“Good girl.”
When he began, the sound of his hand on her bottom seemed even louder than it had been before. She made some noise and twisted a little but didn’t reach back to cover herself. He spanked again, holding her tight to him, alternating from one cheek to the next. She would clench and soften and slowly, her gasps turned to a continuous sound, not crying although he knew she was at least a little bit because he could hear her sniffling, but it was a more base sound she might not even be aware she was making.
* * *
Jess lay across his lap, her attention so fully on the actual pain of the spanking that all thought of the humiliation involved in her position was lost to her. Sweat covered her face and she felt heat building within her core. The sound was remarkably loud and at one point, she had wondered if anyone would hear, but that was long ago. All that remained now was the pain.
“I don’t want you going behind my back to conduct this investigation on your own,” he said, still spanking, the rhythm a little slower now as he paid attention to both cheeks equally. “Are you understanding that?” he asked.
Her fingers curled into the blanket on the bed and she mewled, shifting her hips, wiping at her face.
“Am I getting through to you?” he continued. “Or do you need more?”
“No!”
“No, what? No, I’m not getting through to you yet?” he asked, the volley of spanks halting while he shifted her slightly so her legs opened a little.
She stiffened, gasping, but didn’t reach back, didn’t try to close them when one hand came to rest on the back of her thigh. His hand felt hot, hotter than her skin, as one calloused finger turned circles on her bottom cheek.
“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to turn back, unwilling to meet his gaze.
“Getting through to you,” he said simply. He began to spank again, even harder than before if that was possible. Each one stung and she hadn’t a moment between to catch her breath, to absorb the pain of one before the next landed.
“Please,” she begged. “Please stop!”
“When I feel you’ve had enough,” he said, continuing. “When I feel you understand what I’ve said.”
“I do understand. I’m sorry, I won’t… ow… I won’t go behind your back again. I promise.”
“Do you remember what else I said?” he asked, not letting up.
“Please, Jackson, just stop.”
“What did I say?”
This took her some time and he continued spanking her throughout. Although she had been crying, the onslaught of tears that came now was something else entirely. “That it wasn’t my fault that Ben was here,” she said through sobs, her words barely making sense to her own ears. “That it had nothing to do with me and it wasn’t my fault.”
Her body went limp as she said it and he stopped spanking, resting his big hand on her bottom. She sucked in a ragged breath and blinked several times before wiping her hand across her face. She felt somehow, strangely, lighter.
He didn’t speak; instead, he rubbed the tender flesh of her thighs. Within moments, her attention was wholly upon this sensation of touch. She remained as she was, not struggling but draped over his lap, not moving to cover herself. The knowledge that she lay in exactly that position, exposed to his eyes, his hands, heated the space between her legs, the warmth close to that of her bottom but different.
When he slowed and his fingers began to move closer to the cleft between her cheeks, she swallowed, holding her breath, registering perhaps for the first time the hard length of him at her belly. That knowledge caused her own swollen clit to throb and she found herself relaxing her legs, allowing them to part a little, in a covert way, granting him some sort of permission.
She dared a glance back to find him intent on her bottom, his mouth slightly open, his eyes fully engaged in taking in every detail exposed to him. Seeing him like this, having him touching her so intimately in the name of whatever this was, made her lift her hips just a little. Just enough.
He turned his head and held her gaze for a long moment. His pupils were dilated, making his eyes appear darker than the blue she now knew. Without words exchanged between them, he returned his gaze to her bottom and this time, his hand moved slowly down her hip toward the center of her legs, toward the wet heat there and when his fingers just touched her sex, she gasped then bit her lip, waiting for more.
“You’re wet,” he managed, his voice hoarse, his hand moving down along the lips of her pussy, finally finding her clit. She moaned then and when she did, he lifted her, setting her on her back on the bed. Her panties had slipped off by now and he pushed the skirt back up, exposing her as he stood between her legs looking down at her. He gripped her thighs and spread them wide. His eyes met hers for an instant before he knelt at the foot of the bed. His hands went to either side of her pussy and pulled the open lips farther, and when she felt the soft, wet heat of his mouth at her clit, she gripped the bedcovers tight, exhaling, her body pure sensation.
She made a sound, a soft, almost desperate sound when he pushed one finger into her pussy, the scruff of beard that had grown during the day scratching her tender skin, a contrast to the softness of his tongue, his lips, his mouth.
Powerless to her climax, she reached for him, her hands gripping his hair, his head, some part of her wanting to push him away while she pulled him closer, tighter, wanting more, wanting him to suck harder, faster, wanting him to make her come.
She called out when she did, turning her face to the side, biting her lip so hard that she tasted her own blood. He worked her clit hard as she rode the wave of her orgasm, her hips bucking and when she finally came down from it, he slowed his own movements but kept his mouth on her, no longer sucking but licking. When she opened her eyes, she found his on hers, the blue darker but at the same time, soft with desire. She swallowed when he lifted her higher onto the bed. She thought she should protest when he began to strip her of the rest of her clothing but she did not, she could not. Instead she allowed him to bare her body before he bared his own. She watched with greedy eyes as his muscular chest, shoulders, and arms worked, his belly hard with muscle, his hips narrow, thighs powerful. But she knew about those, she’d lain across them twice now and every time she saw them, she would remember that. She would remember lying across his thighs and having her bottom bared and spanked by him.
He stripped off the last of his clothing, releasing his thick cock and for a moment, she looked at it, almost panicked at the size of it, but he climbed onto the bed and laid his weight on top of her, balancing most of it on his elbows. His cock pushed against her belly, against her ultra-sensitive clit and when he kissed her, she tasted herself on him. She opened to him, she opened all of herself to him, her mouth, her legs, and her pussy as he lifted himself up and slid his cock into her. He moved slowly, watching her as he did, and only when he was fully seated did he stop and just look into her eyes.
“Jess,” he began.
She made a sound and reached her mouth to his, kissing him. His hips began to move then, fucking her slowly, softly. She held onto him, onto his powerful shoulders, while the rest of her disappeared beneath him. And while he fucked her, she felt his strength all around her, knew the safety of his arms.
“Open your eyes,” he said when his cock thickened inside her and the rhythm of his movement changed.
She did as he said and looked up at him, her clit throbbing, orgasm close, too close so that when he pumped once more, then twice before stilling inside her, and she felt the release of his cock, she came a second time while watching his blue eyes glisten, soften even more.
He held her to him afterwards and they lay together, facing one another without speaking for a long time. His hand worked circles along her back, up and down her arm.
“Jackson?” she began, the reality of what they had just done dawning on her now that the bliss of orgasm had worn off.
He made a sound and waited for her to continue.
But w
hat did she want to say? They had just shared the most intimate act any two people can share, at least in her book. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, touching her cheek.
“You look worried,” he said.
“Um… well, what did we…” she stopped, her attention to the dull ache of her bottom. “That can’t… we can’t do that again. That can’t happen again,” she said, sitting up, finding her tank top and sliding it over her head.
“Jess,” he said, sitting up, his expression confused.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, pulling her skirt on, taking a moment to touch a hand to her bottom, noting the temperature difference of the skin there. “I…”
“Jess,” he said again, getting up out of the bed and coming to take her arms.
He was still naked and all she could think was she shouldn’t look down. Not that it mattered. She had already seen everything. He had already been inside her.
“No!” she said, pushing his hands away. “This… we shouldn’t have done this.”
“We’re adults, we didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. He studied her for a long moment then pulled his pants on. “And it doesn’t have to change anything.” He didn’t look at her when he said it.
She backed up when he came closer after pulling his shirt on. “Jess…”
She shook her head. “No. You have to go.”
He stood and stared at her, then opened his mouth to speak. He looked… sad.
But she could only shake her head. “Please. Just go, Sheriff.”
He looked to be considering something but after a moment, he nodded once. He then turned, picked up his hat and walked out the door. She watched him from the window, his form retreating to his truck. He glanced back once and when she met his eyes through that barrier of glass, she turned away, listening while he drove off.
She was shaking when she sat down at the desk, staring at nothing. It was the buzzing of her phone alerting her to a new e-mail that roused her. She picked it up and pushed a button to find that her contact had come through.
Chapter Six
The first thing Jackson did when he got home was take a beer out of the fridge, stand at the kitchen counter and drink it. Remembering the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his lips, the tightness of her hot little pussy around his cock all made him grip the bottle harder as he drained it.
The woman was under his skin. She had been from the first minute he had laid eyes on her looking all helpless sitting in that pile of rubble. She was cute but that wasn’t what drew him to her. She was brave and courageous, but hopelessly naïve. And she wanted to do the right thing. It all called forth his instinct to protect.
He shook his head, set the empty bottle down and went upstairs to have a shower. He stripped off his clothes and turned on the water, setting the temperature to as cold as he could stand it. He had managed to survive without a woman for the last four years and before that, well, that was a different time. He wasn’t proud of those memories but those years in Afghanistan didn’t exactly leave a whole lot of room for a relationship.
What had gotten into him yesterday when he had first spanked her? What had he been thinking? In his defense, if ever a woman needed a spanking it was Jessica Manning. But why had he been the one to give it to her? Not just once, but twice? Yes, her reckless behavior and her inability to listen to reason certainly invited discipline, but why had it been him to do it?
He only hoped he had accomplished what he wanted to accomplish out of those punishments, namely to gain her obedience and relieve her of her guilt. He wasn’t certain of the former but he hoped, for her sake, he had helped with the latter. It had surprised him, that, but when he had hit on it, he had known it instantly. She felt responsible and probably hadn’t even acknowledged that little fact to herself.
She would keep him on his toes, that was for sure.
He would talk to her tomorrow about what had happened between them today. He would assure her… What? Assure her of what? Nothing had changed. He just hadn’t realized how far under his skin she had managed to burrow.
* * *
“Married at twenty-one, divorced by twenty-two,” she said, looking at the basic information. “Probably spanked her too!” She scrolled through some pages. It wasn’t until she got to about the third page of the report that she perked up.
“Oh my God.” she said, looking at page after page, newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping. Sheriff Jackson Montgomery was decorated war hero Command Sergeant Major Jackson Montgomery. At least a few years ago he was.
He had been born in New Hope thirty-six years ago and had left it to join the military when he was in his twenties, right after his divorce. He had been stationed in Iraq for a few years and then in Afghanistan. That was when things had gone wrong for him from what she could tell. He had been decorated with a Medal of Honor for his bravery while repelling an attack on a group of schoolgirls. That part gave her goose bumps and she found herself smiling. It was something she hoped she would be brave enough to do if a situation similar ever presented itself.
But while he had saved the girls’ lives, he had defied orders because he was supposed to have been defending the convoy of a local Afghan governor. His actions partially contributed to the death of the governor during the attack and although he had been deemed a hero in the public eye, once publicity back home had died down, he had been shifted to a desk job and eventually forced out of the military.
Jess clicked through the few photographs of him in uniform, his arms thick, his face in some photos smiling, but in most, dead serious. He held a rifle in many shots, but there was one taken when he had obviously not been aware because it captured his face at an angle, his eyes somewhere in the distance. She could still make out the steely blue of those eyes and she had to blush a moment later at the memory of finding him watching her when she had opened her eyes after her first orgasm.
“Ok,” she said, standing. That was enough of that. She shut off her laptop and checked the time. It was a little after ten PM. She had questions, a lot of them. One of the prominent ones being why the hell he hadn’t mentioned any of this to her.
But first she needed time to think. And a shower. His scent was still on her and all she could think of at the moment was how he had felt when he had touched her, when he had laid his weight on her. She stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor and stepped into a cold shower, forcing herself to think of what she had just learned about him, about his past, rather than what had just happened between them. She just needed to set that aside. This wasn’t about her and she certainly hadn’t come here to find romance or to fall in love.
Fall in love.
She shook her head and scrubbed her hair harder than necessary with the little bottle of shampoo provided by the hotel.
Fall in love. What the hell was wrong with her? It was a roll in the hay. She imagined if she wanted another roll he would be more than accommodating. Weren’t all men programmed that way after all? Their evening had had nothing to do with love.
And she had questions she needed answered, especially if he truly expected her to run things by him from now on. She wrapped a towel around herself and dried her hair with another one as she walked into the bedroom. She chose some clothes out of the suitcase she had never bothered to unpack and got dressed. She then combed out her hair and wound it up in a clip. She didn’t usually bother with more than mascara and lip gloss and tonight, she would forego that altogether. She picked up her purse and keys and slipped the crutch under her arm. When she got to the door, however, she noticed something there that she was sure hadn’t been there before. Someone had slipped an envelope underneath it.
She bent down to pick it up, wondering if it was some lame effort on Jackson’s part to make up for what had happened. But when she opened the sealed envelope and took out the scribbled note inside, she knew it was not. Her heart raced.
A lead. Finally, a lead!
She set her things bac
k down, changing her mind about going to see him tonight. She reread the note several times:
I have information about the collapse but I can’t talk in public. Meet me at the site tomorrow at midnight. Come alone or I’m gone.
Jess’s smile widened. This was exactly what she had been waiting for.
* * *
The following morning, Jess walked into the sheriff’s office with a box of donuts and three cups of coffee.
“Good morning, ma’am,” a deputy she didn’t know said.
Bill, the one she had met yesterday came into the office from a back room. She felt her face heat up for a moment when she thought of what he had overheard yesterday, but cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said.
Bill was apparently as embarrassed as she was because she swore his face also reddened just a little.
“I brought donuts,” she said, holding them up.
“Wow, great,” the first deputy said. “I’m Carl Engle, by the way, I was the one who drove your car down from the site.” He glanced at her leg. “You’re not using the crutch anymore?”
“Nope,” she said. She actually had it in her car but wanted to stop using it, although she tried to keep her weight mostly on her other leg. “It’s healing up nicely. Thanks for getting my car, by the way.”
“Sure thing, ma’am.”
“Is Ja… the sheriff here?” she asked, looking around.
She had barely finished her sentence when the door opened behind her. She didn’t even need to turn to know it was him. She could feel him. Her body stiffened, images of last night playing before her eyes, sweat beginning to form under her arms and between her breasts.
“We’ve got donuts,” Bill said, oblivious.
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