Rocky Mountain Romp (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 4) (3 page)

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

He hushed her, pushing up her nightgown so her body was bared to him. Pouring out a little oil, he took her foot in his hand and started to massage it.

“That feels good,” she sighed, eyes fluttering closed. Miles worked his way up her leg, his large, rough hands kneading her gently. When one leg was done, he started on the other. Looking at her bare body, her skin glazed and shining with oil, he felt himself harden. As his expert fingers moved higher up her leg, she shifted, suddenly awake.

“Feel better?” Miles knelt in between her open legs, gazing down at her rounded belly. Taking up her hand, he started rubbing her palm, even every finger.

“Yes, Miles,” she breathed. Her face was full of love, and he had to pause to reposition himself in his small clothes.

She smiled, missing nothing.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked as he finished her hands and started stroking her forearms.

“Because I want to.” His hands brushed the sides of her large breasts as they worked around her arms. After playing around the hem of her nightgown to massage as much as he could, he worked the garment over her head. Tossing the gossamer garment away, he caught his breath at the sight of her, naked and glowing before him. Her hair spread over the bed, her eyes were heavy lidded, mouth curved sensuously as she watched him.

“I need this,” he admitted. “You are so beautiful, I have to touch you.”

“Touch me, Miles.” She smiled and spread her arms, offering herself to him. He didn’t hesitate. His hands went to her breasts, lifting them carefully, palming their weight, and stroking the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches.

She sighed, and he could bear it no longer. Leaning over her, arms on either side of her body, he bent his head and touched his lips to her chest, right at her collarbone. Slowly he made his way down, tonguing the curves at the valley between her breasts, and kissing further until his tongue swirled in her belly button.

“Mmmmm.” Her body arched beneath him, encouraging him as his mouth traveled lower down. Kneeling lower, he pushed her legs open wider and then slid his hands under her bottom, lifting her until her center spread out like a feast before him. A few kisses to the soft skin of her inner thighs and he was ready to touch his tongue to her lower lips. He licked and sucked at her folds until his wife’s body was squirming, even as her hands fisted in his thick hair, holding him captive between her thighs. His lips danced over her center, tasting her juices as if it was the sweetest nectar, and he would never get enough. He could tell when Carrie’s whimpers turned and her whole body trembled on the tip of his tongue.

“Miles,” she moaned, her voice taut with need. “Please. I need you.”

Normally he liked his bride to beg, until she broke and lost control at his touch, but now, swollen to bursting in his pants, he couldn’t wait any longer. Adding two fingers, he used lips and tongue to tease her little pearl until her climax shook her, and her thighs clamped around his head.

Rising up over her, wiping at his wet mouth, he viewed his bride with satisfaction. Her body lay gleaming in the lamplight, limbs askew and chest rising and falling as she panted with pleasure. She’d never looked more beautiful.

Crawling to her side, he lay down and stoked away the little curl that stuck to the side of her face. His finger traced her soft lips before he kissed their sweetness. She turned to him fully, eyes closed and lips seeking his. He let her kiss him, trying to keep his own body from exploding. His cock cried out for attention. He almost didn’t notice when Carrie wriggled down his body, kissing his chest and following a trail similar to the one he took down her body.

Miles sucked in a breath as, in his dream, his wife put her hand on his trousers, over his cock.

“Carrie, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” In his dream, she smiled at him. Her little hand moved gently, starting to undo his buttons.

He shook his head, but couldn’t bring himself to move. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t hurt me.” She snuggled closer, and still lying on her side, slid his throbbing member into her hot mouth.

Miles started awake, rolled to look at his wife. Her face was calm and sweet with sleep. The cabin was still dark, but the night outside the window was tinged with grey and the coming dawn. Closing his eyes, he sighed. His cock was screaming for release, but the rest had been a dream. He waited until he dared, and then moved a little closer, replacing the blanket that had fallen off her shoulder. He was hard and throbbing, but he needed to let the new mother sleep. She worked so hard during the day, tying their daughter Mary to her body as she went about her chores and did what she could to help him on the homestead. Forcing himself to relax, Miles let his breathing grow steady. He had control; he could do this.

“Miles?” Carrie snuggled back into him, her bottom massaging his aching cock. He almost groaned, dropping his head into her hair. Almost of its own volition, his hand crept around to her breast, drawing a light circle on her swollen flesh.

“Mmmm.” She shifted again, and started to roll towards him. For one beautiful moment, Miles felt her weight in his arms, promising relief for his desire, when a wavering cry rose from in the corner.

“Oh, Mary,” Carrie sighed and sat up, pulling a blanket around her shoulders and hurrying to her daughter in a practiced, if tired, movement.

Meanwhile Miles pressed his face into the mattress, gritting his teeth. Their neighbors, the Wilders, had no children of their own; perhaps they would agree to watch Mary for a few hours that afternoon. Listening to his wife move around the cabin, he vowed he would talk to Lyle Wilder about it at his first opportunity. If he had to take much more of this, he’d be spilling himself like a school boy every night.

*

Come Sunday, the families all gathered together. The weather was nice enough that they had an outdoor service. After church, Esther played ball with the boys.

“Looks like your wife’s feet and legs are fine enough,” Lyle Wilder remarked.

“It seems so,” Johnathan said. “She’ll be ready for her caning later today.”

“The cane.” Lyle’s eyes widened, but Miles Donovan nodded his head in approval.

“It’s really not that harsh after a hand spanking,” Johnathan said. “She’s received it before.”

“Teach her good, minister,” Miles said. “I don’t want Carrie getting any ideas.”

Lyle snorted. “Your wife is as meek and mild as a newborn calf.”

“Aye, and I intended to keep it that way. Carrie has a stubborn streak and even a temper, as you well know.”

“Not like Rose. A day with Rose would bring most men to their knees. You sure you want us to watch Mary for you later?” Lyle asked.

“Definitely,” Miles said with such fervor, that Johnathan grinned.

“Baby Mary keeping you awake?”

“Something like that.”

Lyle chuckled. “Oh, when we take Mary, I’ll bet it’s bed for him and Mrs. Donovan, but they won’t be sleeping.”

Laughing, the men parted, and Johnathan made his way to his house, greeting all the families who’d come out for Sunday. Their little town was growing as the mines at Royal Gorge grew, and people came from all around for a morning of fellowship. Esther worked in the kitchen the whole day before, making sure there was enough stew and biscuits for anyone who wanted a good meal before heading home.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time they waved goodbye to the last visitor. Johnathan tucked his arm around his wife, feeling satisfied at her warmth and softness pressed against his tall body. He held out his arm, and escorted her back to the house. Once they were inside, however, he turned her to him.

“Do you want your punishment before or after we clean up?”

His wife kept her gaze lowered. “Some of the wives helped me with the washing and took the rest of the stew. I still must sweep the floor, though.”

Eyeing the kitchen, Johnathan felt the place was already spotless, but he pulled his wife towards him and kissed her forehead. “Finish your chores, then come find me.”

A few minutes later, Esther approached him at his desk. “Everything’s done.” She’d removed her apron, and her hands wrung her dress nervously. “Biscuits and honey is all that’s left for dinner.”

“That’ll be fine,” Johnathan said. Standing, he took his wife’s hand and led her to the bedroom.

She went along, but he could feel a slight hesitation in her step. She’d never really fought him over her punishment; a childhood spent getting into trouble and enduring discipline left his wife very pliant and submissive to his guidance. Lately, however, he sensed her pulling away from him.

At the door to the bedroom, she stopped at the sight of the hairbrush, cane, and the small paddle that was really a re-appropriated bread board, lying on the bed in a row. Johnathan turned and settled his hands on her hips, blocking her view.

“Dearest, do you know why you’re receiving correction?”

“I acted recklessly and put my life and the building structure in danger.”

He raised her chin so she looked at him. “You are a good woman. A wonderful wife and a true friend. But these last few weeks you seem to be growing less happy and more wild. Can you tell me why?”

Esther’s green eyes stared into his, and to him they seemed a little sad. But she just shook her head, and his heart sank. He wanted her to be able to talk to him. The more he thought about it, the more he knew something was in her head, poisoning her actions.

“I care for you very, very much,” Johnathan said. When he didn’t know what to say, he reminded her of his love. As a learned man, he knew the power of words. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Johnathan.”

“That is why I take the time to correct you. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stepped back. “Remove your clothes and lean over the bed.” As she obeyed, he rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms. He hated seeing her so upset. A maintenance session followed by a good long cry always helped her feel herself. He’d been reluctant to introduce regular spankings, but as their marriage went on, Esther had practically asked for it, and he could tell that they made her feel closer to him. It helped that a little pain seemed to arouse her.

When Esther was in position, he stepped to her side, but ran his hands down her back and over her bottom, savoring the moment. Five and a half years of marriage and he still couldn’t believe this beauty was his to love, to possess, to command.

To discipline.

“I’m going to start with your regular maintenance. A warm up, followed by a hand spanking, then a few with the paddle. If you’re very good, I’ll skip the hairbrush. Then you’re getting ten with the cane.”

Her head dropped, and her legs quivered a little. Ten was a harsh punishment with the long wooden implement, but he needed to break her will. His wife couldn’t go on climbing things and trying to destroy herself.

After squeezing her bum for a minute, he started swatting. As usual, Esther’s firm white globes heated immediately, turning a pleasing pink. He felt a rush of pleasure and paused to readjust his pants before starting to slap her cheeks with more force. Esther mewed a little, clenching her bottom with the strikes, but she was a seasoned submissive, and this punishment was little more than a warm up. His hand danced up one buttock and down the other, taking care to pay attention to her sit spots. He wanted her to feel sore for a day or so, and remember why he disciplined her.

Her bottom was a dusky pink before he paused and took a step back to admire his handiwork. His wife waited, face down on the quilt, not moving a muscle as he inspected her. Sure enough, her lower lips glistened with a slight wetness between her legs, evidence of her arousal. He smiled. His wife wouldn’t be cumming tonight, but he had plans for her pussy.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he decided to eschew the hairbrush. He’d found early on that just a spanking or paddling didn’t have as much of an effect on his wife, but switching implements halfway through a maintenance session allowed her to feel the pain, and contrition, anew. Otherwise she enjoyed it too much.

He picked up the paddle and smacked it against his hand, letting her know what was coming next. She didn’t speak, but her hands went to either side of her head and fisted in the quilt. Tapping the flat wood surface against her rosy cheeks, he took aim and gave her a smack at half strength. She jumped, but stayed down, and he gave her another one with a little more force. Her skin reddened, and he lost himself in the strikes, watching her bottom heat up all over. At one point, he took a break and hovered his hand over her skin, feeling the heat rise into his palm.

“Five more,” he muttered, and angled the paddle to catch the bottom of the curve of her buttock, right under her sit spots.

“Oh.” Her breath caught, and he laid on the rest, until a tear trickled out of her eyes.

“Esther,” he called until she looked at him. “Go stand in the corner for a few minutes, and think about what you did last week, and how you can behave better.”

As she hurried to the corner, he could see the tears starting down her cheeks. He hated the sight, even as he knew it was what she needed.

Settling himself in his old armchair at the corner of their bedroom, he studied his wife. Esther was a foot shorter than him, but perfectly formed. Her blonde hair hung loose halfway down her back, her tiny waist peeking out from behind the golden sheen. Just below, her roasted bottom glowed, then tapered to shapely thighs and calves. In all his years of medical study and travel, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Not just her form, which was certainly pleasing, but her spirit, which could light up a room. Lately, though, it had been a storm cloud. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she was troubled. He’d caught glimpses of a saddened face, and once, red-rimmed eyes. Once or twice he’d asked after it, but with the duties of a minister, his many patients, and the new building, he hadn’t taken the time to really draw her out and listen.

He felt a pang. He was her husband, her leader, and had vowed to put her care before his own. And here she was, reduced to acting out to get his attention. His heart twisted.