked incredibly handsome and confident as he took a needle from her sewing kit and began picking out splinters. His gaze turned to her. Stern, unwavering. “Sweetheart, I told you this morning not to do laundry today.”

  “But it’s Saturday. It’s, it’s wash day…”

  “I told you that it was windy this morning. I didn’t want you hanging up things on the line because now, my darling, they’ve all blown away.” He exhaled and wiped the bandana on his neck as Holly ran outside in a huff.

  Oh Lord. The sheets, her petticoat, long johns, pants, shirts, they were all gone. The clothesline was bare. She brought her hands to her mouth and looked back at their cozy cabin. Hanging her head, she guiltily walked back inside. Yes, he would certainly spank her now. But afterward he would hold her, kiss her forehead gently, tell her everything was all right, and she liked that part. She loved that part.

  Swallowing, she walked through the door to find him lying on the bed. “I’m sorry, Pryce. You were right.” She folded her hands in front of her and waite
d. He usually liked to take her hand and give her an understanding grin, then he’d sit down on whatever was nearest, lecture her about why he was disciplining her, and then finally get on with it.

  Lifting her eyes, Holly frowned as he lay on the bed, half on his side and half on his face, completely still. She took two steps and leaned over. Was he asleep? Had it been a rough day? She placed a hand on his shoulder and found his shirt was soaking wet. Reaching around, she pulled him over to his back and held his cheeks in her hands. He was burning up.

  “Pryce,” she loudly pleaded, giving him a shake. “Pryce!”

  She got a rag wet with the bit of water left at the bottom of the bucket by the door and wiped his face, continuing to call his name. When that didn’t wake him, she leaned her head over and listened to his chest. At night, when he curled around her and held her close, she’d gotten used to falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat.

  Now she could barely detect it. Stuffing her feet into the old boots by the door, she ran outside and looked desperately for Flip. But it was Saturday. He wouldn’t be back until Monday morning.

  She glanced back at the house, then at the corral. There was only one thing to do.

  Lancelot, Pryce’s favorite black horse, raced down the snow packed dirt road, working up a lather as she pushed him harder and faster. She had to get to town. What if Pryce didn’t wake up? She didn’t know him very well. What if he had episodes? The town doctor would know what to do. She just had to get there in time.

  Her first time in Silver Creek City she hadn’t gotten a very good look at the town. She’d been more concerned with her new husband she’d just met and her friends riding away on the train. But the town looked like any attractive little town. White church with a bell steeple, boardwalks on either side of the main dirt road, and colorful clapboard buildings, including a red hotel, a dark green mercantile, and a pale yellow bank.