by Jane Henry
“That’s a girl,” he crooned. As slowly as possible, he carefully slid his finger to her sensitive nub, circling in firm but gentle strokes. He lowered his head and whispered, “Does that feel nice, darlin’? I’ll not hurt you. Trust Daddy and take what’s yours. You took your punishment. Now take your reward. Such a good girl,” he crooned as she squirmed on his lap.
One hand released her waist and gently brushed across her chest until he felt what he was looking for. Her hardened nipples. Oh, this would do quite well. He gently lowered his hand beneath the top of her dress until his fingers grasped a nipple. He squeezed, while at the same time flicking his finger over her nub. Over and over again he teased her nipple and stroked her, all the while whispering to her. “Just relax,” he said. “It’s natural to feel excited now.” He was not new to this exchange of power. Women loved his strength and dominance, growing weak in the knees and wet between the legs when he overpowered them. His fingers nimbly pinched her nipples so that she gasped, stroking her pussy until her back arched and she moaned.
“Good girl,” he said, as she jerked beneath his hands. “Come for Daddy.” She groaned and bucked, writhing as she climaxed hard. He continued to stroke her, easing back gently as she slowed, until she lay completely spent over his knee.
He released her, turning her over so that she lay in his arms. Her cheeks were bright red, as he’d suspected they would be, but as he drew her close to his chest, her arms reached for him.
“Hush now,” he crooned. “You’re a good girl. What a very good girl.” He held her until she was breathing steadily, calm again, then he planted a kiss on her forehead and stood her up. “Now, little girl, I want it clear. You know why I spanked you?”
She nodded, swallowing, as he continued. “And you know that little bit at the end was your reward for taking your punishment like a good girl?”
Though her eyes cast down, she nodded again.
“Very good. Will you obey Daddy like a good girl now?”
Her eyes were softer when she looked at him. Could they be… trusting?
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.
He could’ve shouted with glee. It was almost too easy.
Chapter Nine
Long is the way and hard, that leads out of Hell to light. ― John Milton
Patricia leaned in and gave Aida an impulsive hug before she left. Aida kissed the woman’s cheek and traced her hand on the tiny head of her sleeping baby, her hand trembling a bit. It both unnerved and panicked Aida that the only woman in their company was leaving, before Aida had even had a chance to get to know her. She hadn’t confided a thing to her, and Patricia would likely remember Aida and her ‘husband,’ as well as the rest of the crew, fondly.
At her home, she’d mourned the loss of her tutor and friend, Lucille, though she hated to think of Lucille seeing her now. But it was when she was alone like this, in the quiet of night, or on the endless hours upon horseback, that she remembered with fondness Lucille’s soft laugh and sweet instructions. Aida’s mother had died at childbirth, and Lucille had been the only woman Aida had ever known as mother and friend.
Sadness descended on her as Patricia took her leave. The irony burned. The very men who’d taken her had rescued the woman who now roamed free.
Cole and Preach had a hushed conversation before Preach walked away. The large man heaved Patricia up on his own saddle, behind him, so she held tightly as he picked up the reins. Aida did her best to feel nothing. Allowing herself to feel numb emotionally was a skill she’d learned long before she’d ever met Cole.
She watched as Cole came back to their small group, his hands hitched in his pockets as his dark eyes darted back and forth, from one side to the next, taking it all in. Her heart thumped in her chest. It infuriated her that her body refused to submit to her angry protestations. No, she didn’t want to feel safe when his arms wrapped around her at night. No, it wasn’t right that being intimately strewn over his lap had felt darkly erotic. What kind of a woman was aroused by being spanked so harshly? How could she have let him bring her to ecstasy over his knee, the man who’d taken her from her home, an outlaw running from the law? The man who’d whipped her? It was wrong, so very wrong. Yet when he came to her side and his warm, rough hand engulfed hers, she stepped instinctively closer to him. He squeezed her hand, then held on tightly as he gestured for her to hoist herself up on his saddle. He followed suit.
“Y’all know what awaits us at the next stop,” he said, as he rounded his horse and his dark eyes took in each one of his men. “I want every one of you focused on my instructions. You know the next town over who we meet, and y’all know it ain’t unlikely our faces are plastered on Wanted posters. You know what to do. You know where we meet if we get split.” He paused. “You know where your allegiance lies.”
His speech left more questions than answers.
You all know.
She sure as hell didn’t know. What did her father owing them money have to do with heading into the next town? She didn’t realize she was looking at Cole questioningly until his dark eyes met hers and warmed. Leaning close enough to her so that she could smell the leather and smoke that’d become a familiar scent, he whispered in her ear, “You don’t worry about instructions, honey. You keep your eyes on Daddy.”
Daddy.
She clenched her jaw and looked straight ahead, giving a small nod to show she’d heard him, furious that her heart tripped in her chest and her body pulsed with heat. “Simply perfect,” she muttered, now overcome with anger that Patricia and Preach were gone and she was left hopelessly attracted to a sadistic son of a bitch who made her call him Daddy. Excellent.
Cole gave her a sideways glance over his shoulder. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Aida.” His voice dropped as he leaned back and whispered, “Careful, darlin’. You know what happens to naughty girls.”
She swallowed hard, willing herself to remain aloof and detached and not aroused by his overt display of raw masculinity and power. He raised an eyebrow, she feigned obedience, nodding. His jaw clenched in reluctant approval as he pricked his spurs, their horse taking off at a gallop.
They rode hard into the night, stopping only for a brief spell to eat. She’d become accustomed to eating what she was served, under Cole’s stern, watchful eye, but the griddle cakes caught in her throat, dry and unpalatable. At home, she’d never been forced to eat what she didn’t like, and her father had fired chefs who hadn’t accommodated her particular tastes.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” she’d insisted, but she’d eaten hardly anything. She got to her feet, but he quickly took her by the elbow, bent her over, and gave her a good, hard swat. The other men hadn’t even flinched, but the correction in front of them mortified her and she’d reluctantly gulped down two more of the dry, flat cakes while Cole stood and watched, arms across his chest. Brute.
The gun had been a tragic mistake, now tucked away in Cole’s belt probably until such time he saw fit to give it back to Junior. She’d be an angel now, perfectly obedient. He’d have no excuse to spank her.
She wondered if he would find one. Though she feared punishment, a small part of her, a part that she kept hidden in denial, was attracted to his utter control.
As they began their journey again, the sun dipping low on the horizon, a chill crept over Aida, and she shivered.
“Cold, darlin’?” Cole asked over her shoulder. Justice was riding beside them now, and he looked sharply at Cole, a brief look that was nearly lost on Aida before he turned front again and went back to stoically ignoring her.
“I’m fine,” Aida lied, another shiver betraying her.
He grunted, clearly not appeased by her answer, and growled, “You scoot up closer to me if need be. We ride on until we get to our next stop, but it shouldn’t be long.”
She obediently scooted closer to him, his flank pushed up against her back, his warmth seeping through her thin garments. She could feel his hardened muscles against her, and her eyes focused o
n his large, strong hands holding the reins. She shivered, but this time not from cold. She was helpless to control the primal attraction to his authority and power.
Cole spoke over his shoulder. “An hour’s hard ride’ll bring us to Saddle Creek, two before we get to Lawson’s just after dark.”
He dug in his spurs, and his horse picked up speed, but seconds later, he pulled the reins taut in his hand with a loud, “Whoa!” He held a hand up to the rest of his crew and they all careened to a halt. They were surrounded, a semi-circle of dark riders closing in on them. Aida inhaled deeply, moving closer to Cole as the men neared. She couldn’t see their faces, but wondered if they’d been caught by the local sheriff, and if justice would be meted out. She shifted on her seat with mixed feelings. Though she longed to be free of Cole’s gang, she feared the inevitable: being back under the same roof as her father. It was imperative she get to the next town. She needed to escape.
The largest, darkest of the group of men on horses sauntered up to Cole, lifting his Stetson, his hand resting lazily on his gun. “Is that who I think it is? It ain’t Cole Clemens and his crew now, is it?” His voice was low and something about his demeanor made the little hairs stand on end along Aida’s arms, fear pricking along her neck. He seemed more like a man who’d get along with Justice rather than Cole or Junior. His beady little eyes zoned in on Aida, before dipping to her creamy chest and ample thighs. He nearly licked his lips.
Cole stiffened in his seat, but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly familiar, even congenial. “If it ain’t Monty and the gang,” he said with a reluctant smile.
Monty spat on the ground, the thick brown stream making Aida’s stomach churn. The dark rider grinned at Cole, his teeth still brown from the chewing tobacco. His face was thin and narrow, a deep scar running straight across his cheek nearly down to his chin. The thin slits of his eyes reminded Aida of a savage animal. She shivered. The other men sat upon their horses as if waiting for a cue from him.
Aida instinctively pulled even closer to Cole.
“Damn,” Monty said, while a wicked grin spread over his face. “Here I was thinkin’ we’d get a little fun in and shake up some travelers afore we turn in for the night. Maybe get lucky and land us a lady or two to share.” He spat again on the ground. Aida felt the bile rise in her throat, but stared at him bravely.
Cole chuckled mirthlessly. Aida watched as Cole and Monty talked to each other, neither at ease, but both familiar. Cole didn’t trust the dark man and it seemed the feeling was mutual.
“Ain’t much help, then,” Cole said with what seemed forced camaraderie. “Got me a hostage but you know I don’t share my women. I’m selfish like that. Too bad we just let one go. But you keep up to Lawson’s and Lawson’ll sort you fine.”
Justice glanced sharply at Cole, but Cole didn’t meet his eyes.
Monty lifted the reins and his horse tripped a bit closer to Cole. His voice dipped low, his eyes wicked slits. “Is that right?” he said in a low growl. “Rumor has it you kidnapped a girl back in Hollow Creek. Got a sheriff no bigger’n a half-grown coon dog sniffin’ every tree and bush. Seems someone’s pa’s got a heavy purse, and ain’t stoppin’ ‘til he gets his little girl back. Might this be your pretty little victim?” He reached a hand out to stroke Aida’s hair. She stiffened and held her breath.
“Lay off, Monty,” growled Junior, and Aida could’ve kissed him, but Cole held up a hand.
To Aida’s relief, Monty turned away from her, and his narrowed eyes fixed on the blond cowboy. Though his eyes were on Junior, he spoke to Cole. “You still let boys barely weaned off their ma’s titties in your crew?” He spat again on the ground, shaking his head. Justice snorted, Junior’s eyes flashed, but all men looked to Cole as Monty’s men chuckled darkly. Aida’s eyes flicked over them. Suddenly her captors seemed almost benign beside the men who sported soiled bandannas, chaps splattered liberally with mud, and narrowed, wicked eyes. Even their horses seemed thinner, angrier, and more savage.
“You know my crew well, Monty,” Cole said in a voice as low as a rattler sneaking through the underbrush. Aida knew that deep drawl. It was the voice he used when he was angriest. Whereas others would grow louder when angry, Cole grew softer. He was dangerous at any time of day, but lethal when his voice grew soft. “You know they’re like brothers.”
To Aida’s relief, fear tripped across Monty’s features and his eyes darted to Doc, then Justice. He swallowed and his eyes softened, as if he were suddenly repentant and ready to convince Cole to leave them be. Monty forced a laugh. “I do,” he said. “Oh, I do. Seems you’re down a man, though?”
Cole nodded. “Preach had an errand for me. Seems you’re down a man, too?”
Monty shrugged, eyes growing cold again. “One betrayed me. Put a bullet in ‘im last town over, tossed into the river.” The three men beside him each spat on the ground as if on cue. Aida felt her stomach churn. “You know I don’t cotton to traitors.”
“A point we agree on then,” Cole said, and to Aida’s surprise, his defensive stance seemed to dissolve into friendliness. “Can’t say that I blame you. You all stoppin’ to eat? We’re just takin’ a break for the night. You’re welcome to join us.”
They were not just stopping for a break. What had gotten into him?
“Sure thing,” Monty said, turning to his crew. “We break to eat. Ain’t every day we meet hospitality, boys.” His eyes focused on Aida. He licked his lips. “Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll even get some dessert.”
Chapter Ten
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars. ― Ralph Waldo Emerson
Damn it all to hell. Cole barely contained his fury as he got down from his horse.
Meeting up with Monty was part of the whole fucking plan, but meeting up with him before they’d even gotten to Lawson’s was not. And why did Cole’s protective ire rise when Monty focused his filthy eyes on Aida? She was nothing to him. He’d seen Monty in action, though. He’d seen him tear the dress of a woman not a month prior, the wife of a man who owed him money. He’d ruthlessly murdered the man, taken his wife as his own, then given her over to each one of his men in turn to do with as they pleased. Men the likes of Monty disgusted Cole. Though he was no angel himself, he held fast to certain principles and rued the day Monty escaped hanging.
But his plan would be shot to hell if he couldn’t convince Monty they were on the same side. Fucking Monty and his lowlife crew.
He had to keep his eye on Monty, feign friendship and allegiance to the same wrong side of the law.
“You know the routine,” Cole said to Doc. “Usin’ up the rest of the supplies we’ve got now’ll do us best until we can restock at Lawson’s.”
Doc nodded, squatting low and starting a fire to cook, as Monty and his men dismounted from their horses.
Cole bit out instructions to his men. “Justice, you water the horses and see to their food.” He turned to Aida, still astride the horse and spoke low enough that only Junior and Aida could hear him. “Normally, I’d have you do the womanly tasks, but today, that’ll be up to Junior.”
Cole crooked a finger at Junior. Junior’s brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to protest, but before he said a word, Cole removed Junior’s gun from his belt and handed it to him. Junior’s eyes momentarily widened, then looked up at Cole apprehensively. Good. He knew he deserved to be punished for losing his weapon, but Cole would play his cards carefully with Monty watching. And given Monty’s insulting Junior just now, Cole did not want to heap coal on Junior’s already wounded pride.
“Lost my gun,” Junior muttered.
“Is that right?” Cole asked sternly, fixing Junior with a look that made him squirm.
“Yes, sir,” Junior said. “I’m sorry.”
Cole spoke low so that no one could hear him. “Tonight you’ll do cleanup, first watch, and last watch.” Each men took one shift, and the bookend order would be difficult, especially when they were down a man. Junior no
dded as Cole continued, his voice harsh and corrective. “And when you’re on guard, you think about how it’d be if you came across Monty alone and you had no metal to save your hide. You think about what it’d be like if Monty tried to hurt one of us, or stick his filthy cock in that girl and all you had to defend yourself was your own two fists against Monty’s metal.” Junior closed his eyes briefly, and Cole knew he’d gotten through to him. A man in Cole’s crew had to be armed, at all times, and it was a mistake deserving of punishment.
“Yes, sir,” Junior repeated, taking the gun from Cole and tucking it into his holster.
“You listen to me,” Cole said. Junior raised his eyes to him, and Cole stared at him. Junior was prepared to take the rest of the lecture like a man. Good. But Cole was done lecturing. “I heard what Monty said. We all did. He’ll pay for that, you mark me,” he whispered. “You know how I run this crew. And I ain’t never takin’ no boy who ain’t worth his salt. You got that? We’d have been strung up from the highest rafters in Carson if you hadn’t been with us last month, and I well know it.”
Junior’s eyes softened, and he nodded. “Then why’re we with them? Eatin’ dinner? Makin’ friends?”
“You’ll see,” Cole said, straightening. He’d only tell Junior as much as he needed to know. He’d only tell any of them as much as they needed to know. “For now, you do as you’re told. Go help Doc.”
Junior obediently went over to Doc. Cole reached his hands to Aida’s waist and helped her down. He could tell from the look on her face she’d heard all, but she kept her tongue. As her feet hit the ground, he drew her to him in a quick embrace, and this time it was not for show, but instinctive. She did not stiffen but gave into it. “That’s a good girl,” he whispered in her ear. “You stay away from this crew. You stay near me. So help me, Aida, I don’t want you out of my sight. You hear me?”