Chapter 10
Bayne
I grab her cuffed wrists, pulling her arms over the hood of my truck till she’s perfectly bent over the side, her ass on display in those tight jeans of hers. Pulling my arm back, I let it fly, landing a nice solid smack on the center of her ass.
She cries out and I spank her again, loving the sound she makes when my hand lands. With each hearty spank I apply to her perfectly perched bottom, a wee bit of tension from the day leaves my shoulders.
The sight of her bent over my truck, her wrists bound together with my cuffs, it’s almost too much to take. I want to rip her jeans down and bury my cock inside her. She’s so perfectly positioned, it’d be easy enough to manage.
I wonder how she’d react if I reached around her waist, unbuttoning those jeans of her, pushing those tight jeans over her hips—the thought itself is enough temptation to make me carry out the fantasy. “Let’s get those jeans down so I can give you a proper spanking.”
My cock throbs, wondering what color panties she’ll be wearing.
“No!” Feeling my fingers dance around the waistband of her jeans, reaching for the button, she snaps her head over her shoulder, squirming. “Don’t you dare!”
I slip the button through the buttonhole, tugging down the zipper. “Don’t be shy. It’s not like I haven’t already seen every inch of this beautiful ass of yours.” Holding her wrists to keep her arms stretched out over the hood of the truck, I shove her jeans down, one side then the other.
Revealing black lace panties. Like she knew she was going to see me today.
“Sexy,” I say, giving her panty-covered ass a stinging slap. Having the thick denim out of my way is so satisfying, the sound of my hand spanking her panty-covered ass echoes over the empty hills. “But these will have to go as well.”
A low, shameful moan leaves her as she lays against the hood. “Oh God, no.”
“God, yes.”
Tugging the lacy waistband of her panties makes me hard. I press myself against her thigh, letting her feel my desire. I tug the thin, satin material down, tucking them into her jeans. I run my fingers over the gusset. As I suspected, damp.
“Not only are you half naked, wrists in cuffs, getting your naughty, bare ass spanked out here where anyone could see you.” Lie. Only sheep are out here. I would never let anyone see what belongs to me. Even if it’s only temporary. “But those panties of yours I just pulled down are damp. Which makes me wonder how wet your pretty pussy is right now.”
She gives a sharp, hissing intake of breath. Knowing her punishment is making her as wet as I am hard, makes me want to play with her all the more.
Eager to transfer more of the tension from my body into her ass, the punishment begins in earnest. “Next time you go to disobey me, don’t forget this fire I’m laying over your ass.” Spanking her bare ass is more for me than to teach her a lesson, therapy to get rid of the stress she’s put me under. Red handprints pop up on her creamy flesh.
My handprints. Marking her ass as mine. She’s my prisoner, captive at my house, all mine to play with.
And if she is all mine…
I have every right to know exactly what her pussy feels like. “I want to know just how wet I’m making you. And I’m going to find out.”
“Oh God,” she says again, lying limp over my truck hood. “Do not touch me.”
“I want to feel what belongs to me.”
“Not one inch of me belongs to you.”
“You do till I’m done with you.” I cup her ass in my palm, two fingers pushing forward between the very tops of her thighs till I reach the hot slick of her pussy.
A quiet moan escapes her before she can hiss through her teeth. “Let’s pray that’s sooner than later.”
My fingers play in her slickness, stroking and swirling around her hard bud. She gives another moan, grinding against the truck hood in desire-laced defiance.
“You’re just as wet as I knew you would be.”
“How would you know anything about me?” Her voice is hushed but hard. She wants more. She wants to kill me.
“Those pretty brown eyes of yours. They give you away. Lying on the roadside, standing naked ready for your punishment. Fear was there, yes, but there was curiosity as well.”
“I was curious how men like you found mates to procreate with in order to keep the lineage of patriarchal cavemen going.”
I have to give a grunted laugh at that, punishing her humor with a hard rubbing right over her clit. She whines, pushing against my hand, wanting more.
“I’ll tell you how we made it through. We’re big, strong, and we like nothing more than to put babies in the bellies of the women we love.” I circle her clit with the pad of my finger. “You were a strong woman wondering what it would feel like to be taken over by a much stronger man.”
My cock grows harder, and I rub it against her thigh, needing some relief. She moans, her cheek against my car as I explore further, dipping a finger just inside her tight entrance.
“Oh my God, get your fingers out of me.”
I push a thick finger inside of her.
She feels so warm and wet, so tight, I almost tear off my own jeans and fuck her right here and now, right over the hood of my truck, out here in the open air, the two of us a pinprick in these vast, rolling hills.
She gives a shameful whimper, hating herself for wanting more.
“Naughty girls don’t get more. Bad girls only get their pussy teased. They don’t get to come.”
Hating to leave her warmth, I drag my finger away from her pussy. I give her ass a few more sharp spanks, leaving her lying there breathless and boneless and limp.
I take it upon myself to pull her panties back up into place. Drag her jeans back up over her hips. Zip them and button them. I help her back upright, till she’s standing on weak knees.
Those eyes of hers flashing anger at me make me want her even more than I already do. “If I wasn’t handcuffed right now, I’d slap your face.”
“It’d be the last thing you ever do.” I don’t tolerate disrespect.
Her lips part but no retort comes back. She looks away, her face flushing deeper. I instantly regret not taking the opportunity to fuck her.
“Come on.” The moment has passed. I brush a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Let’s get you inside.”
She lifts her wrists, cuffs glinting in the sunlight. “Are these really necessary?”
“No.”
“Then why leave them on if you’re such a big, strong man? Am I that much of a threat?”
“No.” I flash her a grin. “I leave them on ‘cause they look sexy on you.”
If looks could kill…
Holding her arm so she won’t be off balance with those pretty wrists of hers cuffed, I guide her over the stone path and up the steps to the wide wooden front door of the house. Once she’s inside, I latch and lock the deadbolt, then move around her to watch her enter the house.
Her eyes go wide as she steps into the foyer, taking in the beauty of the Scandinavian home. For a moment, she forgets we’re enemies. That I’ve just spanked her ass and played with her pussy. That she threatened to slap me.
Her sassy fa?ade falls. “It’s beautiful.” She looks at me with awe, wondering how a lug like me could design such a breathtaking piece of architecture.
Grabbing her forearm, I pull her close, my lips brushing against the silky hair that covers her ear. Her hair smells of lavender. “I’m glad you like it ‘cause you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” Slipping the key from my pocket, I unlatch the cuffs, gently removing them from her wrists. I toss them onto a nearby chair, taking a moment to rub the soft skin of her wrists.
Shamed by my touch, she tugs her hands away, shoving them deep into the pockets of her coat as she takes a step back from me, setting her boots back to where she first stood. The belt of the quilted coat is done up around her waist, showing off her womanly shape, reminding me just how long it’s been since I had a woman within these walls. Staring at her standing there, hovering halfway between running at the door and entering the kitchen, it turns me on. My heated blood rushes up my shaft, tightening my balls till I have to shift my weight to my other foot in an attempt to ease the discomfort of my trapped, half-hard cock.
I stand there, my arms crossed over my chest, watching and waiting.
Will she try to run?
“I’m not going to run, you know,” she snaps up at me. “I’m not stupid. You’d obviously outrun me. You don’t have to push your biceps up like that to prove a point. I can do simple math. Boy works out daily. Girl is still struggling to get used to the quarter mile daily walk to the research center. Oh wait—no. No more walking because you and your friends tried to burn it down. Didn’t you. Killing a harmless man in the process.”
I wasn’t expecting the brave monologue she just delivered, but I can only focus on one word. “Harmless?” Again, like with the murder of the girlfriend, she accuses me of things she knows nothing about.
She takes a step toward me. “I won’t run now. But I’ll be keeping my eyes open. I’ll get my opportunity. Just you wait.”
“Not really that smart, telling your captor your plans to escape,” I say. “Just makes me that much more vigilant.”
She gives a huff, clearly dismissing me. “Regardless of either one of our plans, we have to eat, don’t we? I skipped lunch and it’s almost time for dinner. Hungry?” She moves past me, entering the kitchen.
Always. “Aye.”
She takes a seat at the bar, slipping into one of the bar height leather chairs. Resting on her freshly spanked ass, a hiss leaves her lips. She pops right back up.
Wandering the kitchen, she runs her fingers over the glossy wood countertops. I can tell she’s pleased by the clean, bright space, her mouth almost a smile as she shrugs out of her coat and boots. Neatly setting her boots side by side under the bar, she stands, folding her jacket over the back of the seat.
“I love your design.” Her gaze rests on the midnight-blue six-burner gas stove. “You mind if I give this thing a test run?”
I’m floored by the request. My captive should be balled up on the couch, crying, plotting her escape. Or at least pouting about her spanking. Not falling into the role of homemaker. Before I can answer, she’s opening my fridge, evaluating my shopping.
Unsure what to do with myself, I run a hand over the back of my neck, watching as she pulls ingredients from the fridge and cupboards. Chicken, broccoli, garlic, penne pasta, milk, butter, flour, cream, seasoning. Not wanting to let her out of my sight, I settle onto a stool, pretending to gaze at my phone while I watch her cook.
The kitchen quickly fills with the smells and sounds of good cooking. While she cooks, she peppers me with questions as she peppers her chicken.
“So, why Clive? What did he do to you guys?”
I bristle at her interrogation. “Clive, like you, was warned.”
“So, he was an innocent bystander, in the wrong place at the wrong time, like me?” she quips.
“No.” I gaff at the idea of disgusting Clive being innocent. The crop circle-like image, representing the gang from Glasgow, pops up in my mind’s eye, the one Crank first spotted on the screen of Clive’s computers when he was putting new tires on Clive’s old Jeep. Clive was involved with those men. And we knew what they were planning. “He had to be stopped.”
“Busy man.” She doesn’t even flinch as she puts the pasta in to boil. “So, you took matters into your own hands, instead of letting the law deal with it?”
She’s trying to shame me. I don’t hide the pride from my voice. “Aye. That’s how the Baynes have done for centuries.”
She disagrees. “Hmm.”
Ignoring her obviously loaded, feminine, hmm, I don’t take the bait, happy to have a moment of quiet while she finishes cooking dinner.
When she’s done, she plates it up, handing me a dish. She stands at the counter across from me, her own plate, half as full as mine, resting on the counter in front of her.
Her expectant gaze rests on my face, waiting for me to take my first bite. I slide a forkful of the creamy pasta into my mouth. Holding back a moan, I savor the garlicky flavor.
She pokes a penne pasta with the tines of her fork. “I have a proposal for you.” She pops it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully while she waits for me to answer.
“Captives don’t get to make demands,” I shoot back.
Damn. The girl can cook. I shove another generous bite into my mouth, this time getting a piece of the juicy chicken she seared before she made the sauce.
“It’s not a demand. It’s a…” She gazes up at the ceiling, contemplating her next words. She circles her wrist, her fork twirling lightly in the air. “Delicate request.”
She’s piqued my interest enough to give her a nod to continue, my mouth happily too full to speak.
Her dark brown eyes snap up to meet my gaze. “Freedom to roam the house in exchange for home-cooked meals.”
I pause, my newly filled fork resting in the air, halfway up to my mouth. I’m a man, not a stone wall, there’s only so much temptation I can take, and yes, it’s true you can control a man through his stomach. Apparently, I’m not the only one planning on playing games.
And she wants to fight dirty.