Cowboy Daddies: Two Western Romances

 

 

By

 

Amelia Smarts and Jane Henry

 

Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Amelia Smarts and Jane Henry

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Amelia Smarts and Jane Henry

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

 

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

 

 

Smarts, Amelia and Henry, Jane

Cowboy Daddies: Two Western Romances

 

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Image by Period Images

 

 

 

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Part One

 

 

By

 

Amelia Smarts

Chapter One

 

 

Clay Ashton peered at the water bill on his desk and frowned. He’d guessed the bill would be higher than usual this time, but he hadn’t thought it would reach four figures. With Texas being in the midst of a drought, nature wasn’t doing much in the way of watering the grasses on the Turning Point Ranch. His new sprinkler system would help keep the cattle’s pastures alive, but it would be a strain on his finances until he made the money back from selling healthy calves birthed the following spring.

He picked up his checkbook and recorded the expense. Most people only just approaching age forty paid their bills online, but Clay liked taking the time to write out his checks and expenses by hand. In his opinion, the ease of paying electronically, which required only one or two clicks to finalize a transaction, allowed for reckless spending. He felt that every expense deserved at least the amount of time and mindfulness it took to write the check.

Plus, doing bills gave him a sense of satisfaction. Bills were straightforward, structured, and always made sense. He would use electricity or water, then he would pay for them, and the same was true for each of his expenses. The transaction always could be boiled down to a mathematical equation.

He glanced at the overflowing trashcan by the door and reminded himself that he needed to hire a housekeeper, soon. He liked cleanliness and order in his house even though he only lived there with another bachelor—his foreman—and rarely had guests. Their days were more than full running the ranch, on both the business and labor side, so cleaning house was low on their list of priorities.

His recent ex-girlfriend had been of no help to him at all in that regard, despite spending her days at the house. He didn’t want a maid for a girlfriend, but he wanted someone who would help him out a little. His ex-girlfriend hadn’t helped and instead had complained about how little time he spent with her, often accusing him of not loving her the second he returned home from a long day at the range. In the end, he supposed she was right about that. He didn’t love the person she’d turned out to be, which was a woman greedy for every second of his day as well as his money.

The phone in his pocket vibrated against his thigh, and he could hear its faint default ring. He added the water bill to the stack on the right side of his desk and fished into his pocket.

“Clay,” he answered, in his typical clipped, businesslike tone.

His foreman’s relaxed drawl spoke to him on the other end. “Hi, Clay. It’s Shane. You’d know that if you looked at your caller ID.”

Clay yawned. His friend never missed an opportunity to needle him about his disdain for technology. “You got a reason for calling, other than to give me a hard time?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Yeah, ‘fraid I do.” Shane’s voice sobered, losing all trace of humor. “Glaze is missing from the barn. Looks like she’s been stolen, if you can believe it. A halter, brush, and hoof pick are also missing.”

Clay scowled into the receiver. “You’re joking.” Glaze was his pinto mare, and she’d been with Clay since he first obtained the loan and purchased the ranch right out of college. “Why would anyone want to steal her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I’ll be right there,” Clay said, and clicked ‘end’ on the phone. He strode to the hat rack next to the door of his office and grabbed his gray Stetson.

Gravel crunched beneath his truck’s tires as he drove the short distance to the barn. He thought about the news Shane had delivered. It didn’t make a lick of sense to him that someone would steal his old horse, who was worth nothing to anybody but Clay. There were four other horses on her side of the barn that would fetch a pretty penny. And if someone was looking for a work horse, Glaze would be a poor choice.

It was a sweltering hot day. He parked his truck and ran his sweaty palms down his Wrangler jeans. Even though he spent most days attending to the business side of running a ranch, he hadn’t gotten out of the habit of wearing jeans and boots. He always dressed the same, whether he was in meetings with contractors or out on the range with his hands.

Clay hopped out of his pickup and strode to where Shane stood outside the barn. The two men had known each other for about as long as Clay had owned Glaze, around twenty years, so Shane was familiar with the horse and the sentimental attachment Clay felt for her.

Shane tilted his hat up and shook his head. “It’s the strangest thing. Of all the horses to steal,” he mused.

“It’s strange all right, and it’s got me a bit worried, I must admit,” Clay said. “Don’t like the idea of her being away from home.”

“Well,” Shane said, “I reckon whoever stole her will get caught soon enough. I already called the police. Check this out.” He pointed at the fresh hoof tracks that led down the road Clay had just driven. “Looks like whoever stole her rode her straight to town. Not many places in Brixton you can hide a horse.”

Clay nodded, knowing Shane was most likely right, but he still felt anxious. He stared down the path. “What if whoever took her rides off the main road? There’s a little pig trail that goes to the old bunkhouse.”

Shane shrugged. “It’s possible.”

The trail ended on Clay’s land. Beyond that, rugged terrain led to the next town of Channing. It was doubtful that someone would want to either stay on his land or ride out that way, but it was worth eliminating as a possibility. “Never know what a thief might be thinking. I’ll go check it out,” Clay said, and moved toward his gelding’s stall.

Before long he was on his way to the old bunkhouse at a trot. A half hour later, he was very near the pig trail, and by then his anger had caught up with his worry. How dare someone steal his favorite horse? He would have preferred for the thief to take one of his expensive new colts instead of Glaze.

The late-afternoon heat didn’t do anything to help cool his anger, but as he turned around the bend and took in the view, his spirits rose considerably. Tied loosely to a tree and grazing peacefully stood his old mare. She looked up and nickered at him as he approached.

“There you are, old girl,” he said as he dismounted. He patted Glaze’s neck and checked her for injuries. She didn’t appear harmed in any way and in fact was in quite a relaxed state without signs of lathering. “Well, at least the bastard didn’t ride you hard,” he grumbled.

Clay walked around to the front of the bunkhouse, on high alert for any sound or movement. Upon walking inside, he noticed a bucket of clean water sitting on one of the slatted bunk beds. On another bedframe was a carefully laid quilt and pillow. One of the corners held a neat stack of wood, giving him the impression that the squatter was planning to spend the winter there. The area was surprisingly clean and organized. The room looked recently swept from a makeshift broom fashioned out of a bunch of tiny sticks that was leaning against the wall. A glint of light caught his eye—a necklace hanging over one of the bed posts. He frowned thoughtfully. Was the thief a woman?

He reached up and slid his hand down to the locket that dangled at the bottom. The chain appeared to be made of cheap imitation gold, but the locket itself looked quite expensive. He opened it, revealing two old pictures, one of a man and one of a woman, likely taken sometime in the ‘70s judging by the poor pixel quality.

Clay returned outside to continue his search for the thief. Upon discovering she wasn’t in the general range of the bunkhouse, he decided to wait for her. He concealed his gelding in a thicket of trees a distance away and staked out the place, sitting on a stump for what seemed like an eternity, struggling not to move so as to remain silent. A fly buzzed around his face, and his stomach growled after about an hour. He realized it was suppertime and he was darned hungry. If the thief didn’t show up sometime soon, he would call the police and leave it to them to catch her.

Just when he was about to give up and go home, he saw a flash of blonde hair through the trees and a moment later a woman tiptoed into the clearing. Clay’s eyebrows headed straight for the heavens. He’d been imagining someone older and appearing more down on her luck, but this woman was quite young and walked with purpose.

She glanced around nervously as she headed for Glaze. Clay watched with interest as she held out her palm and allowed the mare to eat an apple from it. She then patted the horse and, with another furtive glance around, disappeared inside the bunkhouse.

Clay was glad the thief had shown some consideration to his horse. Still, she’d stolen from him and he was going to give her a piece of his mind. He strode to the door and called inside. “Hey! Come on out. I know you’re in there and I know you stole my horse.” There was only one way in and out of the bunkhouse, since the windows were too high to reach without something to stand on. He waited for her with his arms crossed. Silence met him. He was hungry and irritated, so his voice was none too friendly when he spoke again. “You have five seconds to come out, and that’s me being generous. Show yourself, or I’ll lock you in there and go get the police.”

He heard some stirring before the woman appeared in front of him. She wore a scowl that could have withered grass, but despite her surliness, she was quite attractive in an unassuming way. Faded denim hugged long, shapely legs. Her t-shirt had holes in it, but it appeared clean. Nary a hint of makeup could be seen on her face, which allowed the freckles across her nose to appear prominently. Her blue eyes flashed defiantly under long, dark blonde eyelashes that matched the shade of her shoulder-length hair.

He’d never seen her before, and though that wasn’t completely out of the range of possibilities in a town of two thousand residents, it was rare. His family had lived in Brixton for generations, and he knew most everyone. Clay was about to tell her just what he thought of thieves, when he noticed something in her eyes that gave him pause.

Her chin jutted out bravely, but there was an unmistakable look of fear—terror even—in her countenance. She looked scared, angry, and defiant all at the same time. She also looked too thin, like she could use a good meal or two, and Clay wondered what circumstances would have led to a young woman taking shelter in an abandoned bunkhouse. Nothing good, he imagined.

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” he asked, his voice stern.

She wrinkled her nose in what looked like a snarl. “What, you want my name? Is that information necessary for you to turn me over to the police?”

Her sarcasm surprised him, considering her fear, and he raised an eyebrow slowly. “All right, don’t tell me your name then. You know you stole my favorite horse? I’d like an explanation.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know she was your favorite. I tried to pick a horse no one would notice was missing.”

“Well, you failed.” He nodded in the direction of Glaze, who nickered at him again. “That happens to be a horse I’ve had since I was just out of college. I’m a bit attached.”

The girl snorted derisively. “Impossible. I’ve never known a horse to live that long.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “Did you just insult me by calling me old?”

She tossed her shaggy hair over her shoulder. “Maybe.” Her glare dared him to react.

Clay studied her, hardly believing that the woman had the audacity to try to vex him. It didn’t work, as he had no insecurities about his age or appearance. He’d never had a problem attracting women. This woman was younger than he was, perhaps by quite a bit, but that didn’t mean he was ‘old.’

The fact she was acting like a brat instead of apologizing made him itch to teach her a lesson. He uncrossed his arms and planted his hands on his hips. “I see your manners are about as good as your sense of right and wrong.”

Her nostrils flared like an angry filly’s. “Some of us have more important things to worry about than manners,” she snapped. “Like survival and finding our next meal. I’m sorry I stole your favorite horse, but I was planning on being good to her. I just needed a way to get back and forth from town.”

Though he didn’t appreciate her tone, her response did pull at his heartstrings, just a tiny bit. She wasn’t greedy, and she’d thought she was being considerate by stealing an older horse. It didn’t matter, though. He wasn’t going to allow her to stay in his old, dilapidated bunkhouse. It wasn’t safe.

“I can understand survival,” he responded evenly. “But most folks work for what they got. They don’t go ‘round stealing. You’re young and able-bodied. Get a job and pay rent someplace in town.”

“Oh, spare me the lecture, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just take me to jail. I don’t want to listen to this bullshit.”

His jaw clenched. “That request can certainly be accommodated.” He pointed a finger at her face. “You should thank your lucky stars I’m not your dad, young lady.”

The woman blinked and stared at him. “Why?” she demanded.

Clay ran his hand along his jaw, trying to determine what to do with her. She didn’t seem remorseful in the least, plus she was defensive and ill-tempered. But there was something about her that he liked. Maybe it was her independence. He couldn’t think of a single woman he knew who would choose to strike out on her own in this way. He realized he wouldn’t have the heart to take her to the police. He would, however, feel no compunction about providing her with some well-earned discipline if she didn’t shape up in a hurry.

“Let’s just say that if I were your daddy, you’d go to bed sleeping on your tummy tonight. There are some things that are just plain wrong, and stealin’ is one of them. Got any more smart remarks for me, little girl?”

She cleared her throat and looked down, finally at a loss for words, and Clay noticed pink spreading over her cheeks. It appeared that a spanking threat was enough to get her in line, temporarily at least. Maybe she wasn’t a totally hopeless case.

He sighed and took off his hat so he could run his hand through his thick dark hair. He’d always had a bit of a soft spot for stray animals, and now that he’d come across a human stray, he found himself wanting to take her home and give her a good meal. But what if he lived to regret it? The woman might not move on after receiving a favor. Maybe she would expect more handouts. It was probably best to take her to the police and let them deal with getting her to a homeless shelter in Dallas. He shuddered at that thought. He doubted a pretty young woman would have an easy go of it in a homeless shelter.

Finally coming to a decision, he said, “Let’s get going.” He clapped his hat back on his head. “You can ride my horse back to the barn and then have supper with me. Her name is Glaze, by the way.”

Her head shot up, and she stared into his eyes. “You’re not going to take me to the police?”

“Nah.” He turned and walked in the direction of his horse hidden in the trees.

“Wait a minute!” she called after him, her voice distrustful. “Why aren’t you turning me in?”

He stopped and pivoted to find her glaring at him with her hands on her hips. He recognized that look of distrust. He’d seen it in abused horses he’d bought and trained, before they knew he wouldn’t trick them with a sugar cube only to harm them later. “I don’t know your story, but I can see you’ve been through some rough times. And because you were decent to my favorite horse, I don’t want to see you punished by the law. That’s the long and short of it. Come along now.”

She frowned thoughtfully and seemed to be considering his explanation, but she made no move toward Glaze. “I hope you’re not feeling sorry for me,” she said at last. “I don’t need your charity.”

Clay shook his head. “You’re being very impolite. How about you say ‘thank you’ instead of making such a fuss?”

“How about you stop the lecturing, Dad?” Her clear blue eyes flashed with annoyance.

He wasn’t pleased with how difficult she was being. Her reticence to accept a handout showed she had an incredible amount of misplaced pride. Though he admired pride in people, he believed she’d do well to humble herself a bit, especially since it was obvious she needed help.

“Look, young lady, you don’t have a choice in this matter. You’re going to get on that horse, ride her back to the barn, and then have some supper. Consider it your punishment for stealing my horse.”

“That’s not a punishment!”

“I wouldn’t think so, but you’re behaving like it’s the last thing you want to do. You’d do well to obey me now.”

“And if I refuse?” she asked.

He placed his hands on his hips, matching her stance, and scowled. “Is that what you’re doing? Refusing? You think you’re in any position to refuse?”

“Uh…” She glanced away, and when she returned her gaze to him, she said in a faux brave voice that didn’t fool him, especially since she stammered her answer. “Yeah… I’m not even hungry. Just take your horse and… and fuck off, okay?”

He’d had enough. She’d stolen his horse and insulted him instead of apologizing, and now she was swearing at him. There was no excuse for any of her terrible behavior, and he wasn’t about to tolerate more of it. “All right, that’s it,” he growled. “Seems like the seat of your jeans is in need of a good dusting. I warned you.” He strode to a stump, sat down, and proceeded to roll up his sleeve. “Come here and lie over my lap.”

Her mouth dropped open. He’d finished securing his sleeve and had splayed his right hand on his knee before she found her tongue. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to just walk to you to get… s-sp…”

“Spanked?” he finished for her. “Watch your language, especially when you’re about to be punished. And you are going to come and present yourself over my knee because if you don’t do so in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to do it for you, and if I have to do that, it won’t be a few swats with my hand. I’ll take my belt to you.”

Her eyes rounded into two large saucers. She shook her head. “Okay, okay. You win. I won’t swear anymore, and I’ll ride back to the barn and accept a meal.”

He almost smiled, remembering how he used to promise to behave in the vain hope it would get him out of a punishment, but it was always too late, just like it was too late for her. “You certainly will, after your spanking.”

She took a step back. “Please… Don’t hurt me.” Her eyes had lost all of their defiance and conveyed only fear.

She was right to be apprehensive about a spanking. Spankings hurt, after all, but he didn’t like that she looked so afraid. He held out his hand, and his voice was gentler when he spoke. “Come here. It’ll hurt, but not too badly and the pain won’t last.” He wouldn’t abandon the discipline. He always followed through on his word, but he almost wanted to forego it after seeing the look of fear in her eyes.

Luckily, his words seemed to allow her fear to abate slightly, though she still looked plenty worried. He was pleased when she walked to him, and when she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her over his lap, that earned her a ‘good girl.’

Her jeans stretched tight around her cheeks, prominently displaying her feminine curves. She was a pretty little brat, and she seemed so very small and vulnerable now that all her big talk had gone silent and she was positioned to receive a spanking. When he smoothed his hand over her bottom, her breath hitched. His hand looked giant resting on her small form, and it made him aware of how much he would need to hold back in order not to punish her too harshly.

“So, you’ve been calling me Dad like a rebellious teenager and goading me, which makes me believe this kind of paternal discipline is just the thing for you.”

Her legs dangled helplessly in the air, as he positioned her forward a bit and wrapped a hand around her waist to hold her in place.

“I won’t call you Dad anymore,” she whined.

“Probably not,” he agreed.

Without further delay, he set his jaw and began the task of thoroughly whipping her little behind. After less than a minute of applying his palm to her wriggling cheeks at a steady, no-nonsense tempo, she began to show signs of distress. Her little yelps became more drawn out, soon morphing into cries, and she tried to twist out of his grip. She hadn’t asked him to stop, though, so he knew it was her pride that was feeling the most hurt.

“Learning something from this?” he asked, while continuing the spanking.

“Yes!” she said in a strangled voice.

He paused, resting his hand on her bottom. He could feel the heat emanating from underneath her jeans. Her twin cheeks would be a healthy pink color by now, if not red.

“What have you learned?”

“Um, not to steal?”

He landed another swat. “That’s not what this punishment is about.” When she didn’t offer the correct apology after a pause, he continued spanking her.

“Please!” she cried. “I don’t know what you want me to say, I can’t think when I’m… getting spanked.”

“Okay, I’ll make it simple for you. Repeat after me.” He landed a hard swat. “Say ‘I’ll obey you and ride Glaze back to the barn, like you asked me to. Then I will accept a meal from you.’”

She repeated it back to him, word for word in a subdued, respectful tone.

He smiled, pleased that she was complying. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so quick to mock someone trying to help her in the future. With a sudden wicked compulsion to punish her for calling him Dad derisively and pointing out his age, he ordered, “Now say, ‘I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.’”

“Oh, my God. That is so fucked up,” she said in a high-pitched squeak. She squirmed furiously, trying to get up, but he easily kept her pinned over his lap.

“Language!” he barked, and gave her a few more whacks. “You started it. And fucked up or not, it’s teaching you some humility.”

She moaned. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a good girl… Daddy.” The last word was uttered in a sneer, but it was good enough for Clay.

“Then your punishment is over.” He relaxed his hold on her and rubbed his hand around her bottom, soothing the ache he’d caused.

She relaxed over his lap, staring down at the dirt as he traced circles around her punished seat. He had assumed she would fly off his lap at the first opportunity, but she remained resting there, accepting his soothing hand. He loved how she looked and felt. She was so little and yet curvy and sexy as hell. He wondered how much she hated him at that moment. Probably quite a bit.

When she continued to give no sign of wanting up, he asked, “Ready to go, darlin’?”

It was then that she burst into a torrent of tears, surprising Clay. He’d expected her to mouth off to him again or give him the silent treatment. Hearing what seemed to be genuine sobs of grief, he did the only thing he knew to do. He pulled her up and positioned her to sit on his lap. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, allowing her to cry against his shirt. “Shhh,” he said. “It was just a little spanking, not the end of the world.”

“I-I-I never cry,” she managed to say between sobs.

“I can see that,” he said teasingly.

Clay wasn’t used to comforting a girl in such a way. Though he believed the spanking was well deserved, now that she was sobbing against his chest, he wondered if he’d been too harsh with her.

“It’s n-not fair,” she stuttered, hiccupping.

“What’s not fair?”

She drew a shuddering breath and said, “It’s not fair that you punished me. I always wanted a daddy, but if I had a real dad he would take me to Disneyland and give me a pony and shit. He wouldn’t just spank me.”

His initial impulse was to laugh because of the way she’d explained herself, but that was soon replaced with an ache in his chest. She had a good point, and it made him feel bad that he’d taken on a parental role only with punishment, and not with anything more positive.

“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” he heard himself saying. “I think you’re right. Daddies reward their little girls when they’re good, and I want to do just that. It’s only fair, since I spanked you.”

She looked at him with such a hopeful expression with her tear-filled blue eyes that he felt a lump growing in his throat. He swallowed it down.

“Like how?” she asked, sounding exactly like a hopeful little girl.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure how yet, but I’ll think of something by the time you prove to me you’ll be a good girl.”

She nodded and blinked a few times, spilling the last of her tears. He stood, walked with her in his arms to Glaze, and helped her up to the saddle. “You okay to ride?” he asked, handing her the reins.

She nodded and sniffled. “M-my necklace,” she said.

Clay nodded. “I’ll get it, one sec.”

“I have a little suitcase under the first bunk,” she told him, as he was walking away.

He retrieved the necklace and the suitcase from the bunkhouse and handed the necklace to her when he walked out. She fastened it around her neck as he secured her suitcase to his gelding. Soon they were on their way.

“So, will you tell me your name now?” he asked.

“Abby,” she said, sounding shy.

“Nice to meet you, Abby. I’m Clay.”

The horses clipped along a few steps before she spoke again. “You own this ranch?”

“Mm hmm,” he answered.

“I used to work on a ranch from age twelve to fifteen. I learned how to ride and take care of horses. I would’ve taken good care of Glaze.”

“Yes, I can tell you would have. How old are you now?”

“Eighteen.”

“Young,” he stated. He hesitated asking the next question, knowing it was personal, but hell, he’d already spanked her and he wanted to understand her situation better. “And where’s your family, Abby?”

“I don’t have one, except for my little sister. She’s still in foster care, living at a crowded home in Dallas.”

Suddenly her rebellion and reticence to accept a favor made quite a bit more sense to him. He didn’t imagine she’d had much in the way of a stable authority figure growing up. They rode in silence the rest of the way.

Clay spotted Shane through the open doors of the barn, tossing hay into the loft. “Hey, Shane, look what I found!” he called out.

Shane walked out as Clay hopped down from his horse. “Found Glaze and the thief. Pretty little thief, ain’t she?” He winked at Abby, who blushed. “Anyway, she decided to return the horse without any trouble. Shane, meet Abby. Abby, meet Shane.”

“Hi,” she said. She swung a leg forward over the pommel and landed on the ground awkwardly.

“That’s no way to dismount a horse,” Clay scolded, unable to resist saying something. It was plumb dangerous, and he intended to see she dismounted properly in the future.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and if Clay wasn’t mistaken, a note of her former defiance was present in her tone.

Clay directed his attention to Shane. “I’ll explain about the theft later. Will you call the police and let them know the matter has been settled? Abby and I have reached an agreement of sorts.”

Shane gave him a quizzical look but must have read the signals correctly to know not to query his friend on the decision. He agreed to call the police and put the matter to bed, and Clay and Abby headed to the ranch house in Clay’s truck.

Chapter Two

 

 

Abby sat at the long mahogany table next to Clay, feeling misplaced and underdressed. For the first half of the meal, she’d been too hungry to notice or care, but now that hunger wasn’t gnawing at her gut, she was fully aware of how much she didn’t fit in at the rich rancher’s house.

Her cheeks flamed as she recalled how she’d completely lost her cool. She couldn’t believe that after a few smacks on her butt, she’d been reduced to a sobbing little girl, feeling like she was being punished by a real daddy. He wasn’t her daddy, of course, but in that moment, it had sure felt like it. She’d experienced all the emotions she imagined she would have felt if she were being punished by Daddy for being naughty—helplessness and anger, then remorse. After the spanking, she’d allowed herself to feel self-pity, something she very rarely tolerated.

Whatever strange magic had resulted from the hard-handed rancher’s discipline, now the spell was broken and she was dealing with reality. She couldn’t believe she’d actually called him Daddy! And then she’d let it out how much she wanted a nice daddy. Where had that come from? And what did he mean by saying he would reward her for being good? Perhaps he had just said it in the moment to calm her down.

She glanced at him while he was busy sawing a piece of his roast beef. He was so good-looking. He had thick, dark hair and a tanned, chiseled face. He looked like he’d just walked out of an outdoorsman catalog after modeling how to chop wood or something. She wished she’d met him under different circumstances. She wished she was a normal woman wearing nice clothes and a little makeup and that she’d happened to meet him in town.

She wished everything was different, really. She wished she had parents. She wished she didn’t constantly worry about her little sister getting to college. Daisy was smart, and Abby was determined that Daisy would have the opportunity to live out her dream to study music. Abby didn’t have dreams, so she didn’t mind saving all the money she earned to help her sister. That was one thing Clay had been wrong about. She did work to earn money. She just didn’t spend it. She couldn’t afford to rent a place and save for her sister’s college tuition.

“You should finish your milk,” Clay said, interrupting her thoughts with his low, sexy voice. “Good for your bones.”

Her belly did a little flip, as it had every time he’d used that lecturing, paternal tone with her. She rolled her eyes to try to cover her physiological reaction to his daddy-like tendencies, which only caused him to continue admonishing her.

“That eye-rolling of yours is very disrespectful, Abby, but you’ve had a long day so I’m going to let it slide.”

Abby clenched her thighs together and stared down at her plate before reaching out to pick up the glass of milk.

“Good girl,” he praised, after she took a few sips.

It was absurd, but his condescending praise made her feel a few inches taller. She swallowed and tried to access her sense of self, which she reckoned she must have lost somewhere along the journey from the bunkhouse to the ranch house. For reasons unknown to her, she couldn’t think of a single sarcastic comment. Instead she addressed him shyly. “Thank you for supper, and for not turning me in to the police. I’m grateful.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, aren’t you sweet as pie now? Seems you just needed a little something to eat to make you less cranky, huh?”

“I was pretty hungry,” she admitted.

“You’re tired too,” he declared. “After supper, I’ll show you to the spare room. It has an attached private bathroom where you can clean up. Then I want you to go straight to bed.”

Her mouth fell open, and her belly did another nervous little flip. Their weird moment together after the spanking had happened more than two hours ago, but he was still acting the same, like he really was her daddy. “You want me to stay here? You’re putting me to bed?”

“Yep,” he said with a wink. He leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. “Grumpy little girls get sent to bed early. Then tomorrow morning you and I are going to have a nice, long talk about a few things.”

She felt as though she should argue with him, but the truth was she really did feel tired and going to sleep in a nice bed sounded like absolute heaven to her. “Thanks, Clay,” she said. “Or should I call you Daddy?” she asked, trying to be funny and flirtatious.

“Clay is fine when you’re not being punished, unless you prefer to call me Daddy all the time,” he said in all seriousness. “Finish your milk.”

Oh, God. She felt her pussy clench and imagined that she had just soaked her panties. What was it about him mentioning punishment that made her desperately want to fuck him? The spanking had hurt like hell, but looking back on it, remembering her helplessness, the stern timbre of his voice, and his unrelenting palm against her bottom—it aroused her so much she squirmed in her seat. You’re seriously fucked in the head, she told herself.

She drank the rest of her milk, which earned her another handsome smile.

“Can I help with the dishes?” she offered.

He shook his head. “Nope, and it’s time for you to go to bed,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

She followed him up the stairs to the spare room, hardly believing what was happening. What was this? Was she in the middle of a fucked-up Disney princess movie and Clay was some kind of kinky, benevolent Prince Charming? Surely it was all too good to be true. Instead of spending the night in an abandoned bunkhouse or jail, she was spending the night at a house nicer than any she’d stayed in before.

“You get a good night’s sleep,” Clay said from the doorway. “We’ll talk more tomorrow about what we briefly discussed earlier.”

“Which part?”

He smiled. “The part where I said you need a daddy who’ll reward you. Now be a good girl and get some rest.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she observed his face. “You were serious about that?”

“Of course,” he said. “I don’t speak idly. Good night, Abby.”

“Good night, Clay,” she managed to say softly before closing the door. She stared at the knob in stunned silence for a moment, wondering what tomorrow held and both nervous and excited about it.

She turned and surveyed her space. The queen-sized bed took up the majority of the room, with its large, solid-wood frame complete with wrought-iron headboard. A lamp with a base fashioned out of moose antlers stood atop a nightstand that matched the wood of the bedframe. The two other pieces of furniture, a three-drawer dresser and table-like desk, matched the lamp’s base, with handles also made of moose antlers. A round, maroon southwestern rug with some type of native design covered much of the hardwood floor. Though the room was distinctly masculine in appearance, it smelled feminine, like lavender.

Abby indulged in a long, hot shower and was thrilled to discover a razor in the bathtub, which she used to shave her legs and the tuft of fur between her legs. She loved feeling clean and hadn’t enjoyed such a luxurious showering in some time. Upon climbing into bed, she realized the smell of lavender was emanating from the four-billion-thread-count sheets. Its effect was calming, and it wasn’t long before she drifted to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Abby awoke to the full light of day shining in her face. After some time spent convincing herself to get up, she groaned and scooted to the edge of the bed. Her bare feet sank into the soft rug. She’d left her suitcase with her one change of clothes downstairs, so after the shower she’d fallen into bed totally naked.

She decided that if someone delivered food to her, she could stay in this room for days and be perfectly content. Everything about the room was nice—the look, the temperature, the solitude. Upon walking to the window, she realized the view was wonderful too. The plains of the ranch stretched on for miles, with cattle dotting the brown and green landscape. A dry stream snaked through the west side of the ranch, where oak trees stood tall. She imagined it would be even prettier if water flowed from the stream.

For a moment, she allowed herself to pretend that she was home. Throughout her childhood, she’d often indulged in moments like these, though the moments became less frequent the older she got and the more often she was disappointed. Hope was a dangerous emotion, she’d learned, for when hope was dashed, the disappointment that followed was nearly unbearable.

She remembered the last good home she’d lived in. It was a comfortable, relaxed environment, and she’d lived there with her sister for three years. Their foster mom suffered from diabetes and often forgot to take them to school. But she was nice to them. Abby and Daisy had survived a number of homes starting from when their parents died when Abby was five, and they thought they’d finally found a place they could stay long-term. It was a much poorer ranch than Clay’s, but they’d loved the horses and hadn’t even minded the chores, which were plentiful. Their foster mom had never required them to work more than they were able.

When she died from insulin overdose, the sisters were separated, each going to a different home with foster parents who were less kind. Life wasn’t totally cruel to them because they both ended up attending the same high school. For that, Abby was grateful. The small mercies life afforded her were dangerous, though, for they were fodder for hope that things could get even better.

Abby walked to the bathroom and studied herself in the mirror, which caused her to become self-conscious immediately. She was so plain in comparison to the handsome rancher. She recalled how he had called her pretty and wondered if he had meant it. Probably not. It was clear he felt sorry for her and had likely just said it out of chivalry. If he had no qualms about inflicting corporal punishment, he was certainly old-fashioned enough to observe chivalry. She mused about whether there was a woodshed nearby. She could imagine Clay threatening a trip to the woodshed like they did in the olden days. That thought made her giggle to herself.

Grateful to find toothpaste in the cabinet, she brushed her teeth using her finger, not for the first time in her life. She was well accustomed to making do with what she had. She eyed her heap of dirty clothes on the floor, not wanting to put them back on now that she was clean. It was then that she noticed a soft terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She slipped into it and indulged in another moment of make-believe that she was in her own house, hanging out and wearing her favorite robe. After a few more moments of staring at herself in the mirror, she finally gathered the courage to head downstairs and face Clay.

The scent of bacon reached her when she exited the room, and her mouth involuntarily salivated. She swallowed, feeling shy about seeing the man who had both shown her mercy and spanked her bottom like she was a naughty little girl. She walked down the stairs, following the scent of bacon and then the noise of dishes all the way to the dining room. Clay and his foreman Shane were sitting across from each other on the long table. When they saw her, they both stood to their feet. Yes, definitely chivalrous.

“Abby!” Clay said warmly, like she was a normal guest in his house and not a stranger who’d stolen his horse. “Come sit down and have some breakfast.” He pulled out the chair next to him and held it for her.

She crept around the table and slid in. He scooted the chair forward after she sat down to get her closer to the table. She blushed. That simple action made her feel like she was about five years old and sitting at the table with two adults.

“You remember Shane,” Clay said.

Abby nodded and peeked up at the foreman, who eyed her rather suspiciously. She could hardly blame him. The only thing he knew about her was that she’d stolen his friend’s favorite horse. “Nice to see you again,” Abby said.

“And you as well,” he responded shortly, as he sat down across from her.

“How’d you sleep?” Clay asked. He scooped hash browns onto her plate, then used tongs to give her three pieces of bacon. She noticed that there was a glass of milk next to her place setting, whereas the two men each had a mug of coffee. This added to her general feeling of being a little girl, but strangely she didn’t mind. It jibed with her earlier daydreaming that she was in a nice home where she’d be taken care of.

She didn’t know how to respond to his question about her night’s sleep. The truth was that she couldn’t remember ever sleeping so well. The bed was the most comfortable that she’d ever slept in, and it was pure luxury to have her own bathroom. She didn’t want to say all that, for she knew it would only make her seem like more of a charity case, so she downplayed it. “I slept fine,” she mumbled down at the plate. She picked up her fork and dug into her hash browns.

After a few bites, she could feel Shane observing her. When the foreman caught her eye, he asked, “Where you from?” His voice was guarded, as was his expression.

“All over,” she said shortly. She didn’t want to list off the towns she’d grown up in, since it was a long list and she didn’t imagine it would be interesting to either of them.

“Not very talkative, eh?” Shane said. He gazed at her critically, clearly looking down on her and judging her. Abby ignored him and continued eating.

“No, she’s not very talkative at the moment,” Clay answered for her. “Needs a little food in her and then she’ll perk up a bit.”

Abby rolled her eyes. It embarrassed her that Clay was talking about her as though she was a child whose behavior depended on getting well fed. At the same time, she kind of liked it.

“What did I say about that eye-rolling of yours?” he scolded mildly.

Abby ignored the question. Luckily, he didn’t press the issue, which would have embarrassed her even more. Instead, he changed the subject and spoke to his foreman about matters having to do with the ranch, which allowed Abby to enjoy her food without being required to engage in conversation. Clay told Shane he was planning on training one of the colts starting tomorrow, and he also mentioned the high cost of water.

Abby listened in silence. It dawned on her that she wouldn’t mind always being an observer of business matters, instead of being so responsible all the time.

“Well, I’d better get to the barn,” Shane said, standing. “Should I assume you’ll be absent from the range today?” he asked Clay, and glanced pointedly at Abby.

“Yeah, that’s a good assumption,” Clay drawled. “Abby and I will be working a few things out.”

Shane nodded and then addressed Abby, his voice hard. “I hope you’ll see fit not to take anything else from the ranch while you’re here.”

“Shane,” Clay said, his voice a warning. “You’re out of line. I’ve got it under control.”

The foreman looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he acquiesced and took his leave. Abby glared after him, her temper high even though she knew he had every reason and right to be suspicious of her.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Clay said in a consoling voice, after Shane had left. “He’s wary of all strangers.” Without asking whether she wanted it, he served her more bacon, and Abby got a whiff of his clean, masculine scent when he leaned in. He smelled so good, and he was being so nice to her. Like the previous evening, she felt awkward and unsure of how to reciprocate or even how to accept his niceness like a normal person would.

What would he think if she told him that she’d been forced to sit on the floor of the kitchen with the dog if she was late to mealtime? With so many kids in her last terrible home, there were only so many chairs. Whoever was last to supper was ‘shit out of luck,’ as her foster mom would say.

Now here she was having someone fuss over her, making sure she ate and drank her milk. She didn’t know how to accept his generosity, since she simultaneously wanted to receive more of his attention and to shake it off of her like a dog shakes off water.

“Is your full name Abigail?” he asked conversationally. He sat back and took a sip of his coffee.

She nodded. “Yes, Abigail Jones. But no one calls me Abigail.”

“I might,” he mused, “when you’re misbehaving.” His eyes twinkled.

Abby sat up straight and put down her fork. She had to wake herself from this daydream. “Look, Clay. Thanks for not turning me in and letting me sleep here. You’ve been real, real nice to me… for the most part.” She looked away, not able to look into his dancing eyes when she knew he was thinking about the same thing she was: the spanking. She picked up her milk glass and took a sip of the cool, rich liquid. “You don’t need to worry about me stealing anything else of yours. And I’ll be on my way after breakfast.”

“Really,” he stated.

“Yes, really,” she confirmed.

“No, no,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve been ‘really’ nice to you, not ‘real’ nice. What you said was grammatically incorrect.”

She set down her glass and turned her head to glare at him. She found him still regarding her with his twinkling eyes.

“You don’t stop, do you?” she asked.

“Stop what?”

“Being so… I dunno, daddy-like. Uptight.”

He chuckled again, a deep, heartfelt sound that nearly made Abby forget to be annoyed by him correcting her. God, he was sexy when he laughed. Aw, hell. He was sexy all the time. His deep voice and calm demeanor would turn any girl to mush. But what she found very sexy, for reasons she didn’t understand, was how stern and controlling he was. Just the memory of him scolding her and taking her over his knee was causing her belly to flutter and all her girly parts to sing.

“Shane is forever giving me a hard time about being uptight. You two might end up getting along.”

“Doubt it,” she mumbled. She wouldn’t be staying long enough for that, and Shane didn’t seem like someone who changed his mind in a hurry. “He sure doesn’t care for me much.”

“He just doesn’t know you, that’s all.”

“Neither do you, Clay.”

“I know you a little, and I’d like to know you more. That brings me to the talk I wanted to have with you. Now bear with me and don’t say no outright. Think about it a bit. The thing is, you can’t return to living in the bunkhouse—it’s not safe—and there’s plenty of room in this house. I’m hoping you’ll stay here. For a few weeks now I’ve been planning to hire a woman to… you know, do womanly things like cooking and cleaning.”

“How very chauvinistic,” she said, without actually feeling offended. “This isn’t 1950, you know.”

He grunted. “Well, I want you to stay, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling your pride won’t let you stay here unless you have a job. Plus, I think it would be good for you to work and earn things the honest way.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a job already?”

A look of surprise crossed his face, which offended her.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Yes. I work at Dairy Queen, and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I just assumed—”

“You assumed because I was squatting at the bunkhouse that I’m lazy and good for nothing,” she accused.

“No,” he said slowly. “I thought nothing of the sort. What I assumed was that you’re having a hard time because you lack familial support.”

“Well, I have a job. I just can’t afford rent. I have to save my money, okay? That’s why I was trying to live in your old bunkhouse. I watched it for days and no one ever came by. I didn’t think anyone would notice me.”

Clay frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I can see why you wanted a horse for transportation. There’s a gated meadow behind the Dairy Queen where you could have hidden Glaze while you worked.”

“Yeah, everything would’ve worked out perfect, if you hadn’t come along,” she pointed out.

“Perfectly,” he corrected.

She growled, her temper flaring. She picked up the embroidered cloth napkin next to her plate and tossed it in his face. The effect was comical and not at all adequate in conveying her displeasure.

His eyes took on a gleam and he flashed her a grin before returning to the subject. “How much do they pay you at Dairy Queen, Abby?”

“None of your business,” she snapped.

Clay picked up his mug slowly and finished the rest of his coffee. Setting it on the table noiselessly, he said, “I was only trying to determine how much to pay you. I want to offer more than what you’re making now so you’ll be tempted to accept my job offer, but I can see I’ve offended you. It wasn’t my intention. Forgive me?”

She felt instant remorse for being so ill-tempered with him. She was sitting at his table in his house, eating his food, and all she could do was be rude to him? The truth was she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that he was asking her to work for him and that, if she agreed, she would get to stay in his beautiful house. Her grip on reality seemed to be fading the longer she talked to him. Surely it was too good to be true.

“I’ve been nothing but trouble to you,” she pointed out. “Why do you want to give me a job?”

“Because I like you,” he said, flashing her another smile.

Her heart fluttered happily, in spite of herself. “But why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just do. Why’s that so hard for you to believe? You like me, and I’m not asking for an explanation.”

Abby stirred the hash browns on her plate. “Yeah, but you’re easy to like. Me, on the other hand? I’m kind of a bitch.”

His expression slowly hardened, so much so that she felt a shiver of apprehension. He’d looked the exact same way in the moments before he’d taken her over his knee. Clearing his throat, he said, “I hope you got that word out of your system now. I won’t tolerate you speaking that way about yourself or anyone else while you’re in my house. Is that clear?”

Her breath came out in tiny pants. She looked back and forth between the two dark depths of his eyes. When she didn’t answer immediately, he reached out and cupped her chin with his hand. “Understand?” he asked.

She tried to nod her head. “Yes, sir,” she said meekly.

His eyes remained hard, but he released her chin. “I meant what I said yesterday after I spanked you. I want to reward you like a daddy rewards his good little girl. But I will punish you too when you’re bad, and that right there qualified as being bad in my book.”

A lump grew in Abby’s throat suddenly, and her nose burned. What was it about hearing those words that made her feel so warm inside?

He noticed her emotion, and his gaze softened. “So, what do you say, darlin’? You gonna take me up on my offer?”

She couldn’t stay with him, could she? That would be crazy. They hardly knew each other, and he surely would discover that she didn’t fit into his lifestyle. On the other hand, it was a mighty attractive offer. She’d be getting paid for housekeeping, so she could save for her sister’s tuition and have a nice place to stay at the same time.

“If I stay here, will I sleep in the same room?” she heard herself ask.

“If you want,” he said, leaning back. “Do you like that room?”

“Yes, very much,” she said earnestly, before she could censor her excitement.

He smiled at her broadly. “Good. It’s settled then. We’ll work out your pay for chores later. Finish your breakfast.”

“Clay…”

“Yes?”

“I think we should discuss this whole daddy spanking business.” She blushed deeply. She didn’t know how to express how she felt about the arrangement because she’d never in a million years thought such an arrangement could exist.

“You feel uncomfortable with me taking on the role of Daddy?” he asked.

“Well… that’s the problem, in a way. I feel like I should be uncomfortable with it, but it’s nice feeling like a little kid without any grownup cares in the world. You’ve made me feel like that all along, and it’s comforting. But it’s… it’s kind of messed up, isn’t it?”

“Messed up how?”

She stared down at her plate. “Um, well. I dunno. We’re both adults, but you’re treating me like a kid.”

He leaned back and scratched the stubble along his jaw. “I suppose some people would think it’s messed up, but where were they when you had a messed-up childhood? Who has the right to judge you for getting what you need now, since you didn’t back then?”

She had to admit, it made sense on some level. “But what do you get out of being all daddy-like to a full-grown woman?”

“I get to feel useful, and I get to spend my time in the company of a delightful young lady. Also, I like bossing people around. Ask anyone.”

She gave him a small, shy smile.

He winked at her and then spoke seriously. “Now, darlin’, if at any time you become unhappy with our arrangement, all you have to do is say the word and it’ll end. I’d like to guide you, but I don’t want to control you, and it’s up to you how long I stay your daddy.”

She nodded. “Okay, that sounds good.”

“Now finish your breakfast.”

“I’m full,” she said.

“You need a little meat on you. Eat a few more bites.”

“Seriously, Clay? You’re going to boss me around about eating?”

“Yes. Eating and just about everything else. You want to be a little girl who’s being taken care of. That means not having to make decisions and instead obeying the grownup.”

“And if I don’t obey, you’ll spank me?” she asked, looking down at her plate and blushing once again. Her bottom tingled, remembering how hard he’d spanked her the previous day. It was strange, but she wanted to feel it again, not so much the pain, but the powerlessness and the helpless naughty little girl state she’d found herself in before.

“That’s right, and if I have to spank you again, it’ll be on your bare bottom. Bare-bottomed spankings hurt, so I suggest you do everything you can to avoid earning one. You only need to be obedient to experience all the rewards Daddy wants to give you.”

She whimpered and felt a pulsing in her pussy. She wanted to ask if any of the rewards would be sexual, but she thought he might not appreciate that question. She didn’t even know if he liked her in that way. Perhaps he only thought of her as a little girl, not as a woman with sexual desires that were growing to mammoth proportions in his authoritative presence.

Abby wasn’t a stranger to sex. She’d had a couple of boyfriends in high school and she enjoyed getting her pussy filled with cock, but never had she felt as hot as she did while Clay spoke to her about spanking.

Seemingly oblivious to her confused physical state, Clay stood from his chair. “I’m going to run a couple errands in town. While I’m gone, I want you to spend some time in my office. It’s down the hall, last door on the left. Take out a piece of paper from the bottom drawer and write a list of things you like about yourself. I want to see at least five things on the list when I get back. Do you understand what I’m requiring of you?”

“Yes, but I don’t really see the point of doing that.”

“It’s not important for you to see the point right now.” He walked toward the door. “What size are you? Four? Six?”

“Uh, you mean clothes? I have no idea.”

“What does the tag on your jeans say?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s faded. Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to buy you some clothes while I’m in town, of course. I’ll take you shopping later, but you should have at least a few changes of nice clothes before then.”

“You don’t have to do that, Clay.”

“I know I don’t. I want to. I’ll see you later.” Before she could argue with him, he’d walked out the door.

Chapter Three

 

 

Abby was grateful Clay had left the house to run an errand. Her sudden new situation in life was overwhelming to her, and she needed time to work through it in her mind. She found it hard to concentrate on anything in Clay’s presence and instead was, by some strange instinct, following his commands without much question. She even obeyed his order to eat a few more bites of breakfast, despite him not being there. While clearing the table, washing the dishes, and sweeping the floor of the kitchen, she mulled over everything Clay had told her, growing more aroused by the minute.

She made a quick phone call to her sister, Daisy. In the background on the other line, she could hear the other kids being rowdy and bickering amongst themselves, but her sister seemed in good spirits.

“You’ll never believe what happened,” Abby told her. “I met a guy. His name is Clay and he’s a rancher.”

Her sister squealed into the receiver. “Are you serious? That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, he’s really hot and he gave me a housekeeping job in his nice house.”

“Oh,” Daisy said much less enthusiastically. “I thought you meant you found a boyfriend, but you mean you found an employer.”

“Well, it’s more than that,” Abby tried to explain. She thought of what else she could tell her sister without sounding like she’d taken leave of her senses. Luckily, Daisy didn’t press her.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Daisy said. “It’s about time you thought about your own happiness for a change.”

After they said goodbye, Abby headed for Clay’s office. She walked inside and drew a deep breath. Like the bedroom she’d slept in, the room was masculine in appearance, but the office smelled like leather, Clay’s soap, and the pages of books. His wooden desk was long and made of some dark, rich wood. She walked around it and sat in his comfy leather chair.

It was getting warm, and the soft terrycloth robe hugging her body was thick, so she slipped out of the top of it, still sitting on it to provide a cushion between her bare bottom and the chair. Now for the homework assignment. She giggled, feeling like she was a little girl in school again, only this time she was about to do her homework on a nice desk instead of at a crumb-filled kitchen table or on the floor of a crowded room.

When she opened the bottom drawer, she located the pad of paper and also noticed a leather money bag under it. Out of curiosity, she unzipped it. She swallowed when her eyes fell on the bundles of hundred-dollar bills. There had to have been at least three thousand dollars in the bag, more money than she’d ever seen in her life. The wheels in her mind turned. If she took the money and ran, she could live comfortably for months, plus add to her savings for Daisy’s tuition.

It was just a passing thought. She had no desire to leave or to steal from Clay, but she found it interesting that he’d given her an assignment that required her to come into close contact with a large amount of money. She wondered if he was testing her, or if in fact he trusted her not to steal it. She felt equally pleased by both possibilities. If his motive was to test her, she was proud she would prove to him to be an upright citizen. If it was the latter, it pleased her to know he didn’t consider her a thief.

She tried to focus on her assignment and discovered the homework would be more difficult than she’d thought. Tasked to come up with five things she liked about herself made her realize there wasn’t all that much to like. For some time, all she could do was stare at the blank page, wondering how to begin. She wrote the numbers one through five in a column and stared some more. Then she scratched out her first point. I am responsible with money.

She could hear a critical voice in her head, taunting her about that answer, telling her Clay would find that ridiculous since she hadn’t been able to stretch her income far enough to allow her to afford a place to stay.

Whatever, she had to move on. She had four more answers to come up with, and she had no idea how long Clay intended to be gone. Thinking while tapping the pen against the desk, she came up with a second point. I’m a good sister. If there was one thing she was successful at in life, it was that. She’d protected her sister growing up and had always put her sister’s needs before her own.

After that, she couldn’t think of a single thing she liked about herself. She’d never liked her appearance, and her personality might be compared to a porcupine. She was distrustful and generally unfriendly, whereas her sister had always been like a soft, cuddly teddy bear.

She didn’t like this assignment one bit, and the more she struggled to think of answers, the more annoyed she became over having been assigned it in the first place. Why couldn’t Clay have given her a real chore? She wouldn’t have minded filing his paperwork or cleaning the house. She didn’t see the point of this exercise at all, and she grew to believe he’d asked her to complete it just to annoy or mock her. How could he? Eventually she gave up, wadding the piece of paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash. She would tell him just what she thought of his stupid little assignment the moment he got home.

He didn’t keep her waiting for long. The sound of his pickup truck pulling into the gravel driveway alerted her to his arrival. She looked out the window and saw him step out of the vehicle. Her breath hitched. The man was impossibly handsome, with every bit of his jeans and shirt filled out like someone had made the clothes specifically to fit his sculpted, masculine form. He carried several plastic shopping bags from the truck to the front door and disappeared out of her sight when he walked into the house.

Suddenly all the venom she’d planned to spew at him for daring to give her such a ridiculous assignment got caught somewhere in her throat. She pulled the robe around her body tightly and fastened it by tying the fabric belt into a bow. The minutes ticked by, and Abby couldn’t find the courage to exit the office, instead opting to wait for him to join her. His footsteps fell across the house, attending to unknown matters. It was after she’d begun to relax a little that the door to the office opened and he stepped in, sending her heartbeat racing once again.

“Hello, Abby,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen. How did your assignment go?”

She twirled the cloth belt of the robe in her hand. “Well, you get right to the point. I guess you’re not one for small talk, huh?”

His head quirked to the side. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about first?”

She rallied up her courage and stuck out her chin. “No, let’s talk about that dumbass assignment you gave me, since you’re so eager to discuss it.”

“Hmm, dumbass assignment,” he repeated slowly. “I take it you had difficulty completing it?”

“I didn’t complete it, Clay. I really didn’t see the point. Can’t you give me something else to do?” Her voice was slightly plaintive, and she mentally berated herself. She was supposed to be giving him a piece of her mind, and instead she was already trying to appease him.

But he was not appeased, not in the slightest. His face hardened and he stared at her with such a look of displeasure that she wished the floor would open and swallow her up.

“Did you complete any of it?” he asked, his voice level and deceptively calm.

“Yeah,” she said, stuffing her hands in the robe’s pockets. It was amazing how she’d gone from feeling righteous anger to feeling naughty and disobedient.

He held out his palm. “Show me.”

“I threw it away.”

His brow raised slowly. “Then get it out of the trash. Now.” He snapped his fingers, and the sharp noise startled her and caused her to rush to obey. She fished the wadded paper out of the trash bin and handed it to him, stretching out her arm to keep plenty of distance between the two of them.

He read the short list silently, his lips forming each of the words, and then set the piece of paper on his desk. “I had hoped not to punish you on the first day you were here, Abby.” His voice conveyed disappointment, which made her want to cry.

“I’m sorry, Clay, I really am. I couldn’t think of anything I liked about myself after the first two,” she said miserably.

“You should have tried harder, thought about it for longer perhaps.”

“But Clay…”

“You’re about to be disciplined, Abby. What do you think you should call me during your discipline?” His voice was kind but without compromise.

“Daddy,” she whispered, heat flushing her face.

“That’s right, young lady.”

She felt so small and miserable, having already disappointed her new daddy by failing to complete a simple assignment.

“How is it, Abby, that I’ve known you for only a day, and I can already think of five things off the top of my head to like about you, and yet you’ve known yourself for your whole life and can’t do the same?”

She stared down at the floor, unsure of how to answer his question. “I dunno. Maybe you’re seeing something about me that’s not really there.”

“No, that’s not it,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. He walked to his desk and opened the thin middle drawer, where he retrieved a pen. He handed it to her along with the crumpled piece of paper. “Number three. I am kind to animals. Write it.”

She obeyed, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of that one herself.

“Number four,” he continued. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

She sighed and again wrote the sentence as instructed. She wished she had thought of that one too, since she agreed with it. Why had it been so difficult for her to think of these things on her own?

“What we’re doing here, Abby, is getting you to understand you’re a good person with many good qualities. I want to reframe the way you think of yourself, so that when next you’re in a position to describe yourself, bitch isn’t the first word that comes to mind. Understand?”

She nodded, no longer able to justify her rebellion over having to do the assignment. He’d been trying to help her, and she hadn’t even appreciated it.

“Number five,” he said, lowering his voice. He withdrew a flexible plastic ruler from the open drawer on his desk. Her mouth grew dry as she watched him walk around the desk and stand in front of her. He set down the ruler at the edge. “For number five, I want you to write, I have a beautiful body.”

She peeked up at him through her lashes. His face lacked any sign of humor, and his eyes seemed to bore into hers. “You don’t know that,” she informed him.

Without removing his gaze from her face, he reached out and took hold of the end of the robe’s belt, which was tied into a bow. Before he pulled it loose, he studied her eyes, giving her time to protest. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and stared back into his eyes, mesmerized. A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes warmed as he drew the end of the belt toward him. The two sides of the robe parted, causing a whoosh of air to caress her stomach.

Ever so slowly, he took hold of each lapel and drew the material over her shoulders. Then he dropped the robe to the floor, where it pooled around her naked body. Her flesh heated as his eyes roamed downward, lingering on her breasts before continuing its journey south. His gaze caressed her skin, and heat licked through her body. Her breathing became shallower as she stood accepting his examination of her body, which seemed both intensely sexual and pragmatic.

When his eyes eventually met hers again, they were smoldering. “Now I know,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Write the fifth point as instructed, please.”

She swallowed and scratched the words on the piece of paper, then returned to facing him, wringing her hands in front of her newly shaved pussy. “So I guess you don’t just think of me as just a naughty little girl,” she said with a nervous squeak. “I was kind of worried that’s how you saw me.”

“Far from it,” he responded in a growl. “I see you as a beautiful grown woman who needs a daddy.” He picked up the ruler and slapped it once against his palm. “And baby, you’ve found one.” He pointed at the smooth surface of the desk with the ruler. “Bend your beautiful naked body over the desk and present your bottom to Daddy for discipline.”

Fucking hell, he was sexy. And kind of terrifying.

She swallowed and pivoted to obey. Her thighs slicked together with her arousal, which caused her no small amount of embarrassment. How fucked up was it that the thought of a spanking was making her want Daddy’s cock deep inside of her?

Awkwardly, she splayed the top half of her body over the desk, crushing her breasts against the cool wood.

“Widen your stance,” he ordered, his voice now clipped and clearly conveying his disciplinary intent.

With a small whimper, she moved her feet farther apart, which exposed her dripping pussy to the warm air and his view.

“How do you think Daddy should punish his naughty little girl for not completing her homework assignment?”

It seemed absurd to ask that question when it was clear exactly what he intended to do. “Two demerits?” she suggested.

She was grateful to hear him chuckle behind her. The moment was intense, but hearing his laugh caused her to relax just a fraction.

“Nice try, naughty girl. No, I think a spanking with this ruler will convey my expectations for obedience nicely. I’ll give you six swats, two for each question you left incomplete. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Six didn’t sound so bad.

Three lines of fire branded her bottom in quick succession. It took her brain a moment to register the pain, but when it did, she shrieked and pushed back from the desk, clutching her poor burning bottom. Tears sprang to her eyes involuntarily. She couldn’t remember anything ever hurting that much. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she exclaimed, rubbing the scorched area frantically, trying to cool the burn. “That hurt!” she screeched at him.

“It was supposed to, young lady. Disobedient little girls do not get the privilege of having a bottom that’s not sore. Get back into position.”

She stared pleadingly into his eyes. “That was enough punishment. I promise to complete all homework assignments from now on.”

The expression on his face was implacable. “I’m sure you will, but Daddy is still going to finish your punishment.”

She whimpered, his words causing her pussy to leak and her bottom to clench. She absolutely did not want the last three swats. The whippy plastic ruler from hell had already caused an inferno on her poor bottom, but hearing his calm resolve did strange things to her nether regions.

Somehow, she convinced herself to assume the position in which her poor posterior was vulnerable to more punishment. He ran a warm hand over each cheek, and patted her bottom. “Legs apart.”

She widened her stance once again, wondering if he could see how wet she was and, if so, how he would feel about that. Would he think she was fucked up, getting turned on by being punished, or did he expect it to happen? Was this normal in his kinky daddy mind? Was he turned on, too?

“I’m going to space the last three apart, with a few seconds in between each one. You may make all the noise you like, but I expect you to stay in position. Okay?”

“Okay,” she squeaked, gripping the edge of the desk tighter.

A line of fire burned across her bottom, just as painful as the previous. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on absorbing the pain. Just when she had, another swat fell over her cheeks, causing her eyes to fly open and her mouth to emit a shriek. “Oh ow ow ow!” she wailed, all the while willing her feet to stay on the floor.

The ruler tapped against her bottom. “One more, and then Daddy’s got a little surprise for you.”

The final swat landed. She cried out and collapsed on the desk, all her muscles relaxing. Then his hand covered her backside, stroking it softly as she caught her breath and sniffled. She wasn’t exactly crying, but the pain had caused her eyes to water.

“You’re very sensitive, sweetheart,” he said. “Your bottom is only a little pink, but it’s clear that was difficult for you to take. You’d do well never to misbehave badly enough to get Daddy’s belt on your tender little bottom.”

She could only whimper at that thought.

“Don’t worry, only the very worst of offenses would warrant that, and I can tell you’re a good girl.”

As he rubbed her cheeks, the heat concentrated on that area spread to her sex. His callused hand scraped lightly against her punished skin, causing little bursts of stinging pleasure. The ache between her legs grew. She wriggled her bottom, wanting to feel more. She willed his hand to travel south around the curve of her cheeks to touch her molten core, but he only patiently soothed her burning cheeks.

Her back arched of its own accord, shoving her bottom into his hand.

He stopped rubbing. “What are you doing, Abigail?”

She mewled and wiggled against him until he grabbed hold of her right ass cheek. She gasped. His fingers burrowing into her flesh ignited the burn of the spanking.

“Are you teasing Daddy, little girl?” he asked.

She looked back at him over her shoulder and blinked rapidly. Her eyes traveled to his crotch. The only thing between his cock and her pussy was his jeans, and all she wanted to hear was the sound of a zipper. She needed him deep inside of her. “Please,” she whimpered, her pleading eyes meeting his smoldering gaze.

He cleared his throat and let go of her bottom, and she let out a small sob of protest. She stood from her bent position and turned to face him. She saw his raging erection even through the jeans, and she felt the raw power of knowing she’d done that to him. It might be fucked up how aroused she’d gotten from the punishment, but at least she wasn’t alone.

When she reached out and unzipped his trousers, it was basic instinct, an animalistic impulse. She needed what was behind the cotton barrier as much as she needed food or water.

Clay grabbed her wrist and wrapped it behind the small of her back along with her other wrist. His one-handed cuff caused her chest to protrude forward. Her naked, flushed breasts rose and fell with her short pants as she eyed him with hunger.

“Did Daddy say you could touch his cock, little girl?” he scolded.

She licked her lips and shook her head, staring into his dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said breathily.

His other hand took hold of a fist of her hair at the nape of her neck and he glowered at her. She could hardly move with both her hands and her hair trapped in his grip. “You’ve been naughty, Abigail. You think you deserve Daddy’s cock after being naughty?” He snarled the words.

“No, but please,” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice. She felt like she might go mad if she didn’t fill the void that currently ached to be stretched and claimed.

He grunted and let go of her momentarily, but she was quickly gathered into a one-armed embrace against his hip. He bent her over so that her hair spilled forward around her face as he lifted her squirming, naked body clear off the floor. He applied his palm to her bottom, again and again, the slaps echoing against the walls of the office along with her yelps of protest. He lectured her between smacks. “You don’t ever (smack) touch Daddy’s cock (smack, smack) without permission (smack)!”

The spanking was much lighter than the one that had taken place by the old bunkhouse, but his message of displeasure was clear, especially since he made no effort to smack around the stripes left by the ruler. She squirmed and whimpered, telling him over and over how sorry she was for unzipping him, and it wasn’t long before he finished. When he did, he dragged her to his chair and planted her over his lap.

“No, Daddy!” she cried, genuinely distressed. “No more spanking!”

“This isn’t punishment, baby girl,” he said, his voice now kind. “Daddy’s feeling generous and he’s going to soothe your ache. Spread those beautiful legs for me.”

She obeyed and gasped when his warm hand slipped between her legs and covered the entirety of her pussy. He groaned. “Christ, you’re soaked.”

She flushed hotly, embarrassed over having become so turned on by a very painful spanking, but his next move made her forget her shame. He worked his fingers into her slit and caressed her entrance, then located her clit and squeezed it gently between his thumb and forefinger. Her whole body jerked from the pressure applied to her secret little bud. She gyrated wantonly over his lap as each stroke of his fingers caused sparks of electricity to shoot through her body.

The walls of her pussy clamped down, so desperate to latch on to something that wasn’t there. She needed him inside of her, even if it was just his fingers. “Please,” she moaned, while his hand worked her swollen, bare nether lips. A sharp spank directly over her vaginal hole took her breath away.

Her words of protest swirled in her head, mixing with the confusion of her unmet lust. “You spanked my… That was my…”

“I know what it was,” he said, spanking her sex again. “Don’t think your pretty, greedy little pussy is exempt from discipline.”

She nearly came right then. She felt so possessed and vulnerable, her entire body at his mercy. If Daddy wanted to spank her bottom, he would, and if he wanted to spank her pussy, he’d do that too. He wouldn’t give her his cock or even his fingers until he was good and ready.

After some more fondling, working her into a frenzy, he applied pressure to her entrance and slipped in one finger. She cried out with the pleasure of it and nearly came apart as another finger joined her channel.

“You’re so tight, baby. Daddy’s cock would split you in two.” He opened his two strong fingers, spreading her apart. She felt her legs widen in a silent invitation for him to claim more of her, harder and deeper.

“Such a needy, horny little girl,” he mocked as his fingers returned to her pulsing bud. He swirled his finger around her clit, flicking and massaging it.

“Unghhhh!” she cried nonsensically, her desperation for relief growing by the second.

“Come for me, baby,” he said, thrumming his fingers fast over her clit.

Her toes curled, her back arched, and the waves of her orgasm began. The orgasm went on and on, with each new wave of pleasure rocking her to the core. Eventually she collapsed over Clay’s lap, spent, very sore, and deeply satisfied.

Chapter Four

 

 

Clay stared down at the girl panting over his lap. He’d thought she was pretty from the moment he laid eyes on her, but damn, he hadn’t realized what a hot little sex kitten he’d brought home. His heart swelled with pride and affection. She’d allowed him to take possession of her body and had accepted the pain and pleasure he’d inflicted, and he saw that for what it was—a display of trust from a woman who clearly didn’t trust very many people.

His cock still ached to bury itself into her wet, hot pussy, but he would hold off. He thought making love for the first time should happen in a bed. He envisioned lots of stroking and whispering of sweet nothings. Taking her hard over his desk didn’t seem right, at least not in the beginning.

He knew he was lucky she was there to begin with. He’d half-expected her to be gone when he returned from his errand. In fact, that was the reason he’d left her alone, so she could decide without any pressure whether she wanted to stay in his house and accept the arrangement. If he was going to punish and reward her like a daddy would, it had to be with her full consent.

He’d placed her in direct contact with the stash of money in his desk because he didn’t want her to agree to his idea out of desperation and a need to have a roof over her head. If she’d taken the money and fled, he wouldn’t have pursued her. He wanted to help her, since it was clear she’d had little in the way of help thus far, and he could afford to give her that.

His heart had leapt with joy when he’d walked into his office and found her still there. A smile pulled at his lips, remembering how she’d glared at him and pouted just like a child would about being asked to do something she didn’t want to do. She’d failed to obey her very first order under their new arrangement, and he knew at that moment they were full speed ahead. She needed a daddy, and he wanted to give her what she needed.

“Would you like to see your surprise now?” he asked, giving her pink bottom a pat.

She scrambled off his lap and reached for her robe. Her hair fell messily around her face. After she tightened the belt around her waist, she tucked her hair behind both ears and grinned at him. “You mean that wasn’t it?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Follow me,” he said, standing.

He made a stop in the hallway bathroom and washed his hands before continuing the short trek to the kitchen. Abby trailed behind him. When he picked up the little velvet black box at the center of the breakfast table, he suddenly felt nervous. What if she hated it?

He cleared his throat. “Here you go,” he said, placing it in her hand. “If you don’t like it, no worries. I can take it back.”

She opened the box slowly, and her eyes widened when she saw what was inside. She looked at him questioningly. “What’s this?”

“It’s a gold chain, fourteen carats. I thought you might like to have an upgrade to the one you’re currently using for your locket.”

Tears flooded her eyes, which concerned Clay. He hadn’t expected her to cry, only for her to say thank you or to reject it outright.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to accept it, honey, if you like the chain you have.”

“N-no, it’s not that. I love it, Clay. No one’s ever gotten me something so beautiful. No one’s ever noticed me enough to get this kind of gift for me. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

He let out a breath of relief. “I think you’ve said all you need to. I’m glad you like it. I left some clothes for you on the bed in your room too—not many, but enough to hold you over until I can take you shopping.”

She launched herself into his arms. “I can’t believe this is real, that you’re real. Thank you for being so nice to me.”

He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the scent of her hair. He didn’t think the gifts were that big of a deal, but he was glad they’d made her happy. She was so unspoiled and void of entitlement. The very fact that she didn’t ask for anything made him want to give her the world.

How different she was to his last girlfriend who had demanded everything from him—time, money, energy. It had never been enough. He mentally shook himself. Abby wasn’t his girlfriend, and yet he was already sure he wanted her to be.

Chapter Five

 

 

Clay’s feelings for Abby developed as the days, and then the weeks, passed. She quit her job at Dairy Queen and took on the role of housekeeper and cook. She nervously asked him if he would please give her a small salary in addition to room and board. Of course, he obliged. That had been the plan to begin with. She asked for ten dollars an hour and wouldn’t accept any more, though Clay would have gladly doubled that. She kept a detailed record of every hour she spent performing her duties, and Clay paid her every Saturday.

She eventually confided in him that she was saving up money to send her sister to music school. Though Clay thought that was noble, he didn’t like that she’d made such big sacrifices to help her sister’s dreams and not her own. When he mentioned that, she waved him off dismissively, saying she didn’t have any dreams of her own. That bothered him as well. He knew this was only because no one had noticed her enough to figure out her strengths and guide her while she was growing up. That made him all the more determined to give her the care and discipline she needed to find and fulfill her dreams.

Clay also learned fairly early on that Abby would never ask him for anything, even if she needed it. He happened to notice that they were out of cleaning solution, so he bought some at the drugstore and brought it home. Upon giving it to her, she thanked him and explained that she had been mixing her own cleaner out of baking soda and vinegar. While he admired her innovation, he informed her that from now on she was to tell him when she needed something to make her life easier.

He administering some stern lessons about that more than once, insisting that she had to put aside her pride and ask her daddy for what she needed. He thought he’d gotten through to her about that by affirming for her over and over that he would not berate her for her needs. But this personality trait of hers was not something he could spank out of her, at least not overnight.

As he had promised her, in addition to providing discipline, he also rewarded her for being good. He delighted in making her happy and would try to figure out ways in which to do so by observing her behavior, since she would never say outright what she wanted. Upon noticing how often Abby talked to her sister, he suggested that she drive the hundred-mile journey to visit her using his truck.

“Umm, I don’t know. Who’s going to cook for you while I’m gone?” Abby asked, biting her lip.

That wasn’t the reaction Clay had expected, thinking instead that she would show some excitement over the idea, but he supposed it wasn’t too out of the ordinary for her. She was always concerned about not taking advantage of his kindness, no matter how many times he assured her she wasn’t. “Don’t worry about that, honey. I didn’t starve before I met you. I can take care of myself for a few days.”

“Yeah, but it’s your truck and I’ll be driving it far away. Aren’t men supposed to be attached to their trucks?”

He snorted with amusement. “I’m attached to you, more important, and I’m letting you out of my sight for a bit, aren’t I?”

She continued to worry her bottom lip until suddenly her eyes brightened. “I know! Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be fun—a road trip! And I’d love for you to meet Daisy.”

Clay hated to disappoint her, but his work at the ranch was keeping him busy for ten hours or more most days. “Sorry, hon. It’s the wrong season for me to leave the ranch. I promise to go with you at some point in the future though.”

Her face fell, and her bottom lip protruded slightly in a pout, as it did whenever she was about to behave like a little girl and whine to Daddy. “But I’ll miss you.”

Her voice sounded so small and sad that he decided to sit down and place her on his lap, where he could cuddle her in the way that made her feel safe and secure. “You don’t have to go, sweet girl. I just figured you might be missing your sister is all.”

“Oh, I do!” she said. “I would love to see her. I’m not sure whether I should, though…”

He didn’t understand her hesitation. He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Think about how much fun it would be to hang out and catch up on everything.”

“I suppose there’s no good reason for me to say no,” she said slowly.

“I certainly can’t think of any, and I think it would be good for you. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” Clay asked.

“More than six months,” she admitted. “I do miss her horribly. All right, I’ll go.” She didn’t sound too enthused, but he didn’t analyze the reason for that, which he came to regret later.

The next day Clay handed her the keys of his truck. He placed her small suitcase on the floor of the passenger’s side and helped her buckle in. “Be safe, and call me as soon as you get there,” he admonished. “Is your cell phone all charged up?”

“Yes.” She held it up to show him the full bar, and Clay frowned at her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You’re shaking.”

She nodded. “Just excited,” she said, giving him a bright smile.

“All right.” He gave her a searching look. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t imagine what it could be. It passed through his mind that he should make her stay and wrangle whatever was on her mind out of her, but he thought perhaps he was being paranoid. “Have a great time with your sister. I’ll miss you.” He kissed her goodbye and closed the car door.

He watched as she drove away at a snail’s pace and laughed to himself. He wouldn’t have to worry about her speeding. That was one good thing.

Four hours passed. He checked his phone often and even turned up the volume to be sure he didn’t miss her call when she arrived. When he called and got her voicemail, it didn’t worry him at first. He’d given her a rule that she wasn’t allowed to talk on the phone while driving.

By the time five hours rolled around, he was worried. She should have arrived in Dallas by now, even if she’d continued to drive like a nervous old lady the entire way there. He called her for a second time and got no answer. Next, he called her sister, regretting that this was how they would first become acquainted with each other.

He quickly introduced himself. “Hi, Daisy. Not sure if Abby has said much about me, but I’m Clay, her boyfriend.” It was the first time he’d referred to himself as Abby’s boyfriend, but it felt like the most truthful definition without oversharing.

“Oh. Hi, Clay!” Daisy said. “I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.”

He smiled. “Same here. Abby talks about you all the time.”

“Yeah, we’re really close,” Daisy said. “She’s always watched out for me. Say, I thought she would be here by now. Did the train leave late or something?”

A chill of fear prickled down his spine as it sank in that Abby hadn’t arrived. Along with his fear, he felt confused. What was Daisy talking about—train?

“She didn’t take the train, she took my truck, and she left at nine this morning. I thought she was there and had just forgotten to call me.”

Silence followed, and it lasted so long that Clay worried they’d lost their connection. “You there, Daisy?” he prompted.

“She drove your truck?” Daisy asked nervously.

“That’s right. The train is out of the way, and she would have had to take a bus once she arrived. I wouldn’t have even considered her taking the train. It made much more sense for her to go by car.”

“But… Abby doesn’t know how to drive. She never even got a permit.”

It took a long time for those words to sink in, and even when they did, Clay didn’t fully believe what he’d been told. “What?” he bellowed into the phone. “What do you mean she doesn’t know how to drive?”

“Just that,” Daisy responded. “No one ever taught her, and she didn’t want to spend money on driver’s education courses. I think one of her old boyfriends showed her the basics, but…”

“For Christ’s sake.” Clay’s heart pounded. Had she been in an accident? Was that why she wasn’t answering her phone? Why the hell hadn’t she told him she couldn’t drive?

Daisy answered his last unspoken question. “I know she’s really embarrassed about not having a license, when everyone else her age does.”

“Right,” Clay said, still trying to wrap his head around the fact she’d made no mention of this to him. “I’m going to go look for her. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”

“Thank you, Clay.” Her voice broke a little. She was clearly as scared as he was about the situation, but he couldn’t focus on Daisy’s fear or his own. What he needed to do was find Abby.

He ended the conversation with Daisy and called Shane to explain the situation and ask to borrow his truck. Shane already thought badly of Abby, and her latest stunt wouldn’t do anything to improve his opinion of her. But Clay couldn’t have cared less about that in the moment. The worst possible scenarios were flashing through his mind. The one that kept repeating itself was her crashing and ending up in a coma in a hospital bed, for that was the only situation he could come up with that explained why she wasn’t answering her phone.

He drove Shane’s truck along the highway, keeping a lookout for any signs of a collision. While driving he called hospitals within the vicinity, but he couldn’t get any information. When his phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin because the volume was set so high. He actually looked at the caller ID, like Shane always told him he should do, but the number was foreign to him.

“Hello?” he answered, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Hello, Mr. Ashton?” A young male voice came through the receiver.

“Yes,” Clay said.

“I’m calling to inform you that your vehicle has been impounded at Fred’s Garage in Dallas. It’ll be one hundred sixty dollars to remove it from impound.”

Clay’s pulse raced. “Where’s the driver of the car? How did it get impounded?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

A surge of impatience caused him to bark his next question. “Well, can you find out, please?”

“Uh, okay, one second.”

Clay’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel. He was on hold for much longer than a second. Pressing on the accelerator, he increased his speed toward Dallas and prayed that the man came back with good news.

“Mr. Ashton?”

“Yes,” Clay said immediately.

“My boss said that your vehicle was involved in a collision and we were called to tow it. I don’t have any information about the driver.”

Hearing those words caused the nightmare to suddenly become real. He was trying to contain his panic and figure out what to do next when his phone beeped. He looked at the face of the phone and saw another unrecognizable number. He clicked to answer it.

“Hello?”

The very faint, trembling voice of Abby spoke back at him. “Clay?”

All the air whooshed out of his lungs. She was alive, and in that moment, that was all that mattered to him.

“Where are you, Abby?”

Chapter Six

 

 

Abby struggled not to burst into tears. The sound of Clay’s voice on the phone brought to her mind a random memory from when he was in town and he’d called to see if she wanted anything from the store. He was thoughtful like that. He was the first man ever to make her feel like she was worth something, and this was how she’d repaid him.

“I, I’m in the county police station,” she stammered out.

“Are you hurt?” came the clipped response, void of any emotion.

“N-no.”

“And is anyone else hurt?”

“No, but Clay… I crashed your truck. I don’t have a driver’s license. I’m so—”

“Be quiet, Abby. Your sister told me. I’m on my way.” A click ended the conversation.

She remained frozen for a moment, the station’s phone still clamped against her ear. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t indulge in allowing them to spill. Clay had never spoken to her like that before. He sounded so cold, so very angry, and she didn’t blame him. She was sure he was done with her. He would come to the police station, learn what he needed to know about the damage done to his truck, and then leave.

This wasn’t a minor infraction. She was going to be charged with a misdemeanor, and Clay was going to be responsible for paying the damages to his truck because his insurance wouldn’t pay. The officer who’d arrived on the scene of the crash had explained that to her, much to her horror. It didn’t matter that Clay was innocent and everything was her fault. The insurance would only care that he’d allowed an unlicensed driver behind the wheel.

She didn’t care much about the misdemeanor that would go on her record. It was in keeping with her life’s story. But she felt devastated that her actions would hurt Clay. She also believed that this misdeed was solidly outside the realm of their Daddy/little girl relationship, where the punishments thus far had been for small things, mostly having to do with how she treated herself. Even though the punishments had felt real, always in the back of her mind was the general feeling that they were engaged in a sexual game of sorts. But this was different.

She hung the handset on the base that looked like it was from the ‘80s and thanked the officer for allowing her to use it. In all the mayhem after the accident, she’d left the cell phone Clay had purchased for her in his damaged truck.

She wished she could press the rewind button and return to when Clay had suggested she drive to Dallas. If only she had told him the truth that she didn’t have a license, none of this would have happened. Knowing Clay, he would have taken the news in his typical pragmatic style. He wouldn’t have laughed at her. He would have taught her to drive and he would have helped her enroll in a driving course.

She was so damn stupid! She’d found someone who had accepted her, and she hadn’t recognized it for the gift that it was until it was too late. This was why she never got her hopes up. When things didn’t work out, having high hopes meant a long fall to the ground. That’s what she was doing… falling, falling… No one would save her this time. She trudged to the waiting room, sniffling, barely able to contain her sobs, and sat down facing the doors to the exit. She silently berated herself the entire time she waited for Clay.

She saw him pull up in Shane’s truck, much sooner than she had expected. Her heart gave a small, involuntary leap of joy, as it did every time she saw him, but it was quickly replaced by terror. She wasn’t afraid in the normal sense. She was terrified because walking toward her was the man who, with just a few words, could shatter her heart into a million pieces. And she was positive he would. He had proven himself a patient, forgiving man, but this was on a whole new level.

Their eyes locked as he walked in the door and Abby stood from the green vinyl chair. She wanted to run into his arms, but she was sure any displays of affection would immediately be rejected. She didn’t want to cry—she didn’t have the right to cry over something she’d done to herself—but she couldn’t help it. Tears flowed down her cheeks as he approached her. The look on his face was one of sheer anger. Not a trace of understanding could be seen on his hard features.

“You’re not hurt at all?” he asked, his voice calm and devoid of the anger she read on his face.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t going very fast. I ran into a tree.”

Clay drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, he shook his head. “Where’s your suitcase?”

She pointed to where she’d placed it under the chair behind her.

“Are you free to leave now, or do you have paperwork?” he asked, as he bent to retrieve her case.

“I can leave. They’ll send me a summons. Clay, I’m so sorry—”

“Save it for later,” he interrupted. “Let’s go.”

He strode toward the exit, and she followed him, jogging to keep up with his long strides. He held the door for her, always the gentleman. He then opened the passenger side door, helped her up to her seat, and even buckled her in, a gesture that usually made her feel safe and cared for. This time it felt horrible, since it served as a reminder of everything she was going to lose. She was surprised he was even taking her back to the ranch. She thought he would only meet her at the station to find out about his truck and then take off without her, but he hadn’t asked for a single detail about his truck.

On the drive Clay focused on the road ahead and turned up the radio to play a Hank Williams song loudly, likely so he wouldn’t have to talk to her. When Abby peeked over at him, she saw a repeated tic in his jaw, indicating he was gritting his teeth, something he did when he concentrated or was angry. There was no doubt about which he was in that moment.

“I’ll pay you for the damage I did to your truck,” she said tearfully. “I’ll give you what I’ve saved for Daisy and I’ll find a job so I can pay you the rest.”

Clay punched the knob of the radio, silencing the music. “I thought you had a job.”

“Yes, I can probably get my job at Dairy Queen back.”

He turned his head and gave her an annoyed look. “I meant at my house. Cooking, housekeeping, remember?”

Was he taunting her? No, that wasn’t like him. Emerging in her mind was a small sliver of hope that perhaps he would forgive her and allow her to stay. Her lower lip trembled and her nose burned. “You don’t want me to stay, do you?”

Clay’s eyes narrowed on the road ahead. Abby wondered if he’d even heard her until he turned on his indicator, smoothly pulled over to the side of the road, and put the truck in park with the engine still running. “What did you just ask me?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

She swiped at her tears. “Do you want me to keep working for you? I mean, I know you probably don’t want to keep doing… the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The daddy thing!” she burst out. Why was he making her spell it out for him? Why couldn’t he just tell her he was done with her, get it over with like ripping off a Band-Aid? She buried her head in her hands.

“Abigail, look at me,” he ordered.

She shook her head and kept her face covered with her hands. She heard his seatbelt unlock, and the sound of metal sliding against metal told her he’d just moved back his seat. Next her seatbelt clicked and Clay was hauling her across the center directly onto his lap. She still refused to look at him and kept her hands over her face, though his actions surprised her. When he wrapped his arms around her, she could hardly believe it was happening.

“Baby, I’m mad at you. That doesn’t mean I want you to leave or that I want to stop being your daddy. Quite the opposite. Now’s when you probably need a lesson from me the most.”

She dared to peek at him through her fingers to make sure he was serious. “Really?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course, darlin’. Don’t you know how much I care about you? That’s the only reason I’m angry.”

“Oh, Clay,” she sobbed, and buried her head on his shoulder. “I thought this would be different. This time I hurt you, not me. I ruined your car. I just thought it was different.”

“Well, it is different, but not for the reason you think,” he said, his voice growing stern. “What you did was dangerous, and you’re going to get a misdemeanor on your record. I don’t care about my truck, Abigail. I care about keeping you safe, and I care about you telling me the truth. You had plenty of opportunities before driving away to come clean, but your pride got in the way once again. Your pride didn’t let you be honest with me, did it?”

“No,” she said in a small voice, feeling both cherished and chastised at the same time.

“No, what?” he prompted in his sternest daddy tone. He took her shoulders and pried her away so that he could look at her.

“No, Daddy,” she said meekly, feeling younger by the second.

“That’s right. I never wanted to punish you with Daddy’s belt, but your behavior calls for a very strict lesson, don’t you think?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the leather in his belt loops.

Clay caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look into his eyes. “Are you scared of my belt?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said in a whisper. “I’m afraid it will really hurt my bottom, more than your hand.”

“It will. But don’t you think you’ve earned a strapping on your bottom?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Yes, I’ve definitely earned it.”

“All right, get back in your seat.”

She didn’t want to leave his lap, so she kissed him. She needed to feel his affection, to receive physical affirmation of all his words. A low growl resonated in his throat, and he latched on to her lips as his two hands held her face and the tips of his fingers entwined in her hair. He kissed her passionately, possessively, in the way that always made her know she belonged to him.

When he released her lips, he whispered, “You scared the hell out of me, Abby.”

“I’m so sorry, Clay.” She felt terrible that she had caused him pain even for a minute. He deserved only good things from her, and she was determined never to worry him again. She climbed back to her seat and buckled her seatbelt as Clay moved his seat forward.

He turned the radio back on to a low volume. “So tell me what happened. How’d you crash?”

She stared out the window, too embarrassed to look at him while she explained. “There was a deer in the road. I swerved so I wouldn’t hit it and then ran into a tree. It all happened so fast.”

Clay turned on his indicator and accelerated into the highway. “I see. It’s usually safer to brake than to swerve when you come across something in the road. That’s something you learn about in driver’s ed.”

“Yeah,” she said, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Abby had never felt so guilty in her life, and she knew she deserved the very serious punishment that lurked in her near future. She wondered if he would punish her tonight or wait until tomorrow. Her bottom clenched every time she thought about it.

Abby liked being Daddy’s little girl, and she liked knowing that Daddy Clay spanked her. But she did not like getting spanked. Not one little bit. Everything surrounding it—the lecturing, the helplessness, the feeling that she was naughty and needed to be disciplined—those things she liked. They made her crazy with desire and at the same time warm and happy inside. But the actual spanking itself? It just hurt. It hurt badly every single time.

During the spankings, she always cried and wished that she hadn’t done whatever it was she’d done to earn it. And it seemed to last forever because Daddy Clay was a very thorough spanker. He made sure every inch of her squirming bare bottom felt his chastisement.

She recalled one particularly serious punishment. She had promised him she would ask for what she needed instead of being too proud, but that promise had turned out to be more difficult to keep than she’d thought it would be. Instead of telling Daddy she needed a stepladder to reach the top cupboard in the kitchen, she had taken to climbing on the counter when she had to reach something high up.

 

On a day that would forever be burned into her memory, he caught her balancing on the edge of the counter while she reached for some paper plates in the back of the cupboard. When he appeared behind her and asked what the hell she was doing standing on the counter, his voice startled her and caused her to stumble backwards directly into his waiting arms. He held her fast against his waist with one arm while he opened up a drawer and selected a wooden spoon.

“Oh, no!” she cried, wriggling against him. She hated the wooden spoon with a passion. It stung like the dickens, and there was something awful about getting punished with something she had to look at every day.

“Oh, yes,” he responded dryly, his long strides carrying her to a straight-backed kitchen chair. He sat down and maneuvered her over his lap.

“What did I tell you about asking me when you need something, like a stepladder? Didn’t I already spank you for being too proud to ask for my help?” he scolded as he hooked two fingers in the back of her shorts and panties and shoved them down to her knees.

“But I don’t mind climbing up. It’s not a big deal!”

“I mind it!” he bit out as he brought the spoon down in a hard thwack on her bare bottom. “It’s unnecessary extra work for you, plus it’s dangerous and uncivilized to climb on the counter.” He peppered her bottom and thighs with unrelenting swats. She realized as the punishment continued with seemingly no end in sight that he was punishing her much harder and longer than normal.

“Owwww, Daddy, no!” she blubbered, feeling frantic for the pain on her bottom to stop. “I’ll be good. You’re spanking so hard, Daddy!”

“I know I am, this is a serious punishment. It’ll always be this serious when I have to spank you twice for the same thing. Do you think I’ll have to do this a third time?”

“No!” she wailed. “I won’t be too proud again.”

He paused and set the spoon down on her lower back. “I hope not. There’s no excuse for it. I’m here to take care of you. That’s part of the arrangement, but I can’t do that if you’re not forthcoming with me about what you need.”

He then did something she didn’t expect. He parted her smarting cheeks, baring to his view her naughty back hole. Her face heated with humiliation. She learned that his purpose for parting her cheeks was to locate the unspanked part of her bottom, the lily-white strips of her cheeks protected against each other. Daddy Clay used the wooden spoon to spank every bit of her sensitive side cracks, which caused her to howl and buck in his lap. Then, much to her horror, he turned the spoon around and used the thin handle to spank her poor little bottom hole over and over again.

Clay’s voice boomed over the smacks. “Which is more embarrassing, asking me for a stepladder or getting your bottom hole spanked?”

“Getting m-my…”

“Say it,” he growled, giving her another whack with the end of the spoon.

“Getting my bottom hole spanked!” she wailed, never having felt so embarrassed in her life.

“I should think so. Look at you, writhing over my lap like a little girl, getting spanked in all your naughty places by Daddy.” He slapped her pussy with his fingers twice to complete the humiliation.

 

She had been ashamed of herself then, and she was ashamed of herself now as they drove back to the ranch. Daddy Clay was going to punish her a third time for her pride, plus for seriously endangering herself, and she knew this punishment was going to be even worse than the previous.

Chapter Seven

 

 

The sun had nearly disappeared by the time they arrived at the cabin. Shane met them at the door. He looked at Abby from head to toe and said, “Glad you’re okay.” He then gave Clay a searching look, and something in Clay’s face must have told him to make himself scarce. “I imagine you two have lots to talk about. I’m going to grab a beer in town.”

He’d no sooner left than Clay went straight into daddy mode. “Have you eaten today?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’m not hungry.”

He glared at her with disapproval. “Go to the kitchen and have a snack. Then I want to you to go upstairs, take a shower, and wait for me on your bed.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said softly. She walked past him to the kitchen with the back of her hands against her bottom because she half-expected him to smack her ass as she walked by, but he didn’t.

She sat on the wooden seat at the kitchen’s breakfast table and munched on cheese and crackers. She barely tasted them. Clay could be heard upstairs, showering in his bathroom. Slowly, she washed the dish she’d used to eat her snack and then headed up the steps. Clay turned off his shower just as she was entering hers. As she scrubbed her body, she wished she could wash away all the events of the day and have them circle down the drain just like the dirty water. But that wasn’t possible. Her body was clean when she stepped out of the shower, but her mistakes remained like a stain on her person.

The waiting began. She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing her new pink nightie that had two white bows at the hem. She didn’t bother putting on underwear, since they would be off her in a New York minute after Clay walked into the room. The nightie offered very little coverage to her bottom, since it was thin and short. It would hike up to right below the small of her back if Clay had her bend over and prop her hands on her knees.

She wondered if he would hold her while he spanked her. She preferred the intimacy of being held over his knee as opposed to bent over the bed, but she knew she would have to accept however he chose to punish her. She never had any say in the spankings she received. When they happened, how they happened, the implement used, and the duration were all as Daddy Clay saw fit.

His footsteps fell across the floor, and she swallowed hard when she heard his knock.

“Come in,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He opened the door and stepped in. Her eyes immediately shot to what he was holding, a thick brown leather belt folded in two. He closed the door behind him and set the belt on her nightstand. He wore his black cotton lounging pants and a white t-shirt that hugged the muscles on his arms. She drew a deep breath and inhaled the scent of his soap and shampoo.

Gone was the Clay who’d comforted and held her in his truck after pulling over. His expression was severe, and his stature tall and almost businesslike. He didn’t waste time in beginning the lecture.

“Young lady, as you know I’m very disappointed in you.”

Her thighs clenched together. She couldn’t help it. Hearing those words always made her feel simultaneously guilty and turned on.

“In any relationship, trust is important. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She nodded forlornly. “Yes, sir.”

“In our arrangement, it’s even more important. It’s my job to be your daddy, watch out for you, and give you what you need, and I take that job seriously. But how can I do that if you lie to me about what you need?”

“But Daddy, I didn’t lie,” she said, unable to resist pointing that out. She was many things, but she wasn’t a liar.

Clay pointed a finger at her face. “You did by omission. You let me believe you knew how to drive when you took my keys.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way, but she supposed he was right. “I just wanted you to think I was normal,” she said, tears already threatening to make an appearance.

“I care about you, Abby. Haven’t I always accepted everything about you that’s not normal, according to your definition? Those are the things that make you special.”

“There’s nothing special about not being able to drive,” she said, her lower lip beginning to tremble.

“I think so. It shows you were too busy doing other things, like selflessly saving for your sister’s tuition. I would have understood and helped you if you’d been honest with me.”

She nodded and stared at her hands in her lap, feeling deeply regretful for her actions. “I know you would have.”

“I need you to understand that this spanking is not for wrecking my truck, like you’ve been concerned about. It’s about lying to me and putting yourself in danger. Those are the two worst things you can do in Daddy’s book, so Daddy’s going to spank you with his hand for lying and then use his belt for putting yourself in danger. I warn you it’s going to be a long, hard spanking, worse than any you’ve had before.”

She sniffled and nodded again, unable to look at him. She felt so naughty and embarrassed, knowing she was going to get spanked, plus she felt very nervous about this particular spanking.

“After that, Daddy’s going to put you to bed with a very sore bottom, and you’re going to go to sleep knowing all is forgiven. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and we’ll begin again, this time with a renewed expectation of honesty from you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” he said. “Daddies don’t give up on their little girls. They guide, encourage, and correct when necessary.”

She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. Daddy sat next to her on the bed and took her tear-stained hand in his. He guided her across his hard thighs, where she squirmed a little to get comfortable and buried her face into the comforter. He lifted up her tiny little nightie and positioned it high on her back before he fastened her against him with a strong, steadying grip. Her legs dangled in the air; they were too short to reach the floor. Before the spanking began, Daddy Clay ran his punishing hand over both her cheeks all the way down the back of each thigh to her knees. Every nerve in her bottom came alive and tingled with anticipation.

The first smack popped loudly, startling her and stinging her square on her right cheek. A matching smack fell on her left cheek. Then the spanking began in earnest. His hard palm landed again and again on her bottom, punishing her for lying. He didn’t speak during this spanking as he often did, explaining why she was getting spanked and how disappointed he was in her. All those words were more than evident as the spanking continued, growing in speed and impact. His swats became so hard that she couldn’t breathe for half a dozen of them until one particularly hard smack seemed to spank the air right out of her lungs. A strangled cry came from her lips that formed into a plea to stop. Still the spanking continued with no respite, over and over and over. She gasped, struggling to breathe or even cry as the blows to her bottom continued to rob her of air.

She had maintained some semblance of modesty for a while, but that was all out the window as his hand lowered to her thighs and cracked out spanks that echoed in the room like gunshots. Her legs flew apart, each frantic to avoid the punishment, but Daddy Clay’s hand still found his target. She screamed and again begged for him to stop, but it was as though he didn’t hear her. When her frantic hand reached back to cover her seat, he didn’t speak or even slow down. He simply lifted her hand away from the target, pinned it to the small of her back, and gave her ten punishing smacks on the part of her bottom she’d tried to protect. That was enough to cause her legs to fly up. She didn’t mean to cover her bottom with her feet, but she did and Daddy Clay was none too pleased with that. He had made it clear to her in previous spankings that she was never to try to prevent or block her punishment.

Even after doing that, he didn’t scold her, which she would have welcomed at that point. Daddy Clay had become only a punishing hand, and every word was communicated through it. After she blocked her bottom with her feet, he hauled her forward, higher over his left leg, and then wrapped his other leg over the backs of her knees. This position meant that her bottom was stretched more tightly over his leg and had less of a cushion, like when she had to bend and touch her toes. It made every swat delivered unbearably painful. She was trapped in his lap and couldn’t move. Her sobs overtook her body and she screamed, feeling like this spanking would never end. Never had Daddy Clay spanked her so hard and so long.

When it finally did stop, she hardly noticed. Her bottom had become one swollen mass of pain that pulsed and ached even without being spanked. Clay released her trapped wrist from its position on her lower back, and she covered her face with both her hands, sobbing. Usually after a spanking over his knee, Clay would gently rub out the sting and offer loving, affirming words of forgiveness. Not this time. His stern voice rumbled down at her. “That’s what you’re going to get every time you lie to me or leave out important information that prevents me from taking care of you. Do you understand, young lady?”

“Yes, Daddy!” she sobbed.

His hand crashed against the center of her bottom. “You sure?”

“Yes!”

He spanked her two more times, so hard that she nearly arched off his lap since he wasn’t pinning her in place. “Go stand in the corner with your hands on your head. I’ll call you when it’s time for your strapping.”

She whimpered, knowing that the belt was going to hurt even worse, and gingerly climbed off his lap. Her whole body felt sore. Besides her smarting bottom, her muscles ached from tightening and clenching in an effort to absorb the pain.

She stood with her head facing the corner and her fingers laced behind her head. She wanted to reach down and rub her smarting bottom, but Daddy hadn’t given her permission. She knew he would view doing so in the same way he viewed blocking during a spanking—as an attempt to alleviate the punishment.

She eventually stopped crying. As soon as she did, Clay appeared next to her, holding a box of tissues and the small wastebasket from her bathroom. His voice was still hard when he spoke to her. “Blow your nose. When you’re finished, it’s time for Daddy’s belt.”

She blew her nose as instructed, taking her sweet time in order to delay the inevitable as much as possible. She used a few tissues to dab her eyes, knowing she would likely have to repeat the whole endeavor as soon as her next spanking ended.

“Come here, Abby.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She really, really didn’t want more spanking. Her bottom still hurt and she wished very much that he would forget the whole business. She’d learned her lesson. Feeling like her daddy was the meanest daddy in the world, she trudged over to where he sat on the end of the bed and she stood in front of him with her head bent.

“Tell me why you’re going to be punished with the belt,” he ordered. In sharp contrast to the sound of his voice, he lovingly slipped her loose hair behind her ear.

“Because I put myself in danger.”

“That’s right. Out of all the bad things you can do, that’s the worst one in Daddy’s mind. Do you know why that is?”

She nodded at one of the buttons on his shirt. He tilted her chin up with two fingers and looked into her eyes. “Why?”

“Because you care about me and don’t want me to get hurt.”

“That’s right.” He pointed at the pillow he’d positioned in the middle of the bed. “Lay yourself over the pillow.”

She climbed on the bed and obediently draped herself over the cushion, causing her bottom to be raised slightly and for her sensitive sit spots to be available for punishment. Daddy Clay lifted her nightie and ran his hand all along her bare bottom. “Your bottom is red and warm. Does it still hurt from the spanking with Daddy’s hand?”

She nodded and sniffled. “Yes.”

He patted her bottom. “Twenty strokes with the belt, and then your punishment will be over. It’s going to hurt, but I want you to stay in this position. If you move, I’ll start over, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Okay, Daddy, I won’t move.”

“And that means no trying to cover your bottom. I don’t want to hit your hand with the belt, so you’ll get extras if you put your hand in the way.”

She watched as he picked up the belt from her nightstand and snapped it loudly, testing its flexibility. She winced and buried her head in the comforter. Her bottom clenched when the leather tapped against her cheeks. The belt felt cool and the tap almost felt like a caress, but she knew it wouldn’t feel that way for long.

The belt snapped across her bottom, emitting a loud crack into the air. It hurt, but not quite as badly as she thought it would. When it fell again, though, she realized why Daddy Clay had reserved it for her worst offense. The loud sound combined with the sharp sting made the belt a formidable implement, and she struggled from the start to keep her tummy planted against the pillow.

He spaced out the first ten, and the sting grew sharper with each one. Knowing the total number of strokes she would receive helped. She could manage twenty. That’s what she told herself until the eleventh, when the leather seemed to sear into her hide like a branding iron. Because she knew she deserved it, she didn’t beg him to stop, not that it would have made any difference. But she couldn’t help the frantic shriek that escaped her lips.

“I hope you’ll remember this the next time you’re tempted to disobey me,” Daddy Clay said, landing another line of fire across her bottom.

“I will! I’ll never disobey you again!” She meant it. Experiencing this kind of spanking was the last thing she wanted to repeat, and she desperately longed to feel Daddy’s arms around her and to have him be pleased with her once again. She cried into the comforter and gripped the material with her fists. Even as she suffered the punishment, she felt relieved that Clay cared about her enough to keep being her daddy.

As though reading her mind, he said, “I’m not going to give up on you, Abby. I won’t abandon you when you do bad things, I’ll punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, sniffling.

“Good girl.”

The last strokes fell rapidly, with each landing before the pain from the previous registered, compounding and building the inferno on her bottom as he striped her from the top of her bottom, down to the under curve, the sit spots, and finally catching the top portion of her thighs in what felt like a million bee stings at once.

The belt stung like the dickens, but unlike the hand spanking, the strapping ended quickly. Every muscle in her body relaxed in relief as Clay tossed the belt aside and joined her on the bed, where he gently ran his fingertips over her punished skin.

“You took that very well,” he praised, his voice now kind with no hint of scolding.

She let out a sigh of contentment as he traced circles over her bottom up her back and then raked his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Nothing felt as good as Daddy’s hand when it was gentle. Her eyelids grew heavy as Clay continued to stroke and caress her.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” he murmured, “and I’m so glad you’re safe.”

She always felt cherished after a spanking, and this time that feeling was magnified tenfold.

She must have fallen asleep for a moment because she awoke suddenly to find herself on her tummy under the covers with a pillow against her cheek. Clay was still there, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, telling her she was a very good girl. Her heart overflowed with love. She was so glad to be Clay’s good girl going to bed with a sore bottom and all her sins forgiven. As she drifted into sleep, she felt a kiss on her temple.

“I love you,” she heard his deep voice say, sounding very far away. Abby wasn’t sure if she was dreaming, or if Clay had actually said the words. She drifted further into unconsciousness. For now, she would sleep. Tomorrow, she would find out if Clay had said he loved her. If so, maybe, just maybe, that meant he wanted to be her daddy forever.

Chapter Eight

 

 

Abby rolled to her side early the next morning and landed against Clay’s chest. His arms pulled her closer against him where he locked her into a spooning position. She smiled. As intimate as they’d been with each other, they’d never slept in the same bed overnight, and it was a new and wonderful feeling to have him there when she woke up.

“Good morning, darlin’.” He kissed the side of her neck while his hand slid down to the apex of her legs.

She mumbled a groggy “good morning” happily, then gasped when his callused finger brushed against her clit. His cock was already fully awake, pressing between her bottom cheeks.

“Daddy’s hungry for something sweet, baby girl,” Clay said, nibbling on her neck and shoulder. “Do you have anything sweet to give me?”

“I can make you some pancakes.”

He laughed and threw back the comforter, leaving her naked body exposed and vulnerable. She squealed when his hand palmed her bottom cheek and squeezed. “Such a sassy attitude coming from someone with a sore bottom.”

“It’s not sore anymore, Daddy,” she said sweetly.

“Hmmm, is that right?” he mused in mock displeasure. “Maybe Daddy didn’t spank you hard enough.” He brought his hand down in a smart slap. “Do you need another spanking?”

“No,” she said, giggling and trying to free herself from his hold. She could already feel the moisture pooling between her legs, as it always did when he spoke in that way to her.

His arm held her in place while his finger slipped lower into her wetness. “If you don’t need a spanking, what is it that you need, baby girl?” he rumbled in her ear.

She stopped trying to wriggle out of his grasp and parted her legs, wantonly exposing herself to his view and touch.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised.

“I ache, Daddy,” she pouted. Her pussy pulsed with desire that was growing exponentially with every touch and word he spoke.

“Do you? What exactly aches, baby?” he murmured, removing his hand from between her legs and circling it over her waist and hip.

“My pussy,” she whimpered, enjoying the naughty game they were playing.

His deep chuckle warmed her from the inside out. “Well, we can’t have that.” He readjusted her to lie on her back, where he pushed her ankles forward. Her knees parted of their own accord, and she moaned when he leaned forward and landed soft butterfly kisses on her clit and the sensitive lips around her entrance. “Daddy’s going to kiss your ache all better.”

“Will you kiss it with your cock please, Daddy?”

It was Clay’s turn to moan. “You sure, baby girl? I warn you, I want to kiss it hard.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, arching her pelvis forward. “It needs to be kissed really, really hard.”

She didn’t have to ask again. He straddled his knees around her and in one smooth motion buried his cock into her balls deep. Her pussy clamped down around him, milking him as he dragged his cock out. Sparks of electricity ignited throughout her body. She groaned in pleasure when he slammed back into her.

Sometimes Clay made gentle love to her, but this time he ravaged her There was something about being stretched and forced to accommodate his animal lust that made her feel utterly dominated and possessed. She was his to do with as he pleased, and that point was reiterated with every thrust inside of her.

He flipped her around so that she was on her hands and knees while he took her pussy from behind, landing a gratuitous hard swat whenever he felt compelled. Oh, how she loved Clay and all the white-hot passion as well as the little girl adoration he stirred in her. His hand reached around and fondled her clit as he continued to pound into her, igniting flames of heat in her belly and sex.

After each of them had their release, Clay collapsed next to her on the bed. “Fuck, I love you,” he exclaimed.

She snuggled into his arms as he wrapped them around her. “I love you too, but you’re not supposed to say that for the first time after sex.”

“Pshaw. That’s ridiculous, and besides that wasn’t the first time.”

“No?” she asked. “Did you say it last night?”

“Yes, I did, baby girl, and I plan to say it every night from here on out. My little girl needs to know how much she is loved.”

Abby sighed happily, grateful to be where she was in that moment. It had only been the day before that she’d feared Clay was lost to her forever, but the opposite was true. He was beside her now, professing his love. She had a lot to learn about what it was like being loved by Daddy Clay, and she couldn’t wait for him to teach her everything.

 

 

The End

Part Two

 

 

By

 

Jane Henry

Chapter One

 

 

Shane Weston stared into the mirror, straightening his tie, and frowned. He hadn’t worn a tie since his daddy remarried a decade prior, and he didn’t much like it. Casual t-shirts, well-worn jeans, and a comfortable pair of leather chaps more suited him than the fancy get-up Clay’s fiancée Abby had cajoled him into wearing for the wedding. He fastened the thick leather belt at his waist, dusted off his Stetson, and placed it on his head, thankful he could at least wear a few familiar things.

“It’s just an hour,” Abby had said, her fetching eyes pleading with him as she handed him the tie that coordinated with Clay’s. “As soon as we say ‘I do’ you can whip that tie off and toss it in the river for all I care.” Shane and Abby had forged a friendship after a rocky start and now that he’d gotten to know her, he couldn’t help but like her.

“An hour?” Clay had teased. “More like ten minutes, so I can whisk you off into the sunset.”

Something had tugged at Shane then, seeing the way Abby giggled at Clay’s teasing look, and Shane had finally caved and ordered the clothes Abby wanted him to wear to coordinate with Clay’s.

He scowled at his reflection and shrugged. He supposed he cleaned up alright. He’d deigned to trim his longish black hair, and tidied up the scruffy beard he’d taken to wearing. The denim blue shirt matched the color of his eyes, and the tie made it look more like he wore his Sunday best. Still, he couldn’t wait to shrug the fancy attire and put on something a bit more comfortable.

“Shane?”

He started, not knowing anyone was still at the ranch. He’d come back to make sure everything was locked up tight, and the two lovers’ wedding rings jangled in his pants pocket. He’d thought the small wedding party had already made their way to the chapel, but to his surprise, Daisy stood by the cluster of black cherry trees that lined the front lawn of the ranch.

Was that Daisy? Or had an angel somehow come into his midst?

She stood with her curly blonde hair tucked up onto her head in intricate swirls like a halo, curlicues framing her heart-shaped face, the color of her dress a periwinkle blue. The dress hugged her curvy frame in all the right ways, the front dipping just enough to reveal the shadow of her full bust, the waist cinching in a wrap style that accentuated her curves, then flaring to just below the knee. Silver earrings dangled in her ears, matching the necklace she wore around her neck, and she carried a clutch purse in one hand and a bouquet of spring flowers in the other. She wore a pair of silver sandals that looked strappy and lethal, causing her to wobble when she made her way over to him. Or was it something else that made her wobble on her feet?

“Daisy?” Shane asked, reaching a hand out instinctively to steady the girl as she approached him. “Why are you here? You alright?”

“I… I came back to get something is all,” she said, her eyes shuttering as she attempted to hold her head high, but as she took another step, she went lurching in his direction and her bravado failed her. She emitted a little shriek as she went tumbling, but with the instinct bred of years lassoing cattle, Shane easily braced himself and caught her in his strong embrace. Now that she was close to him, he could smell the faintest scent of lilac, and something else—something stronger. He clenched his jaw as he righted her.

“Have you been drinking?”

She turned away from him. “Might’ve toasted the bride and groom-to-be over brunch with the others,” she said. “But not much.”

He felt his jaw clench as he held her firmly by his side. “Uh huh. Last I checked, the legal drinking age in Dallas is twenty-one, not eighteen, little lady. How do you think your sister and future brother-in-law would feel about this?”

She yanked her arm away from him and turned to go, her gait still unsteady. She tossed over her shoulder, “I think they’re too busy to notice, and anyway, I only had a little. Now if you’ll leave me be, I’ll be heading to the chapel before I miss the whole shebang.” She wobbled again, and in two strides he’d caught up with her.

“You’ll come with me,” he said, marching her with conviction to his pickup truck that waited in the driveway. How could she? He’d only known her for three months, since she’d grown old enough to leave foster care and come live with Abby and Clay. She lived on the other side of the ranch house, and to Shane, she’d seemed a sweet little kid, but no more than that. She was good-natured and jovial, but immature, still running around with the few hooligans she’d befriended at the local high school. He hadn’t paid much attention to her, as he was a good twelve years her senior and had no use for immature little girls who were barely out of high school. He woke at dawn to do his chores, spent his days in the barn, and when he came in to dinner, she was often pulling a shift at the local grocers.

How had he failed to see the woman who’d blossomed under his very eyes the past few months? He swallowed hard as he opened the door to his truck and helped hoist her up, the silky feel of her dress covering her womanly curves making him hard.

He would not be attracted to Abby’s little sister, dammit. He was a full-grown man in need of a full-grown woman, not a man in need of a little girl who’d do better with a hand across her ass than a man by her side. With more force than necessary, he buckled her into the truck, hit the lock as if she would run like a scared stray if he didn’t, and slammed the door. Muttering under his breath, he marched over to the driver’s side and yanked the door open, only to find her sitting in the cab with her arms folded across her chest, muttering something about ‘manhandling,’ and ‘rude,’ and ‘not the boss of me.’

“You sit there and be quiet,” he said. How he longed to turn the little brat over his knee and teach her to behave herself. “We haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other, Daisy, but there’s something you’d do well to learn right fast.” His southern drawl thickened when he was angry. “I don’t cotton to selfish behavior.”

“Selfish behavior?” she spat back, tossing her hands up in the air. “Who exactly do you think you are, Shane? Just because you’re like twenty years older than I am does not give you the right to boss me around.”

Twenty years older? The nerve!

He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled before he spoke. “First of all, I’m not bossing anyone around. I’m merely telling you that your behavior is not acceptable. Second of all, I’m not—”

“You most certainly are bossing me around!”

He turned his full six-foot frame toward her little one and pierced her with a look he’d mastered as the eldest of six little ranch hands. His voice, low and dangerous in the privacy of the small cab, was barely controlled. “That’s enough, young lady. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I am not twenty years your senior.”

“Pfft,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re old enough to be my daddy.”

She was goddamned lucky he wasn’t her daddy. He’d take his hand to her naughty little ass good and proper.

“You’ll listen to me now,” he continued, holding onto his temper by a thread. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself tipsy on your sister’s wedding day. You may not care, but the man she’s marrying is my best friend, who I think the world of, and I will not allow you to ruin their day by disgracing them.” He allowed his words to settle in as he pierced her with a look. “You get me?”

To his surprise, her pretty hazel eyes softened then. “I don’t want to ruin their day, Shane,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to… do anything stupid.”

The way her voice sounded made him soften a bit. “Then why’d you go and drink, honey? We’ll have plenty to celebrate later. Why now?”

She sighed. “Malcolm gave me some of his mother’s moonshine. I was… nervous. And he… told me it would give me courage.”

“Malcolm?” His voice sounded angrier than he intended. “Moonshine?” Who the hell was Malcolm?

“My ex-boyfriend,” she said, shaking her head.

He’d beat the tar out of the little shit.

“Yeah?” He clenched his left hand into a fist she couldn’t see while he started up his truck with his right hand, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started a conversation involving her ex. He needed to change the subject. “And why are you nervous? What’s there to be nervous about?”

“You didn’t know? Abigail asked me to sing at the ceremony.”

All the talk about tiaras and invitations and fondant and buttercream made his head spin, and he’d dutifully ignored all the details for months. He cleared his throat. “Well, now, honey, there ain’t nothin’ to be nervous about. It’s just us.” The wedding was the smallest he’d ever attended, just the bride and groom, him and Daisy as witnesses, the ranch hands Clay hired, and a few other friends. “Why don’t you practice here, with me, on the way?”

He flicked the directional left, and turned down the road that would bring them to the chapel.

“No.”

His brows shot up as he gave her a sidelong glance, and he pulled to a red light. No? “Come again?”

She’d crossed her arms on her chest, and her jaw was clenched, her eyes fiery and defiant. “You can’t make me.”

The sudden desire to reach for her blonde curls and tug her hair, to teach her how to mind, startled him with the intensity. He had no idea where her defiance was bred, but he’d make it his mission to find out.

What the hell?

She was too young for him.

Unavailable. Defiant.

And she would soon be his best friend’s sister-in-law.

“Fine, then. Don’t sing. You’re right, I can’t make you, nor do I want to. We’re almost there anyway.” But he couldn’t help but issue one final warning. “Now you behave yourself and sober up good or I’ll do it for you.”

She cast a wary look his way. “How, pray tell, would you go about doing that?”

As he pulled into the parking lot of the little chapel, he shrugged with nonchalance even as he allowed steel to enter his voice. He threw the truck into park and cut the engine. “I figure a good old-fashioned spanking ought to do the trick.” He shrugged. “But maybe we won’t have to find out.” He flexed his fingers and cracked his knuckles.

Her hazel eyes widened, then narrowed, before she yanked open the door of the truck and stomped away.

He smirked, satisfied at a job well done. Seemed she was sober enough, all right.

Chapter Two

 

 

Later, Daisy felt a bit guilty about not paying attention to her sister’s wedding day. She loved that her sister had found Clay. Abby had worked so hard saving her money to send Daisy to college, that she deserved to be happy now.

She reasoned that it was the nerves anticipating her performance that distracted her, and ignored the little voice that called her bluff, reminding her that what really distracted her was the tall, muscular, handsome, and bossy-as-hell cowboy.

As the minister prayed over the new couple, Daisy took a moment to surreptitiously glance at Shane. Before today, she’d only seen him in his well-worn work clothes and a t-shirt. Damn, he shined up nice. He wore a button-down blue shirt that accentuated the blue of his eyes, stark in contrast to the jet-black hair that framed his rugged, handsome face, his jaw edged by his dark, scruffy beard. He was so big… strong… immovable. Something in her stirred.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The minister grinned benevolently, Clay whooped and hollered, and Abby flushed like a schoolgirl as he swept her into his arms and kissed her. When Clay bent Abby back, Shane’s gaze caught hers at the exact same moment she looked his way. Though he smiled, there was something else in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher, because the minister was calling her name, beckoning for her to go to the podium and sing the final hymn as Clay and Abby made their way to the exit. Daisy froze, staring at the podium for a split second before her gaze swung back to Shane’s.

He smiled at her. It was the first time she’d ever seen the man smile, and to her surprise, it did strange, wonderful things to her. Her tummy fluttered and her heart raced as he gave her a gentle, encouraging nod, tipping his head to the podium. It was all the encouragement she needed. She nodded to him and his smile broke out even wider, his eyes crinkling around the edges, his white teeth flashing at her. She trotted to the podium, took the microphone in hand, and without giving it another thought, she sang for her sister, her voice lifting to the tune of the southern hymn Abby had requested, her very soul swelling as her voice filled the small chapel.

The newlyweds did not rush out of the church but sauntered as the hauntingly beautiful song lingered. As Daisy sang, her heart soared, her fears vanishing as the lyrics and beat of the song took her away. She was where she was meant to be, in her element.

The others left the church one by one until the final word was sung, and when she finished, she became aware of nearly vacant church—vacant except for one lone cowboy tipping his Stetson to her.

“I never knew you could sing like that,” Shane said, awe written across his face.

And I never knew you could look like that, she thought, but she schooled her features to a demure smile and nod. “Thank you, Shane. I wanted to do it for Abby.”

He took her by the elbow and led her out of the chapel, where Abby and Clay received their guests. Shane and Daisy were the last two out.

“Pleased to see you two enjoying each other’s company,” Clay said, grinning with pride as he held his new wife’s hand.

“Oh?” Daisy asked. Why on earth did he care if they enjoyed each other’s company? His observation made her squirm for some reason, and she wondered if Shane felt the same, as he released her elbow.

“And why is that?” Shane asked.

Abby turned to pick up her bouquet of flowers as she called over her shoulder, “Well, isn’t it obvious? Clay and I leave for our honeymoon in a few hours, and you two will have to share a residence. We were a bit concerned that because you’ve hardly even noticed each other existed that it might be a bit awkward, but I think it’ll work out just fine. Don’t you, honey?” she said with a smile to Clay.

“Absolutely,” Clay agreed with a grin. He placed his Stetson on his head and patted Shane on the back. “You and I’ll have a chat before I go, yeah?” Shane nodded, looking positively stricken.

Daisy blinked. Why had it never occurred to her that with Abby and Clay going on their honeymoon she’d practically have the house to herself? She could barely contain her glee.

Chapter Three

 

 

How could he have been such a dumbass? Why had he never put two and two together?

“I mentioned our honeymoon to you weeks ago,” Clay said, scrubbing a hand across his forehead as the two sat at the head table, cold beers in hand.

“Of course you did,” Shane said, shaking his head. “I just forgot that her sister would still be around. Guess I’m just not used to her being there.”

“She’s mostly a good girl,” Clay said.

She behaved herself around Clay, who likely intimidated the hell out of her, Shane reasoned. Would she behave around him? The memory of her tipsy little self downing moonshine before the wedding came to mind. He pursed his lips and shook his head, earning a deep chuckle from Clay.

“Shane, if I remember correctly, you had, what, five or seven little brothers and sisters, right? I bet you could handle one just fine.”

Shane took a long pull from his beer bottle and shrugged. “Never said I couldn’t handle her.” He’d lay the ground rules and she’d hop to, and they’d be good as gold. “Just didn’t know I’d be responsible for her.”

Abby smiled. “Aw, Shane, she can take care of herself. You’ll see.”

Like hell she could.

And yes, he most certainly would see. If she thought that loser Malcolm would be coming around, she had another think coming, but they’d settle all that in due time.

He lifted his bottle and saluted the newlyweds. “Here’s to the groom with the bride so fair, and here’s to the bride with groom so rare!”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Daisy lift a glass to her lips and his eyes narrowed.

Oh, they’d be fine alright.

Just exactly how he’d handle her might not be what she’d anticipate.

As the festivities ensued and day gave into night, the warm Dallas air cooling just a bit, the wind rustling the leaves behind him, Clay and Abby got ready to take their leave. “You’ll take care of the gifts, Shane?” Clay asked, as he put their luggage in the back of Shane’s truck.

“Of course,” Shane said. He took the small passel of cards and wrapped presents from Clay. “You two have an amazing honeymoon, and we’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Shane drove the two of them away from the venue, amidst hoots and hollers and little flecks of rice hitting his windshield, and saw them off at the airport. By the time he pulled into the driveway at home, he was whipped. His days typically began before the sun rose, and today had been no exception. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and get a good night’s sleep. As he cut the engine, the serenade of crickets filling the warm night air, he heard something else in the distance. His hand on the steering wheel, he stilled and listened. After a moment, whispered voices picked up again.

With a sigh, he grabbed his belongings, and the few things Clay and Abby had entrusted to him, and made his way to the entrance of the large, rambling house, but he could see no one. He pushed open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. He’d assumed Daisy would be home long before now, on her side of the house and fast asleep. Had she left the door open for him?

Frowning, he pushed it open and entered the kitchen. They’d have a talk about that.

A young boy who looked about fifteen years old, his hair spiky and unkempt, and jeans hanging well below his waistline revealing bunched-up blue boxers, jumped to his feet. Daisy sat up straighter and tidied up her tousled hair. “I was just telling Malcolm to leave,” Daisy said, getting to her feet and wobbling a bit. “If you’ll give us a minute.”

Shane frowned and dropped the packages on the kitchen counter. “Fine. But I’m lockin’ up for the night.” He left the two of them and marched to the other side of the large house, making sure every window and door was shut tight, and when he found the back door still open, letting in the warm night air, he slammed it shut.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found Daisy visibly upset. Her eyes flashed at Malcolm, and when Shane came in the room she only glared at him.

“Everything okay in here? Happy to see him to the door myself,” Shane muttered, trying to meet the eyes of the kid, but Malcolm only tucked his head and scrambled toward the door.

Shane hoped he was good and afraid of him.

He ought to be.

Shane yanked open the door. “Good night.” The boy said nothing and scurried out the door.

Turning with a raised brow, he found Daisy frowning at him.

“Why the hell did you have that boy over here? Thought he was your ex,” Shane said, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary.

“Didn’t invite him,” she said, turning away from him. “My head hurts and I don’t want to talk. I’m going to bed.”

Shane stood with his arms crossed, watching her unsteady walk toward the stairs. “That’s fine. Something you should know, though, Daisy.”

She looked over her shoulder.

“If I catch you drinking again, more than your head’ll hurt.”

She froze with her hand on the rail, but said nothing, and for a moment, his anger dwindled. Was she okay? Her face was pale and drawn, one hand resting on her stomach.

What had the son of a bitch said or done to anger her?

When he reached her, she froze, her eyes wide and apprehensive. He reached a hand out to her elbow to steady her. “Y’alright?” he asked, peering into her face with concern.

She leaned heavily on his arm and shook her head. Despite his anger and irritation, she smelled good, and he wanted to hold her closer, kiss the soft hair at her temple and tell her she was beautiful. “I—I just—your threat made me nervous is all. And I—I don’t feel good.”

“Not a threat, honey. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow. For now, let’s get you to bed.” He practically carried her up the rickety stairs to her bedroom. When they arrived at her room, he sat her on the bed.

“Now, can you get yourself ready or do you need help?” He stood with his hands on his hips.

She fell face down on the bed, still clothed in her fancy bridesmaid gown.

“I’m fine. Go ‘way. Change in the morning,” she mumbled into the bed.

God, he itched to sober up her little ass. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself the hell down before he sat her up and spun her around toward him.

“Get out of these clothes,” he muttered. She was young enough to be his sister, he reasoned. This was just like being… a big brother.

“Hardly know you,” she said, her eyes closed now, smirking at him, but she lifted her arms. “And already, you wanna disrobe me, cowboy?”

Sister, sister, sister.

Don’t look.

Don’t think.

God, did she ever deserve a hand across her pretty little ass.

He leaned over to unzip her, and when he did her head fell on his chest. Hell, she smelled delicious. When the dress was unfastened, he lifted it up and over her head. He tried to avert his eyes, but how could he ignore the barely dressed curves sitting in front of him.

Sister, sister, sister.

Her breasts spilled out of the push-up bra she wore, the edges of lace making his cock harden. Her ample hips were creamy white. He wanted to lick them, bite them, ride those curves until—

She’s no fucking sister.

He yanked the covers of her bed down. “Get on under those covers,” he ordered, his voice a half-growl as he sought to control himself. “You ought to be spanked, letting yourself getting rip-roaring drunk. And on your sister’s wedding night, too. For shame, Daisy.” With a gentle push, he laid her down in bed and pulled the covers up over her.

“I was a naughty girl,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Is Daddy gonna spank me?”

Daddy.

Shit.

“Good night, Daisy,” he said, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.

She was nothing to him.

Absolutely nothing.

He told himself this as he undressed and prepared for bed.

He repeated it as he ignored his raging hard-on as his memory replayed her calling him Daddy.

He’d do his thing, and she’d do this. Yep. That’s how this would work. Tomorrow, she’d be hungover, and that would be punishment enough for her behavior. Tonight, he’d get some sleep. He punched down the pillows and climbed between the cool sheets, all the time wishing he could erase the memory of her creamy white skin and delicious curves.

She was a girl. An impetuous, naughty little girl, barely into the cusp of womanhood.

Then why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

Chapter Four

 

 

Blinding light.

So. Much. Light.

And noise.

What the hell was that noise? Someone was banging, loudly. Daisy pried one eye open, and when she did, her stomach did a great lurch. She laid as still as she could, because she knew if she moved even just a little, she’d toss her cookies. And what would she do if Shane—

Oh, God.

Shane!

He’d seen her in this state. Had he been the one to bring her up to bed? A fuzzy, groggy memory came to her mind—stark, very angry, very stern eyes looking at her as he tucked her into bed.

Tucked her into bed!

And then, a sick realization hit her in the gut and she moaned out loud.

She’d called him Daddy.

Daddy!

“Is Daddy gonna spank me?”

Oh, my God.

How could she ever look him in the eye again? How would she ever talk to him again? She’d have to pack her bags and find some other place to live, because if he ever—

“Mornin’, sunshine.” The squeak of curtains being yanked on a rod went straight between her eyes.

“What are you doing? Stop that! Damnit, it hurts my head.”

Shane stood in front of the early morning sun, the light illuminating him from behind so that she couldn’t see his face, but she could tell from his posture that he was angry. His back was ramrod straight, his hands on his hips, and his voice rang through the room.

“Soberin’ you up is what I’m doin’. Now, I am sorry your head hurts. Next to your bed you’ll find a glass of water and some pain relievers. I’ve made you breakfast, and will bring that to you shortly.”

“God! I don’t want breakfast. Leave me the fuck alone, and shut the door behind you. I have no idea who the hell you think you are, but if you—”

“I’ll thank you to watch that pretty mouth of yours.”

His voice had grown deeper, more serious now. She blinked. Another wave of nausea rolled over her as she reached for the water and pain relievers. She gulped them down, willing her pounding headache to cease. The water was cool and refreshing, and she wanted nothing more than another tall glass as she slid back beneath the covers.

“I want answers, Daisy.” He walked from the window to where she sat in bed, and stood by her side. “You tell me what you did with the parcels I left in the kitchen last night.”

A chilly foreboding crept over her then, prickling along her spine. Oh, God. She closed her eyes then, trying to conjure up what happened in the kitchen, but her mind was a hazy blur. Malcolm had said… something. Hadn’t he? Something about… no. No, she couldn’t remember a goddamned thing.

“No idea what you’re talking about. Damnit, Shane, leave my room or I’ll call my sister and tell her you’re harassing the living hell out of me.”

She pulled the blanket over her head, only to have it yanked down again.

“Call her,” he said. “Call her and tell her your loser ex-boyfriend was over and her wedding gifts have been tampered with. You want me to dial, or do you want to do it yourself?” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, his brows furrowed over angry eyes.

“They haven’t been tampered with,” she whispered.

He leaned in closer. “You callin’ me a liar?”

She sat up in bed so fast, her head spun, and she inhaled deeply to quell the nausea that threatened her once again. She let out a little involuntary moan and clasped her hand on her forehead, turning her head to the side and clamping her lips shut to stop herself from vomiting.

“Shane,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t know anything about the parcels. You put me to bed, and that’s the last thing I remember.”

Put me to bed. The words hung in the air between them, and she closed her eyes.

Is Daddy gonna spank me?

Of all the things she could’ve said…

To her surprise, he reached for her then, tucking her back into bed. “I was gonna make you haul your ass out of bed and help me milk these cows and muck the stalls. Seems you need a good lesson in avoiding moonshine. But it also seems Mother Nature is doin’ a fine job of teaching you a lesson herself.”

She’d never touch the fucking stuff again, for as long as she lived. Her head was gonna split in two. Even the water she’d had now churned in her stomach.

“Got my lesson, right here,” she said, patting her head and her stomach.

With her eyes closed, she could only hear him sigh. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she said.

Shane sighed, tucking the blanket closer to her now. “Stay in bed, Daisy, and I’ll bring you your breakfast.” He pushed himself to standing. “Hopefully nothing’s wrong with their presents. I may have overreacted, and I’m sorry. It’s just that they trusted me to bring those gifts home. The gifts are there, they just seem tampered with, maybe some missing even, and I don’t trust that loser ex of yours.” Before she could reply, he left the room.

What had he done? What had fucking Malcolm done? Not knowing how long she had before Shane returned, Daisy picked up her phone, squinting at the screen that blurred in front of her. Shit. She needed to talk to Malcolm. She tapped his name on her call list, but when it rang there was no answer. “Call me,” she spat out into the phone when his voice mail picked up, then she texted him the same. We need to talk.

She sat up straighter in bed as the door to her room creaked open, and Shane walked in carrying a tray. The medicine had begun to kick in a little, and though her head still ached, she could look at him without the light hurting her. What had gotten into him, and why was he now bringing her food on a tray? They’d lived in the same house for months and had barely spoken to one another.

“Thank you,” she said, eyeing him curiously as he slid the tray on the table next to her bed. Two triangles of toast sat beside a small, steaming pile of scrambled eggs, and a little fluted fruit cup nestled in the corner of the tray, but what she really focused on was the coffee. God, she needed coffee. She reached for the steaming mug and took a tentative sip. Laced with creamer, it was rich and hot as hell. Perfect.

She moaned a little with her eyes closed, savoring every luscious sip, though her stomach protested. “This is so good.”

When she opened her eyes, he was eying her curiously. “Glad you like it.”

He’d changed from the night before into a well-worn pair of jeans, faded at the knees from wear. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, and had a thick, chocolate-brown leather belt fastened at his waist. She swallowed. “I do.”

“No one wants to eat when they’re hungover, but drinking your water and having a bit of food will help you. Today, you’ll stay here and rest until I give you leave to get up. I want you resting up so that tomorrow, you can get some work done.” He made his way to the door, but she stopped him. What the hell was he talking about?

“Excuse me?” She sat up in bed, her ire rising as he reached for the doorknob.

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I heard you. What I didn’t hear was the explanation as to why you think you have the right to tell me what to do?”

He picked up his Stetson from the chair that stood next to her desk, and slid it on his head, casting his face in shadow so that she could barely see the striking blue of his eyes.

As he stood with hands anchored on hips, something about his stature made her shiver as he continued. “Your sister told me you’re under my care in her absence. Clay told me you’re working for him to make some extra cash before you go to college, and I’m not only keeper of this house, I’m your boss. And frankly, Daisy?” He stood with two feet apart, crossing his arms on his chest now, his t-shirt bulging at the biceps as he stared at her. “I’ve about had it with your attitude. I thought I was being nice, making you breakfast and giving you the day off, even though you brought your illness on with your own stupidity.”

“Stupidity!”

“Yeah, stupidity. Anyone over the age of five who lives in these parts knows how stupid it is drinkin’ moonshine. You did it underage, and on your sister’s wedding day. You tellin’ me that was a wise move?”

Well, when he put it that way…

“No,” she said in a little voice.

He only nodded. “I’ve got work to do. You stay here. You rest up and drink your water. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, and I’d better find you exactly where you are now.” Without thinking, she looked away. His voice deepened, warning. “Daisy. You get me?”

Frowning, she merely nodded, but her silent acquiescence wasn’t enough for him. “I asked if you understood, young lady.”

She shivered again.

“Yes. I get you.” She didn’t say she agreed, but she at least understood his reasoning.

“Good then. I’ll see you in a little while.”

When he left the room, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and swiped quickly when she saw the word Malcolm flashing. Had Shane seen that, too? But her thoughts of what Shane saw quickly vanished when she read the text, a cold, sinking feeling in her stomach making her breakfast churn.

You know what I did. Just like we talked about last night. I’ll have it all back before your sister and Clay get back.

She closed her eyes and sank back under the covers.

What had she done?