Chapter One
“Step out of the car, please, ma’am.”
Her head jerked up from where she’d been leaning over the passenger’s seat, looking for her purse, and she could see in the rear view mirror that his cruiser parked behind her. At least he hadn’t turned on the lights or siren. She wouldn’t’ve put it past him, even though they were in his own damned driveway. He was already sauntering towards her and she could tell from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t happy.
She’d just sneaked out to her car - in the pink and white bunny slippers and light pink cotton jammies she’d been surprised to find he’d scarfed from Missy’s for her- to grab her pocketbook, and, of course, he would show up right then. It was just her luck.
Bay sighed, carefully enough that she knew he couldn’t hear it, of course, and got out of the car, wishing she had the guts to stay in the protective cocoon it offered, if only for the benefit of her still tender bottom. But who was she kidding? Even if she locked all the doors – and she’d have to find her keys first before she could do that, and no one who knew her would hold out a lot of hope that she’d be able to find them any time soon – she knew he’d find a way to pry her out.
Griff Margolis was just plain dangerous. She never could think when he was around, and she had a feeling he liked it that way. It afforded him more opportunities to paddle her bottom, not that he really needed to look for them much. There were always more than enough things he could think of that she’d done that he didn’t like so that she knew he would never have to look very far to justify a trip over his lap.
Or over the back of the sofa.
Or, one time, long ago, across the passenger’s seat of his truck, with her bare bottom sticking out of the truck for all and sundry to see. Luckily, that time, it was off season and there was no one else around for miles.
And here was her case in point.
Leaning back against the car door, she looked up at him – way up. Bay swore he got taller every time he took that familiar stance in front of her; his hands on his hips and those sexy lips frowning down at her. It didn’t help that her butt automatically wanted to cringe away from him, although there was nowhere to go, especially since he’d placed himself imposingly close to her.
Griff took another step, leaning against her, putting his big hands on the car behind her. Bay could feel parts of his uniform pressing into her, and she knew one of them was definitely not his gun. He nibbled her neck, making her shiver, and just barely nipped the end of her ear. “Now I know I told you to stay in the house this morning, didn’t I, Bay? And I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me, not that you didn’t already know?”
That husky whisper and the way his coffee-sweet breath tickled the baby hair at the back of her neck did nothing to quell her shivers. She knew what was coming – damn her luck - and her bottom wasn’t looking forward to it, but it wasn’t the only part of her that aroused at the mere thought of him.
As if he was reading her mind, a big, fingerless leather gloved hand reached between them and slid smoothly between the elastic waistband of her jammies and her butterfly filled tummy, claiming what he considered to be his own before she could register any semblance of a protest, and discovering her secret. Their shared moans belied their disparate causes - Bay’s was tinged with pink embarrassment, much like her now rosy cheeks. Griff’s was one of pure, unadulterated lust, long and low and ending in a possessive growl from deep his throat.
Suddenly, he levered himself away from her, tugging her along behind him to his cruiser.
“Where are we –?” Bay started to ask, only to be rudely interrupted when he grabbed her slim hips and physically turned her around to bend her face first over the hood of his cruiser.
The inherent threat of him standing so close behind her wasn’t lost on Griff, despite the fact that she knew he would never really hurt her. And his house in the thick, primeval forest on the backside of the island meant that the probability that anyone would ever hear or see them very slim to none.
Bay wasn’t sure if she should find that thought comforting, or not.
Then he used his big booted feet to force her to spread her legs embarrassingly wide apart while still pressing himself against her backside, emphasizing her vulnerability to him in a way that made her mind blank but her crotch flood with anticipation.
He laid himself along the length of her, easily covering her entirely; his mouth at her ear. “Bay Evelyn Matthews, I’m going to teach you – one way or the other – that when I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey me. So you’re going to get a spanking now, but you’re also going to get another one later for coming out here with no jacket or boots on. You know better than that.”
She melted in her pajamas at his tone. How the hell had he gotten so good at that? His tone, his mannerisms, everything about him screamed dominance, and it was no act. It was what had gotten him to the Sheriff’s position on this little island, and now all of that unyielding authority was concentrated on her.
Griff leaned back enough to begin unbuckling his heavy black leather belt. He knew the instant she recognized what he was doing because it was only then that she began to struggle. He had to suppress a smile. He’d thought she’d been a little too complacent up to this point. Despite the fact that he’d had it forever, his belt was long and thick and stiff as hell, not unlike certain portions of his anatomy.
Bay was hell bent on escaping what she knew was coming, not that Griff was going to allow that. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the sight of her struggles as her nicely rounded bottom danced against the ever more prominent bulge in his crotch, but then he clamped down on his own desires in the face of what he knew he needed to do.
One big hand spread itself firmly but gently on the small of her back where it had become exposed by her twists and turns and gyrations. It never failed that, wherever he touched her, she tingled and warmed to his hand. “Enough, Bay. I don’t want you hurting yourself trying to stop this. You’ve earned yourself a spanking by your own actions, and I think my belt will make just the right impression.”
Bay swallowed hard.
Keeping the fingertips of one hand still on her back, he took a step back and to the side. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but don’t move. If I have to go running after you, I’ll take you inside and wear your bottom out.”
On second thought, that was probably what he should have done in the first place, considering the temperature, so this was going to have to be quick. But he knew that the belt, as substantial as it was, wouldn’t let her off easy, even if he could only deliver a few strokes. He lifted her up a bit, enough that her feet couldn’t touch the ground, not allowing her even that small defense, then brought her pajama bottoms down to her ankles in one sweeping motion.
The sight of her, bared from the waist in the cool winter air, clinging to the still warm hood of his cruiser, legs dangling, blushing bottom presenting an enticing invitation to him to do with it as he would, made him want to abandon his pursuit immediately and take possession of her in an even more elemental fashion, but he knew he couldn’t. She needed his strength in many ways, and this was just one of them.
The first crack of his belt against her cringing flesh sounded like a gunshot in the stillness of the deep woods. A red squirrel chattered a loud rebuke from the safety of an evergreen as he drew it back and strapped her again.
“Ahuuughhhh!”
He had to give it to her – she hadn’t moved a muscle. “You don’t have to stifle your moans, Bay. I purposely built this house in the middle of the ten acres I own, so no one will hear you being punished.” Griff leaned forward to breathe in her ear, “In another stroke or two, you’re not going to be able to suppress them, anyway.”
Bay almost wailed at that pronouncement, and then did as the third stroke laid a stripe of fire across the fullest crest of her cheeks.
“That’s it,” he praised. “Let it out.”
And she did. Uncontrollably. Violently. Within less than ten strokes he’d reduced her to a sobbing, moaning, begging and pleading mass. He doubled the count quickly, not giving her any amount of time to collect herself between the stark layers of pain. Then he laid the belt next to her head and finished her off with ten full strength swats of the broad flat of his hand.
Bay wasn’t sure which was worse – the belt or his hand. They were both completely unbearable, but there was something almost worse about his hand on her bottom – it was more possessive, more intimate, and, despite the pain – or maybe even because of it – had parts of her she’d rather not consider at this moment literally aching for more of him.
But he disappointed her when he stopped, not bothering to pull up her jammies and hoisted her over his left shoulder in a most unladylike position. “What are you doing?!”
No response. He just continued to walk towards the house, not dignifying any of her protests with a response.
“PUT ME DOWN!” Yelling at him while in her current position probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. It wasn’t as if she was uncomfortable; his shoulders were very broad and he was walking carefully, so as to jar her as little as possible.
But her surly command made him stop in his tracks and deliver ten more swats in complete silence. It wasn’t by accident that he’d left his right hand free for just such a purpose.
“Do you need more?” he growled, managing to control her even when she’d tried – unsuccessfully, of course – to wiggle and jerk herself out of the range of that blasted palm of his.
Her bottom throbbing fit to fall off, Bay sighed and collapsed in surrender – for now - answering meekly, “No, Sir.”
Her reward was five more vicious swats, delivered while he ascended the stairs and headed into the cabin. He didn’t let her down until they were in his big bedroom at the back of the house, where he turned and ratcheted up the head, then deposited her gently on her feet in front of the bed, from whence she’d come.
Griff felt her shiver, wanting to think it was an echo of his own lust, but then he remembered where they were and what she was – or rather wasn’t – wearing. It was January 1st in Maine, and that called for a lot more clothing than she’d decided to put on.
Apparently the blistering he’d given her yesterday hadn’t sunk in much. He didn’t care why she’d come outside dressed like it was the middle of summer. The point was that she’d been careless with her own health. What if she’d accidentally locked the door behind her? She would have been stuck outside in below freezing temperatures, in a pair of ridiculously thin pajamas, no hat, no gloves, and no boots - bunny slippers not withstanding. That thought alone made him want to lay into her bottom again.
Swallowing hard at his look, Bay tried to back away from him but didn’t get very far. The backs of her knees hit the edge of his huge bed and she ended up half falling, half sitting on the edge, unable to contain a yelp when her belted bottom came in contact with even the softness of the downy duvet.
“Stay put.” He surprised her by going to rummage in his bureau after issuing the short command. She had to resist barking back at him, figuring it wouldn’t help her cause any.
It had been a while since he’d seen the heated hunting socks Kit had given him for Christmas a couple of years ago, but he knew they were somewhere at the bottom of the drawer. He returned to her with them and a hand towel, kneeling in front of her and lifting her small, wet bunny foot onto his bent leg and removing the soaked slippers to very carefully dry every inch of each frosted, pink tipped foot, then slip his socks on to make them both toasty warm.
Griff had heard her sigh of delight at their heat. They weren’t the most fashionable of accessories, but they got the job done. He’d never cared that much about that kind of thing, anyway, especially when it came to Bay. He didn’t give a damn what she wore – as long as he could get her out of it easily. He snorted to himself. Anything complicated in her wardrobe was going to become an instant casualty to his lust, he was afraid.
Despite the hot foot he was giving her, and the fact that he’d turned the heat up way past his usual chilly setting, he could see that she was still cold. Within seconds he had her p.j. bottoms up and her settled under the covers, spreading the fluffy down comforter over her and tucking it in around the both of them after he joined her, pulling her tight against him as they lay on their sides. He always ran hot – in more ways than one around her – and he knew he was going to be roasting in just a few minutes. But she needed that warmth right now, and he was determined to give it to her.
He was surprised when she didn’t object when he took her into the arms in that warm cocoon of covers. Instead, she nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder where it fit so perfectly, relaxing completely in a way he hadn’t felt her do before. She let him take care of her, wrapping himself around her and letting his body heat do the rest.
He even managed to refrain from molesting her – at first - although one errant hand did manage to wander down to cup a flaming, striped cheek, squeezing just enough to make her squeak in protest, which he smothered with his mouth. Griff chided himself silently that he should leave her alone and let her get warm, and maybe even fall asleep.
That wasn’t going to happen. His need for her had been too long denied. He knew she hadn’t gotten nearly the amount of sleep she needed last night – due entirely to the fact that, like teenager with his first woman, he simply couldn’t seem to manage to keep his hands to himself. He’d wanted her – needed her – and had held himself in check for so long that, with Bay lying next to him in bed, she’d never be safe from his undying lust. He wasn’t thinking things through too carefully, which was very unlike him. She was here in his bed, and he didn’t want to question his luck, for fear she’d disappear. He was going to lay claim to her, physically, emotionally, psychologically – any way he could in hopes of binding her to him as completely as he’d always felt bound to her.
Consoling himself with the fact that she was no longer shivering, Griff tugged her pajama bottoms down, but only enough to allow his eager hand access to that which it sought – the soft, wet center of her. He dragged the flat of his middle finger through that slick slit, his mind and body nearly exploding at the discovery of just how excited she was already.
Knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer – to his complete embarrassment – he reached down and removed her bottoms entirely, lifting her outside leg over his hip and sliding into her with no preamble beyond a low, guttural groan.
Bay’s eyes closed at his aggressive possession, trying to relax and remind herself and her body that she was made to fit him, and at the same time enjoying the almost painful accommodation. She stifled a chuckle at how much of a slut she became around him the moment he so much as looked at her.
“What?” he asked, his voice hoarse with the effort of holding himself back for her.
Their eyes met in the mid-morning light. “I was just thinking how much of a ho’ I become whenever you’re around.” Bay took a breath and said exactly what was on her mind, hoping he didn’t take offense. “You could do pretty much anything to me and I’d practically come in my pants.”
His eyes widened as his pupils darkened with desire. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, little girl.”
She wanted to snort in derision, but he wasn’t letting her form a coherent thought, pumping slowly, inexorably in and out of her, using his idle – if damp – fingers to tweak a nipple each. “I’m not a little girl.” Somehow, it came out sounding petulant and childish, which was not at all how she’d intended.
In between long, hot kisses, he corrected her firmly as he again took complete possession of her with his body. “From where I stand, you’re little.” She sighed at his double entendre. “And you’re most definitely a girl.”
As if something in him snapped, his arms came around her, palms spreading just above her sensitized bottom, keeping her hips in place as he drove into her uncontrollably. All Bay could do was hold on for dear life, wrapping her arms as far around him as she could as she drown in the sensations he was creating within her.
They held each other long afterwards, as if they couldn’t bear to be parted. It had been so long for them – too long to be willing to let go that quickly.
“You realize I’m never going to let you leave me again,” he whispered raggedly against her ear. “I should never have let you leave in the first place. I should have kept you home with me, barefoot and bare bottomed,” he growled. They were still connected, which was saying something at his age, and he couldn’t keep his hips from arching into her, as if emphasizing his point.
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