Rocky Mountain Romp (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 4) (7 page)

“Esther,” he knelt behind her, checking, “do you like this?”

“No, sir,” she said quickly.

“Don’t lie to me.”

She hesitated. “It feels like it’s almost too much. But after, it feels wonderful.”

He fingered her folds, hearing her catch her breath.

“Do not climax,” he ordered, and her head dropped lower on the bed.

He could hear her chanting over and over again, “Please, sir, please.”

Withdrawing his sopping fingers, he stood. His wife’s legs were trembling, but she held position as he considered his options.

He really shouldn’t give in. This was punishment, and she’d more than earned it.

But it was Christmas, and he wanted her to know how much she meant to him.

“Stand up. Arms above your head.”

She was on her feet almost instantly, her arms raised so he could easily whip her nightgown over her head. Once it was gone, her hands settled at the top of her head. Johnathan often ordered her into this position so he could undress and then inspect her. By the way she blushed, he could tell she found his perusal of her naked body embarrassing and arousing at the same time, but she always stayed obedient to his every demand. And his inspections were very thorough.

His hands traced her beautiful curves now.

“I know you did not mean for it to go this far. But you must think through your actions. You are an incredibly beautiful and intelligent woman. You hold power over people, and you must exercise responsibility.”

“Yes, sir.” She shivered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.” He gripped her buttocks again, one after the other, and heard her ragged gasp. His cock throbbed so hard, he felt it would rip through his pants, and he decided he had waited long enough.

“On your back on the bed, Esther. Head towards me.”

She lay with her hair hanging down, face up. Her bottom was raised a little to keep her scorched cheeks from touching the fabric. He allowed it, knowing soon her legs would tire and she’d be forced to lower her burning bottom to the quilt.

Drawing out his cock, he approached her. She let her head fall back and opened her mouth wide. His wife loved taking him this way, he knew. It was the combination of submission, humiliation, pleasure and pain—a bundle of contradictions she seemed to revel in. That was his Esther. And she was all his.

He slid his cock in to her mouth. It felt so good, he almost cursed, and his near loss of control made him laugh.

“Esther, you could drive a godly man to sin.” He pinched her nipples, and she moaned around his member.

“You will not come,” he told her sternly, and smacked her breast, only to watch her sigh as if he’d caressed it instead.

Did she enjoy that too? Perhaps he could punish her breasts as well, alternately caressing and slapping them, and tormenting her nipples to gauge her response. He decided not to test it tonight. There was plenty of time, after all. It could be a gift to himself for Christmas, or their anniversary. It excited him to think that after five years of marriage, he was still discovering the delights of his wife’s body.

“This is to please me,” he reminded her, moving in and out of her mouth. “Show me how thankful you are for your punishment.”

Humbly, she laved her tongue over him, keeping her head and throat in line so his cock could enter her throat.

Johnathan pushed his hips forward, feeling her almost gag over him as she took his full length. Over the years, he’d trained her gag reflex also, at her insistence and eagerness to throat him fully.

Reaching over her, he rewarded her by playing with her clitoris, feeling the fleshy button rise against the pad of his thumb.

She breathed through her nose, humming as he sawed in an out. The vibrations along his dick almost brought him to his knees.

“Oh, Esther, you are perfect.” He couldn’t hold back any longer. “Come for me.” He plucked at her nipples, and swatted her breasts lightly again, watching them dance and grow pink under his torment.

He slapped one of them a bit harder and she stiffened, a flush growing over her chest as her orgasm took her.

He drew out and fisted his cock as he watched her come.

When it was over, she breathed his name, and looked up at him with dazed happiness he loved so much. Her body stretched out before him, blonde hair wild, face a mess of spit. She was so beautiful.

As she caught her breath, her eyes fastened onto his cock and her mouth opened.

“No, darling,” Johnathan said. “Lie on your back on the bed.”

With a little grimace, she got into position, and he climbed over her, settling his hips into the cradle of hers. She grimaced as his weight forced her bottom onto the bed.

“Sore?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You deserve it.”

“Yes, sir.” She sounded almost eager.

Grinning, he pinched her bottom. Her mouth parted in a little smile.

“I bet I can make you climax just by tormenting these.” He swatted her breasts lightly, watching closely as she stiffened and moaned. “We’ll have to experiment one afternoon, hmm? All in the name of scientific inquiry.”

Her body writhed in response to his words and torture.

“I could spend a life time studying you.”

“Johnathan, please.” She pushed her hips up in invitation.

He thrust inside, not bothering to be gentle. Esther gripped his back, encouraging him, her muscles inside milking his cock with delicious movement. With a hoarse cry, Johnathan let go, and pounded them both into a beautiful climax.

* * *

After taking a candle to light his way, Lyle headed for his own room. From the look of the other husband’s faces, the women were going to get a hearty punishment tonight.

His own wife was lying on her side on the bed, a candle of her own on the bedside table. The light washed over her red hair, pale limbs, and haughty expression.

The sight was enough to get him hard all over again.

He let a grin curve his lips and set the candle down on an upturned barrel on the opposite side of the bed.

Rose sat up, her eyes following him. When he raised a brow at her, she raised her chin.

“We meant well,” she said.

Keeping the smirk on his face, he strode back around the bed, hands in pockets.

“I know you did. It seems you had some fun.” From his height, he looked down at her, and wondered if he intimidated her. She never seemed to let it show.

She lifted her head, somehow managing to look down her nose at him, even from her seat on the bed. “I’m not sorry.”

He chucked her under the chin. “My dear Rose, I know you’re not. It’ll be my pleasure to make you so.”

Her nostrils flared, and she started to her feet, rushing at him or the door—he never found out. Before she reached him, he stepped aside, then grabbed her arm and pulled her to a nearby chair, using the momentum to put her over his lap. Face down, Rose fought with flailing arms and legs, but he threw a leg over hers, trapping her. Her body tipped over his knees and she yelped, hands on the floor to steady herself.

“Little spitfire.” He pulled up her chemise for the second time that night, baring her delicious bottom. His wife was slim and small breasted, but with an ample rear. Fashionable society called this a perfect figure, and Lyle had to agree.

His cock twitched, looking down at her struggling form. Rose rarely submitted right away, and it made her punishments so much more delightful.

He couldn’t resist adding, “Fight me and it’ll go worse for you.”

Her hands struck out like claws and he caught them both, holding her wrists with one hand while he pulled out a leather thong from his pocket and secured her. Once tied, she flexed her fingers, but he held her still with one hand, while the other caressed her bottom.

His hand smacked down hard, with no warm up. It left a red print on the pale skin.

Rose yipped and tried to kick her legs, but they were pinned under his thigh.

“Quiet, lovely,” he warned. “Others are sleeping.” His hand unleashed a flurry of spanks to her pale flesh, watching it dance and quiver and grow pink.

Rose responded with little squeaks of pain and indignation.

“Do I need to gag you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stuffed his handkerchief in her mouth. She glowered at him, but he knew from experience she appreciated the help. She hated making a fuss, and a gag would make it easier for her to hold in the sound.

He paused. “Are you going to be a good girl and take your punishment?”

In response, she thrashed, trying to free her hands and feet. He reaffirmed his hold, then slapped her bottom even harder, watching the cheeks turn a beautiful red.

She moaned into the gag, the sound betraying more anger than pain.

Lyle paused again to dip his fingers into her cunny. “My, my, so wet from your punishment,” he said. His wet fingers explored, and then started to dip between her burning cheeks.

She started squealing through the gag.

He chuckled. “All right, then. We’ll stick to discipline. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you why you’re being punished, but you seem to have no shame over what you’ve done.” He kept spanking her, peppering her flesh from right to left, up and down and back again.

“Your plot manipulated two people, who must now bear the consequences of your actions. As pranks go, this was cruel, Rose.” As he spoke, he felt the fight drain out of her. He hated speaking so harshly, but he had to make his point. The whole community would be affected by the women’s nasty trick. “I know you don’t like Mr. Martin, but he doesn’t deserve your contempt. And Mrs. Lovett is innocent in all of this. Imagine someone doing the same to you, or to one of your friends.”

He let go of her wrists but continued to whale on her bottom, watching for the telltale sign of her submission. Finally, her head dropped a little, her body sagging over his knees.

It wasn’t full contrition, but it was a start.

He stopped, admiring the glowing state of her bottom. Running a light finger down her backside was enough to make her wince, but she still showed no tears. It always took a lot to make his Rose cry.

Raising her by her shoulders, he had her stand in front of him, arms still bound behind her, mouth still gagged.

“Miles got us an early Christmas present. He gave it to me just a few minutes ago.”

Watching her face, he reached down and brought out a flat piece of wood carved into a long rectangle with a handle.

Her eyes widened.

“Are you going to be good?”

Her head bobbed so hard strands of hair fell in her face. Smoothing back her hair, he took out the handkerchief so she could talk.

“Yes, please, Lyle, I’ll be good.”

He untied her hands and said, “All right. Take off your chemise and hold onto the back of the chair.”

She gave him a stricken look, and her lip trembled as her shield started to crack.

“Submit to me, Rose.” He stroked her hair. “I know you can do it.”

With a nod, she lifted off her chemise and obeyed his command.

He had to adjust himself as he approached her lovely form, positioned in readiness for her paddling. Her skin was flawless and pale, but for two red hot coals right on her sit spots.

“Arch your back, stick out your bottom for me.” He swept a hand over her, pressing lightly on her waist to guide her.

When she was in position, he swung the paddle in the air for practice, feeling the weight and heft.

When he tapped her bottom, she whimpered, but Lyle could see her nipples harden.

His first swing landed harder than he expected, and her knees buckled a little. Her groan escaped through gritted teeth.

“Do you want me to gag you, sweetheart?”

She shook her head.

“Two more. That’s all. You’re being so good.”

He waited until she settled herself back in position. The paddle cracked against her backside, once, then twice more. Rose slumped forward, tears running down her face. Dropping the paddle, Lyle pulled his wife up into his arms, holding her tight and whispering how good she was, how strong, how beautiful she looked when she obeyed him.

And she did look so beautiful to him, even crying in his arms.

When she’d quieted, he gave her a kiss. “Feel better?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He couldn’t help lowering his mouth to hers again and taking possession of it. He ravaged her lips until she clung to him, soft sounds escaping from her that went straight to his dick.

He broke the kiss and she tipped her head back, a dreamy expression on her face.

“Lyle,” she breathed.

“On the bed. On your knees,” he growled. She flew into position, and he stripped out of his clothes, then took her by the nape of her neck and forced her down into the bed, so her cheek lay on the coverlet. Her legs rocked apart further, opening for him.

Checking between her legs, he found her sopping wet and entered her in one hard thrust, his body slapping against her bottom. They both groaned, him in pleasure, her in pain as her freshly paddled buttocks pressed against his groin.

He started to rock in and out of her, his legs slapping against her fiery cheeks until her whimpers turned to cries of lust.

“Touch yourself, Rose. Good girl.”

She was panting, upper torso molded to the bed, arching her back as she kept one hand between her legs. Lyle couldn’t help slapping her bottom again, and it seemed to tip her over the edge. As Rose’s climax started, her insides squeezed him so tight, he lost it. His fingers gripped her hips so hard he was sure he left marks.

He sagged over her limp form, completely spent.

“My god, Rose,” he said. “You are lovely.”

He planted kisses down her back, then knelt and touched his lips to one red butt cheek, then the other, feeling her shiver.

Drawing her up, he led her to the side of the bed, then lay on his back and pulled her like a blanket over him, the silky strands of her red hair tickling his body.

“Love you,” she murmured.

“Love you too.” He bent his head and kissed her, before stretching to blow out the candles.

* * *

When Miles entered his bedroom, Carrie looked up from rocking Mary to sleep and turned pale under her freckles. Miles turned to shut the door, trying to arrange his features into an expression less grim. His mother had always chided him for his serious looks, saying no woman would marry him—they’d be too frightened.