The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “I’ll be at the signing tomorrow. I’m not sure if Victorious will be there or not. She was in a serious car accident recently and needs to rest.”

  She allowed fatigue to show on her face in a tired, pained smile, cradling her arm more openly. It really was holding up quite well without the sling, but she could definitely tell she’d overdone it, and nothing got Jeb moving faster with more determination than when he thought she was hurt.

  Immediately, he wrapped his arm around her and moved away from the crowd more forcefully, still polite but not letting anything distract him from retreating to his room. “Please, excuse us.”

  Finally they made their way onto the elevator and Jeb selected his floor. “How bad’s your arm?”

  “Not bad,” she said lightly, not looking at him for fear she might plaster him up against the wall before they could get to his room. “I’m still getting used to the new cast. Vicki came with me to help with the costume, so I can stop by later and pick up my sling. Her room’s on the twelfth floor.”

  He too stared straight ahead until they could exit on his floor. “Chaperone?”

  “Costume manager. It would have been a lot easier if you’d created a character that didn’t wear a corset.”

  He laughed, reaching into his conference badge to find his room card. “But it provides for such a gorgeous view.”

  Evidently he made the mistake of partaking in that view, because then he fumbled the card and almost dropped it before he could open the door.

  “Gorgeous view my ass.” As soon as the door swung shut, she tossed Miss Belle’s parasol in the corner. “It took her an hour to lace me into this thing and I was afraid I was going to be late.”

  “Well, your ass is a gorgeous view as well, but I definitely do like that corset.” He moved deeper into the room, setting his badge on the desk. He removed his hat. Then he hesitated, his gaze immediately coming to hers so he could decide what she wanted next. Did she want him stripped for punishment? Or sex? Or nothing at all if she was really that tired and hurt?

  That earnest look of need—to figure out what she wanted before she could ask—moved her so much she had to swallow the lump in her throat so she could speak. “I said I was going to punish you for making me carry that damned parasol, but I changed my mind.”

  His face fell and he looked down at the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He didn’t protest. He didn’t argue. It wasn’t in his nature. Keeping her voice soft, she said, “Instead, I’m going to punish you for not telling me how important this weekend was for you.”

  His head jerked up, his eyes lighting up with hope. No anxiety, no worry, no hesitation whatsoever. She had a feeling he wouldn’t protest even if she tried to beat him senseless. Which is exactly my fear.

  “I didn’t know if you would care.”

  She pointedly lifted her left hand, flashing his ring that she wore. “I care. You will tell me everything going on in your life. Your hopes. Your dreams. If you have a need that I can address, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, you have an obligation to voice it. And if it’s a major event or accomplishment? I have a right to know so that I can be there and celebrate with you.”

  “I have a need that you haven’t yet addressed.”

  Nodding, she sat down on the foot of his bed and laid the crop across her lap. “So do I. The problem is that I wasn’t recognizing how significant that need was becoming until it was too late.”

  His eyes flickered with confusion. “But you said you’d been hurting yourself to get by.”

  “I was. But when it came time to share that need with another, I didn’t know how to approach it. When I was with Ty, he would deliberately antagonize me to the point of fury. Then I’d lay into him with whatever I had at hand. That release of furious violence was exactly what he wanted, and I got used to responding that way. I never had to pick up my crop and tell him I wanted to hurt him. He made me too mad to not hurt him.

  “You, on the other hand, will never deliberately make me that mad. You’re not going to antagonize me to help me realize I need to release the anger. It’s going to be an adjustment for me to consciously think about and accept that need. I need to hurt something. Regularly. For years, it’s been myself. It’s going to take time to shift that need onto someone else without worrying too much about their wellbeing.”

  More confident, he came over to kneel in front of her, dropping his hands to her knees. “I can take it, Ginny. Don’t be afraid of hurting me.”

  “Oh, Jeb, I know you can endure me, but why should I want to hurt you so badly when I love you so very much?”

  The look on his face was priceless. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he gripped her knees fiercely. “Will you repeat that, please?”

  She cupped his cheek and leaned forward to whisper the words against his mouth. “I love you. I’ve loved you in some fashion my whole life, even if I wasn’t able to admit or show it.”

  He didn’t let her kiss him, but dropped his head against her lap and wrapped his arms around her. “God, that sounds so good. I’ve waited so long. I’m going to want you to say it a lot. As often as you can stomach being so sappy and affectionate.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh, though she tried to force some irritation into her voice. “What do you mean? Aren’t I sappy and affectionate all the time?”

  “As cuddly as a grizzly bear.”

  Her laughter eased and she combed her fingers through his hair. Once she’d been as mean and hungry as a bear after hibernating all winter. Only her hibernation had lasted for years and years. “This bear’s damned hungry for you, Jebadiah Garrett. You’d best help me out of this corset so I can feast.”

  Of course, Jeb, being the sweet, tender caregiver that he was, refused to let her get busy until he went personally to her daughter’s room and fetched the sling to make sure her weakened arm was fully supported. That gave her time to look around the simple hotel room while she stripped out of the rest of her costume and decided how she was going to punish him.

  Comfort for them both was a priority—that floor looked mighty hard for his older knees—but she also wanted it to be memorable. She didn’t care to use a lot of equipment. A crop, whip, sometimes a rope or whatever could be found in the stable—that had always been Ty’s preference. From the beginning, the stable had been important to them both and it was where they felt the most at home.

  Jeb might have been an animal lover and he’d certainly wrangled plenty of ornery beasts in his lifetime, but he wasn’t a rough and tumble cowboy who liked hay stabbing his privates while she whipped his back. Besides, she wasn’t all that interested in his back.

  Not that he had a bad back, by any means, all broad muscles and manly strength. But as he helped her adjust the sling to hold her injured arm, it was his backside that held her fancy.

  Ty had been a long, tall beanstalk with wide shoulders and narrow, slim hips. She’d joked that he needed a cushion for his cushion because he didn’t have any padding of his own. Whacking his ass would have been like hitting a tree trunk.

  Jeb wasn’t quite as tall, but he was thick and solid. His thighs were particularly muscular, and his buttocks were quite the enjoyable handful.

  Once her arm was secure, she stood up and gave that ass a long, considering look. “I’ve got a hankering for prime beef steak.”

  It made him laugh, even though his cheeks darkened at the same time. “I don’t know about prime, but I’m definitely aged.”

  She pointed at the stack of pillows she’d prepared at the foot of the bed. “Have you ever been whipped with a crop before?”

  He leaned down over the pillows, adjusting them until he was comfortable, supported, with his ass nice and high. “No, ma’am.”

  Just watching him get into position made her palms sweat, her heart accelerating. Yet she frowned and fought down the anticipation threatening to consume her better sense. “The crop has a hard, sharp bite, Jeb. What do you have experience with? It mi
ght be best to start with something else, though I don’t—”

  “I want the crop,” he broke in, his voice hard despite his vulnerable position. “You gave it to Ty. Don’t deny me.”

  “Ty was a masochist. You’re not.”

  “Try me before you decide. I want to know, Ginny. I want to feel what you gave him all those years. If it’s not for me, we’ll do something different next time.”

  She blew out a sigh. One time. “If it hurts too much…”

  “Try me,” he repeated, his voice rumbling lower. She couldn’t see the evidence since he was on his belly, but she could hear the growing arousal in his voice.

  “What’s your safe word?”

  “I’ve only ever used red before.”

  Simple and to the point. “All right. Red. I expect you to use it if you need me to stop, Jeb. I mean it. If I can’t trust you to stop me, I won’t ever do this again.”

  23

  She hadn’t even hit him yet and his skin already tingled. Just from having her look at him with wicked intent.

  His mind still couldn’t quite wrap around the fact that she was here. That all of his dreams were coming true. She’d agreed to marry him. She’d come to see him accept an award and wasn’t upset that once upon a time he’d based a character on her. She’d even read his book. That alone was enough to make him gape like an idiot. His ex-wife had never read a single one of his books in twenty-plus years of marriage.

  Virginia stepped up behind him and gave him a light swat on his buttock with her palm. “Let’s just warm up the skin first, see how you respond.”

  He closed his eyes and sank into the simple pleasure of having her touch him. The gentle slaps heated his skin and made his heartbeat quicken, but it wasn’t alarming in any way. It was embarrassing to be in such an exposed position, but he didn’t mind it for her. That was part of what he needed. He needed her to put him where she wanted him, do what she wanted, take what she needed.

  Gripping one cheek, she gave him a good, hard squeeze that made a small sound escape his mouth. Her hands were so incredibly strong, especially for a woman. Like she’d milked cows by hand her entire life.

  “That sound,” she whispered, squeezing him again. “I’ve missed it.”

  If that was the case, he’d groan himself hoarse, flimsy hotel walls be damned. As long as I can make it a sexy groan and not the oh-holy-shit moan that makes her stop.

  She tickled his back with the crop, trailing the triangular head across his skin. “It’s the sounds you make that will tell me where to linger and when to move on. Do you know where your sweet spot is?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I like it better when you call me Ginny. It’s less formal. I don’t want formality between us.”

  “Ginny,” he whispered, arching his back to lift his ass higher. “I don’t know that I have a sweet spot. Discipline was something to be endured. Not enjoyed. But I’ll enjoy your crop just because it’s you.”

  “We’ll see.” A grim edge crept into her voice. “You’d better be honest with me.”

  “I couldn’t lie to you. You’d see it. You’d know it. My face would betray me before I could even get the words out.”

  “Good. Just let your body talk to me.”

  The crop tapped down to his buttocks and over his balls, just a whisper of leather that made him shudder. She stepped to the side, giving herself room to work, and he found himself mesmerized as she warmed up. Even with one arm in a sling, her lean, tight body spoke of the coiled, lethal power of a predator. Muscles glided under her skin, her breasts and the slight curve of her stomach and hips the only softness on her. Except for her eyes when she looked up into his face.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded, unable to trust his words not to sound too desperate. Yes, please, yes, take me, use me, give me everything you’ve got. Please!

  She popped the crop against his right buttock. The snap made him hop, his eyes flaring with the shock of it. Damn, it was loud, louder than he expected. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it did feel like a bite. She flicked several little bites back and forth across his buttocks and he started to relax into it. The small pains blended together, fading away as quickly as she gave them.

  “I can do this with a whip, too, but it’s pretty intimidating in the beginning. I can dance the tip up and down your back all day and barely make you twitch. But one screw up and you could bleed in a heartbeat.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “I don’t mind blood.”

  Her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed, and she almost looked away. She almost hid that secret from him. He kept his gaze steady and open, silently begging. Don’t turn away. Don’t hide. Don’t be afraid to show me everything.

  She must have sensed his silent urging because she blew out a long sigh and took a slightly different swing so the crop landed flatter across his buttock instead of just the tip hitting. The solid crack jolted through him, definitely slicing through his complacency. “I don’t mind blood either. In fact, it can be quite a turn on. Even if the evidence makes me feel bad later.”

  The evidence. Bruises. Welts. Cuts. Things that took days to heal. He closed his eyes and let out a sound that he hoped she didn’t mistake for fear. He wanted her marks more than anything. He wanted to be able to see the evidence of her love on his body. To be able to look at his skin and remember every moment. Bruises would be proof that she had taken complete and utter control of him.

  She rewarded that sound with another cutting blow on his other cheek. Sharp enough he fisted his hands in the sheets. He gritted his teeth, trying to control the sounds. He didn’t want to scare her off. He wasn’t hurt hurt. Not at all. But something about her whipping him made him want to simply throw his head back and groan with the sheer agonizing bliss of it all. Not from the pain, not exactly. But because she was finally embracing what she was with him.

  She moved from one cheek to another, a steady, methodical rhythm and path, over the swell of each cheek, down the bottom of his ass, careful not to strike his balls. Not yet at least. Down his hamstrings. He was sweating now, his muscles tensing up, fighting the urge to quiver and jump at every little blow. Too much flinching and she’d stop. She’d be afraid of hurting him too much.

  “Your body isn’t talking to me, Jeb.” The next blow almost lifted him up off the mattress. She must have changed her grip, the angle, something, because the crop caught him right under the ass cheek and went up toward the ceiling. He actually…yelped. That sounded better than whimpered. “Is that a yes, or a no?”

  She popped his other cheek and he made the sound again. He couldn’t help it.

  “That’s better.” She chuckled, pausing to rub her palm down his back. “Good, you’re sweating now. Are you having to work to stay put? Because next time I can tie you down if that helps.”

  He shuddered, unable to control his reaction.

  “I take that as yes. Good. Tyrell wasn’t ever much into bondage. He just wanted me to whip him. But I think it might be interesting to see how many ways I can make you helpless.”

  He pressed his face against the mattress but she still heard the guttural sound that escaped.

  She came close enough to lean against him, letting him feel the heat of her body against his thigh and flank. To know she was so close… He couldn’t help but start to reach for her.

  The sharp crack of the crop on the tender skin just above the backs of his knees told him to stay put. “Are you starting to figure it out yet, Jeb? Do you finally understand why I delayed this as long as possible?” She leaned down over him, pressing her breasts against his back. “I’m going to hurt you. Really hurt you. And you’re going to let me do it. You’re going to groan, curse, and yeah, you might even cry. But I won’t stop for the simple reason that I fucking like to hear you scream. Is that really what you want me to do? Because you can tell me red right now and this little scene is over.”

  “No,” he gasped out. “Don’t stop.”

 
“Then don’t hold back on me. If it hurts, I need to know. I want to know. It’s not going to make me stop. I’m only going to beat you harder.”

  Poised against him, she waited to see if he’d bail. She’d given him some pretty hard whacks so far, and if he wasn’t used to punishment, if he wasn’t into pain…

  He let out a growling groan and twisted his hands deeper into the bedding. “Then do it. Beat me harder. Do it!”

  The words tore out of him, his tone rising, echoing with intent and command. Nothing got him more riled up than when she was hurt… Or when I need something that he can give.

  She pushed up off him and brought the crop down in the hardest blow yet. The snap of hard leather itself made him flinch as much as the pain in his flesh, and he didn’t try to hold back the groan this time. His entire body shook with the force of it, his chest rumbling deep and vicious, his hands scrambling in the sheet like he was determined to tear his way down to the coils inside the mattress itself.

  Keeping the angle aimed upward as if she were trying to hit a ball out of the stadium, she gave him another blow. Another. God, the sounds he made. He growled and cursed as she’d threatened, twisting his entire body beneath her blows, but he didn’t give his safe word. Such a big, strong gorgeous man. He could have pushed up off that mattress and jerked the crop from her as easily as taking candy from a baby, but he endured. Simply because she told him to. And it wasn’t just pain for him. He humped the pillows, his buttocks flexing and driving his hips like he was going to plow his way to China.

  Plow me to China. She bit her lip hard, trying to keep her desire in check, but she was so wet she could feel her thighs slipping against each other.

  She wanted him like this, reckless, driven mad by pain and desire until he rammed into her completely out of control.

  So close. She managed another blow, another, watching the way his big body gathered, coiling, higher toward explosion.