Taming His Wild Girl (Wild Whip Ranch Book 2)

by Lee Savino

  He followed me to the floor, his smile gone. I felt a pang at ruining our fun night, but I hardened myself to it. It was for the best.

  Before the next song started, he crowded close to me.

  “Can you not?” I put a hand to the firm plane of his chest and pushed, but he didn’t budge. I made a disgusted sound. “Do you have to stand so close to me? Maybe I want to dance with someone else.”

  “Not going to happen.” The music started up and he stepped right into me, locking a hand at the small of my back. We danced close, our bodies in sync, but I kept my eyes averted. I wanted to push him away, but it wasn’t working. My body liked the feel of his against it too much. His cock brushed my thigh, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Isabelle,” he breathed into my ear. “What’s wrong?”

  I pushed him away again. “I have to go to the bathroom.” And I stumbled away, leaving him alone on the floor.

  In the cramped ladies’ room, I splashed water on my face. What the hell was I doing? I peeked out of the door, and there was Joel’s silhouette, waiting for me at the end of the hall. The lights from the dancefloor outlined his muscular form. It was a sight to steal any woman’s breath. Joel was the total package. Big, handsome, protective.

  I didn’t deserve him.

  I ducked my head, and snuck in the opposite direction. There was a heavy security door, but someone had propped it open with a block of wood. I eased it open. In the back alley, there was a cluster of guys standing around near a dumpster, passing a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. It smelled like smoke, and trash, and dead-end dreams.

  One of the guys turned towards me and did a double take, then offered me a stained-toothed smile.

  The barbed wire twisted around my heart. I stepped into the night.

  I’m not the girl Joel thinks I am. It’s time he learns that.

  Joel

  “Isabelle?” I knocked on the bathroom door. A few ladies came down the hall, and I raised my hat to them. “Can you check on my friend? She went in a while ago.”

  The first lady entered. After a second, she stuck her head out. “Sorry, cowboy,” she said. “No one’s in here.”

  I nodded my thanks and stepped aside to let all the ladies pass. “If she don’t want ya, I’m available,” one offered.

  “Ma’am.” I tugged my hat and backed away. Where could Isabelle have gone?

  Then I hear herd laughter out the back door.

  “Isabelle,” I growled, and strode towards the sound.

  The back door banged open, and the men beyond it jumped. But not Isabelle. She had her back to me, and a brown bottle in hand. She was swaying a little.

  I was getting déja vu.

  I sidled up behind her, and plucked the bottle from her hand. “Not tonight, little one.”

  Isabelle

  The hooch on my tongue burned and tasted disgusting, but I deserved it. I blinked up at Joel, overdoing a drunken sway.

  “Joel.” I stumbled towards him and he caught me. He always catches me. I put my arms around him and puffed a breath into his face, giving him a blast of the nasty alcohol fumes. “I knew you’d come for me.” I stroked his arm, turning back to the watching guys. “He’s always coming for me. Why is that, I wonder?” I licked my lips and looked up at Joel. “Do you like pretty, broken things?”

  “Isabelle,” Joel ground out, pulling me fully into his arms. “We’re leaving.”

  “Hey, man, let her be,” one of the guys muttered, but I waved his help away. Joel would never hurt me.

  Which made pushing him away so much harder.

  “Such a good cowhand.” I patted his cheek as he guided me out of the alley into the parking lot. “So helpful.”

  His jaw hardened. “I don’t know why you’re acting this way. But it’s going to stop.”

  “Hey, where we going?” I tried to twist towards the town hall but he kept marching me forward. “I want to party.”

  “Party’s over.” He scooped me up in his arms, and my breath at caught the power and strength of his body. I wanted to relax in his hold and purr like a cat.

  It scared me.

  I struggled as we approached the parking lot. The liquor was bitter in my mouth, and now my eyes were burning. Joel looked straight ahead, muscles rigid, his face turned to stone. We had a great night ahead of us, and I messed it up. What was wrong with me?

  “Put me down,” I muttered. “Joel, stop.”

  “Not now, Isabelle.”

  “But…”

  “If I put you down here, you’re getting punished.”

  My breath left my body. “You would… do that? Right here?”

  “You think I wouldn’t?”

  “People would see.” I wasn’t sure why my panties were wet at the thought.

  “You think this is the first time they’d see a cowboy taking his woman in hand?”

  My eyes rounded. I stared at the cluster of people at the end of the parking lot.

  “I’m sure they’d like to come watch,” Joel continued. “See a little discipline in action. Or you could behave until we get to the truck, and get disciplined in private. Because one way or another, Isabelle, you’re getting punished tonight.”

  I kept quiet the rest of the way.

  When Joel swung me down next to his truck, I turned to open the door, and he pressed his hand to the frame above mine, leaning his weight into it. I felt him looming over me, but I couldn't face him.

  “I… fucked up,” I said to the frame. The barbed wire in my chest tightened until the pain was too much to bear. With the ache came a shot of rage. “But it’s your fault. You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

  Joel waited as if making sure I wouldn’t say more before turning me to face him. The happy chatter of the people moving through the parking lot, the bright lights decorating town hall, it all seemed so wholesome, so right. I compared the pretty night to the riot in my head, and felt even worse. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “I fucked up,” I repeated.

  “Language,” he said roughly.

  “Screwed up then.” I gave a little laugh, and covered my face to block out the night. I still couldn’t look at him.

  “Isabelle.” His voice was gentle. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  He took my hand and brought it down.

  “I’m screwed up, Joel.” My voice shook a little.

  “You’re not screwed up,” he said in a hard voice.

  “I am. Worse than you realize.” The barbed wire tightened. Tears began to prickle behind my eyes. I can not burst into tears here.

  “Isabelle.” He dropped my hand and cupped my face in both of his. The rough pads of his fingers felt so good on my skin. “Look at me.”

  When I finally raised my gaze, his amber eyes were so gentle, they seared me. I felt so dirty, so ashamed.

  “I think you're trying to be bad. But deep down, you want to be good. Is that right, little one?”

  My answer caught on the barbed wire in my throat, so I nodded.

  “You want me to take you in hand? Do you need someone to guide you to help you be good?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. My shoulders relaxed, and I felt the relief of surrender.

  “All right.” He opened my door and helped me into my seat, buckled me in. He drove us out of the lot, and I didn’t ask where we were going. When he pulled off the road into a dark field, I didn’t ask why we stopped. When he opened my door, I jolted as if I’d woken from a dream.

  “Easy, girl.” He unbuckled my seatbelt and guided me out. He took me by the elbow and steered me to the back of the truck, where he sat down on the running board and positioned me in front of him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You know what.”

  I shivered, even though I wasn’t cold.

  “You know what to do.” He patted his lap. “Over my knee.”

  I clutched at my skirt with both hands. I kne
w what would happen when I was over Joel’s lap. I wanted it, but I was afraid.

  “Come on now,” Joel said in the same coaxing tone I’d heard him use with a horse. He took my arm and guided me closer, then over his lap. “Easy. That’s it.”

  I settled into the awkward position, balancing over his legs. My heart thumped against his denim-clad thighs.

  I was so wet.

  There was a whisper of breeze over my ass. He drew up my dress until it bunched at my back.

  Then his fingers were hooking into the waistband of my panties.

  “Joel, someone might see.” We were off the road, but if a car came by, the high beams would hit us. We were totally exposed.

  “You leave the worrying to me.” His hand rubbed soothing circles over my back. “It’s all right, girl. I'll take good care of you, understand?”

  I relaxed somewhat. “Yes.”

  “That's it.” He moved his hand lower and kept rubbing the smooth globes of my bottom. After a few passes, he took my panties down and pulled them all the way off. Just like that, I was naked from the waist down, ass up over his lap, right on the side of the road where anyone could drive by and see.

  I made a little noise, and he shushed me. “Leave it to me, Isabelle. You’re not in control. And you love it, don’t you? You love it when I take over.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. His fingers dipped between my legs and found proof of how much I loved this. The rough pads of his thumb and forefinger caught on the silky fold of my pussy lip. We both hummed a little as he rubbed me just right.

  “All right.” He withdrew his hand when I was sopping. “Let’s get this done.”

  Slap! His hand came down on my ass. No warm up this time, he smacked me hard enough to leave a print. I imagined the shape of it against my pale skin, glowing in the dark.

  Slap! My other cheek stung. My hand flew back to protect my bottom and he caught it and pinned it in the small of my back. His other hand continued to pepper smacks on my exposed cheeks. Left, right, left, right.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, squirming.

  “Language.” A volley of swats, each harder than the last. My butt was roasting but my pussy throbbed. It wasn’t fair.

  “You’re a good girl, Isabelle. You lost your way. I'm going to tame you, and you're going to be all right.”

  He laid a few smacks on my sit-spots and the backs of my thighs, then helped me sit up. I shifted on his hard lap as he brushed back my hair.

  “Now. You gonna tell me what you’ve been keeping from me?”

  “What?”

  His jaw tightened. “Don’t lie to me, Isabelle.”

  My bottom clenched at the look in his eye. “I don’t… I don’t know…” My eyes darted wildly around the empty night.

  He tipped me back over his knee. This time, my legs were splayed so I was riding one of his thighs. His hand kept punishing my ass. My legs kicked. Each jolt rocked me forward, my pussy rubbing the denim. I angled my hips for more stimulation, and Joel lifted me up.

  “No, little one. This is punishment. You don’t get to come.” He repositioned me so my body folded over his left leg. His right one weighed down my calves. I was caught. I couldn’t move, couldn’t squirm away. I could only feel.

  Each smack was ten times harder. Like Joel’s hand had transformed into a wooden paddle.

  “I’m sick of you keeping things from me, Isabelle.”

  Slap!

  “How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t know what’s going on?”

  The slaps echoed in my ears, and it hurt like crazy. But it felt good, too. It felt like absolution.

  Slap! Slap! Slap! My ass burned.

  A rumble in the distance, and I went still. “Joel! Someone’s coming.”

  “You let me worry about that.” He kept me in place, his muscles like iron. I let my head hang down, hoping my hair would screen my face.

  A rumbling engine rolled by, is lights washing over us. A few seconds and it was over, but the driver must have seen a cowboy with a girl in a dress balanced over his lap, her bare bottom all red and exposed. It was so humiliating.

  And yet…

  My clit ached.

  It was turning me on. This horrible, shameful, public punishment.

  Slap!

  Joel’s hand was getting heavier and heavier as his spanking turned rhythmic. One of his hands lay in the small of my back, holding up my dress, while his other paddled my ass relentlessly.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I mewled and whimpered. My nose started to run, and tears streaked my cheeks.

  “Stop.” The word burst from my lips like a traitor.

  He paused. My entire ass was throbbing now. A single entity of burning pain.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said, low and calm. I’d reached my limit, and he knew it.

  My head pounded, and I could hardly breathe.

  “One of the thugs at the club was forcing me to marry him,” I blurted out.

  There was an intake of breath. “What?”

  He lifted his arm from my thighs and pulled me onto my feet, tugging my skirt over my poor, punished ass.

  I stood on trembling legs and told him the whole story—about the trust fund. How those morons had found out about it, and figured out how to get their hands on it.

  “That’s why you looked like you were in a wedding dress. Isabelle, you should’ve told me.”

  “They’re dangerous, Joel. More dangerous than you realize. And they’re not going to stop until they get what they want.”

  “Like hell, they’re not,” he spat.

  A bolt of alarm went through me. “I know you want to protect me. But there are so many of them. It’s not just the thugs who run the club. They have this whole network across North America. There’s a ton of them out there.”

  He stomped a tight circle of the parking lot, his feet stirring up the dust.

  At last he came to a stop in front of me, hands planted on his hips. “So they’re not gonna stop until you marry this asshole, right?”

  I nodded miserably, twisting my fingers together. “That’s about right.”

  “But if you marry someone else…”

  I blinked, confused. “Yeah. If I marry somebody else, then the trust would get transferred then.”

  “All right.” He folded me into his arms. “You did good, babygirl.” He smoothed a hand down my back. I realized I was trembling. “Thank you for telling me.”

  I clutched him, pushing my face into his shirt, smelling his cologne, his clean skin. The scent of hay that clung to him no matter how often he showered. His scent calmed me but my thoughts still ran like a hamster on a wheel. “Joel.” My voice was muffled by his shirt. “What am I gonna do?”

  “You leave that to me, little one. I’ll take good care of you.”

  He drew back and kissed my forehead, then my wet cheek. He produced a hankie from somewhere—it was so old fashioned, it would have made me laugh under different circumstances. I let him wipe my eyes and then I took over, blotting my mascara and fixing my hair. My eye makeup left dark smears on his white handkerchief, but he didn’t seem to mind. He tucked it away, and helped me up into the passenger seat.

  “You okay?” he asked as he buckled me in.

  My punished bottom throbbed on the seat, but I gave him a wobbly smile. “Yeah.”

  “Good girl.” He patted my knee and closed my door. Once in the driver’s seat, he fussed with the vents, making sure the hot air was blowing on me. “Your arms were cold,” he muttered.

  My heart warmed. That was Joel. He didn’t skimp on the discipline, but then he took care of me.

  The return journey seemed to take longer than the way out, but at last, we pulled up in front of… a neon sign?

  Bridal Falls Wedding Chapel. The words blazed out of the darkness.

  “Where are we?” I shot up in my seat. “What’s this?”

  “This is me taking care of you, Isabelle.”

  “People get m
arried here?” I blurted out. I was full of smart questions.

  “Yup. It’s a twenty-four-hour place. I remembered reading something about it in the news. And here it is.”

  “Oh.” I blinked at the garish sign. “But… you can’t… this doesn’t…”

  Joel laid a hand on my chest until the words quit falling from my mouth. “Breathe,” he ordered, and waited until I did. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  “This won’t change anything.” I twisted my fingers together.

  “It will, Isabelle. It solves everything.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The barbed wire filled my chest until there was nothing left of me but fear and rusted metal.

  “Isabelle, talk to me.”

  “Joel, you can’t. I can’t marry you.”

  Gentle fingers touched my chin, drawing me back to reality. “But I can. And I will. In five minutes, this can all be over.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  I flinched, and he realized what he said. “It’ll be all right, Isabelle. I know you’re scared. Let me help.”

  “But… marriage?”

  He shrugged. “It solves a lot of things.”

  “But you could marry anyone.” Another beautiful girl. Not a broken one, like me.

  “Like who?” He made a show of looking around the deserted lot.

  I couldn’t believe we were arguing about this. “But this is… marriage. Legal and everything.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never bought into all that. It’s an antiquated institution that just enables government interference in people’s lives. Why should I subscribe to that? Unless…” his voice softened, “unless it helps out somebody I care about.”

  Of course. It wouldn’t be real. It’d be a fake marriage, to help me. But still… “Why would you go to all this trouble?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He stroked my cheek, and the rusty barbs in my chest loosened, no longer digging in quite so deep.

  My lips were numb so I licked them and tried again. “You don’t want to do this. I’m so fucked up. ”

  “I’ve spoken to you about how you talk about yourself.” His fingers gripped my chin more firmly. “I guess we’ll have to address it again. Later.”