Ace's Wild (Hqn)

by Sarah McCarty

Without hesitation, he pulled her over to the straight-back chair sitting by the little potbelly stove.

  She started to get a very unromantic feeling. “What are you doing?”

  “What your pappy should have done to you long ago.” In one smooth move, he sat and yanked her off balance. Another tug had her lying over his lap. She braced her hands on the seat and pushed up. He put his elbow in the middle of her back and held her down. He was the stronger, so she stayed down. It was that simple. That infuriating. That arousing. She kicked her feet. All she’d wanted was a kiss.

  The first tug of her skirt sent a frisson of fear through her. The second added a swirl of dark excitement. The third added a cool draft and a shocking realization that he was lifting her skirts.

  “No! What are you doing?” She reached back trying to stop him, but before she could get another syllable out, they were above her head and she knew, just knew, Ace was staring at her ass hidden by nothing but her thin bloomers. The swirl of dark excitement wrapped around her horror, muting it. His hand fell, and she jumped, legs jerking, breath catching, expecting pain but feeling instead the weight and heat of his touch. A threat, a promise. He wouldn’t...

  “Don’t,” she gasped. The sound reached her before the sting. The realization came third. He’d spanked her. On her ass. In the living room of her own house.

  “How dare you?” She wriggled, flopping about like a fish out of water. “Let me up this minute!”

  Another slap, on the other cheek, this time harder, the sting sharper. “You, Pet, don’t give me orders.”

  Gritting her teeth she all but growled, “And you don’t spank me.”

  His hands moved over her ass in a subtle soothing—or was it a warning? None of this was going as she planned. “Oh, trust me. This is the only thought running through my head right now that you want me playing out.”

  She struggled harder. “Damn you, let me up!”

  The next spank came harder burning over the top of the first. “Don’t curse.”

  The sting lingered, like the graze of his fingers, and beneath the indignity something bigger bloomed. Something dark and tempting that called out to everything feminine within her. It shamed her. It aroused her. It scared her. She put everything she had into the next bid for freedom. The ensuing spank stole her breath.

  “Hold still.”

  Her “No” broke on a sob. Her confusion rode the heat as it pooled between her legs. What was he doing to her?

  The next slap took her breath but the afterburn went straight to her pussy. He didn’t have to say it.

  You don’t give me orders.

  Oh, God. How could something so decadent feel so good?

  “I don’t want this.” It was a lie.

  “I do.” That was a truth.

  “Ace!”

  His forearm stayed firmly planted in the hollow of her spine. Her hands stayed firmly planted on the rung of the chair. It was a battle of wills, and she wasn’t giving in.

  “You might as well just settle down and enjoy this. You’ve earned it.”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  His palm slid over her butt in a skimming caress, almost contemplative in the nature. Goose bumps sprang across her skin, and the nerve endings under the sensitized skin stretched and lifted in a silent plea. Was she crazy? Was he?

  A series of light spanks warmed her skin, not pain, not pleasure but a prelude her body recognized and her mind rejected. The spanking built gradually, leveling, surging, falling, stinging, burning, punishing, pleasuring. Keeping her off balance. Centering her attention. The sound of the slaps filled the room in an erotic cadence. Sensation filled her body in the same rhythmic bursts, and the moment consumed her mind. Anybody looking through the window could see, but she didn’t care anymore. She needed to know, to understand, what was happening. She tried to resist as he soothed her well-warmed ass with a soft caress. But with a simple brush of his hand from her ass to her knee, he stole the impetus and turned the last of her rebellion into curiosity because never in her life had she felt such fiery pleasure. It streaked up her body, raced in goose bumps along her flesh and snatched her very breath from her lungs. There was nothing civilized about this. It was raw, primitive and perfect. Every spank a statement. Every caress a possession. She needed more.

  He shifted in the chair. Before she could catch her balance, he was back at it, delivering another series of light, stinging slaps at the back of her thigh and while she was squirming from that, another pass of his hand down her leg, his nails dragging lightly across the goose bumps, inspiring more. Her pussy reacted. Desire flooded out reason. She wasn’t a little girl to be spanked. She was a woman, and even though it made no sense, she’d never felt more than one right now. His hand grazed up the inside of her thigh, sliding over the cotton of her pantaloons, higher and higher in a deliberate tease. With a moan she let go of the chair and collapsed across his thighs, legs spread in breathless, shivering capitulation.

  She wanted this.

  * * *

  ACE PAUSED WHEN Petunia went still across his lap. Resting his palm on the firm flesh of her buttocks, he could feel the heat of her flesh through her bloomers. There was expectancy to the way she lay across his lap, he recognized. An anticipation that matched that in him. The only difference was she was waiting for something she didn’t recognize.

  Him. She was waiting for him.

  Tantalizingly, temptingly, the knowledge lured him. Petunia wasn’t his usual type. She wasn’t sturdy, she wasn’t strong, she wasn’t world-weary, but there was something about the woman that drew him in ways that shredded his good intentions and made mincemeat of the vow he made many years ago to never tarnish innocence. He might cheat a time or two at cards with men who deserved it, but there were also those times he’d thrown a hand or two to keep some farmer from losing everything in a reckless moment. In the end, he figured it balanced out.

  He wasn’t all bad, he wasn’t all good but he was far from a do-gooder, and Pet was nothing but one. Like Quixote in the novels, she was always tipping her optimism at some windmill, playing hands that any good gambler would drop and making them work on nothing but sheer determination. She called him a gambler but she was the one who truly gambled, risking everything on a determined hope.

  Her hips shifted on his, flexed ever so subtly, teasing him. “Ace...”

  The shy whisper brought him back to the here and now. And, looking at the lush flare of her upturned ass, the here and now was a very seductive place. He dug his fingers into the firm flesh just enough to cause indents, just enough to bring that expectancy back to her. The problem was he loved all that passion simmering in Pet, wanted to contain it, direct it, eliminate the scattered force and make her... He sighed and admitted, his.

  Every morning he got up and he looked in the mirror and checked what he saw reflected back. Making sure normal still covered the darkness. Lately it had been getting harder and harder to look at the man staring back and not see the cracks in the facade. Ever since Petunia had arrived in town, he’d been getting careless, reckless, even. Needing. Wanting. But Petunia in her innocence and hope was the one thing he couldn’t have. He could try to be normal; Lord knows he faked it a few times in the past, even managed it, for a day or two sometimes a month, but he had only to look at them now. Her skirts pulled up over her head, the only thing between his hand and her ass was the material of her pantaloons, the next spank twitching in his muscles, to know that that subterfuge wasn’t possible between them. It didn’t matter what he wanted; it didn’t matter what his cock wanted; it didn’t matter what the devil on his shoulder screamed. She was who she was. He was who he was and never the two could join.

  Except for now, temptation whispered. He had now. He could know this small piece of her and let her taste this small piece of him. He could be the memory that
every man in the future tried to replace. The thought put a tight smile on his lips. Fuck, yeah. Let them try to replace this.

  He brought his hand down just a little harder this time, aiming for fresh flesh. Bringing back Pet’s focus, centering her attention where he wanted it, on him.

  “You’ve been begging for this for a long time, my pet.”

  She squirmed as he expected her to. Moaned as he wanted her to. He wanted that fight; he wanted that challenge. He wanted her to throw everything she had at him and then he wanted to catch it and mold it until everything she threw at him was her and everything he caught was her until everything he was, was her.

  She squirmed and squealed against his thighs as he released the need, cried when he rained the smacks up and down her thighs, moaned when he ghosted the inside, but it was her desperate, “Please” that reached him.

  He swore under his breath as she collapsed over his thighs, her torso jerking with her breaths. He’d lost control. The knowledge swamped him. He never lost control. A man couldn’t play the games he did and lose control. And with Pet of all people. That was unforgivable. He wanted her balanced between pleasure and pain, aching and wanting. He didn’t want her anywhere else. He never wanted her afraid of him.

  Resting his palm on her ass, he rubbed soothingly, gentling her with quiet touches, giving her time to relax. He was the stronger one. The dominant. The one she had to be able to trust. His fingers slipped between her legs. The muslin was wet with her excitement. Deep inside him his demons stirred. Yes.

  Before he could block it, possessiveness surged through him. This was what he wanted; this was what he longed for; this was his woman; this was his. He couldn’t stop himself from turning her over, lifting her up, pulling her flushed face closer to his, staring into her wide eyes, breathing deep of her scent as he took in that initial reaction to his cock pushing against her pussy. The acceptance. The excitement. The utter need.

  “This is why,” he whispered against her lips as he rocked beneath her, “you need to stay away from me.”

  Her hands cupped his face. Her mouth bit at his as she pulled him closer. “This is why I won’t.”

  The truth so simple, so impossible, hung between them.

  His mouth opened over hers. He wanted her instant response. What he got was her resistance and even that was right. He nibbled at her lips.

  “Open.”

  She shook her head and smiled. He brought his hand up to her chin, gripping tightly so she couldn’t escape. Squeezing gently until her stubbornness gave, and her mouth parted. She tasted as sweet as she had the other day, but she also tasted hot and wild as a part of her she hadn’t even recognized, that he hadn’t allowed himself to believe existed, stepped into the world for the first time. She tasted like pure, beautiful lust. His cock throbbed between them, aching and hard. Desire rode his resolve just as hard.

  In another time and place, she’d been his, and in another time and place she would be his, but in this time, in this world, all they could have was this moment. This kiss. Her fingers dug into his chest, eight points of pressure through his shirt, another bond. He ran his tongue over the inside of her lips lightly, teasingly, bringing passion past what she thought she should be, bringing out who she was.

  She didn’t sit as straight in his lap. He twisted slightly, letting her fall against him slightly, a soft, nearly imperceptible surrender. He took it for what it was, awareness.

  “Yes,” he muttered against her lips, “just like that. Give yourself to me.”

  “I don’t want to,” she whispered back.

  “Liar.”

  He kissed her harder, pushing those words back into her mouth with his tongue, nibbling at her resistance with his lips, molding her into compliance with the soft drag of his nails down her spine. She gasped when his fingers grazed the hollow, smiled when with the slightest of pressure he seduced the last of her resistance and tempted her curiosity. She wanted to know where this between them could lead. Fuck. So did he.

  He took another kiss, pressing harder, pushing stronger, driving her faster than he knew she would comfortably go, but he only had the now, and he wanted all he could cram into it because as soon as this meekness vanished, she was going to be pissed as hell.

  “Kiss me back,” he ordered.

  “Make me,” she ordered right back.

  Oh, she was a wild one. Fisting his hand in her hair, he pulled her head back, staring down into those eyes. They were always full of determination and passion, but it was different now. She was focused on him.

  “Do you need me to?” He’d give her that excuse if she needed it.

  She stared at him for a minute as she processed the question before shaking her head. To his shock, the fingers digging into his chest opened flat, and her palm slid up over his shoulders, and her fingertips were against his nape and he felt those nails dig in the way he liked, pulling him down into her soft embrace. “No. Not at all.”

  Her lips pressed against his inexpertly, all awkward enthusiasm, and it was his turn to moan. It would be so much fun to train her. Making love to her wouldn’t be the same as making love to a whore. She wouldn’t be doing it for money. Her cooperation wouldn’t be guaranteed and that wildness in her, depending on how well he handled it, would either work for him or against him. The challenge titillated his senses, the possibilities, his desire, the potential, his need. He wanted to consume her from the inside out, own her, mark her, love her. The last drew him up short.

  He broke off the kiss, realizing with a start he was breathing as hard as she was, felt as drugged as she looked, and that just rattled him more. He never lost control. And the last place he should be losing it was here. With this woman.

  Liar. His heart screamed. He caught her chin again, holding her gaze to his. She should have looked shattered. She just looked fucking beautiful, confident and, damn it all, determined.

  “It’s time for you to go, Pet.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. Looked around and said, “This is my house.”

  “Not from here. From Simple.”

  “I don’t have the money.”

  “I’ll give it to you.”

  He expected her to argue. Instead, she asked, “What about the Providence?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s not your responsibility.”

  “I’m making it mine.”

  She opened her mouth again, and he put his hand over it, silencing her, keeping her pressed between his hand in her hair and his hand over her mouth, controlling her. And she liked it. The realization just sent his blood spiking higher. Damn it, so did he.

  She didn’t struggle like a lesser woman would. She didn’t look afraid; she just watched him like prey watched a predator, except there was a bit of predator in her, too, and that, he realized, was what he liked about her, her strength. She didn’t back down. She didn’t give up. She just changed direction when necessary.

  “You’re leaving. This...between us.” He shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

  Holding her as he was, he couldn’t miss her flinch. He expected tears. He got resistance. She made a muffled sound behind his hand, and her brows came down.

  “I’m not saying that to spark your interest.” She needed to understand that. “It’s the flat-out truth. You’ve said all along I’m no good. You were right. You’re right about other things about me, too. There are a lot of things I’ve done in this life that I’m not proud of, but I’ve never destroyed a woman’s innocence, and I’m not going to start with yours. So in two days when that stage comes through, you’re going to have a ticket and you’re going to get on it. Understand?”

  “Oh, I understand.” Sliding off his lap, she yanked her dress down and glared at him. “Your needs, your wants, it’s all about you.”

  He stood. She didn
’t back off or down, she just folded her arms across her and gave him back glare for glare. He admired that. Wanted that. Fuck.

  “It takes two to tango, my pet, and I’m not dancing.”

  “I’ll take the ticket, then, but you needn’t look so smug about it,” she snapped. The words came at him in a steady pelting, like raindrops in a sudden storm, fat and hard, striking all his vulnerable places.

  “I’m taking it because I deserve better, and I won’t be that woman who has no value to the man toying with her. When I give myself to someone it’s going to be with my heart and soul and I’m going to know that the gift is cherished.”

  “You should save it for your husband.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t demand marriage, but I do demand decency and that, Ace Parker, leaves you out.”

  That stung. “Awful high-and-mighty for a woman who was just squirming on my lap.”

  Folding her arms across her chest she said, “And you’re being awful high-and-mighty for a man who’s pretending nobility when he’s really just a chicken shit. But thank you for the lesson.” She walked to the door and held it open. “Merry Christmas, Ace. You’re free.”

  Ace slammed his hat down on his head. Cursing himself, fate and that damned spirit that made him want to snatch her up, even now with his good intentions screaming, he walked out. Doing the right thing sucked.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ACE WAS AS good as his word. When the stage pulled up in front of the mercantile two days later, little plumes of dust kicking up from the stop, Petunia was there, the ticket he’d bought her to California in hand, all the bittersweet goodbyes said, feeling more despondent than she had when she’d landed in this little town. She looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see Ace coming down the walk, but all she saw was Luke. Her stomach sank. She knew what that meant. Ace and Luke were like peas in a pod. Where there was one, the other usually wasn’t far behind, but if he wasn’t, it was for a reason. She’d been bouncing between hope and dread about seeing Ace again after their time together. He made her hunger. He made her worry. He made her want to see how far he could take her. She was all but starved for his attention, and he wasn’t even going to see her off. Damn him.