A New Forever

by Alta Hensley

  And, apparently, she was hyperventilating into the phone. "Hey, hey, slow down," he coaxed as gently as he could. "Take deep breaths. Slow and deep," he began to repeat hypnotically until her breathing slowed. "Elodie, honey, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

  It was her out. If she said yes, he would probably let her out of it altogether. But part of her craved another opportunity to see him, in any way, shape or form, and that was the part that was complaining the loudest. She missed him. She wanted to see him every day, just to drink him in, just to be in his presence. Most of her would have preferred to do that merely as a fly on the wall, invisible to him, but able to be physically close to him, hear his voice, smell his spicy aftershave.

  Another part of herself, one that had only recently begun to find its voice, was a ticking clock. Not her biological clock—that one was thankfully silent for now. This was the clock that had begun ticking when April had died so suddenly, in the prime of her life. How long was Elodie going to hang back from life, being a spectator rather than a participant, watching friends and family meeting and getting married and having babies, living the life that she was barely present in, alone and lonely as she was?

  Nothing could ever come of her relationship—whatever that was, there really wasn't a name for it—with Clay, but she could glean from it what she could. She could have dinner with him and have a good time, and do something other than sitting around her apartment when she wasn't working, completely absorbed in her paintings, living through them where it was comfortable and safe, instead of in the real world, closer to the man she wanted to lie down next to for the rest of her life.

  Elodie sighed, hating the war that raged within her about Clay, desperately wishing that things had been different between them from the start, then feeling the familiar pangs of guilt about wishing away her sister's happiness when she'd had such a short time of it as it was. "No, I'm fine, really."

  "Are you sure? I can be over there in a second..."

  She knew that was no threat, it was a promise, but the last thing she needed was for him to see her apartment. He knew that she lived in the low rent district of town and had always campaigned for her to move somewhere—almost anywhere—else. But the finances weren't there right now—never had been—for her to be able to afford a move, and she absolutely refused to take any money from anyone.

  So there she sat. "No! No, you don't need to come over. I'm fine."

  He didn't sound as if he believed her, not one bit. "I think I'm going to arrive on your doorstep in a few minutes unless you convince me otherwise..."

  "No! Do not come over here! I'm fine! Really."

  The line was silent for a moment, then he asked in the gentlest voice she'd ever heard him use, "Is the idea of having dinner with me so terrifying? You have known me for years, Elodie. Am I such an ogre?"

  "No, no. I don't think you're an ogre at all."

  "Yeah, but I can make you hyperventilate with just the thought of having to have dinner with me."

  "I'm-I'm just scattered, is all. I've been painting and my mind sort of gets lost. A bit spacey, I guess. That's all," she said.

  "I know. I know how important art is to you, but that is the only thing you do, and being holed up in your apartment by yourself can't be healthy. But maybe I can help you change that. Maybe we can get you out and about some… have some fun. God knows, after the past couple of years we've had, you and I deserve some."

  Elodie was just about to faint; what he was suggesting was just about as close to Heaven as she'd ever be able to imagine achieving in this lifetime. And it did sound like fun. Especially with him.

  Before the rest of her had a chance to squelch the impulse, she answered, "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."

  "Who are you and what have you done with my sister-in-law?" he asked with a chuckle. "I thought I was going to have to spank you to get you to agree to come out with me on occasion."

  Elodie's throbbing heart stopped at the word "spank". He was kidding, obviously, but still the power that single word had almost knocked the wind out of her. It was something she didn't dwell on... except very late at night, when she was nearly asleep, when thoughts of being spanked by Clay would creep into her mind. Thoughts of being taken over his lap and swatted, her bottom becoming cherry red while she kicked and cried, then being turned over onto her back so that he could love the hurt away...

  "I don't think so," she replied, in what she hoped was a righteously indignant tone.

  "Well, you'd best mind your p's and q's around me, Elodie. Your sister got her seat warmed more than once while we were married." He chuckled after he said the words so casually, as if what he'd said was so ordinary and an everyday occurrence. Like it was normal he spanked his wife.

  "I know," she blurted without thinking. Had she just admitted to that? What was coming over her? She needed to get off this phone, or she was going to end up spilling all the beans!

  "You know? What do you mean, you know?"

  "I know," she parroted back at him.

  "April told you?"

  Elodie nodded, saying, "Yeah, I found out that she got—about that when she nicked your truck."

  "Ahhh. Yeah. Well, she deserved it." He paused for longer than Elodie liked. "And I never abused her—"

  "I know you didn't. If I'd seen any traces of abuse, I would have called the cops in an instant. She told me it was an agreement you had. It was part of your marriage."

  "It was a big part… an important part. Domestic Discipline was… is… very important to me."

  Domestic Discipline? Was that what it was called?

  "Well she told me all about it," Elodie said.

  "And?"

  "And what?" She couldn't quite figure out where he was going with this.

  "What do you feel about it?"

  "Well, I-I don't know that much about Domestic Discipline, but April was happy, so whatever you guys were doing, clearly worked. I don't think badly about it, if that is what you are worried about."

  "Good. Is that why you're so shy of me?"

  She was glad he couldn't see how she was shifting nervously in her chair. He was getting uncomfortably close to the truth. "No, I'm shy of everyone and everything. Haven't you noticed?"

  "I have. I had hoped you'd come to feel safer around me, but that never happened." There was a long pause on the other end. "Is it because you were worried I would spank you?"

  Okay. That was enough of that. "So," she said abruptly, "you're going to pick me up at seven, right?"

  He growled, and Elodie thought it was one of the sexiest things she'd ever heard. "I'll let you go this time—but I intend to get back to this discussion, Elodie West. And next time I won't let you off the hook so easily."

  Elodie shivered. The impulse to say "Yes, sir," was so strong in her, she had to bite her tongue. "Okay. Well, then, I'll see you tomorrow night."

  "I'll be there. And if you're not, Elodie, I'll find you," he warned, with another growl.

  "I'll be here, I'll be here."

  Elodie hung up the phone and sat in her chair for the longest while, replaying what had just happened over and over in her mind, turning it this way and that, trying to see if there was any way to erase what she'd already said, and what he'd said back to her.

  The truth about her feelings for Clay needed to be even more buried than they had been for the past decade plus. He could not find out anything about how much she desired him, how she'd wanted to mow over her own little sister to get to him the moment she'd first seen him. She needed to just continue to be Mousy Elodie—her nickname from high school. She didn't know how she was going to accomplish it; he seemed determined to drag her out of her safe, cozy little shell, and Elodie was going to have to resist with everything she had.

  Unfortunately, part of everything she had was a bunch of mutinying body parts who wanted to spend as much time with Clay as they could, saving up memories for future fantasies.

  She padded off to bed, huddling under the
down-filled comforter that had been a Christmas present from April and Clay, letting her mind wander into the comfortable fantasy she'd lived on for so long, of being together with Clay—even in her fantasy she couldn't call herself his wife, because that was what April had been—in their house, painting in her own studio and greeting him when he came home after a hard day on the ranch, being swept up into those big arms. He had on occasion hugged her, and Elodie had filed each of those times away, remembering every nuance of it as she was held against his big body as he held her tightly. Clay had always treated her as someone special, just because of who she was to April. His normal guard was down around the family, and he never hesitated to hug her hello or good bye.

  So she already knew how strong he was when he wrapped those muscular arms around her, but these hugs would be different, because she was his, and he didn't have to maintain any sort of distance from her. Her body melded to his, desire rising instantly as it always did whenever he was around. She lifted her face to his for a kiss that she deepened herself, twisting her lips beneath his and cupping the short cropped hair at the back of his head in her palm, fanning it in her fingers as their tongues danced together.

  Clay would draw back just a little and kiss the tip of her nose, groaning as he rubbed his lower body against her, obviously fully capable and ready. "I take it you've been lonely all day, my love?"

  "Horribly, horribly lonely," she breathed into his mouth as it returned to its home perched above hers.

  "I think I have a remedy for that." Clay adjusted a little and lifted her into his arms, walking up the winding staircase to their bedroom without being out of breath in the least. He laid her down on their big king bed and continued to kiss her as he relieved himself of his simple cotton tee.

  As the vast expanse of his torso was revealed, Elodie couldn't help but run her hands over it. She'd always been fascinated by his chest, all those bulging muscles lightly covered with soft black hair, small peaked nipples poking out at her hands as insistently as other parts of him were poking into her hip. His hands were busily finding their way under her knit shirt, finding and disposing of her bra like an expert, then feasting on her breasts, cupping them gently, and seeking those already plumped out nipples that tingled in expectation of his touch.

  Warm, rough fingertips pinched and rolled her nipples confidently, making her groan and twist, pressing her breasts more firmly into his hands. Before she knew it, she was naked beneath him and he settled himself between her legs. She was spread so wide to receive him that she could feel the rough fabric of his dress pants against her most private area.

  Clay's mouth, evil grin and all, descended on her breasts as he asked, only somewhat tongue in cheek, "Did you behave today?"

  She couldn't think to answer him beyond a long, drawn out "yes" as her breathing became more and more labored. When he captured a stiffened nipple between his lips and teeth, she squealed suddenly, not knowing if he was going to nibble or suckle until those warm wet lips tugged that sensitive nub into his mouth, trapping it against the top of his mouth and flicking it mercilessly while his other hand gently pinched and rolled her other nipple.

  He always knew exactly what to do to drive her absolutely crazy. Actually, all he had to do was be there and she ended up needing a new pair of panties.

  Clay shifted just a tad to his left, just enough so that he could trail his hand down the center of her body as if he owned it to cup her bare privates with his fingers, the slide of his middle finger between those soft lips, right to the sopping wet center of her, already slick and waiting for his attention. The pad of that finger began to torture her. There was no other word for it. He was so big that, when he was on top of her, she could barely move. Her free left hand and arm were entirely useless against him—trying to move him in any way was like trying to adjust the position of a brick wall.

  That finger was going to drive her crazy. She was always simmering at a high level of desire around him, and it was almost embarrassing how easily he could bring her to pleasure. "Please, Clay, please!" she breathed, knowing that he liked to tease her sometimes and would stop in the middle of things and bring her down a notch or two, only to build those ever present fires back up again, slowly and carefully stroking and stoking her, bringing her to a fever pitch where he would hold her for the longest, hardest moment of her life, then finally send her flying over that cliff as he joined her body with his...

  For some reason, Elodie started out of her near sleep fantasy at the exact moment he entered her, her body spasming with pleasure as if he were lying right next to her. She was in a cold sweat, wondering if she was doing the right thing, if going out with Clay was going to lead to a point when she would never see him again, worrying herself into a frazzle so that she barely got any sleep that night.

  Chapter 5

  It was the quietest, most awkward dinner either of them had ever had. Early on, Elodie had started to think that maybe this wasn't the best of ideas. She was just so damned uncomfortable—she feared she looked as though someone was peeling away her skin a strip at a time. Just before they placed their orders with the extremely attentive waiter, Clay leaned towards her and said in a playful tone, "I promise no one around here bites."

  He watched her intently as she felt her face heat up and she couldn't help but bite her lip, her eyes scanning the menu to find the cheapest thing to order—not an easy task at all.

  His eyebrow rose, and his chin automatically tilted down a notch as he caught her eye. "This meal is on me. You are to order everything, from soup to nuts, anything you want. And if you don't, I will."

  He didn't look like he was bluffing at all, and he'd already threatened to spank her once, and she knew they weren't idle threats, either. Somehow she doubted that he would hesitate one instant to take her over his knee. Elodie now had to look at him a little differently than she had been doing. He'd always been a take-charge guy, confident and dominant and more sure of himself than any ten men. But all of that had always been focused on someone other than her.

  Even during their lunches, where she got to drink him in for an hour or two at a time, she could feel the warmth and comfort of his undivided attention, but something had changed between them... ever since she'd called with the intention of canceling their dinner but he hadn't let her. Things had somehow become a notch or two more intimate, just from that discussion, and now all that intensity had settled squarely on her, and she didn't know whether to revel in it or run and hide in the corner.

  It seemed easier to give in to him, to a point. But Elodie didn't want him ordering for her—she was too darned fussy for that. He would never be able to remember all the myriad things she refused to eat. The menu wasn't huge, but she was surprised to see that there were several items that looked interesting. There were no prices on the menu, and she knew that she could never have afforded to pay for her own meal here. She hadn't intended to order an appetizer, but when he raised his eyebrow at her in that tone, she was forced to reconsider. Elodie ended up with a prosciutto and melon appetizer, which seemed to surprise him, followed by a flat iron steak, cooked medium, and a baked potato.

  Clay gave his own order and the waiter scurried away. "There's one thing that I have always wondered about you and I've never asked. Would you mind a somewhat personal question?"

  Elodie squirmed in her chair, refusing to meet his eyes, saying, "No," in a long, drawn out, extremely tentative manner.

  "You're so timid—how did that scumbag ever get you to marry him in the first place?"

  "Oh, you mean Randy?"

  Clay nearly choked on a sip of his water. "That was really his name?"

  She nodded vehemently. "It was a pretty good descriptor, too."

  He leaned forward and beamed the most seductive smile a man could. "Was it?"

  "Oh, yeah..."

  "So how'd you guys hook up?"

  "School. I tutored him. We talked a lot, even though we didn't have much in common..." she knew she was growing redder
by the minute, "and he was a smooth talker."

  "He must have been. I can barely get you to say hello to me while looking me in the eyes."

  Elodie grimaced. "He wasn't at all like you. You're so... and he was so... you'd mow over him in a minute."

  "So some weak, spineless idiot got you to marry him when you were eighteen?"

  Why was he giving her the third degree? She was getting even more flustered than she had been. "Well, at least I wasn't afraid of him."

  Elodie wished the floor would swallow her up the moment the words escaped from her mouth. She could have sworn that that wasn't even what she had been thinking—she had no idea how that thought ended up being said out loud.

  Their appetizers were set in front of them, but Elodie had suddenly lost her appetite, despite how gorgeous the plate of fruit and ham looked.

  And Clay looked as though she'd just slapped him across the face. His lips were pinched tight, brows drawn together, looking like a storm cloud. "You're afraid of me?" He sat back in his chair, staring down at his clam chowder as if it were a bowl full of frogs. "And it must have helped so much when you found out that I spanked April. You must really have thought I was a beast after that."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I've never thought you were a beast. I told you, she explained how the spanking was consensual." Elodie cleared her throat, unable to believe they were having a conversation like this at dinner. "And I'm sure there were times when April more than deserved what she got. She got spanked a lot by our father, too."

  "Domestic Discipline is different than how a child is punished by a parent."

  "Sexual?" she asked without even thinking.

  "It can be." He paused and studied her in silence for so long that Elodie had no choice but to fidget in her chair. "How much do you know about Domestic Discipline?" he asked. His skeptical look made it very clear that she couldn't pull one over on him and fake that she knew all about it.

  "Nothing. I didn't even know that was what it was called. April just told me you spanked her, and not much more than that." Elodie took a large swallow of her water to try to wash away the large lump forming in the back of her throat. "But don't feel you have to defend your belief. I'm not judging at all."