"Good. Find a scarf and it'll stop."
Finally, in the back left corner, all bunched up, she felt the silkiness of it in her hand just as his hand connected with her bottom for the seventh time.
"Here, here, here! Son-of-a-bitch, stop hitting me!"
He released her arm to hold her bicep instead, and she saw those swollen lips trying to form themselves into some kind of self-satisfied grin as she tried to reach around and rub her bum, knowing that shortly she was going to be relieved of that ability.
"You've got a bottom that was made to be spanked, Miss McInnis." He couldn't help but tease, surprised to find that he wished that circumstances were different between them.
And she blushed uncontrollably – dammit!
"That's a highly inappropriate comment," she chided.
His grin faded slowly. "Well, this is a highly inappropriate situation."
Jenna found herself guided – despite her completely ignored attempts at protestation – dragging her feet, trying to twist away from him and regain her arm – which she might as well not have even attempted, since they didn't slow him in the least.
So as the bed loomed large before her, Jenna upped her game. Not that she really had one, but she began to more actively resist him, punching and hitting him with her free arm, pulling as hard on the one he held as she could without wrenching it from its socket, kicking at him, and generally doing the best she could to make it hard for him to get her onto it.
At first, he just looked amused at her efforts, but when they were – inevitably, despite her valiant efforts – next to it, he simply lifted her onto it.
But she was not going to go there gently, so she twisted and wiggled and strained and fought while she was in his arms, until she realized that her mouth was nicely close to his shoulder.
Seconds later, he emitted a roar like a bull moose and loosed her, letting her fall onto the bed rather than putting her on it as he had intended. But who cared!
She'd bitten him! He could clearly see her teeth marks, which were rapidly filling with blood he couldn't spare!
When Jenna first began resisting him, she had thought there was one place in this house she definitely did not want to end up being with him. That was on this bed
Then she realized there was a much worse place to be than on the bed. She found herself in it almost instantly, after having sunk her teeth into him. Unable to enjoy the satisfaction of having made her mark on him because, although she moved to scramble away from him as soon as her ass hit the mattress, he was much too quick for her, and she found herself pulled inexorably over his lap.
The few swats he had given her when she couldn't come up with the means for him to tie her up quickly enough for his tastes were nothing in comparison to a full fledge spanking from this man.
He was already in possession of her scarf, and used it to lash her wrists together behind her back with ridiculous ease, laying a heavy leg over hers and the arm closest to his injured side across her back, rendering her immobile, although still struggling against it.
Suddenly she noticed just how silent the house was, beyond the sounds of their conflict, mostly emitted by her. They were both breathing heavily, her much more so than he was, and she was grunting and groaning with the effort – however futile – of trying to free herself.
He had become strangely quiet as he proceeded to lift her nightie up over her bottom slowly.
"Don't! No, please!" She hated to beg, but she had a feeling she was going to hate what was going to happen next a lot more.
When he had made his rude compliment, he hadn't expected to end up actually giving her a real spanking, but he had meant exactly what he'd said – her bottom was sheer perfection, made even more so by the faint tint of pink from the few smacks he had delivered at the bureau for her dawdling. It was easily the most beautiful he had ever seen, he was quite sure, and he considered himself a bit of a connoisseur. Although he knew he shouldn't be doing this, knew he was taking this too far, he couldn't stop himself from hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pretty panties and lowering them to the middle of her thighs.
Jenna screeched, "Noooo!" when he began, but it just died out in the face of the fact that he was doing it, regardless, although she continued to try to worm her way out from under his leg and arm, and he had to admit he admired her gumption – and the way her efforts looked from his view.
When his hand covered her behind, though, all of her futile attempts stopped.
He thought about taking her verbally to task about what she'd done – and if she belonged to him, he certainly would have. Some of his lovers told him that he was quite good at giving a scolding lecture while disciplining them, which was definitely something he enjoyed, and he had made sure they did, too.
But this was neither the time nor the place for such niceties. All he should have wanted to do was to impress upon her – in a manner that would be less traumatic than the easiest, frankly – just how unwise it was for her to attack him in any way. Luckily for her, very well trained, he considered himself constrained by a certain amount of scruples that he'd retained, despite the environment in which he worked, although, she might not believe it now.
If she'd bitten someone else, she might well have found herself dead by now.
As it was, she was just going to get the attitude adjustment she needed that might well save her life in the future.
And keep her safe from him, too.
Maybe.
But probably not, he acknowledged starkly to himself.
Chapter 3
Since this was not a loving correction, he was as swift and efficient as he could be about it. Raining sharp, stinging swats down onto that gorgeous flesh in an inelegant tattoo that had her yelping from the start and screaming by the end, although he never missed a beat, leaving what had been just slightly pinkened skin a sizzling, furious shade of uncomfortable looking red.
Jenna had silently resolved not to give him the satisfaction of crying, no matter what he did to her, but, to her absolute horror, that vow had lasted through barely more than a handful of those horrible licks.
And, although the fact that he was setting fire to her bottom was bad enough, she realized partway through that, although she protested each smart slap loudly and was absolutely furious that he was doing this to her, there were parts of her – nearby to where his hand landed over and over again – that were rebelliously joyous.
And decidedly desirous.
This was something about herself that she had no interest in exploring at the moment, while held captive, and, for all intents and purposes, naked, over the lap of a man who was most definitely a dangerous criminal, who had no compunction about threatening her life in order to get what he wanted.
The spanking stopped abruptly, and she found herself rolled onto her back on the bed, her wrists unbound from behind her back so that she thought he had reconsidered. That was until she tried to sit up and found them reclaimed. He explained in a soft, almost caring tone that she would be much more comfortable if she wasn't trying to sleep on her hands, as he brought the both of them in one big one of his to a spot above her head, where he began to secure them to one of the rungs of the headboard.
It wasn't the first time she had bemoaned the lack of a bookcase headboard, caused, of course, by her ex's taste in furniture.
She had the fleeting thought that he hadn't even had the courtesy to use it as God had intended – that it was an outlaw who was doing something for her – something to her – that she had always had a secret desire for that she'd never really confronted.
Even the spanking...
No. The spanking was unforgiveable, juvenile, humiliating, and downright fucking painful! There was no good in that spanking, she reaffirmed to herself, over the objections of several body parts that were clamoring against her stance that had most thoroughly enjoyed his hand getting that close to them.
There was no good in any of it, she reiterated silently, even his quiet care for her comfort in
choosing how to bind her.
The things she was feeling – the desires that were rising within her – were wrong. It was all terribly, terribly wrong – she had to fight both herself and him.
In the middle of all the vicious rivalry that was going on in her head, the thought occurred to her that he was taking an inordinately long amount of time tying her back up. The pillow seemed to bury his head next to her arms, and he wasn't moving.
Jenna continued to lie still for a while longer, just in case it was some kind of a trick. However, he didn't move a muscle the entire time, so she slowly – very slowly – began to move her wrists, which he had wrapped in the scarf, and which did not hold them together yet, nor were they anchored to the headboard in the manner he obviously intended.
She poked at him gingerly then recoiled, just in case one of those massive arms might reach out and clout her, but neither did.
He'd fainted.
Probably from lack of blood.
Still wary, she eased herself away from him and got off the other side of the bed, coming around to stare down at him, and wondering what the fuck she was supposed to do with him now.
She should call the police immediately and let them know that she had a man she suspected was one of the gang members they were looking for and that he had broken into her house and terrorized her.
She punched the talk button on the phone and got dead silence, which, unfortunately was not surprising. It was one of the costs she paid to live pretty far off the grid. Telephone service out here was cantankerous at best.
That was why Penny had come to her door rather than calling her.
So it seemed she was stuck with him, at least for the time being.
She supposed she could go out into the night and try to flag down a cop, but she didn't like her own odds of not being shot, frankly, and felt infinitely safer here, even with him passed out on her bed.
The first thing she did, before anything else, was tie him down in much the same fashion that he was going to do to her, wishing she had bought the handcuffs she'd been looking at online and wondering if her decidedly amateurish knots – and the headboard itself – were going to be enough to hold him.
At least she'd been able to find some leftover clothesline, thinking its tensile strength would be more than that of silk chiffon, and in his case, she definitely needed it.
The entire time she'd had to climb around him, she'd worried that he'd all of a sudden awaken and grab her before she could get him secured, but he hadn't moved a gorgeous, bulging, prominent muscle.
Even tied as he was, she didn't feel particularly safe from him, but she also didn't feel as if she could leave him in the room alone, either. Jenna stared down at him from her perch on the edge of the bed, biting her lip and noting how flushed he looked, leaning down to press her palm to his forehead – it was alarmingly warm and dry.
She hadn't kept track of when she'd given him the aspirin – or even whether or not he'd taken any, but if he stirred at all, she was going to try to get some down him, regardless, she decided, putting a glass of water and the bottle on the nightstand.
Next to his gun, which she confiscated immediately and considered tucking where her own, non-existent, gun resided. She wasn't as much of a fool as everyone seemed to agree she was, and she knew that there were animals in the woods around her. She just didn't like anyone thinking of her as a hypocrite, so she didn't admit to anyone – really even herself – that she had one.
Then she decided against it. When he recovered, she had no doubt that he was going to be a terror, and she thought it might come in handy.
She was right.
And wrong.
She spent an uncomfortable night in the small recliner that she kept in a kind of reading nook near one of the windows of her bedroom. She was not uncomfortable sleeping in the chair, which she did occasionally when she got a bad cold that made it hard for her to breath. But rather because her bottom, which was now encased in the closest thing she had to armor – jeans – reminded her every time she moved of exactly what it was he'd had the unmitigated gall to do to her. And, to her deep alarm, that intimate knowledge – and even the distinct discomfort, to an extent – set an even more fervent fire to her loins, too, but she was doing her best to ignore the way her own honey seeped onto panties she'd already had to change once.
Not that she was medically inclined, but Jenna was surprised just how fast his fever rose. To the point where he was pretty much delirious, yelling to someone named Andy at times, yelling to someone named Rosie, and crooning to someone named Simone. He told her he only spanked her because he loved her, which made Jenna blush as she wiped his brow with a cool cloth and tried to remember what it was her grandmother had said about what could be done to bring down a fever besides aspirin.
An alcohol bath. It hit her suddenly, and she rejected it, but as the morning wore on and his temperature readings rose, she decided she had to do it.
She was on her way to the bathroom to grab what she had for hand towels and rubbing alcohol when there was another loud banging at her door. Jenna glanced out the window and saw a beautiful luxury automobile parked in her driveway. No one she knew around here drove anything like that.
No law enforcement would drive something quite that gorgeous, either, she thought.
Damn. Maybe Penny was right. She did need a big fucking dog...
She peeped through the side window and saw two men in very expensive suits standing on her stoop.
"May I help you, gentlemen?" she asked,
"Yes, ma'am," the taller of the two answered, tipping his hat at her, while his companion glanced around the place, as if he was looking for something.
Or someone.
"We're a part of the ongoing investigation that's trying to determine the whereabouts of some potentially dangerous fugitives." His smile was entirely too wide, his demeanor too friendly, and his suit entirely too well tailored for him to be who he was claiming to be, but she didn't interrupt him. "Are you aware of the manhunt that's ongoing in the area?"
"Yes, I am."
"Have you seen anyone who might have looked suspicious? Someone who matches a description we acquired of being about a foot taller than I am, with black hair, tattoos, well built and possibly with a gunshot injury? We're quite keen to apprehend all of these men before anyone else gets hurt, but this one in particular is who we're looking for."
If she had thought for a moment that these men actually were from any branch of law enforcement, she would have told them about the man in her bedroom. But as it was, she realized that – besides whatshisname in her room, they were the most suspicious looking men she'd seen in quite some time. And, if she did give him up, and they were who she suspected they were, her already bad situation could escalate to horrific in just a few seconds – the length of time it would take them to strong arm their way in and shoot the both of them.
"No, I haven't seen anyone," she lied with a small smile. "But I sure want to help. Is there a card or a number I could have to call you if I do see someone?"
The other man handed her a card that contained nothing but a phone number.
"That's my cell phone, ma'am. You don't hesitate to call me if you see so much as a guy with a hair out of place." The oilier of the two gentlemen smiled at her – one that didn't get anywhere near his eyes – and the two of them backed away.
Penny thanked them and closed the door, locking it quietly, then watching furtively out her windows to make sure that they actually got into their car and left.
Suddenly, she was airborne, immediately recognizing the arms that were around her waist, as well as the fact that he was totally nude.
This time, though, he didn't seem to be trying to subdue her in any way, in fact, he was laughing. "You tied me up, you little brat!" he accused, but he was chuckling softly as he did so. "I guess you thought turnabout was going to be fair play this morning, hmm? But that's not how this kind of a relationship works, my darling Simone."
/> Holy crap, he was out of his mind with the fever and thought she was his lover!
Nothing she could have done would have prepared her for when he turned her in his arms and his lips found hers.
It was electric!
It was stupefying!
It was something she knew she shouldn't have been doing, but damn, he was a good kisser, and for a moment – just a short one – felt herself give into it and kiss him back. His arms felt amazingly good around her, holding her gently but firmly, aware of his own strength, one of them wandering down to cup a cheek, squeezing just a bit and making her squeal.
He looked patently unsympathetic, despite how his words dripped with it. "Aw, still sore? Poor baby. Next time, you'll think twice before you do something you know you're not supposed to, won't you?"
Jenna pushed against his arms, and he let her go. She still intended to give him an alcohol bath – she definitely needed to bring down his fever before he decided to use her as even more of a substitute for Simone.
He was much more amiable in this condition, though – even quite likable, if a bit handsy. In some ways, she almost envied his Simone.
Trying to play the part as best she could, not really knowing what he expected, she got him to take the aspirin by pretending she was handing him a drink and something to help prevent a hangover. He didn't know that one of the pills was a melatonin, which would help him sleep more deeply, she hoped, and the third was an antibiotic she had left over from a bout of some kind of infection or other that was still within the expiration date.
He downed them, docile as a Labrador.
She'd brought them into the bedroom, where she felt he needed lie down before he collapsed and left her with the unenviable task of trying to get him into bed herself.
Damn, he hadn't told her his name, so she said, "Honey, why don't you get into bed, and I'll give you a nice rubdown."
"Join me."
There was the autocratic side of him he had subjected her to.
"Yes, of course – but I want to give you a bit of a bath and a massage before we..."
Under The Cover Of Love Page 3