There was no way she could do that to the degree with which she knew he wanted without first having to lie on her back, and it took her another four tremendous swats to be able to do it. As she glanced down her body to where his hand took immediate advantage of the way she allowed her bent legs to simply fall apart, she could see the imprint of his palm on her thighs, and it brought fresh tears to her eyes.
"Put your hands above your head."
Before she could even think whether or not she wanted to obey him, her hands had begun to creep up there, to the ornate brass headboard with all of its convenient spindles. "That's it. Wrap your hands around them, baby, and hold on tight, 'cause you're going to need something to hold on to before I get through with you."
And he was right.
Rissa looked around her as if she couldn't believe where she found herself. Singed rear scraping against what should have been satiny sheets, palm print tattooed legs spread far apart, that big tanned hand exploring eagerly between them, as she clenched the brass rods in fingers that wanted to hold him and hug him and do some exploring of their own.
But the worst thing was the shameful discovery his middle finger made between those widely parted legs. "Ah, baby. And to think I wondered if I had been too hard on you. You are soaking wet!"
Marissa arched in dismay, making a half hearted attempt to dislodge his hand, but when he flipped her over to deliver ten very hard swats to that various shades of red plaid bottom of hers, she discovered the error of her ways and made no further attempts to discourage him in any way.
"You are an amazing woman, Marissa." He sounded sincere as his lips followed the path his hand had taken until she felt his hot breath on the part of her that was the most sensitive – and craved his attentions like the air she breathed.
"They're connected, you know," he mused against the tender flesh on the inside of her thigh. "Your clit and your bottom."
She sobbed and shook her head rapidly back and forth on the pillow, desperately not wanting that to be true at all, but knowing that it was. He had the proof all over his hands whenever he decided to explore her intimately, no matter how long and hard he spanked her. Her body only wanted more and wanted him all the more, for having been man enough to take her in hand.
When he pleasured her this time, it was with a nipple in each hand, and his face literally covered by her privates, nibbling, licking, kissing and rubbing his tongue and lips over her incessantly until she gave him what he demanded. A screaming, screeching, writhing, completely unfettered orgasm that had her panting so quickly that she lost the feeling in her teeth and other extremities.
Yet that was not the end for her.
He patiently coaxed a second and third culmination from her before he slowly dragged himself up and over her, settling his mouth onto hers as he began to settle himself deeply within her, but he was so big that it wasn't going to happen easily, despite her ample natural lubrication.
Dodge kissed away every tear he found, nibbled her earlobes and lips, trying to help her relax and accept him into her body and was highly gratified when she did.
And then he began to withdraw, but not enough to ease off on the pressure she felt. Instead, he sat back on his bent legs and put his thumb over her clit as he continued to thrust slowly, very slowly, at first, in and out of her.
"No, please, no – I can't take it!" she heard herself beg, and then clamped her mouth closed in embarrassment.
"Of course you can, Marissa. You can – and will – take anything I ask you to," came his eerily kind response.
She imploded around him, what felt like a million times, before he loosened his own tightly reined desire, forcing her to one last orgasm that reached its zenith seconds before his did. Bucking and writhing within and atop her, plunging deep and hard, the very veneer of civilization stripped away from him, until all he could do was take her repeatedly, accompanied by long, raw moans.
Accustomed to immediately rolling to one side, so as not to crush the woman he was with, he lost his head entirely and stayed in place for much longer than he should have. Then he practically jumped off her, checking her over worriedly for injuries and making sure to see that she was still breathing before he allowed himself to relax back into a near coma of sated pleasure.
"What is your problem with that, anyway?" she asked, more sharply than she had intended.
He was still panting when she snuggled up against his side.
"Take your time."
"I had a girlfriend, early on, who was really worried about the differences in our sizes. I think she thought I was going to accidentally crush her or something."
"Well, I have no such qualms. I know it's not very modern of me, but I prefer missionary to almost any other position."
One eyebrow rose as his eye opened. "So do I, but there's no way I'm going to match my two mumphy-mumph pounds against your – what – one ten or so?"
She giggled at the fact that he obfuscated his weight as many women did. "I'll tell you if I've got a problem."
"You damned well better." One hand reached down to squeeze a buttock, which had her squealing. She was going to be overly sensitive there for quite some time, thanks to him.
After spending wonderfully long minutes just enjoying each other's company and slowly coming down from that incredible, natural high, Dodge began to smack his lips together loudly, speculatively, as if he was eating something – other than her.
"Hungry?" she asked. Although she couldn't really believe it, she was, too.
He turned onto his side, rubbing his eager erection against her belly. "Oh, yeah!"
Rissa rolled her eyes. "I meant for food."
"That, too," he agreed unrepentantly, tipping her head back so that he could kiss her deeply. But neither of them could miss the way his stomach growled as he did it. When he drew his mouth away, he looked flushed and even somewhat embarrassed as he said, "Right, food. Stay right where you are."
The meal he brought up – even though it was just leftovers – some roast, about a half of a ginormous potato, a few green beans that had escaped her greedy attention, and a loaf of bread he'd scarfed from another couple's table on the way out – was phenomenal, probably because she was suddenly absolutely starving.
But he refused to allow her to feed herself, again, not that she really minded. He divided everything equally, giving her the rest of the green beans and him the rest of the baked potato, but splitting everything else down the middle. He threw her the control to the DVR and cable box, and they ended up watching an episode of "Louie" that he had recorded as he fed, first her, and then himself, until the majority of it was gone.
After disappearing for only a second or so, he reappeared with one bowl and two spoons for the mud pie, which they both fell on ravenously, as if they hadn't just eaten their fill of all that other good food.
Later, when they could move again, he made soft, slow love to her, taking his time to the point that Rissa was just about to go wild from it, until he cautioned her with his command voice to settle down. He lifted his head from her breast to ask her a pointed question to remind her just who it was who controlled her pleasure, as well as almost everything else about her.
"You do," she responded wistfully, and he gave her a soft smile.
"That's right, and it's my honor to do so."
It took her a long time to accept the fact that she now had so little say about so many things, but she also knew that she really didn't want it any other way.
Although Sonny was as gung ho about them being together as he always was, once they'd finally pulled the trigger, Sophie remained steadfastly unimpressed by the pairing. So much so that, not long after he had done his best to paddle her out of her deep blue funk, Rissa had to admit to herself that it was time for her to find her own place. Dodge – or as she had begun to call him teasingly, Ford, – had convinced her to stick around and had her job hunting in the area, but Rissa was of a mind that perhaps finding new digs needed to take precedence. She
had a reasonable amount of savings and could wait long enough to find the right job, but she didn't want to do it with Sophie looking disapprovingly over her shoulder at everything she did.
So she got online and found sites for the local papers. Surprisingly, there were three of them still in existence near this tiny burg, each worse than the last, but hey, they were still there, which was better than a lot of bigger papers were doing.
One thing worked to her advantage. Rents were unnaturally low, because, well, let's face it, who the hell wanted to live there, anyway? What there was of downtown closed up its doors at five sharp, and no merchants were open at all on Sunday, save for the pharmacy. There was one diner, one bar, three other small, locally owned restaurants, and five or so churches. The nearest theatre was all the way in Bangor, for crying out loud, to say nothing of even cheaper shopping, eating and living.
But Marissa put her foot down at living in the city, such as it was. Why bother to move here if she ended up miles away from the people she loved – Sophie's perpetually cranky mood notwithstanding?
And – whether or not she wanted to admit it to herself, or Heaven forbid to him – she loved Dodge. His willingness to put his own feelings for her out there for all and sundry had surprised – pleasantly, but surprised, nonetheless – her to no end. And once he started saying it to her, she couldn't get him to shut up about it.
He'd put absolutely no pressure on her to say it back to him; he'd made that clear the first time he'd come out with it. He just wanted her to know that he had deep feelings for her, but he didn't want her to feel any sense of obligation to say it back, especially if she didn't really feel it yet.
He'd been comically emphatic about the "yet" part.
The problem was that she most definitely did. But Dodge would never move out of Midland. He'd found a place he loved, a job he adored, and he had put down roots in the community.
Rissa, on the other hand, had cut all her ties – well, most of them, anyway – as soon as she'd turned eighteen, trying to get away from this place. Did she really want to end up back here? Wouldn't everyone see that as a step back? Wouldn't she see it that way, too? Was she all that eager to go from, well, not quite New York, but at least some semblance of city life, to absolutely no semblance of any kind of life – much less city – whatsoever?
The answer she kept coming around to was that if it meant she could be with Dodge, she'd live in the tropics, where she'd spend her life sweating in the humidity with terminally frizzy hair. Or the North Pole, where she'd be ice cold and even more removed from civilization than in Midland. Or the Sahara…
When he finally got home from work, one night, she was there to greet him, take his coat off and hang it up, and hand him a Bud Light.
"Wow, Shorty, what did I do to deserve this?" he asked, gazing down at her with a frankly suspicious look in his eye. She definitely wasn't the house frau type, although he was already having a wonderful time trying to tame her.
Rissa snorted. "Well, I hoped you enjoyed the hell out of every one of my domestic capabilities, but I'm fresh out of them. Are you going to order the pizza, or am I?"
Later, when they were both so full of pepperoni, sausage and cheese that they were about to explode, Rissa said, as casually as she could, "I've decided that I'm going to look for a place of my own."
He held her tight against his side. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Has it really gotten that bad?"
"Yes and no. We're civil, but I know she's not happy with me, and it's not the same. And I don't know what to do – well, yes I do. Stop seeing you, which I won't do – to get her to come around. And besides, it would be nice to have you come to my place every once in a while, too."
"There's a very simple solution to this, you know."
"Yeah, I spent a lot of today looking at places, but I haven't found the right one yet. I'd love to have a place on the water –"
Dodge gestured towards the huge deck off the back of the huge living room they were sitting in, as well as the one off the master suite. "This place is right on the water."
"I know," she agreed, not really listening to what he was saying. "I saw some today that have really big master bedrooms."
"This place has a huge master bedroom, with a custom built bed, walk in closet-slash-dressing room, dual sinks, a huge tub and separate shower…"
She swatted him. "I know that, but I'm talking about a place for me to rent. It has to have at least two bedrooms, so if any of my friends…"
"There are four bedrooms upstairs. I've counted them myself," he said helpfully, knowing that everything he was saying was going right over her head; she was so locked and loaded about renting some place for herself.
"Honey, I know. Your house is gorgeous. But I need to…"
"Move in, as in, how soon can you?" he asked pointedly.
She colored prettily, as if he'd asked her to marry him instead of just move in with him. That was in the works for later – maybe Christmas or Valentine's next year. For now, he just wanted to get her to listen to him as she sputtered, huffed, and puffed at his invitation as if it had never occurred to her.
Then he realized that it really hadn't, and he reached for her far wrist, tugging her into that all too familiar position over his lap.
"What? What'd I do?" she sputtered, putting her cinnamon iced tea on the coffee table before she spilled it.
He had her pants and panties around her ankles in record time. Dodge didn't intend to spank her, but she didn't need to know that. So he just kept her there, one big hand claiming nearly the entirety of her butt.
But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to take advantage of a good thing, either, though.
Chapter 9
"Someone in this house…" He accented the first and last words with sharp, stinging swats to her bare behind and continued with, "Hasn't been listening to me." This time, the second and fourth words earned her tremendous swats.
Well, no, not technically, she had to admit to herself – but not to him. "I heard every word you said."
"I doubt that."
"You said that this place was on the water and has a huge master bedroom, custom built blah blah blah."
Why was it that she never remembered not to be sarcastic with him? Perhaps because he inspired it…she wondered, as he laid on a few more spanks that had her worrying that this could rapidly turn into a real punishment!
"But I get the feeling that the idea of moving in with me hadn't even occurred to you until I nearly crammed it down your throat, did it?"
"No, but that's not something I should be getting spanked over!"
When was she going to learn not to argue with him about things like that when she was in this kind of position? Where did her mind go when she was with him, really?
"I didn't think you'd want to, anyway, I mean, it's still really early in this relationship…"
She didn't get a chance to finish her thought, because, suddenly, instead of spanking her, he was holding her gently on his lap. "Well, hear me now and believe me later," he said, staring her straight in the eye and not allowing her to look away. "I want every millisecond of time I can get with you, and moving in sounds like the exact right thing to do. So…" He set her down on the couch next to him, "When do you want to do it?"
Rissa sighed and got up, beginning to clean up the mess from the pizza and collecting his beer bottles for the recycling bin. She needed something to do while she thought. "I don't know…"
Dodge let her go, but wondered at her distinct lack of enthusiasm. He would have thought she might have been excited at the idea, but then he was beginning to learn that he couldn't necessarily predict her reactions to things. He had a much better track record at that in the bedroom.
When she came back a few minutes later and began to hover around, cleaning things as if she already did live there, he put his last beer down and said, "C'mere, young lady."
She had learned the hard way not to make him wait, so Rissa put down the napkins and pizza box sh
e'd left behind from her first run to the kitchen and stood next to the couch, touching her fingers to the hand he had extended imperiously, and saying pertly, "Sorry, neither. Thirty-seven is ancient and considering the things you and I do, I'm no lady."
She knew from the way he immediately frowned up at her that she was going to pay for that remark. And she did, when he leaned forward quickly, put his hand on her lower stomach for support, then applied his palm to cheeks that might as well not have been covered at all, considering the flimsy – and obscenely small – nylon shorts she was wearing beneath a t-shirt she was fairly drowning in, that read, "Of course I don't look busy. I did it right the first time!" that his office had given him on boss' day several years ago.
Apparently, it was something he said to them with annoying regularity.
Rissa had not been surprised when she'd seen it.
"Ow! That's not fair! I only said the truth!" she whined as he guided her onto his lap – onto it this time, as opposed to all of the time she spent over it.
Damn, and if she moved in with him, that was going to double – or triple – or something horrid like that! If they lived together, he was going to be able to keep that eagle eye of his trained on her twenty-four-seven. She wasn't at all sure that was a good idea. Her bottom tingled, reminding her that it definitely was not.
But that wasn't the reason for her reluctance.
"What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours, hmm?" he asked, and she was always amazed that he actually meant it when he complimented her – it wasn't just a setup or a joke, as it would have been with Dean. "What are you worried about? Do you think we'll drive each other crazy?"
"Short putt for you," she supplied, but he wasn't having any of it.
"I'm serious, Marissa." His lips met hers as if she was made of spun glass. "If you can't give me a really good reason why you shouldn't move in with me in the next five seconds or so, I'm going to take the choice out of your hands."
She bit her lip, closed her eyes and blurted out, "Sophie."
Rissa could feel his shoulders drop. "Yeah, she is a bit of a stumbling block, isn't she? But she already hates me. I can't think that moving in with me is really going to make things that much worse, is it? And at least you won't be under her roof any more. Maybe some distance would ease the tensions between you."
Her Knight In Faded Denim Page 10