by Thianna D
When the dogs had finished eating, he encouraged them to go outdoors. The opening of the back door was followed by the scrabbling of nails on vinyl and a few thumps. Muffin was hopping again.
"Stop it," Jerry commanded quietly, and the thumps ceased. The reassurance in his quiet commands comforted her as well as them. Solid, reliable, caring and patient. Elly pressed against her pillow and smiled. She suspected he'd make a wonderful lover. Arthur had always been more focused on the conclusion, rather than the act, and her pleasure came second to his own, so she was used to taking care of herself. Somehow she didn't think that would be necessary with Jerry, but he was adamant she not exert herself until she was fully healed. Marcus had told her six weeks, but perhaps, if they were careful, she and Jerry could find a way around the doctor's limitation.
She sat up when Jerry walked into her room followed by Muffin who went straight to her bed and sat up for her bedtime cookie. After chuckling at the dog's antics, Jerry gave Muffin the biscuit she begged for, then turned and frowned at Elly, but she sensed his expression was rooted more in concern than displeasure.
"I thought you'd be asleep already."
"I was waiting for you."
Rather than walk around the bed to the other side, he took a seat next to her and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Did Marcus take your temperature?"
"Yes, and it was normal."
"Hmm. You feel a bit warm to me. Maybe I should retake it. Blood pressure?"
"Yup, had one of those, too.
His expression served as a clear warning for her to stop fooling around and tell him the truth. Spoil sport. Realizing he probably wouldn't be happy with the results, she hesitated, closed her eyes and blurted the truth. "Higher than normal, but Marcus said given what I'd been through he wasn't surprised."
"And he changed your wound dressing?"
"Yes, Jerry. I'm fine." She tugged his hand. "Please, I don't need my temperature or blood pressure retaken, I only need you beside me."
He stroked her hair. "Who's the doctor in this house?"
"You are, but—"
A finger pressed lightly against her lips. "So, I decide, not you. Right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He rose from the bed. "I'll be right back."
Elly sighed and settled back in bed. She didn't want a physical exam, she wanted a warm-blooded male hugging her close and reminding her she was a desirable woman, not just a patient in need of medical attention."
Then, he returned carrying a pair of latex gloves, a thermometer, and a tube of lubricant. Lubricant? What the hell? She jerked upright. "No!"
Chapter 16
One eyebrow arching, Jerry made a motion with his hand. "Roll over."
"No." Elly crossed her arms over her chest in stubborn refusal. She would not allow Jerry to stick a thermometer in her butt under any circumstances. "Marcus used a digital device that went in my ear. That—" She pointed to the mercury and glass contraption Jerry held. "Is archaic and should be kept in a museum along with other obsolete medical devices."
"I'm not Marcus, I'm Jerry, and I'm a vet. This is how we take temperatures. Now, roll over."
"Are you telling me that's how you take your own temperature when you're sick?"
"No, but I am telling you it's how I plan to take yours. Now, be a good girl and roll over, or I will get firm."
"But—"
"Elly, the only other words I want to hear coming out of those lovely, pink lips of yours right now, is 'yes, sir.' Last warning. Roll over."
This wasn't at all what she wanted, but she flopped over on her side and tried not to cry. "You're being mean."
"No. I'm being thorough. Rectal temperatures are more accurate than oral or tympanic ones, and I want a baseline. This won't hurt, and, despite what you think, I'm not insisting upon this to embarrass you. Now, move in a bit."
She inched closer to the center. "I just wanted you to hold me."
"I will." Sitting on the bed beside her, he lowered her panties and Elly's muscles instinctively tightened. Whenever Arthur had concentrated on her backdoor, she'd suffered for it. Her eyes grew moist.
"Relax, Elly."
Reassuring, warm fingers stroked her hip, but she still curled into a defensive ball.
"So, did Arthur take your temperature rectally, too?" The snap of disposable gloves caused her insides to twist with dread. She knew what would follow, but still gasped when a slick finger slowly circled her outer ring, anointing the sensitive area with lubricant.
Swallowing back a sob, she answered, "No." The finger withdrew without penetrating her constricted sphincter, and Elly breathed a sigh of relief. Though Jerry kept his movements slow and gentle, she hated having his attention fixed on her butt hole.
"Do you even remember the last time you had your temperature taken this way?" Long, firm fingers separated her cheeks as the bulbous end of the measuring device was carefully inserted into her rectum, and it took all of Elly's willpower not to jerk away from the intrusion.
"Easy…," he instructed, and the smooth glass slid into place, despite her efforts to tighten against it. No force, just firm, even pressure and a lot of lubrication. "Better. Good girl." Another snap of a glove, and warm fingers resumed their gentle stroking on her hip. "Mercury thermometers take a little longer to register than digital ones, so why don't we talk a bit during the interim."
"I don't want to," she muttered, her words muffled behind her fists.
"Am I hurting you?"
She wanted to claim he was, but in truth, nothing he did hurt, and even though she didn't like the invasive feel of the thermometer, it wasn't uncomfortable. "No."
"So, why are you upset?"
"Just because a thing isn't painful, doesn't mean I enjoy it." Her words emerged snippier than they should, but she didn't apologize for her tone.
"I suppose not. But was it really worth all the fuss you put up?"
"I didn't put up that much fuss," she contested, realizing he was probably right. Though she found something perversely intimate in having her temperature taken rectally by a man she desired sexually.
"No?" The question sounded more conversational than contradictory.
"No. I scream and struggle when I want to put up a real fuss."
"Ah. Good to know. So, if you start screaming and struggling, I'll take it to mean you're intending to put up a 'real fuss,' and treat your objection with utmost seriousness."
She snorted. She shouldn't laugh when she had a glass tube stuck up her butt, except Jerry Douglas had a way of putting her at ease in even the most awkward of situations, and she'd fallen in love with him because of it. Elly tensed.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm fine. Are we almost done?" She hated the whiny sound of her voice, but she never imagined she'd fall in love again. Certainly not this soon. They hadn't known the other existed two months previously, and hadn't exchanged more than a few words less than a week ago.
"About a minute longer is all. Why did you tense?"
The man was too perceptive for her own good. "I just remembered something."
"Care to share?"
Yes. No. What if she was the only one in love? What if she'd fallen for a guy who viewed her more as an obligation or responsibility, like a charity case he'd taken in? She believed his feelings for her went deeper than that, but he always chose his words so carefully. "No," she replied, finally. "It was only an idle thought."
"Okay. Time's up." As the thermometer was withdrawn, Elly tensed again, despite telling herself she shouldn't. "Easy, sweetie. That's it." He wiped her butt with a wet cloth and readjusted her panties.
"What's the verdict?" she asked, rolling onto her back.
"100.4, which would mean around 99 if I'd taken it any other way."
"So, which is right?"
He cleaned off the glass bulb with an alcohol wipe. "They're both right, I just think the rectal reading is more accurate. It's closer to your core temperature. In any case, y
ou aren't running a fever, which is good."
"Told you so."
He gave her nose a light tap. "Attitude. Okay, I'll take these back to the bathroom, then we'll cuddle for a bit until you fall asleep."
No. Not what she wanted at all. "Wait. You'll get under the covers and spend the night with me. Right?"
Stopping at her door, he turned around. "We'll see. I still think you'll sleep better alone, but I will get into bed with you to start."
She lay back with a sigh. She should be pleased he'd conceded as much as he had, except she wanted more. She wanted him. Problem was, she still didn't believe she deserved him.
Jerry felt Elly's eyes follow his every move as he removed his clothes down to his shorts and placed them on the chair in front of his desk. Did she like what she saw? He wasn't as tall as Arthur, or as massively built as her former husband. Did she find him lacking in comparison?
Slipping beneath the covers, he propped his head up and stared at her. "Is this what you wanted?"
"No. Not exactly," she murmured, her green eyes glowing like jewels in the soft glimmer of moonlight peaking through the curtains. She moved in closer to press her lips to his and his eager dick responded as her uniquely ginger-citrus scent teased his nostrils. Though he longed to crush her to him in a bruising embrace, he didn't move, not even to deepen the kiss. Down boy. It's too soon, he warned himself. The lady is seeking a little warmth and companionship, not a roll in the hay. Besides, he had her stitches to consider as well as her health. Hell, she'd just gotten out of the hospital.
She inched back and blinked up at him. "You don't want to kiss me?"
"Sweetie, what I want and what is best for you, aren't always the same thing. You need to rest. Now turn around and we'll cuddle until you fall asleep."
"What if I want more than cuddling?" she asked, and her lips held a teasing smile his body longed to pursue even as his mind cautioned his libido against acting prematurely.
Lowering his voice to disguise his true desire, he murmured, "Then you may just get the spanking you mentioned earlier."
She pouted. Finding even her pout adorable, Jerry clamped his jaw tight and reminded his pulsing penis who was in control.
"You're still angry with me, aren't you?"
Applying the principle of mind over body through a pure force of will, he put his head down on the pillow. "Do I appear angry?"
"No. I guess not. But why do I get the feeling you'd prefer to be anywhere else, other than here?" Rather than wait for his reply, she rolled over and gave him her back, so he reached out and drew her against him. Though she didn't resist, her body trembled slightly.
Though they wanted the same thing, one of them needed to act like an adult. He placed a kiss on her hair. She'd showered with honeydew-scented shampoo and an orange-ginger body wash. Down boy, Jerry warned the stirring part of his anatomy as he redirected his attention to the unhappy woman beside him. "Shh. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be, but you need to slow down. No, don't cry. Tell me what's got you so upset."
When she shook her head, he ran his hands along the length of her torso, listening and noting both the sounds she made and her reactions to his touch. She gave a murmur of soft appreciation when he caressed the underside of her breasts, making sure he didn't venture too far into bandage territory, and offered a tiny gasp and wiggle when he ran his fingers along her sides, but she tensed with an indrawn breath when he stroked her butt.
"Still sore?" he asked, rubbing lightly, wanting to get her accustomed to him claiming her there. When he'd lowered her panties, he'd noticed a few reddish-pink stripes, remnants of the caning Arthur gave her Thursday, but the welts and bruising had faded. She was a quick healer, which was good.
"No. Not very much."
Her breathing slowed and she calmed after about a minute. Good sign. He slid his hands from her hips to her belly button and splayed his fingers over her lower abdomen. "How about here?"
"Still a little tender."
"I imagine you would be." He continued a slow, even massage, touching her everywhere he could, while taking care to avoid any areas that might cause her physical discomfort. In less than five minutes, she fell asleep, but he waited, not wanting to rouse her by leaving too soon.
The fact she slept in his arms while he stroked her showed how much she'd grown to trust him. Even so, he suspected the first time he administered a firm punishment spanking; she'd have trouble submitting. Truth was, he didn't spank casually, other than the occasional playful swat for a bratty slip of the tongue. Nor did he spank for sexual gratification.
Pleasure spankings ventured too close to BDSM for his taste, and that wasn't a sandbox he was comfortable playing in. When he spanked, he did it to get a clear message across that unacceptable behavior would not be tolerated. Even so, he didn't consider himself a harsh disciplinarian. In fact, if someone were to rank his punishments on a harshness scale with the other dominants in Corbin's Bend, he'd place in the low end, which wouldn't be the only reason he'd make a poor addition to the punishment board. Though he'd never admit it aloud, he was a softy.
He rarely used paddles, hairbrushes, or any other spanking gadget, and he never used switches, canes or crops. Nor did he employ restraints, other than his arms. More often than not, he applied the flat of his palm to a butt bared for punishment, with the spankee over his knees and her bottom raised to the perfect angle. Though hand spankings could be painful, they weren't as harsh as those given with implements, and he preferred the feedback of flesh-to-flesh.
However, that didn't mean Elly would find his punishments easy to accept. Despite her earlier challenge, he feared when the time came she might prefer to leave rather than submit. The notion bothered him deeply, but the alternative wasn't acceptable either. He could only hope Brent was right; that he and Elly would work things out.
Both Muffin and Elly were lightly snoring before Jerry collected his clothes and tiptoed upstairs. He could have remained downstairs with her, but he wasn't always a quiet sleeper and she needed her rest.
Jack lay stretched out on his orthopedic foam bed fast asleep. Larger dogs, like Labs, often suffered from arthritis, but because Jack was still a young dog, less than a year old, the special pad wasn't entirely necessary. And even though research on the benefits remained mixed, Jerry believed anything that might help his dog in the later years of his life was for the best.
After hanging up his clothes, Jerry slipped into bed and fell asleep. He awakened several hours later to the warmth of a body pressed up against his back. Lifting his head, he counted two dog beds, and two sleeping dogs. Slowly turning over, he took note of a delightfully rumpled Elly sound asleep next to him, and saw red.
Not only had she climbed a flight of stairs, she'd been told were forbidden her, she'd carried Muffin's pad with her. Knowing her, she probably carried the poodle, too, and that made him even angrier. The palm of his hand began to itch, but he slipped out of bed and strode into the small bathroom, which contained a sink, toilet and shower, and sat down on the lowered lid while he got his emotions in check. Though the lady definitely needed a lesson in obedience, Jerry feared those were the kind of lessons Arthur taught. He didn't want Elly to be a mindless automaton, but he did expect her to use a modicum of common sense and follow her doctor's orders.
Though she needed and deserved a spanking in the worst way, a punishment should represent the end result rather than the goal. He'd have to approach this problem with calm, firm unassailable logic. Elly needed to learn he would not permit her to do whatever she wanted when the action jeopardized her health and well-being. The question was, could he spank her without causing her further injury, and if he could, how might he convince her to accept a spanking without sending her into a full-fledged panic first? He needed to give this matter a lot of thought.
Elly awakened to the unmistakable aromas of brewed coffee and bacon frying and smiled. Expected to be the first one up, it had been her job to make and serve breakfast; however, Je
rry preferred to pamper her. And, in truth, she rather liked being pampered. Carefully lifting her arms and pointing her toes, Elly stretched in bed. Her stitches pulled a bit, but nowhere near as painfully as they had yesterday. Climbing upstairs last night hadn't done her any damage, though her stomach did seem a bit tenderer this morning. She understood the stairs had been a 'no-no,' but when she awakened to discover Jerry gone, she had trouble getting back to sleep. Rather than toss and turn, which was even more uncomfortable, she decided to follow him. Knowing she couldn't leave Muffin behind, Elly took both the tiny dog, whose ribs were still healing, and her pet's brand new bed up with her.
In the back of her mind, Elly had worried Jerry might get upset over her disobedience, but the fact he'd slipped downstairs to make breakfast reassured her. Arthur would have taken her to task before he did anything else, and he'd never think of cooking for her.
Sitting up, Elly noticed Muffin's bed was missing, but as she thought about it longer, she realized Jerry must have already relocated the plush cushion for her. He was so thoughtful in that way. Jack wasn't on his mat, either, but with the smell of scrumptious cooking going on in the kitchen, she didn't expect either dog to remain upstairs with her.
Slowly swinging her feet to the floor, she waited a moment to make sure her vertigo didn't return, then padded down to the lower bathroom to freshen up before she joined the others. On her way, she heard Jerry talking to the dogs.
"No, this isn't for you. I know you'd like to think I was cooking up a special treat, but your breakfast is in your bowl. So, stop staring at me with those woeful eyes and go eat."
Elly smiled and continued on to the bathroom.
With her hair and teeth brushed and her face washed, she strode over to the closet and selected an outfit from the things Kelli and Bethany had gotten for her. She needed to retrieve her own clothes, but that would have to wait, too. She continued toward the bedroom to slip her new clothing on, only to halt in the entranceway. Muffin's bed wasn't in the spot where Jerry put it yesterday. Stepping into the room, she glanced about, but didn't see the frilly cushion anywhere. Tossing the clothes onto her rumpled sheets, she marched into the kitchen. No Muffin.