Chapter 10 – Burning Love
Let me up! Let me up this instant!
Rebecca, awakened from her lust induced haze when Jarrod stilled his hands, fought to get up. She lashed out; ashamed of what she considered ’saloon girl’ behavior on her part, angry over being spanked like a child by her new husband.
“Let me up, you . . . you bastard!”
With his wife’s use of that hated word, the word that had caused his brother Heath so much grief his whole life, Jarrod’s decision was made, his resolve returned. She had managed to wiggle her bottom half off his lap, but he still held her upper body pinned with his left hand and simply reached underneath her with his right and lifted her back where she belonged. In all the commotion, her gown had covered his target again – and again he lifted it out of the way while she objected, stridently.
“NO! No. It’s indecent Jarrod! Please don’t expose me. Don’t touch me there again!”
Jarrod realized that she was as much embarrassed by her reaction to his touching her intimately as she was angry over being spanked. He helped her stand up and led her to stand between his knees again, taking her hands in his. She wouldn’t look at him; she closed her eyes.
“Open your eyes.”
When she did, he warned. “Don’t you ever let me hear that derogatory term you called me come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?”
She slowly nodded her head, and then said, “Jarrod, I’m sorry. It is not my custom to use such language. And I’m sorry that I pushed you into this marriage. It was a mistake. Tomorrow, you may have it annulled.
“Oh, may I?” His voice was tinged with sarcasm she didn’t get, because she answered, “Yes, you may.”
Still treating him like some kind of hired hand, giving him orders or permission to do this or that, she obviously could see no problem with it – but she would soon.
“You listen to me, Rebecca. Even though the circumstances leading to this marriage were . . . unique, it is not a mistake. I made the choice to marry you, and I am glad you are my wife. There will be no annulment.”
“But, Jarrod, you must not even like me, must not want to be with me. You . . . you spanked me!”
“And it won’t be the last time, of that I’m certain, but it isn’t because I don’t like you. It is because I do. In fact, I think I’m in love. You are a beautiful woman, Rebecca. You’ve so much to give, but are hindered by your self-centeredness. When I spank you, I am simply showing you the error of your ways.”
She hung her head, now looking dejected. She blurted out, “I’m an awful woman, behaving like a trollop just now!”
Jarrod raised her chin with his open palm so he could see her face and meet her eyes.
“Why do you say that, honey? Because you were responsive to your husband’s touch? It is perfectly natural, and it brings me pleasure to know I can pleasure you.”
“Really, Jarrod?”
“Yes, really, darling.”
“Oh.”
“Now,” Jarrod sandwiched her hands between his and then patted them.
“I have an apology to make to you, sweetheart. I apologize for becoming distracted in my task to tan your fanny. I am going to finish what I started. Then, we can get on with a more pleasurable activity – or sleep, whichever you want most when this is done.”
“But . . .”
Jarrod didn’t give her time to argue; he easily returned her to the former position, only this time she lay across only his left thigh and he placed his right leg over both of hers. He wasted no time picking up where he left off. He spanked her with solid swats of the hairbrush and at a steady pace in spite of her growing protests, concentrating on the spot where her thighs and bottom meet.
After about twenty swats, Rebecca wiggled on his lap and tried to kick; his legs held her fast. She tried to shield her bottom with her right hand; he hardly broke stride as he caught and pinned her wrist on her back again.
Jarrod knew it wasn’t going to take many more of the stinging blows to her bare behind to get her where he needed her to be. Within a few minutes, her vocalizations went from accusatory ranting (but no use of the forbidden word, he noted), to promises to be good, to panicky begging, and then to just plain crying.
He stopped and laid the brush on the bench at that point. He stood as he helped her stand up, and hugged her, rubbing her back as she clutched fistfuls of his shirt and cried into his chest With his right hand he bunched up her gown at her waist so as to keep the cloth away from her smarting backside.
“All right, honey, we are done with that. Do we have an understanding now?”
“Yes . . . Sir,” she said between sniffles. She didn’t know why she used the title Sir. She never had used it before, not even with her father, but it seemed right to do so now. Jarrod liked the sound of it in this situation too.
She raised her arms to hug him back. Then she began to kiss his neck and ears and face; she felt like she wanted to eat him up. Jarrod took her face in his hands and kissed her salty cheeks, then deeply on the lips. She tugged his shirt out of his pants, impatient for him to be undressed. When she started pulling his shirt open without unbuttoning the buttons, he said, “Darling, wait a minute!
Jarrod was truly surprised how aggressive and hungry for sex she was all of a sudden. He had expected her to want to go to bed and sleep off the first bare-bottomed scorching she had ever received. However, he sure as hell wasn’t going to argue with what was happening.
He hastily unbuttoned his shirt and all their other clothing soon followed that shirt to the floor. Hot for one another, they made love; fierce, burning love over and over again. For the next two weeks Jarrod did whatever work he absolutely had to do, ate, sleep, and had sex with his wife - in the bedroom, in the dining room with her bent over the fine mahogany table, up against the wall in the drawing room, etc., etc., etc.
When they returned to Stockton, Jarrod’s family and Rebecca’s father were absolutely amazed at the transformed couple. Leaving two weeks ago as virtual strangers, they appeared now to be hopelessly in love with one another. Rebecca was different. She was sweet and deferential and . . . happy. Even her countenance was different. She was peaceful and content rather than peeved and snippy.
A few days after their return, Jarrod, Nick and Heath stood at the coral fence, looking over the horses the ranch had just acquired. Nick couldn’t stand it any longer, he had to know.
“Jarrod.”
“Yes, Brother Nick.”
“What happened to Rebecca while you were away? Why is she so much more human than when you left? What did you do to her?”
“Well, Nick, surely you don’t have to ask what a man does on his honeymoon with his wife?” Jarrod teased.
“It’s got to be more than that, Pappy, unless you are some powerful good lover!”
Jarrod just smiled, remembering his honeymoon – and looking forward to bedtime tonight.
“Well?”
“Well, what, Nick?” Jarrod teased again and Heath chuckled.
“The Secret. What’s your secret?”
“Actually, you know the secret, Nick. You suggested it. Said she was long overdue.”
Nick got a perplexed look on his face, trying to remember what his brother was talking about. Finally, it dawned on him.
“You spanked her?”
“First night we were together. Tanned her bare hide with the back of a hairbrush. Afterward – well, it was like I had flipped a switch of some kind. She . . . Jarrod looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Even though no one else was within earshot, he still lowered his voice. “She couldn’t get enough of me, if you know what I mean.”
Nick and Heath looked at Jarrod with awed expressions on their faces.
“Don’t ask me to explain it, Gentlemen. It is one of those mysteries of the universe.”
They returned to staring at the horses, each lost in his own, lascivious, thoughts.
At the same time a similar conversation was happening with Rebecca and her father in Miss Victoria’s rose garden. She answered the question a different way.
“Let’s just say, Father, that you were right. When I married Jarrod Barkly, I got more than I bargained for. Much more than I bargained for, but exactly what I needed.”
The End
