Page 21 of Something Has To Give

He thought he was being gentle, all things considered, but she must have had a very low pain threshold because he couldn’t have given her more than twenty or so firm swats when she began to sniffle, and then to cry. But it was also right about then that Quint noticed something else: a shimmer of moisturegathering along the crease of her sex, glistening under the overhead lights and growing more pronounced with every spank and subsequent wriggle. She was becoming aroused. Quint didn’t for a second think she was faking her discomfort or tears, but the sight of all that shimmering wetness sent a bolt of answering lust charging straight through to the burning core of him. What he had now went beyond any mere erection. This was something only long years without a woman, and three even longer nights sleeping beside one that was sexy as hell and twice as aggravating, could do to a red-blooded man fresh home from the military.

Her wetness beckoned to him—a hot, winking welcome she tried to lock behind her tensing thighs. He had to touch it, soak his fingers in it, and the next thing either one of them knew, he had tightened his arm around her waist, hauling her not just further over his knee, but wrapping her around his hip while he wrenched his right leg out from under her. He clamped her left leg, the one closest to him, in a scissor hold impossible to escape and shoved the other right off the end of his knee, leaving it free to kick and scramble as she would and opening her right up to the hungry appreciation of his eyes.

“Wh-what—” She stopped with a breathy squeak when he touched her, dipping into that well of liquid heat and filling the air with the heady scent and sound of her arousal. Elsie went stiff as a board. She twisted, trying to see back at him, her eyes huge with the most darling mix of mortification and confusion. “What—” she said again, but never made it any further. Her whole body rippled, shuddering when he slicked down through her folds to find her swelling clit.

“Elsie,” he said huskily. “You have been a bad, bad girl.”

She came, pinned across his knee with her blushing bottom on full display and his fingers stroking lazy circles through the slick heat of her sex. That she had no idea where that orgasm hadeven come from was plain by the abject confusion she wore, even as her small body contorted in tight, little spasms, trying to ride both his fingers and his knee, but that was all right. In this case, he was prepared to be one hell of a thorough teacher.

He began to spank again, faster this time, firm but not hard. She might have asked for hard, but she didn’t need it and he doubted she could take it. And even with only his hand, he still set her bottom on fire. Breathy gasps and squeaks gave way to yelps and cries, and yet he knew it wasn’t all just pain. Her bottom was moving in lusty ways, sometimes struggling to get away, yes, but just as often thrusting back to meet his palm and grinding down on his knee in desperation of another climax.

He never used the hairbrush. He’d save that for another time, when the offense really did warrant something more than just his hand and when there was no pleasure to confuse and diffuse the bite of that particular disciplinary sting. Instead, Quint took her right to the very edge of coming and just as she arched, her whole body tensing on a whole new wave of spasming jerks, he yanked her up off his knee and rolled her down onto her back on the mattress. He thrust his fingers into her, loving the milking sensations of her body trying to pull him deeper, mashing with his palm and rubbing fiercely to make her ride that wave for as long as she possibly could. Until her cries diminished to mews and her clutching, arching motions began to wilt.

He moved between her legs, every nerve in his body pulsing with need. In that moment, he could think of nothing more beautiful than the sight of her, so sated that she glowed from it, could barely move from it.

“Can we please start over now?” she whispered.

Quint shook his head. “To hell with starting over.” He stabbed his fingers through her hair, bringing her mouth right up into his ravenous kiss. He wasn’t gentle when he finally got out of his pants and into her, but then, she absorbed his initial thrustwith little more than an arching moan and arms and legs that wrapped around him, holding him as tight as two people could possibly come. They were practically strangers, but as cliché as it sounded, she absolutely rocked his world.

For the first time since he’d been discharged, Captain Quint Rydecker came home.

Epilogue

December 25th…

It was snowing again, soft and gentle flakes that were building up on the wood panes of the bedroom window. It was the first thing Quint saw when that crummy rooster crowed at the crack of flippin’ dawn on Christmas morning. Chicken ‘N Dumplings. That was that rooster’s name…and future, just as soon as he found his axe and a decent-sized cooking pot.

Closing his eyes, he lay down on the back half of the pillow he and Elsie were sharing. She was snoring softly; he smiled and wrapped his arm that much more securely around her waist. Her curly hair was tickling his chin, but he didn’t care. It felt really good that she was lying here, just like this, a warm little bundle pressed up against his chest with her hot little bottom nestled against his groin, right where it would do them both the most good just as soon as he was awake enough to pay attention.

Yeah, she felt good just like this. She felt like she belonged, in his arms and in his bed. What the future might hold for them was anybody’s guess. It was just too early to tell, but as he heldher, casting his contented sigh softly into her hair, for now it felt like home for them both.

He smiled, pulling her closer.

Merry Christmas to him.

The End