Answering to Him (Old-Fashioned Husband) (2 page)

Thump, thump. Thump, thump
. I tried several times to make my lips work, but I didn’t think I’d be able to hear myself speak over the frantic beating of my heart. Blood rushed to my face, and I found that I couldn’t meet his eyes. This was
the
moment—the moment I’d been waiting for. So why was I struck dumb all of a sudden?

I opened my mouth, and the first thing that came out was, “I really
wish you’d been there for me today.” I waited, nibbling my lower lip. “With Jonah.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “I know. I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry.”

“
You’re
the one who’s supposed to deal with stuff like that!” I exclaimed. “You know? That’s a father-son conversation. Don’t you think it’s time you talked to him?”

“I don’t know, Alicia. Maybe you’re right,” he said thoughtfully.

“I know I am!” I screeched. Fear was making me harp, something I rarely did otherwise, and lending my voice the whine of an indignant, squawking bird.

“OK…” He drew
out the word slowly, arching a brow at me. “I will talk to him. Is that all?”

I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head. With a last probing look, Oliver turned away, setting his black, square-rimmed glasses back in place before turning back to his book. “Still think you should have talked to him before now,” I muttered. I felt him stiffen beside
me, but I couldn’t shake the desire to keep pushing. What was
wrong
with me? I never tried to start fights, but the feelings bubbling inside of me unable to be find release were making me irritable.

“Are you OK, Alicia?”

I wasn’t. Of course I wasn’t! I was getting ready to tell him my deepest secret, and the fear that he would reject me was unbearable. “I’m fine,” I snapped. “I just wish I didn’t have to do
everything
where our son is concerned!”

Oliver set down his book with a sigh. I could see that he was about fed up with me. Yet, I waited, watching him to see what he would do. “I understand you’re upset with me
for leaving you to deal with Jonah. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. I was embarrassed.”

“I was embarrassed too,” I huffed.

“I know, babe. And I really
am
sorry, but it’s over and done with, Alicia. I told you, I will talk to Jonah. But I have to be the one to decide when it’s right, OK?”

I muttered something that may have been assent, or may have been a mutinous grumble, but my husband, easy-going as always, chose to think the former. With each passing moment I grew increasingly anxious. I couldn’t just sit here! I had to
say
something. But I could feel my resolve deserting me with each second that ticked by, draining out bit by bit.

Steeling myself, I vowed to get his attention another way. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. I could see his lips tilt upward in a smile, but he must have thought that was it, because he kept his eyes focused on the page he was reading. I moved down and nibbled his earlobe. When I still got no reaction, I leaned down and bit his shoulder bone,
ever so gently. It was my go-to move to get his attention, and finally, Oliver set down his book and turned toward me.

I flushed at the lust in his warm brown eyes. I wasn’t a huge fan of glasses, but Oliver’s black r
ims seemed to frame his eyes just perfectly, making them stand out. He kept his short black hair trimmed neatly, and had strong, prominent features. A high forehead, a long nose that ended at the bow of his mouth. He had such full, tempting lips…when I’d been in college, staring at them had made me lose track of time.

The most attractive thin
g about Oliver was his voice. His voice was always soft, his words having the tilt of a southern accent, though he vehemently denied its existence. There was something that underlined his words—a quiet authority, it seemed to me, that perhaps encouraged me to think he would be the kind of man who liked to spank a girl.

I started unbuttoning his aqua plaid shirt, feeling the warmth of his eyes on me. Once open, it exposed his wide, large shoulders, a chest full of black, curly hair, and a stomach that was almost completely flat. He joked occasionally about needing to hit the gym, but I thought he looked great. He could pass for a man much younger than his forty-two years.

“What’s gotten in to you?” he asked, clearly pleased.

All I could do was smile wanly. Our sex life had been less than stellar over the last few years, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on the why of it. I still found him attractive, and I knew he felt the same. Now that Jonah was older, we had more time for each other—despite the
incident earlier in the day. There was just something missing between us… although I suspected I knew exactly what that “something” was. Still, I didn’t have any room to complain—Oliver was a good husband, who worked hard to provide, and was a terrific father to our son. I knew I should just be grateful for what I had.

He leaned in to kiss my neck, but I pulle
d away. He responded by sliding the strap of my top down my arm, leaving my shoulder bare. Normally, I loved the feel of his warm mouth tracing kisses along my body, but tonight I couldn’t relax. I pulled away from his embrace and turned my back on him. Nonplused, he began scratching my back. Normally, it was my favorite thing and could soothe any mood, but tonight it just irritated.

“I’m not a dog, you don’t need to scratch me like one,” I snapped.

That got his attention. “What’s the matter, honey? Seems like nothing is making you happy tonight. What can I do?”

I turned back around to face him, unsure of how I’d answer.
“Have you ever thought about spanking me?” The words just popped out. As soon as they’d escaped my mouth, I felt myself freeze. I looked at Oliver—did my panic show on my face?

He spread his full lips in a wide smile, his eyes lighting up as he did. “Spanking you? For foreplay?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just smiled tentatively. I felt the butterflies in my stomach take flight when he patted his knee. “Well, come on over here.”

I suddenly felt incredibly shy
and couldn’t make myself meet his eyes. Still, I slid toward him, inch by inch, hardly daring to hope that this was real or would fulfill my pent-up fantasies. When I felt my knee brush against his, I looked up, seeing Oliver grin at me before gently taking my hands in his. With a tug, he pulled me over his lap and my heart began dancing crazily in my chest.

He put a hand on my ass and began moving it in circles. I was wearing
powder blue silk sleep pants to bed, and the sensation of his fingers through the rich fabric made me arch my back, encouraging more of his caress. I turned my head at the sound of his chuckle, wondering if it had begun, just as I feared. “Honey, you’re spread out like a cat in heat,” he said, wonderingly. “How long have you been wanting me to do this?”

I blushed hotly at the question, unsure of how to answer, or if I even wanted to. Maybe all those fears had been right—maybe he really was just going to laugh at me. The thought stung so much that I felt tears come to my eyes. Before I could work up the courage to reply, I felt it: his hand came down, once, twice, on my bottom. He paused, waiting for me to react, but I couldn’t say a word. I closed my eyes against the tears, feeling the warm tingling in my cheeks.

It was only a few more seconds before he smacked me again, and again. His hand landed a little harder the next time, and a moan escaped my lips. Oliver immediately pulled me upright, into his strong arms.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

My insides had been boiling, turning to jelly with each firm spank, and I couldn’t find the words to answer him. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. He returned my kiss, and when we pulled apart, we were breathless, like a couple of horny teenagers.

“More?” h
e asked. The word was warm and husky with desire that mirrored my own. I nodded, and was upended over his lap as though he’d done this many times before. When the slaps started again, they were slower, almost like he was teasing me, but they packed more of a wallop.

Each one had me squirming over his lap, and though I tried to keep my lips closed, my pleasure was audible. When I felt him stop and shift his weight, I turned wide, lust-filled eyes to him. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded in a small, little-girl voice I almost didn’t recognize as my own.

“OK, then. Let’s get this thing out of the way.” Oliver slid my pants down, giving him access to my panty-clad behind. I flushed deeper when I remembered that I was wearing white granny panties. As much as I’d hoped and prayed throughout the day for this moment to come, I’d never really expected it to happen!

He began again, still taking his time, delivering slow, hard spanks to my behind. I was practically purring over his lap. To my surprise, I fe
lt his hand on the waistband of my panties only seconds before he slid them down. I shivered as the cool air kissed my newly bared bottom, feeling as if I were dreaming. This time, the smacks he put on my cheeks were fast and stingy. It did unimaginable things to my body. With each impact, I felt a smarting sensation, but somehow, knowing he did this out of love or desire, or both, made it feel incredibly sexy.

I was starting to feel a bit sore when
Oliver flipped me over on to my back. Without a word, he set me on the bed and leaned over me. I inhaled deeply, taking in his sandalwood cologne and the hunger in his dark eyes. For a moment, it felt like my heart stopped. God, how I wanted him!

He pounced on me, nibbling my lip, kissing it, so
amorous in his need that he was rougher than usual. I responded eagerly, feeling his urgency in every possessive touch of his fingers. I tilted my head back so that he could kiss my neck. He attacked the delicate flesh immediately, with such passionate kisses that I wondered if I might get my first hickey in almost fifteen years. As he was pressing his lips to every inch of skin there, I was pulling his shirt off. As soon as he was free of it, my hands went for the zipper on his pants.

“When are you going to stop wearing jeans to bed?” I asked, my voice breathy as I giggled.

“As soon as you remember to take them off me, like this,” he replied before biting down on my neck and making me gasp.

As soon as I slid his jeans off, pulling the boxers
down along with them, his cock sprang forward, long and hard. Just the sight of it made me melt. I reached out a finger to stroke his hardened manhood, and the minute I touched the swollen head, the feel of his silky skin made my panties dampen with desire.

“God, Alicia,” he groaned, sounding almost fierce. Before I could take him in my hand, he reached over and pushed me down on the bed.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. I’d never seen him like this; my husband was always so steady and mild-mannered, and while I loved him for it, seeing this man that was practically wild for me was thrilling beyond words. We came together as though we were the cats in heat my husband had teasingly accused me of being. I clawed my fingernails down his back and saw him grit his teeth as he groaned.

He pounded into me, hard, each thrust desperate to find release. I could hardly catch my breath as I lay underneath him; desire had turned my insides to mush, and with each thrust I felt myself flying higher, and higher, exhilarated at the pleasure and terrified of following all at once.

“I can’t take any more,” I gasped. “Please, Oliver.”

Normally the perfect gentleman, my husband would have stilled and rolled over at once. The man who had replaced him, who had delivered more pleasure to me in one night than I’d ever had before, shook his head. “Come with me.”

“Oh, please,” I groaned again. “Please.” Even I didn’t know what I was begging him for—I could hardly speak with the heat in my body that was willing to tear me apart to find release. Maybe he knew I was saying,
Stop, you have to stop before I come apart
. Maybe he knew, but he didn’t heed my pleas.

The thrusts came closer together, even harder than before, and I rode each wave out, clutching h
is sweaty arm. I closed my eyes and saw colors dance before them. This must be what it feels like—my body was racked with orgasms. This must be what it feels like to die from pleasure.

* * * * *

My head swam and everything around me felt strangely fuzzy. Where was I? The fog in my mind seemed to lift for a moment, and I felt myself over Oliver’s lap, my robe flipped up, my bottom bared with my panties around my thighs. This had happened before…hadn’t it?

“I told you I would talk to Jonah,” Oliver was saying, his voice unusually stern.

“I know, but—”

Smack
. Whatever I might have said was cut off by a resounding smack to my bottom. “What are you doing?” I squealed.

“Giving you a spanking,” he replied mildly. “I thought you liked it.”

I detected the wry edge to his voice, and I kicked my legs, fuming. “Not like this, and you know it!” I hollered at him. I felt Oliver shifting his weight, and before I could pull free, he’d trapped my legs under one of his, making it almost impossible to move.

“I’d watch that tone of yours, dear.” With that, he proceeded to pepper my botto
m with fast, hard spanks. The burn of each one just increased my anger.