by Jenny Plumb
This made Callie feel much better, and Jude seemed to think it was an important teaching moment that required reiteration. “See? It’s better to be upfront about what you can and can’t do. Then you can get the help you need from people.”
“All right, all right,” Callie mumbled. She caught Jude winking at Mrs. Tucker as a thank-you for participating in teaching his wife a lesson. Mrs. Tucker gave him a knowing smile in return, and Callie turned away so she could roll her eyes out of their view.
Chapter 8
The gathering was a jolly good time. Jude, Callie, Annie, Billy, and Mrs. Tucker engaged in lively conversation, sang carols, and drank whiskey. Even Mrs. Tucker drank a drop and toasted along with the others, wishing them happiness and success. The five of them shared a strong bond, as they had all traveled the dangerous line together and underwent a string of adventures.
Christmas supper was delicious. Callie and Mrs. Tucker roasted a chicken flavored with herbs and spices, and Callie told Jude she felt confident she could recreate it on her own.
Billy rubbed his belly after he ate every last bite on his plate. “Believe you me, I’m not buttering you up, but this here is the best chicken I’ve ever tasted. Sorry, honey,” he added, looking at his wife sheepishly.
Annie shook her head. “I ain’t offended. I agree.”
“It was Mrs. Tucker’s recipe,” Callie said modestly. “I’m just happy she shared it with me.”
Mrs. Tucker swallowed the last bit of whiskey in her glass. “I’ve always been a good cook. I don’t say that to brag. I can’t do much else when it comes to homemaking. I always hired servants to clean and mend. But cooking I took to right away.”
Callie jumped up out of her chair suddenly and clasped her hands together. “I know what you can do,” she said excitedly. “Eva’s been looking for a cook. If you work in the restaurant, you can support yourself without the senator.”
A look of interest flitted across Mrs. Tucker’s face. “That’s a fine idea, Callie. I’ll call on Eva tomorrow, assuming the marshal doesn’t lock me up for stealing the horse.”
Billy leaned back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. “You’re welcome to stay with us in our spare room until you get on your feet.”
Mrs. Tucker’s eyes became watery. “Really?” she asked, directing her next question at Annie. “Would that be too much trouble?”
“Not at all,” Annie said. “It’ll be nice to have a friend so close by, and we’d be happy to help you.”
After everyone had their fill of food and drink, they wished each other a merry Christmas one final time. The guests left for the Adams’ house. Jude sat in his armchair with his tumbler of whiskey and observed his wife washing the dishes. He’d offered to help, but she had insisted that he take it easy, since the next day he would be back at the range “busting his back,” as she called it.
His heart filled with love as he watched his sweet little hellion, who had brought him so much joy. Before meeting Callie, he hadn’t known it was possible to love someone so much. Deciding he needed to show her just how much he loved her, he ordered her to stop washing the dishes. She could finish the next day.
“Get your cute little bottom over here, missus. I want to make your Christmas merrier.”
Callie grinned at him, her green eyes dancing. “You can wait, mister. I’m almost done.” She turned back to the task at hand.
He let out a low growl, which made Callie giggle. He set his whiskey glass on the table. When he stood up and stalked toward her, she squealed, set down the dishrag, and darted to the other side of the cabin.
“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” Jude said, shaking his head. “How long do you reckon you can run before I catch you?”
“You’ll get tired before I will,” she taunted, running again when he walked toward her.
“Not a chance. I have lots of energy, and I’m going to use it all on you. Just wait ‘til I get my hands on you.” He broke into a sudden fast walk and gave a false move to the right, catching her around the middle when she fell for it and tried to run past to the left. She shrieked with laughter, and he muttered, “Pshaw, I thought it would take a little longer to catch you. That was too easy.”
He carried her to the other room and plopped her on the bed. “Get out of those clothes,” he ordered as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Callie obeyed and began unbuttoning her dress, starting at the collar. “It sure is more fun stripping for a romping as opposed to a spanking.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re not getting a spanking?”
Her eyes widened, and he bit back a laugh. “Don’t you think naughty wives who run away from their husbands deserve a smack?”
“All right, one smack,” she allowed, pulling the dress over her head.
He laughed out loud then. “More than one, sweetheart.” When Callie had removed all of her clothing, he sat on the bed and drew her over his lap. For a moment, he admired the view. Her delicate back dipped down, giving her bottom a plump, voluptuous appearance that begged to be spanked. Her legs were spread open wantonly, allowing him a view of her sweet little cunny.
He landed a firm swat on her right cheek, relishing the quiver and immediate blush of pink that followed. He swatted her other cheek, and she let out a soft yelp. He spanked her again and again, firmly, with long moments between each swat to let the sensation sink in.
Her noises became guttural moans, and she squirmed over his manhood, which hardened with every passing moment. Callie squeezed her legs together, and he knew she was trying to compress the aching nub that was singing for attention. He landed two more sensual swats on that sensitive spot where her bottom met her thighs. “Open your legs, young lady. I want to see that pretty wet cunny aching for relief.”
She moaned and widened her legs again, this time sticking her bottom up to meet his swats. Noticing that the spanking was arousing her to the point of desperation, he continued, catching her aching pussy a few times and marveling at the shudder of pleasure and gasp of delight that followed each swat.
“Do you want me to help you with this, naughty girl?” he crooned, sliding his finger along her drenched slit.
She whined her answer. “Yes, please.”
“I want to hear you ask,” he said, his voice thick with desire. He teased his finger around her clit. What do you want me to do, baby?”
She tried to press her aching womanhood into his hand, but he moved his hand away to hover just beyond her.
“Please put your cock in me,” she said breathlessly.
Hearing the naughty word on her lips served to excite him more. “With pleasure, darlin’.” He helped her off his lap and dropped his trousers, allowing his rock-hard cock to spring free. Positioning her on her back, he lowered his body onto hers, propping himself up by his forearms. She arched into him as he entered her. She felt so incredibly good clenching around his member that he let out a moan. Pumping in and out, he stroked her needy channel, encouraging her to come undone.
The hard plane of his chest rubbed against her peeked nipples, exciting both of them. When Callie came, it was an explosion. She clung to his back, digging into his skin with her fingers. Her head tilted back and her eyes widened as she cried out her release. As she rode the waves of orgasm, Jude found his own release, groaning along with her high-pitched gasps of pleasure.
Jude collected his satiated wife in his arms, loving how soft and compliant she felt against him after lovemaking. That night, she experienced no night terrors. “Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he whispered. She fell asleep after a few quiet sighs.
Epilogue
The senator opted not to press charges against his wife for stealing his horse. Everyone was surprised by that little act of mercy. Of course, it might have been self-serving. The senator could very well have declined to press charges in the hope that his wife would return to him. No one but the senator knew whether that was the case, and it didn’t change Mrs. Tucker’s mind about leaving h
im. Taking Callie’s suggestion, she went to work for Eva. She stayed with the Adamses for two months, giving her enough time to save the money required to rent her own little room in Sacramento’s boardinghouse.
Callie continued to practice cooking. Although it never became anything she particularly enjoyed, Jude liked her meals and complimented her on them, which was all the incentive she needed to continue. The work she truly found pleasurable was fixing broken-down wagons. After she repaired an axle on their buggy using a hodgepodge of kitchen utensils, Jude was so impressed that he bragged about it to Billy. Billy invited her to his blacksmith’s shop and showed her how to use some of the tools of the trade. After that, whenever anyone went to the blacksmith’s shop with a broken wagon, Billy would call on Callie, and she would spend the day helping him, earning a bit of money for her efforts.
Jude often reminded Callie that being different from others was something to be proud of. ‘Most everyone was impressed by the little lady who could wield a hammer better than a wooden spoon. In fact, it was Jude, not Callie, who was handy when it came to that particular kitchen utensil. She never forgot that, since no significant amount of time would go between him applying it expertly to her seat.
Callie accepted the spankings without too much fuss. Having grown up without correction or love, she craved both from her husband. It was in the moments after the punishments that she felt the happiest, for it was then that she felt understood, forgiven, and best of all – loved.
The End
A Note from the Author
I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into the lives of Jude and Callie. To read their full story and to check out my other books, I invite you to visit my Amazon Author Page. Don’t forget to click “Follow” to receive an alert whenever a new book of mine is released. I’m frequently coming up with new and exciting ways of getting characters in trouble. Want to keep in touch? Let’s connect! I love to hear from readers. You’ll find lots of snippets from my books on my blog. I’m also on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
Thank you for reading Christmas with Callie. Amidst the hustle and bustle of holiday activities, wherever you are and however you celebrate, I wish you a wonderful season filled with peace, happiness, and love.
Amelia Smarts
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Amelia Smarts and Blushing Books!
The Submissive Suffragette: Lone Star Love Book 1
The Unbraiding of Anna Brown: Lone Star Love Book 2
Missy Meets the Marshal: Lone Star Love Book 3
Anthology:
Sunstrokes
Chapter 1
“No! I won’t go!” Virginia Stiles was nothing if not spoilt, and with the extra screechy inflection she’d added into her voice, she was certain she’d eventually get her way. But as she stood there in her father’s office, her hands on her hips, it appeared that her wishes weren’t going to be honoured this time. Her father’s face was set like flint, his lips thin in a grim line of determination. She watched as he leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his feet crossed at the ankles.
“Yes, you are,” he insisted.
It was time to take a different tack.
“But Daddy!” she wheedled, changing her outraged, screechy tone to a more civilised, begging one. “I’ll miss you so much! I’ve never spent Christmas away from you before, not in the whole time I’ve been living with you! Besides, there’s that party…”
“No.” It was a word she rarely heard pass Tom Stiles’ lips, and it was spoken in a tone that was so harsh, so final. She flinched. “Everything is arranged. Your grandparents haven’t seen you in ten years – not since your mother passed. Every year, they’ve been asking me to send you home for Christmas, and I keep meaning to do it, but never do. So you’re going now, before they get too old.”
“I want to see them, Daddy, I really do, but can’t I go later in the year? It’s the Bachelor Party, Daddy. It’s the biggest one of the year!” A lone tear trickled down her cheek, but she made no effort to wipe it away. If the tears didn’t work to manipulate her famous father into changing his mind, nothing would.
“You’re not going to that party, Gin. Even if you stay here, you’re not going.”
“What do you mean? Of course I’m going, I’ve got everything all organised!”
Her father shook his head. “No. You’re definitely not going to that party.”
“I’m twenty years old! You can’t stop me from going!” she protested, her voice shrill.
Her father sighed in that same tired way she’d been hearing for years. Tom was one of Hollywood’s most respected movie producers and had been dealing with divas for decades; that sigh meant he knew he’d lost that particular argument, but hadn’t lost the fight. She watched as he leaned back in his chair and frowned. “Maybe not. But you know what happened last time. I may not be able to keep you out of jail, this time round.”
Virginia shuddered. Yes, she remembered full well what had happened at the last huge rage she’d been to – her face had been plastered over the tabloids for weeks. The paparazzi had had a field day, zooming in on her face with mascara running down her cheeks, showing her stumbling over the kerb on the arm of a man she barely knew, the man who’d been responsible for her almost-demise. Despite not yet being of legal drinking age in California, alcohol was easy to come by in the circles she moved in, and so were drugs. Although she’d never been a user, the man she’d met at the party had changed that. When the tabloids had run the picture of her snorting cocaine through a rolled up twenty dollar bill, it had almost ruined her father. He’d been making a movie at the time, and had fluctuated between spending 24 hours a day on set to avoid both her and the media frenzy, and putting filming on hold completely, hiring Hollywood’s heaviest hitting lawyers to save not only her criminal record, but also her reputation.
Virginia pouted and stamped her foot in frustration. “It’s not fair!”
She watched as her father leaned back even further in his chair, and glowered at her over the rim of wired-framed glasses. “I’ve spoilt you, girl,” he admitted sadly. “You’ve got none of the values that I wanted you to have.” Leaning forward to place both palms on the edge of his desk, Tom rose to his feet. “A laid-back Kiwi Christmas will be good for you – away from the nightclubs and parties of Hollywood, and hopefully away from the paparazzi too. And I will also be introducing a spending limit on your credit cards.”
Virginia gasped. “Daddy! No! I like shopping!”
“You will still be able to go shopping, you’ll just have to start being sensible about it. I said I’m introducing a limit, not cutting it off altogether.”
“Do you want me to be miserable?” Virginia snapped, all pretence of tears gone.
“I want you to stay out of jail. I want you to be safe. And this is the best way I know of doing that. Besides, your Nan and Pop are looking forward to this visit – don’t ruin it for them. You can at least pretend to be happy.” Frowning again at Virginia, her father picked up the phone on his desk and dialled his secretary. “Send him in please,” he ordered into the receiver.
Instantly, there was a knock at the door, just three short, sharp raps, before it swung open.
Spinning around, Virginia watched, her mouth open in surprise, as Tom strode across the room to shake hands with the tall, dark, handsome stranger who stood just inside the doorway. Standing well over six feet tall, his sculpted muscles were visible even through his suit. Stubble darkened his chiselled jaw, and the edge of a tattoo on the side of his neck peeked above the collar of his shirt. Another tattoo covered the back of one hand, disappearing up inside the sleeve of his shirt and ending at the base of his fingers. His dark eyes were smouldering. Virginia licked her lips as her father made the introductions.
“Virginia, this is Shane. He will be your chaperone for your trip. Shane, meet Virginia, my daughter.”
Virginia swallowed hard and stared, wide-eyed, at the impressive specimen of manhood standing b
efore her. “Ch-chaperone?” she stammered, confused. “Why do I need a chaperone?”
“I want to know you’re safe, my love,” her father told her. “Shane is ex-SAS. He’s trained in close combat and in martial arts – he will be your protection. He will also be your chauffeur and tour guide. And he will be responsible for keeping you out of trouble. He’s well versed in—”
“Handling spoilt brats.” Shane finished the sentence and stepped forward, his deep voice a rich baritone, sounding so loud in the small room. His accent nearly made her swoon. What was it? It sounded so familiar, yet so foreign.
“Excuse me? I am not a spoilt brat!” Virginia protested in outrage. But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Her father had spoiled her. She looked down at her hands that she was wringing in front of her nervously. The tiniest chip on her pinky nail marred the perfect French manicure – a luxury she maintained every week. Hopefully her now-limited budget would extend to regular beauty salon visits. Looking after her appearance was an essential for a socialite of her calibre. She never knew when she would be surrounded by photographers, and every week, she featured in a different magazine. Having her spending reined in was so unfair! It wasn’t like her father couldn’t afford it! Didn’t he know how important it was that she look good?
“We’ll see.” There was that deep voice again, sounding so sexy, spoken in barely more than a whisper. His accent rung in her ears, and it clicked. Aha! He was from New Zealand!
She looked across at him furiously, a death glare plastered to her face. The man was so rude! Shane met her eyes and smirked.