Queenie's ire rose. She was up to her ass in Boot Camp paperwork and had phone calls to return. How dare Harry put this on her! "He can rot in jail for all I care."
"Look, Queenie, I got two cells here. One has a broken lock. The other one has this Harry Tatum guy who says he's your husband and that you'll get him out. Hell, girl, I didn't even know you were married."
"I'm not! Not anymore, anyway." She considered her options. "Can't you let him loose on his own recognizance or somethin'?"
"He's high as a kite, Queenie. I can't let him out like this. As it is, I'm lettin' him off easy, 'cause he belongs to you."
"But he doesn't belong to me!" She sighed. Harry couldn't simply fade away. He had to constantly drag her into his crap. "Doesn't he get a phone call or somethin'? Maybe he could call his father or an attorney."
"He called his father already and got voicemail. You comin' to get him or not? You don't have to, but I'd consider it a favor."
There didn't seem to be anyway to get around it. "Yeah. I'll come. How much is it?"
He named a figure that made Queenie's temper rise another notch, but she agreed and headed out for the jail.
When she got there, she found Sheriff Brown sitting behind his battered desk, smoking and typing with two fingers on a computer keyboard. The small-town jail was compact, made up of a duty room adjacent to two barred cells. He looked up and took the cigarette out of his mouth, putting it into the ashtray on his desk. There were burn marks from where the hot butts had fallen off in the past.
"Queenie."
"Yeah, Sheriff. It's the sucker, come to bail out the loser."
His lips turned up at the corners slightly and he pushed a clipboard at her. "Sign these."
She read them over and glared at the sheriff. "I don't want to be responsible for him. I don't trust him."
"That's what bailing him out is all about. You put up your money and if he fails to appear before a judge, you lose it. It's in your own best interest to keep an eye on him."
"Shit! He's a serial fucker, Sheriff! I can't do this." Queenie pushed the unsigned papers back at him. The last thing she wanted was to hang around with Harry, making sure he was a good boy until an appearance before the judge. There were things she had to handle on the ranch while Ace was out of town.
"Fine. I'll keep 'im locked up. You ain't got no responsibility for him. I get that."
"You could let him go. You just won't!" She turned toward the cells, where she could see Harry dozing. Harry had put her in a terrible position. She ought to let him rot, but there was no getting around the fact that they had history together, and, at the moment, she was all he had. Frustration swamped her. Stomping to the cell, she pressed up against the bars, shouting at Harry. How he could sleep at a time like this, Queenie didn't know. Nor did she care. "Get the fuck up, Harry! What the fuck do you think you're doin'?"
He roused and stood, coming to the bars with a hang-dog expression. "I couldn't help it, Queenie. It's your fault, anyway. You made me so mad-"
"I made you mad?" She turned back toward the sheriff. "Let me in there so I can smack him!"
The Sheriff took an aggressive stance, hands on his hips. "Stop talkin' to me like that, Queenie. If you ain't gonna help, then best you leave."
She turned back toward the cell and grabbed Harry by the t-shirt, pulling him up against the bars forcefully. "You stupid asshole!"
He tried to push her hands aside, a look of surprise on his face as he turned toward the sheriff. "Hey! Can she do that? Aren't you gonna protect me or somethin'?"
"That's it!" The sheriff stomped over and grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the other cell. "I'm arrestin' you for disorderly conduct!"
Queenie resisted. This could not be happening to her. "You can't do that!"
"I can. And if you keep strugglin', I'll add resistin' arrest to your charges."
"Goddamn it!"
He shoved her in the cell, snagging her purse off her shoulder as he did. "I'll lock this up for you. You can't have it in the cell." Closing the door behind him, he wagged a finger at her. "Now you simmer down, young lady."
"You son of a bitch! I'm gonna tell my father!"
"No," he said. "I'm gonna tell your father. He'll tan your hide for gettin' so out of control. I know he raised you better."
Queenie tried to get hold of her temper. Deciding that a strategic retreat was in order, she took three deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Sheriff. I'll stop cussin' at you. You can let me out now."
"You're under arrest, Queenie! Of course, I won't let you out. You'll have to wait for your father to come bail you out. Same as your husband."
Both Harry and Queenie yelled at once. "We're not married!"
"Hush, both of you!"
"Sheriff, my father's up north for a few days. He can't come bail me out."
He appeared to consider this. While he was thinking, Queenie went to the cell door and pressed her face against the bars, trying to speak reasonably and not shout. The door crept open and she stepped back with a surprised cry.
The sheriff looked up from his desk and glared at her. "I told you the lock was broken. You are incarcerated on your honor."
"I am?"
"If you break out, Queenie, it'll be a lot worse for you. I'll have ta hunt you down-"
She held up a hand, pulling the cell door closed. "I've got it."
He went back to his computer, but stopped after a minute. When he came to her cell door, she looked up from the cot where she sat. "You get a phone call, girl. Call your daddy."
"I can't! He's out of town on the range."
"Then you'd best call one of your brothers."
Ace was in New Jersey, Deuce was on his annual trip to Jamaica for a few more days, and Trey was preparing to go to Afghanistan again. She considered calling her little sister, Jackie, but it seemed like a load of shit to drop on the much younger woman.
The door to the sheriff's station opened and a tall man walked in. "Hi. Are you Sheriff Brown? I'm Will Mazie. I own the old Caswell ranch." He offered his hand. "Nice to meet you."
The sheriff shook with him.
"Hey!" Queenie shouted.
"Hush!" The sheriff responded, turning back to Will. "How can I help y'all?"
"Is that Queenie Journey back there?" Queenie couldn't miss the look of irritation that crossed Will's face as he looked her way.
"Yep."
There was a pause. "Is she under arrest?"
"Yep." Another pause. "Is there somethin' on your mind, son? Or did you come in just to meet me?"
"I…uh…I came to report some vandalism on my property. Murdered animals."
The sheriff's computer beeped and he cursed. "Fool thing."
Queenie got an idea. "Will! I need your help!"
"Damn it, girl!" Sheriff Brown shouted. "Do I have to hogtie you? Hush up!"
Will interrupted. "What's she in for?"
"Disorderly conduct."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"She came to bail out that drug-abusin' husband of hers-"
Queenie and Harry shouted, "Ex!"
Now Will was staring at her like she'd lost her mind, and Queenie wondered again what the hell she'd been thinking to come down here and try to bail Harry out.
The sheriff sighed and ran his hand over his balding head. "Anyway, she came to bail him out but got all rambunctious and foul-mouthed. I can't have her batterin' my prisoners. I arrested her."
Will nodded and Queenie wanted to slug him, but she held her temper as much as she could. "Will! Give me a hand, please? I need someone to bail me out."
He appeared to consider this, but addressed his comment to the sheriff. "If I bail her out, what happens to Harry?"
"Nothin'. He'll stay here until there's an arraignment." He frowned mightily. "Pisses me off, too. I always get at least one drunk over the weekend and that's my only decent lockin' cell."
"I'll bail Queenie out. But first, I want to report that vandalism."
The
sheriff looked irritably at Will, obviously not getting all of what he wanted, and reached into his desk for some forms. "Fill these out while you tell me what you know."
"My chickens are being killed. One every night for the past two."
"In the barnyard?"
"No, right from the coop."
"Did you check for a stray dog? A coyote, maybe?"
Will's voice was sure. "No one has seen anything like that, sir. And the chickens' necks were broken, but they weren't otherwise mutilated."
"Hmm." Brown took the signed papers back from Will and looked him over. "Well, son, I'll send my deputy to come take a look, but there's not much we can do."
"Sheriff, I don't like losing my animals like this. Can't you collect some kind of evidence? There's always evidence."
There was a hint of irritation in Will's cadence.
The sheriff ignored his tone. "I said I'll send my deputy. Thanks for filling out the papers. I'll have Deputy Charles call you before he comes 'round, so's to make sure y'all will be there."
Will paused, but then scraped back the metal chair and stood up, offering his hand. "Thank you, Sheriff."
"Sure, son. Now about Queenie…"
It took about ten minutes to deal with release paperwork and the promise to meet bail. The amount was trivial, but that wasn't the point. Queenie was grateful to Will, but utterly furious with the situation that brought her to this point.
"Queenie!" Harry called from his cell as Queenie took her purse back from the sheriff and made to leave. "You can't just leave me in here!"
"I'll call your father," she told him.
"He's in Bangkok!"
"He'll send his secretary."
"Don't do this to me, babe!"
She turned away from the door and frowned at him. "You did this to yourself, Harry. I didn't make you take those drugs."
"You bitch. This is all your fault."
Will took her by the arm before she could spit a come-back. "Out, young lady."
She shook off his hand and marched out on her own.
Once they were in his jeep, she relaxed a bit. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me."
Queenie shot him a glare. "Why not?"
"Because I'm going to take this out on your rear. I can't believe you got yourself arrested over that moron, Harry Tatum."
She gasped. "You can't spank me again!"
He nodded, his mouth a firm line. "I can and I will. You deserve it. Big time."
"But Will-"
"Don't argue with me." The car bounced over a bump on the rough highway.
"So, Harry fucked up and I have to pay the price. That pretty well sucks."
"Language."
"Fuck off."
He sighed and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"
"Don't go bringin' my folks into this!"
"Aha. They did teach you manners, but you decided to ignore them."
"I don't have to talk to you."
"Nope."
They drove in silence until they reached Journey's End. The place was quiet during the hottest part of the summer afternoon. "You have a few cabins off to the side. Anyone in them?"
She huffed. "We have a bunch of corporate types coming in tomorrow for a Boot Camp bonding exercise."
He turned the car down the drive toward the bungalows.
"You can't take me there!"
He turned to look at her as they drove slowly down that gravel drive. "Why not?"
"Because…because…" She gave him a pleading look. "Come on, Will. I didn't mean to piss off the sheriff. I was so mad at Harry, I didn't think. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Will nodded. "No, you won't do it again. I'm gonna see to that."
"Please?"
He parked in front of the first little building. "That's polite enough, but there's a bigger lesson to be learned here."
Queenie stubbornly sat in the car. She was not about to volunteer to get out to go to her doom. Will came around and opened the door, extending his hand to her.
"Out."
"No!"
"Get out, Queenie, or I'll add spanks."
She eyed him. He meant it. Stiff and angry, she ignored his hand and got out of the car. Taking her arm firmly, he led her to the door of the cabin and inside. The room was cool and dim, with little light coming through the shutters on inside of the windows. Will pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket, then opened the shutters a bit and the room brightened enough to see things more clearly. Dust motes sparkled in the sunbeams.
He gestured toward the bed. "Over there. Pull down your shorts."
"We don't have to do this, Will. I really mean it when I say I'll do better."
Sighing, he took her purse from her and put it in the seat of a chair. "If you mean that, then be cooperative and take your licks. This is about being more in control of yourself. It's not about me getting my jollies off whackin' on your butt. Maybe a sore fanny will make an impression on you and keep you out of jail."
She thought about it. He was determined, and he could overwhelm her if he wanted to. He didn't seem inclined to harm her, but he wasn't a wimp who would back down either. And, if it was a foregone conclusion that she was going to be spanked, it would be better to get it over with.
Stiffly, Queenie walked toward the bed while unbuttoning her shorts. She slid them down to her knees and faced him.
"Do you always wear thong panties?"
She nodded, a little embarrassed that he'd make a point of asking.
"Very pretty. I like the lace. Anyway, pull them down."
"Will… this isn't about sex, is it?"
He chuckled. "If it was about sex, Queenie, I guarantee you'd know it."
Yeah, that did seem likely. A guy who looked as good as Will, and who came from as hedonistic a place as Hollywood, would surely know his way around females. The idea that he had the experience necessary to please a woman without awkwardness or hesitation made Queenie's nipples harden. What was he like under that long-sleeved shirt and jeans? Thick forearms started where his sleeves were rolled up; he was strong.
The idea that she could be so physically attracted to a man with the tendency to tell her what to do made her irritable. Nonetheless, she pulled down her thong until it reached her knees.
"That's better." He came to the bed and sat on the end, patting his thighs. "Over my lap."
"You're gonna use your hand, right?"
"Do you see me reaching for my belt?"
He sat there, looking at her steadily. A beam of light fell across his lap and she saw his big, strong hands resting there. She licked her lips, and took a few hobbled steps toward him.
"Come on." Will's voice was gentle, and Queenie realized that although the spanking was supposed to be a punishment, he honestly intended it to be a lesson, too.
She levered herself over his thighs and he rested his left hand on the small of her back.
Warmth traveled over her bare bottom as he slid his fingers over her skin. He gave her bottom a little squeeze and a tremor flowed from Queenie's wet center to her nipples and back.
The first whack brought her from her sensual dream, right into the moment.
"Ow! Will, that hurts!"
He peppered her rear with hard spanks. Each one a jolt and a sharp stinging pain. The only sounds in the room were her small squeals and the slap of his palm on her butt, until he started his lecture.
"You have got to get control of yourself, Queenie," he told her. "You need to curb your temper and watch your language."
More spanks, these moving down her bottom to her thighs. Each one seemed to hurt worse than the last. Tears formed in her eyes.
"You could have been stuck in jail overnight, Queenie! What if I hadn't come in?"
"I…woulda…ow! Not so fu...not so hard!"
The pain was awful and she couldn't help but squirm, trying to get some respite. He held her firm and continued.
/> "You would have been stuck, that's what you woulda!" His hand moved to the junction of her thighs and butt and she began to cry in earnest. She might not be able to sit for a week!
"As it is, Queenie, you're going to have to appear before a judge and explain your bad behavior. Did you think about how embarrassed your family will be?"
She hadn't considered that. Truth to tell, she hadn't thought any of it through. She'd simply lost her temper and behaved badly.
"Ha-aa-ry…" she started, unable to finish the sentence as she blubbered. Harry made her so mad, she would have liked to use it as an excuse. But, to be fair, it wasn't Harry's fault that she lost control of her behavior. It was her fault.
"Harry is paying the price for being stupid. He's stuck in jail, exactly like you'd be if I hadn't been there. Did you plan to pay the price right alongside him?"
"N-no! I'm sorry!"
Her ass was on fire, but he didn't relent. "I believe you. Four more as a reminder, and then we're done."
Those last four were harder than all the rest and Queenie cried out miserably with each one.
Will stopped, his hand on her hot butt for a moment, then pulled her up into his arms. She was so embarrassed with her shorts and underwear around her knees, crying like a baby on his chest. But, at the same time, it was comforting to be there. She liked the scent of him, warm, masculine, soapy clean. And the hardness of his chest bespoke a man who wasn't afraid of hard work, whether it was in the gym or on his ranch, she didn't know, but that didn't matter at the moment. He had self-discipline, and she respected that.
"I'm sorry," she whispered between sniffles.
He stroked her hair as it lay lank on the back of her neck. "Behave, okay?"
Queenie wanted to be stiff and resentful of his punishment, but she couldn't quite. When he pressed his lips to her temple, she melted against him, encouraging a little more. And more she got.
Warm lips trailed over her cheekbone and down to the side of her mouth. He tickled the corner of her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she turned toward him. It was so natural to press her lips to his, so natural to take his tongue in her mouth and share that intimate moment.
When he broke from her a minute later, she wanted more.
"Patience," he told her. "Patience."
Spanking Her Highness Page 3