Chapter 10
Gunner
“Well, sweetheart. You’re not gonna like my first idea.”
Her eyes met mine, blue-green flashing a challenge through the lingering water of her tears.
She didn’t move, didn’t flinch, even with my hand still planted on the round of her bruised hip.
I gave it a squeeze, enough to make her jump, and then used the leverage to roll her all the way onto her belly.
Her arms scrambled under her, fingers knotting into the bedspread.
She looked so small against the wide expanse of my mattress, her hair a mess around her face, the backs of her thighs smeared with dirt and indignity.
I sat beside her, my own anger simmering in my chest. If she’d landed wrong, she could have broken her neck.
If that horse had kicked… My wolf howled inside my chest. But none of it mattered now.
I was the one with her in my bed, so I was the one responsible for fixing her.
For reminding her she didn’t have to wreck herself to be seen.
“Lie still, Maverick.” My voice was gentler this time, but she obeyed, all defiance melted into compliance. She tucked her hands under her chin, elbows sharp on the sheets. The bruise on her hip had already deepened to an angry plum; she’d landed so hard.
I let my hand follow the line of the bruise, slow, careful. She shivered. I traced down to her thigh, over the curve of muscle, then up, dragging my rough palm across her ribs and back. I wanted to be gentle, but she needed to know what happened when she lost her mind in my orbit.
She twisted to glare at me. “If you’re going to yell, just do it. I’m a big girl.”
I snorted. “No, you’re not. Not yet.” I paused, thumb pressing a circle into her side, feeling the heat rise under her skin. “But you want to be; and you should be. And that’s what gets you in trouble, Maverick.”
I got up just long enough to grab the leather strap I kept on a hook behind the door. Her eyes tracked me, widening as she recognized it—a thick, broad old saddle strap, smooth and heavy in the hand.
“No.” Her voice was small. “You don’t mean to use that.”
I laid the strap on the nightstand, just within her field of vision.
Then I went back to the bed, sat so my hip touched hers, and put my hand on her back.
“I haven’t decided yet. But you’re going to take your punishment, Brie.
You know you deserve it. You need it. Every goddamn thing you did today screamed for it.
I’m going to show you that someone cares enough about you to punish you when you do something that puts your life in danger. ”
She didn’t answer. But the way her breath went ragged told me I’d called the shots.
I leaned in, lips at her ear. “Do you trust me?”
She closed her eyes, lashes dark against her cheek. “Mmm hmm,” she whispered.
“Say it.”
“I trust you, Finn.”
“Good.” I set her upright and placed her on my lap. “There are rules Maverick.”
She looked confused, then understanding flickered across her face. “You mean… like, sex rules?” Her cheeks went bright pink.
“Yeah. Consent rules. You ever done anything like this before?”
She shook her head, a little mortified but more curious than scared.
I took her hands, sandwiched them between mine. “I’m not the Alpha of this pack. But in this house, I am the man in charge. That makes me the Alpha of this house. And when you give me control, that means I take on the responsibility to keep you safe. Understand?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” My voice was steady even though my wolf was pacing like a madman inside.
“Anytime we do anything that involves me taking control of your body, you’re gonna call me ‘Sir.’ That’s a reminder to both of us who’s calling the shots, and who’s letting go.
” I let that sit, watching her reaction.
She flushed. “Sir,” she whispered, trying it on for size.
“Good girl,” I said, and felt her shiver.
“If anything I’m doing to you is too much, or you want to stop, you say ‘red.’ Be certain you want whatever I’m doing to you to stop.
Once it stops, we will not go back to it.
If you’re feeling uncomfortable or are reaching the point that you need to slow down the activity, you say ‘yellow.’ If you’re good, if you want more, your word is ‘green.’ Got it? ”
She swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”
The words made my cock throb, but I kept my face blank.
“And I’m gonna check in with you often. If you ever feel lost, I need you to tell me. Don’t just tough it out. That’s not what this is about, Maverick.”
She nodded again, eager, her eyes big and shining.
“You ready to keep going?”
She hesitated, then: “Yes, Sir.”
I reached for her face, brushed her hair back. “You’re a natural at this,” I murmured, before I even meant to say it. “You’re doing so fucking good, Brie. I want you to feel proud of that.”
Her mouth parted, and I could tell she wanted to say something—maybe a joke, maybe a protest. I kissed her instead, deep, so she’d know she was safe.
When I broke away, I shifted her, so she lay across my lap. She went willingly, arms dangling, hands reaching my ankles, legs draped down to the floor. I slid my hand inside the waistband of her lace panties and slid them down her legs.
“I told you that your ass would be bare for this. Now, here’s what’s going to happen next.
” I made every syllable count. “You’re gonna get ten swats.
They’re gonna hurt; it’s punishment. Because you asked for it when you ran into that pen, and because I know you want it, too.
You want to be handled. Don’t you, Maverick? ”
She was so still I wondered if she’d fallen out of her own body. But her hips shifted, and I saw the need run through her. “Yes, Sir. I want it.”
“Good girl. You’re gonna count them out, one by one. And you’ll say ‘Sir’ after each number.”
She closed her eyes, braced herself. “Yes, Sir.”
I palmed her ass, feeling the heat already there, the bruised muscle shining on her hip. I wanted to go gentle, but I knew she needed the opposite.
“Ready?”
She nodded, then remembered: “Yes, Sir.”
I raised my hand, paused for just a second, and then brought it down with a sharp, clean slap. Her body jerked, a whimper caught in her throat.
“One, Sir,” she gasped, voice clear.
I let my hand rest, just for a second, then did it again. A perfect echo, the sound ricocheting off the walls.
“Two, Sir,” she managed.
By the third, I could feel her body melt into me, surrendering all that stubborn energy and letting me have it. It was breathtaking, watching her let go.
“Three, Sir.”
I rubbed her between each smack, gentle with the aftermath but never letting her drift. I kept the rhythm, building her until she was lost in it.
“Four, Sir.”
With every number, she sounded more sure, more desperate for the next. I could smell her, sweet and sharp, and knew she was falling into the pain.
“Five, Sir.”
I checked in: “You okay, baby?”
She twisted, hair wild, tears in her eyes, and gave me the faintest smile. “Green, Sir.” Her head flopped back down over my legs.
That was all I needed.
I continued, savoring the way she shuddered after each, the way her hands clenched my calf.
“Six, Sir.” She bit out the words, tears starting to fall.
“Seven, Sir.” The breath was gone from her voice, but she got it out.
“Eight, Sir.”
I ran my hand between her legs again, and this time she moaned, loud and needy.
“Nine, Sir.”
I drew out the last one, palm poised, feeling her body coil in anticipation.
I brought it down with a flourish, the sound and heat rolling through her at once.
“Ten, Sir,” she almost sobbed, going completely limp over my knees.
I gathered her up, holding her tight, her face pressed to my chest. I stroked her hair, her spine, until she calmed.
“You did so good,” I murmured, voice thick. “You’re such a brave girl.”
Her voice was small and shaky. “Thank you, sir.”
I pulled her up, kissed her deep, slow, then set her gently on her knees, facing me.
The thing about horses—about breaking them in, anyway—is that the real work starts after they stop fighting.
That’s when you find out what they’re made of.
If you’re lucky, the wildness isn’t gone; it just lets you touch it, shape it, make something new out of the chaos.
That’s what it felt like with Brie. She wasn’t a girl who folded easily, not for anyone.
But right now, on her knees in front of me, she was wide open and waiting for what came next.
I stood over her, jeans open, my cock straining against the fabric.
Her eyes stayed glued to it, hungry and a little scared, but not enough to back down.
I let her stare for a moment, then pushed her back onto the bed, belly down.
Her knees folded under her, and her ass arched up, still hot and marked from before.
I took my time smoothing my hand over her, letting the heat bloom under my palm.
“We’re not quite done here, Maverick. What you did was so fucking reckless and dangerous you need a punishment fitting the transgression.
I don’t want you ever to think of doing something like that again.
It could cost your life next time, and that is something I cannot let happen.
So we’re going to go ten more, sweetheart.
You remember your job?” I asked, voice thick.
She nodded and looked like she wanted to protest. But the way she squirmed told me she wanted my hands on her body more desperately than she wanted to argue with me. She braced herself on her elbows and looked at me over her shoulder. “Count to ten, Sir.”
“Good girl. Color?”
She took a deep breath. “Green, Sir.”
Before she had time to think about the situation, I brought my hand down, not as a warning but as a promise. The slap echoed, the sound sharper than the sting. She gasped, whole body tightening under me.
“One, Sir.” The words tumbled out of her.