by Lee Savino
“Yes, Joel,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, little one. Clean slate. No more secrets.”
I bit my lip, and nodded. I needed his firm hand to feel close to him. To be renewed.
Cowboy correction.
The truck bounced a little as Joel pulled up to the ranch. I raised my head, rubbing my cheek where the seat had marked it. I’d slept most of the way back.
“We’re here?”
“We’re home.” Joel came around and opened my door. Before I could move he unbuckled me and scooped me right up.
“You don’t have to carry me.”
“You’re mine, Isabelle.” He didn’t drop me by the door, but carried me all the way into the house, sending the dogs away with a few sharp commands. He brought me to the bedroom, where he set me down slowly.
“I’m going to see to the animals. You strip down. Shower if you need to, but make it quick. Dry yourself off good. When I’m back, you need to be kneeling in the middle of the bed. Naked. Understand?”
“Yes, Joel.”
“Good girl.” A kiss on my forehead, and he was gone.
Tingles sparkled over my skin as I did what my husband commanded. My nipples were sharp points when I knelt on the bed to wait for him.
Soon, his cowboy boots clomped on the floor behind me. “Good girl,” Joel repeated.
I stayed still, facing away from him. Clothes rustled, and his boots hit the floor as he undressed himself. The bed dipped as he knelt behind me. A strong hand came to my hair, and tugged my head backwards. “You're a good girl, Isabel. Do you know that?”
I closed my eyes as his free hand cupped my breast. The calluses of his palm chafed my soft skin. It felt just right.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You had a long, hard road full of danger. But now you're safe with me.” Rough fingers toyed with my hardened nipple. Joel added softly, almost thoughtfully, “You're mine now.”
Using my hair like a leash, he pulled my head down to the bed so I was lying cheek to the coverlet with my ass in the air.
“I'm going to punish you now.” His voice was hushed, as if we were in church. “For running. No more running. You talk to me. I’m your man, Isabelle. You have troubles, you talk to me. Understand?”
“Yes—” My answer was cut off by a sharp smack to my bottom. I hissed, and rocked from knee to knee.
My punishment had begun.
Joel
My sweet girl knelt on the bed, her mahogany hair spilling over her slim shoulders. I knelt behind her, enjoying the sight of my handprint branded on her rear. Her skin pinked up nicely for me. And her pussy was plump and ready. I could smell her arousal.
This was it. Our new beginning. The punishment would wipe the slate clean. That was why Isabel craved it. She needed that clean slate. The absolution.
And I was the man to give it to her.
I slapped her rear again, making sure the apple of her ass caught the hard palm of my hand. She wriggled a little, and I spanked her for that too. “Be still. Take your punishment.” I put my left hand between her shoulder blades and pushed down, making sure her face was good and plastered to the bed. “And keep your rear up.”
Her back curled as she pushed her bottom up high for her punishment. Such a good girl.
I gave her a few more good smacks, until her bottom was rosy and I could be sure she wouldn’t squirm away. Then I moved behind her, cupped her bottom cheeks in both hands, and pulled them apart to examine her. She quivered as if she’d move away.
“Keep that back arched. This inspection is part of your punishment.” I studied her tiny puckered hole, a dark whorl surrounded by shiny skin. I blew hot air on her asshole, then gave it a lick.
Isabelle sucked in a breath, but didn’t move. “Joel?”
“Be still, little one. You belong to me. All of this is mine, and I’m going to take care of what I own.” I rimmed her again, and brought my right hand up to check her pussy. Just as I suspected—she was soaked.
I eased back and ducked down, putting her pussy folds within mouthwatering distance. “Curve your back more, Isabelle,” I murmured. “Offer this cunt up to me.”
The only sound was her harsh breathing as she contorted into position. Her back arched, her bottom high and tilted so her puffy pussy lips were right in front of my face.
“That’s it.” She moved so gracefully into position, and was perfectly still when she held the pose. My tiny dancer. I’d have to take advantage of her discipline and training, her strength and flexibility. Put her through her paces every morning. She’d perform, naked and on display—for me. Only for me.
I gripped the backs of her thighs, and licked up the juices waiting to drip from her waiting pussy. She was sweet as a peach, and just as juicy. I licked and licked some more. Her muscles were taut under my palms. Only the slightest quiver told me of the arousal I was building in her.
When she was close, I backed away, wiping wetness from my stubble. “Brace yourself.” I pushed her legs apart with my knees. My cock jutted out, ready to spear her. She was so wet, it would feel so good.
“You don’t come until I say.” I kept my voice stern. “You come before then, and there’ll be more punishment, understand?”
“Yes.” Her voice was muffled in the bedspread.
“Hang on, little one.”
Her fingers fisted in the bed. She was close to climax, I could tell. Holding off would be torture. Just another part of her punishment.
I slid into her in one smooth stroke. She moaned and quivered around me. For a moment, we held still, breathing hard. It felt more than good; it felt right.
I reached down and took a fistful of her long hair. I’d positioned her like this on purpose. Kept her naked and vulnerable, stretched out on the bed. Nothing would communicate the message—I own you—like claiming her from behind. I could thrust hard, and she couldn’t stop me. She could only take it.
I gripped her hair and pulled slowly, until her body arched backwards. I held her that way, taut and leashed by her own hair, as I rocked my hips, gliding in and out of the tight vice of her pussy. After a few hard, claiming strokes, I angled my thrusts so my cock would rub against her G-spot. A few slow drags, and Isabelle started shaking.
I reached around and wrapped an arm over her chest, forcing her almost upright. Her small body bounced in my lap as I drove into her.
“Joel, please… I’m so close…”
“I know. Hang on.” One. I thrust, and counted down in my head. Two.
“You thought you were broken. A beautiful swan with damaged wings.” I readjusted my hold around her. Our bodies were slippery with sweat. My flesh slapped against hers. Three. Four. “But I knew better. You were always whole.” Five. Six. “You just needed someone to help lift you up out of the ashes.” Seven. Eight. Nine. My own balls were pulsing, my cock ready to explode. “You're like a phoenix, little one, and now you will fly.”
Her head was tipped back, her eyes closed. Her mouth opened into a little ‘O’. Ten.
“Come for me, Isabelle. Come now.” I pushed deep inside her, climaxing with a growl. Her own howl reached my ears. Her little body shook in my arms. I gave a few more half thrusts, emptying myself deep into her body. My little one. My Isabelle. My wife.
For a moment, I stayed like that, holding her aloft with my cock deep inside her, my heartbeat booming.
Then I rolled us over onto the bed, my arm still wrapped around her. She was so limp as I drew her close, I raised myself up to check her face. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth bore a smile.
“You okay, little one?” I hugged her tighter. We were still joined. My cock was softening, but it wouldn’t be long before I’d want to go again. Or we could just lie here, entwined. I just needed to make sure my wife had survived our climax.
“Talk to me, Isabelle,” I tried again. “You with me?”
Her small hand came to cup my cheek.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
<
br /> “I’m with you, Joel. Forever.”
Epilogue
Isabelle
“What’s wrong?” I asked Joel. He’d been acting weird all morning—fidgeting, clearing his throat. Checking three times that he’d turned off the stove. I hid my amusement at his nervousness. The big, bad, tatted-up cowboy, afraid of his little mom.
He gave me a rueful smile. “Just figuring out what to say.”
“We could just not tell her? We could let the celebrant in on it, and just sign our names in the register, and it’ll look like the real thing.”
Joel shook his head. “You don’t know my mom. She’ll find out. She’ll come across the real date of our wedding at some point in the distant future, and she’ll go full-on apocalyptic. When I was a kid, there was no way of hiding anything from her. She used to tell us that she had eyes in the back of her head, and honestly, I kind of believed her.”
I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. I never tired of that feeling. Of knowing he was mine. That I could hug him anytime I wanted. And he acted like he couldn’t get enough of me. Immediately, those big arms of his came down around my shoulders and waist, keeping me safe.
“I used to think your mom was easygoing—at least, in comparison to mine,” I said.
He chuckled. “I guess that’s fair. Your mom really defined the tiger mom.” He stroked my hair gently. He was no longer hesitant about bringing up my family, and I loved that. I was starting to enjoy talking about them with him. He was the one person I still knew from my past—actually, the only person I knew from my past who had known them. And there was no one I’d rather talk about my feelings with.
“My mom’s not intense, but she doesn’t miss a thing. We had to make our beds every single morning, and if they weren’t neat, then—” he whistled, “there’d be no horseback riding for us that morning.”
I worried at my lip. “Is she going to hate me when she finds out?”
I was actually terrified that she wouldn’t just be pissed that she’d missed the wedding, but she was going to hate that Joel had married me, period. The last thing I remembered of her was her standing in the yard, right by the barrel, hands on her hips, shaking her head as my family sped off in a cloud of dust.
“Does she know the truth about what happened that night?” I asked.
Joel nodded, his face full of love. “She knows you were a very pressured young girl, with parents who didn’t give you an inch of space to decide on things for yourself. She was real impressed that you were a ballet star, but I know she also felt bad for you. That day, after you all left, she sat me down and forced me to tell her what really happened. And if I’d taken advantage of you, I would have been out on my ass. She probably would have cut me out of her life.” He shrugged. “So I told her the truth, and all she said was, that poor kid.”
Joel said we could ride to his mom’s place, and my heart lifted. I’d improved a ton in the past couple of weeks, and under Joel’s patient guidance, all my fear had disappeared.
We walked to the stables together, and Joel took out Flinders, while I took out Odette. She nickered in greeting, and butted me playfully with her forehead. I sensed she was eager for a long ride. I slipped my foot into the stirrup and swung over her back effortlessly. These days, I felt like she and the saddle were made for me.
The farm where Joel’s mom lived with Stan, her second husband, was much smaller than the ranch. They mainly farmed for themselves, and sold any extras at the weekly farmer’s market, Joel had explained.
When we clattered into the yard in front of the homely-looking stone farmhouse, the front door flew open, and a familiar woman ran out. Over the past four years, Joel’s mom hadn’t changed very much. She still had the same dark chestnut hair, lightly threaded with gray; the same trim figure encased in blue jeans, and a blue denim shirt.
“Well, this is a nice surprise!” she exclaimed.
Joel jumped down from his horse, and hugged her. “Hi, Mom.”
“And who’s this?” Her attention turned to me.
“Come here, honey.” Joel took my hand once I’d dismounted, then led me over to his mom, pulling my hat off at the same time.
Her expression shifted from curiosity to surprise. Then she gasped. “Isabelle Stevens? Well, I never! Honey, is that really you?”
“Sure is—” I started to say, but a second later, I’d been swept into a soft, warm hug. Mom hugs. God. I missed them so much. Tears sprang to my eyes. When she released me, I blinked them away fast.
She gave me a kind, appraising look. “Gosh, we were so worried about you, after what happened. Joel kept telling me how he’d been looking for you, but you were nowhere to be found. I’ve been worrying about you all this time, wondering where you were. If you were safe.”
Suddenly, she was hugging me again, like I was a cherished possession that had been lost then found again.
“I’m so sorry about what I said last time I was here…” I faltered.
She gave me a final squeeze. “Honey, don’t you give that another thought. We never held it against you for a minute. Don’t be ridiculous. You were young and confused. I’m just so, so glad that you’re okay. Now, come inside, let’s all sit down, and have some tea.” She slipped her hand into mine, and led me inside.
As I passed through the threshold, I shot Joel a quick glance. He smiled at me encouragingly, but my heart was pitter-pattering. I was so relieved that she didn’t hate me. But how on earth was she going to react when she heard the real news?
Joel placed his hands in front of him on the old Hudson kitchen table. “Mom, we have some big news to share with you,” he began, clearing his throat.
She gasped. “You’re getting married!”
I burst into nervous laughter. “H-how did you know?”
“Oh, because the two of you are just perfect for one other. I saw it when you were together all those years ago. I remember, I said to Joel’s brother, Billy, ‘That’s the girl for him. I just hope he’ll be able to wait until she’s done with all her ballet dancing’.”
She leaped up from the table, looking from one of us to the other. “It is true, isn’t it?”
Joel nodded, apparently to overwhelmed to speak.
“This is just the best news. I’m so happy for you two.” She rushed around to me, and suddenly her arms were around me again. “Just wait till Stan gets home. He’s gonna be so pumped. Oh, my goodness, I can’t wait to start planning the wedding…” Then she frowned. “I mean, that’s if you want my help, Isabelle?”
Joel laughed. “Just hold on a second, Mom. There’s one more thing we have to tell you. Please—sit down.”
His mom settled down at the table again with barely suppressed energy. Joel took a deep breath, and told her the whole story about how he’d met me again, and we’d come to be married in a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel.
As he spoke, her eyes got bigger and bigger, and by the end of it, they were full of tears.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for everything else you’ve been through, my dear. It’s about cut my heart in two.” She reached across the table for my hand. “If only you’d contacted us. We would have taken you in in a heartbeat.”
“I wish I had, too,” I whispered.
“But that’s all in the past now.”
“It sure is,” I said, more brightly. “And, Mrs. Hudson, I would absolutely love it if you would help to plan our wedding.”
“Call me June, please. We’re family now. And I promise I’ll be the best mother-in-law who ever lived.”
We all laughed.
“And I’ll do my best to be a perfect daughter-in-law,” I said solemnly.
“Are you ready, honey?” Stan Matthews asked.
I swallowed down a flutter of nerves. “Sure am.”
Odette stood calmly as Stan helped me slip my white suede cowboy boot into the stirrup, and he held my fussy skirts out of the way as I cautiously slung my leg across her back. Then he went around, rearranging my skirts careful
ly.
A few feet away, a photographer snapped away, recording every precious moment.
Odette was wearing a festive bridle, decorated in deep-purple and burnt-orange silk flowers, and there was a garland of flowers around her neck. Her tail had been brushed to a silky sheen, and I’d braided her mane into tiny plaits. She was on her best behavior, as if she sensed that something important was happening today.
Stan looked up at me with a warm smile. “You both look beautiful,” he said, and already, my eyes started to prickle. I was glad I’d decided to wear waterproof make-up.
He and June had debated for a long time over who was going to give me away. She thought it should be her husband, so I had the tradition of a man giving me away. He thought it should be her, because she was the one person who belonged to my earlier life. In the end, we agreed that he would do the honors, so she could be there for Joel, since he’d lost his own father.
I’d only known Stan for four months, but he was one of those people you feel like you’ve known all your life. He was warm and friendly and a lot of fun, and I couldn’t be happier that he was my new father-in-law.
I looked over my shoulder. “You ready, hon?” I called to my bridesmaid, Carrie.
“Never readier,” she called back, and we both laughed. Six months pregnant, and she was blooming in her burgundy bridesmaid’s dress. She still rode every day, so she hadn’t had a hard time clambering onto the back of Megan, her little gray horse, who was also decked out in flowers and ribbons.
I also couldn’t believe I’d only known Carrie for four months. Her husband Steele was one of Joel’s friends, and Carrie’d quickly become my best friend—close as a sister. She’d had a real hard life, too, before her sexy older husband had taken her in. And gotten her civilized, she’d told me with a smirk of mischief.