by BJ Wane
“No, I want…” You. Nope. Not going there. “To see where this can lead. I’m good.” She turned her head down before that astute gaze could pick up that unacceptable, wayward thought or the surprising arousal coursing through her his hard hand had kindled.
Drake cursed and squeezed her buttock, the discomfort feeding the rippling clutches of her slick, inner muscles. Roz didn’t understand how the pain encompassing her butt could fuel her lust, but as he resumed spanking, there was no denying what she felt. This time, he held back the harsher strokes, tempering his slaps to deliver a milder sting, enough to keep the heat turned up and her breathing ragged. Within moments, a languid heaviness invaded her body, robbing her of rational thought as she slipped into a foggy zone. She went with the now peaceful flow of sensation, shedding her insecurities about the future to embrace this new, euphoric experience.
****
Drake doubted Roz noticed when she started lifting her hips to meet his descending hand, or when he stopped smacking her ass and began torturing himself further by leisurely exploring her hot, cushy buttocks. It would be so easy to give in to temptation, slide his finger between her glistening pussy lips, and stroke her clit. From the swollen, damp state of those soft folds, he suspected one touch to that sensitive nub would set her off like a firecracker.
Since his restraint was hanging by a thread, the thought alone was a bad idea. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to release her or even to remove his hand from her supple, reddened ass. Round and soft, her buttocks were a delight to play with, to squeeze and caress, to watch bounce as he’d peppered the globes with sharp smacks. This whole plan to compel her to lay off pursuing sex with him had boomeranged in a big way when she’d complied with such willingness to his dictate, unashamedly bared her lower body, and draped herself over his lap. The sight of her delectable buttocks, the treasured orifice they protected, and her denuded labia was enough to incite his wolf into a frenzy of lust he was still struggling to control.
Last time, you mongrel, stand down, he silently ordered when the cur raked his claws along Drake’s abdomen. The animal within him subsided, but not without a growl of displeasure as Drake caressed Roz’s buttocks one last time then helped her sit up.
With a sigh and small smile, she brushed her flyaway bangs aside and leaned into him. “That was so not what I expected,” she breathed against his neck.
Staving off the urge to tighten his arm around her, he huffed a deep, self-deprecating laugh. “Neither are you, Roz.” Before she wormed her way deeper under his skin, he pressed two fingers under her chin, lifting her face to inspect her level of lucidity. Those sky-blue eyes shone with clear awareness, her mouth curling up at the corners in one of her teasing grins, as if she knew the turmoil she’d caused him.
“I suppose now you’ll tell me that’s not a good thing.” She must have read his answer on his face because her smile slipped and her eyes dimmed, the shuttered look producing a tight clutch in his gut. “Let me save you the trouble.”
Drake didn’t try to stop her from pushing off his lap, or to look away as she pulled up her jeans, refusing to deny himself one last look at her pink cheeks.
“It’s already starting to get dark, and I don’t like driving the country roads at night. Unless Mona or Rocky has a problem, I don’t need to return and check on them.”
Taking her arm as she turned to leave, he fell in step with her, berating himself for not thinking of that before now. Anyone raised on a ranch was comfortable with the backroads at all hours of the day by the time they were driving solo, but without the benefit of city lighting, nighttime driving in the countryside could get treacherous. “I’ll follow you to the clinic.”
“Nonsense. It’s still dusk, not pitch black yet. I’ll be fine.” Roz yanked away from him as soon as they exited the stable, opening her car door and sliding behind the wheel before he could stop her. Holding on to the door handle, she looked up at him with a sadness he didn’t understand but that stabbed at his conscience nonetheless. “Thanks for helping me knock one item off my bucket list. I’ll find someone else to work on the rest and not bother you again. Bye, Drake.”
A cold fist squeezed his chest as Roz drove away. She’d finally agreed to back off from her pursuit, but instead of pleasing him, that parting shot about seeking someone else left him vibrating to lash out in jealousy-infused denial. Picturing her with someone else bothered him as strongly as wondering why someone her age was working her way through a bucket list. The damn woman was getting to him, threatening years of keeping himself in check so as not to lose control of either himself or his canine.
Every day, he fought the seducement of shifting and losing himself in the mountains and forests, staying in wolf form, free to indulge his feral instincts hunting food instead of risking harming another human. He never dreamed his emotions could run so deep, so strong, in such a short time after meeting his mate. He’d always assumed, if he ever met her, he would have time to restrain himself and keep her from becoming a necessity. He was now paying the price for that grave mistake.
That scene in the stable had inflamed him with a fiery need that still burned as Roz’s taillights disappeared around a bend. Worry for her added to the lust causing his skin to itch and his pulse to pound with the desire to shift and run. Unable to resist, he sprinted into the woods, stripped, and took off, tearing through the trees lining the road as soon as he shifted. He allowed his wolf to follow Roz, surprised at her moderate speed given her usual reckless behavior. It was good to know she wasn’t a complete madcap.
He slowed his pace as they neared the clinic then lay down at the edge of the forest, watching as she pulled around to the back, parked, and got out of her car. Dusk had settled into a dark-gray cloak, his heavy panting and the crickets raucous clicking the only sounds interfering with the silence. He lay in the shadows but held his breath as her head whipped around and she grew still. She took a few steps his way, paused, then shook her head before pivoting and going inside.
Rising, he wound his way to the ranch, his wolf content to take his time now they both were relieved Roz made it without trouble. By the time Drake fell into bed exhausted, the night was half over, and he still grappled with an ache he’d failed to come to terms with.
CHAPTER FOUR
Roz’s alarm went off way too early the next morning, or maybe it was the restless night she’d spent tossing and turning, each move a sore reminder of what she’d allowed Drake to do to her last night. Not only permitted, but ended up enjoying more than her most vivid fantasy. Even without climaxing, as she’d desperately wanted, the whole experience of her first erotic spanking had skyrocketed to top her most memorable ‘get naked with a guy’ experience.
Nothing could have worked better to distract her today from the chore of making her monthly check-in call to Tall Oaks Convalescent Home.
Rolling out of bed with a groan, she sighed as the lingering ache across her backside throbbed with each step she took into the bathroom. Once there, she turned, eyeing her butt in the mirror over her shoulder, pleased to see a pink tinge still remained. She couldn’t fathom why that turned her on with pleasure, then shrugged off the question and went with the flow. Why bother if it made her happy?
Today, just about anything would please her more than talking to Dean’s caregivers. They were divorced, and she didn’t have to check up on him, but Roz’s conscience prevented her from walking away from the man she’d once cared for when she bore the responsibility for his condition. Regardless of how he’d turned on her, he didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life in a comatose state, and she continued to hold out hope he would recover. His mother had flown in the top two neurologists in the country, both agreeing nothing was impossible when it came to head injuries. Roz wouldn’t put it past Patty to keep any sign of progress from her, so she kept in touch with the staff, most of whom were happy to talk with her.
After showering and dressing in the clinic’s uniform, she padded into the kitchen to
grab a leftover donut from her trip to the Brookville bakery and a cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, her gaze shifted out the window toward the spot near the woods where she could have sworn she’d seen a large dog or wolf crouched down last night. An odd prickling sensation had tickled the back of her neck first, and, after spotting the canine shape, a compulsion to approach the animal had gripped her. As soon as she realized the risk, she’d changed her mind, putting down that automatic, strange impulse to her natural affinity toward animals and worry it was hurt.
Speaking of hurt. She brooded as Drake’s closed expression when he’d mentioned she wasn’t what he’d expected popped into her head. Going by his look, there was no doubt how he felt about that. Less than a week had passed since they’d first met. Given his reluctance to engage in anything personal with her, it made no sense not to move on. She should set her sights on someone else just as physically appealing to entertain her until Patty was successful in making her pay with her freedom for Dean’s condition.
Just the thought left her cold.
Turning from the window, Roz berated herself for being an idiot. Hadn’t making a fool of herself by latching onto Dean so fast, for accepting his cold possessiveness to avoid being alone with her grief for her aunt instead of waiting for someone special before making a commitment, taught her anything? Vowing not to make that mistake again, she headed into the clinic and the four-legged patients who didn’t cause her as much mental turmoil as one, two-legged human.
“Good morning,” she greeted Stacy and Karen who were already busy behind the reception desk.
“Morning, Dr. Roz. We have another full schedule today, and Dr. Dennis needs a word with you. He’s in treatment room two.”
“Thanks, Karen. I’ll go check with him while you open the doors. I saw two cars pull in already.”
Roz padded down the hall and knocked on the treatment room door before entering to see Dennis splinting the hind leg of a sedated, medium-sized dog. “Oh, poor thing.” Joining Dennis at the exam table, she eyed the scrawny, white-and-black canine with sympathy for its suffering. “I’ll bet he’s a scrapper.” She ran a finger over one dog-chewed ear and scanned its homely, ragged appearance then lifted her gaze to Dennis. “You wanted to see me?”
“I need a favor,” he said, handling the injured dog with gentle hands. “There’s a livestock auction scheduled for Saturday morning in Ashton, and we’ve been asked to have someone on hand in case a potential buyer wants a medical evaluation before purchase. You’ve done great this week with the larger livestock, and I’d planned on leaving at noon tomorrow to visit a friend over the weekend in Boise. Would you mind going in my place?”
She smiled, pleased he had so much confidence in her in such a short time. “I wouldn’t mind at all as long as I can call you if I need a second opinion.” She would need to leave Puss ’N Boots a little earlier tomorrow night to get a good night’s sleep, but that would be a small sacrifice for this opportunity to get her name recognized among the ranchers.
Maybe she would meet a hot cowboy capable of taking her mind off Drake. He couldn’t have made his disinterest in such a relationship any clearer, and with her monthly phone call weighing on her mind, she was reminded not to take time for granted.
“Of course, I’ll be available by phone. I wouldn’t leave you high and dry, even if I do have the utmost confidence you can handle whatever comes up. There.” Dennis carefully set the splinted leg down and injected a pain killer. “All set, and it should heal fine, but sometimes I wonder why I bother with the strays. He’ll go to the shelter from here next week, and they’ll put him down if he’s not adopted within two weeks.”
“Just two weeks?” Roz’s throat clogged, and she missed the sly look in Dennis’ eyes as she took in the young dog’s pronounced ribs and signs of fleas. His poor overall condition lessened his chances of landing in a good home. “That seems unfair.”
“It is for the animals, but when it comes to strays, especially ones with health issues that will require additional funds, there are too many for them to hold for longer than that.”
“I’ll take him,” she offered, warming to the idea as she thought of the companionship in the evenings when she felt so isolated and alone out here.
Dr. Dennis seemed to ponder the idea as he reached for a vial of flea drops. “That’s an extra responsibility, and will cut into your free time. Are you sure?” he asked, squirting the medicine under the fur on the dog’s back.
Roz nodded, her enthusiasm growing as she took in the large paws and wiry hair that hinted he might have some Irish Wolfhound in him. “It’ll be easy to check on him during breaks, and there’s plenty of space for him to romp once he’s healed. I could use the company.”
Dennis frowned, casting her a sharp glance. “I’m sorry, Roz. I offered you the studio thinking it would be easier for you since you’re new to the area. Don’t feel obligated to keep living out here.”
She waved a hand, shaking her head. “I don’t, I promise. I’m good for now. Speaking of out here and dogs,” she added, remembering the animal she spotted last night, “do you get wolves on the property?”
“No, they keep to the woods, closer to the mountains and water, and usually stay clear of people. Why?”
“I thought I saw one last night, out by the trees. But it was probably one of these strays. It was too dark to tell.”
The intercom buzzed, and Stacy’s voice piped through. “Patient in room one.”
“I’ll take that. Thanks, Dr. Dennis. I’m looking forward to Saturday, and my new buddy.”
Roz was grateful for the busy schedule that kept her from thinking about the phone call obligation waiting for her after work. It would be nice if she could put her failed marriage, and that last altercation between her and Dean that revealed the extent of his true character, behind her. Then again, if he had died, she would have found that just as hard, if not more difficult, to live with. Now, as pathetic as his condition was, there was still a slim chance he could come out of the coma. Every day, she prayed that would happen, for both Dean’s sake, and her own, as his mother could then focus her attention on his recovery instead of on revenge against Roz.
Following Mrs. Wilcox and Oreo, her pet Mini Juliana pig, out to the front, Roz handed Stacey the chart. “I’ve given Oreo a clean bill of health, so she won’t need another appointment.” Turning her smile on the elderly woman who doted on the white-and-black pig, she said, “Keep her on the diet for a while longer, but, otherwise, you can resume taking your walks.”
“Thank you, Dr. Kingman,” she replied with gratitude.
Roz turned to Stacey as Mrs. Wilcox left. “She’s quite the character.”
“That she is, and she loves that pig. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll shut down and lock up. Everyone else has gone.”
“I’m headed out, too, right after I check on Scruffy.”
“Is that what you named your new dog? It sure fits.”
“That’s what I thought. See you in the morning, Stacey.”
Roz slipped down to the kennel room, her fourth visit that day, and spent a few minutes petting Scruffy who was still groggy from the pain meds. With luck, she could settle him in the studio this weekend, and the two of them could get to know each other better.
Speaking of which, her mind automatically shifted to Drake as she made her way through the now dim clinic to the studio. She couldn’t deny still wanting him despite his continued efforts to push her away, and that was just pathetic. She’d never been ruled by her body, but in her defense, she’d never experienced such a strong attraction to a man. Now that she’d witnessed his devotion to rescuing mistreated horses, his fondness for his future sisters-in-law, and that hint of protectiveness despite his exasperation with her, she couldn’t claim her interest was just physical. Given her questionable future, that wouldn’t do.
Roz padded into the bedroom and changed into a pair of comfortable sweats, her upbeat mood diminishing as she made
the final decision to set her sights on someone else, starting tomorrow night at Puss ’N Boots. Snatching up her phone, she shoved aside that depressing thought and settled on the sofa to deal with another mentally draining matter.
“Mercy Special Care, Nurse Baines, Second Floor.”
Crap. Roz hoped Claire would answer the desk phone outside Dean’s room. Bitch Baines mirrored Patty’s beliefs that Roz was guilty of assaulting Dean despite the evidence of her injuries.
Gritting her teeth, she tried for a neutral tone. “Ms. Baines, this is Roz Kingman. How is Dean?” Might as well get to the point so she could get this over with.
“Mrs. Cunningham, how good of you to check in on your husband.”
Roz expected the cool tone, as well as the intentional use of her previous name and title. That didn’t mean she had to accept either, and moderated her voice to match the nurse’s.
“That’s Roz or Ms. Kingman, and Dean is my ex-husband, as you well know. Any change in his condition?”
She could almost hear Baines’ smirk over the phone with her smug answer.
“Here, why don’t I let his mother tell you.”
Double crap. Could her timing be any worse? Patricia Cunningham’s frigid voice never failed to send a chill down Roz’s spine.
“Where are you? If you care so much, why have you left town?”
“Aw, shucks, Patty, do you miss me?” She wasn’t at all surprised the woman knew about Roz’s move. Patty had been keeping close tabs on her for a year now.
“Do not call me Patty. Dean’s condition hasn’t changed, and neither has my mind about seeing you pay for what you did to my son. You can’t run away far enough to escape justice, Roz.”
Closing her eyes, Roz struggled to work up a smidgeon of compassion for the woman, but then Patty resorted to name calling, and she gave up. Cutting her off in mid-tirade, Roz snapped, “Your nasty rhetoric can’t hurt me as much as your son did, or would have if I hadn’t defended myself. Goodbye, Patty.”