Dangerous Defiance (16 page)

“I don’t think you’ll need your hotel room tonight,” he said.

“Aida will worry…” she whispered as she lay on the verge of sleep against his chest.

“She’ll be fine.”

Epilogue

Jackson carried the last box of clothes up to his bedroom and set them on the floor next to the others.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Jess stood at the dresser. “I’m unpacking. What does it look like?” she asked, only glancing at him from the corner of one eye.

“That’s my underwear drawer,” he said.

“Oh, I moved your things. You have that one now.”

“That
one
? All the way at the bottom?”

“I have more things than you. Besides, the lingerie is for both of us in a way,” she said, turning to him as she held out a sexy little piece.

“We need bigger furniture,” he said, shaking his head and peeking into another box.

After six months, they had finally decided to move in together. It was ridiculous keeping her apartment when he had a perfectly good house with more than enough space for both of them and bedrooms left over to fill. That last part put a smile on Jackson’s face.

“You’ll need to move some things out of the closet too,” she said.

He glanced over to find a stack of his clothes on the floor of the closet and shook his head.

“Unbelievable,” he said, teasing. He checked his watch. “No more tonight though. It’s almost six.”

She stopped folding and looked at him. His smile widened.

“About that…” she began.

He raised his eyebrows.

“What if someone sees? I mean it’s still kind of light out.” Although it was just them and their ninety-year-old neighbor so it wasn’t really much of a risk.

“Makes it that much more exciting,” he teased.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply, her expression anxious.

“Do you remember how I want you?” he asked.

She nodded. “How could I forget? Naked and bent over,” she said. “Outside.”

His cock was already reacting. “There’s something about a beautiful woman bent over the hood of my car.”

“It better not be just any woman, Sheriff,” she glared.

“Oh no, just you, darlin’. Now get that ass of yours out there. I haven’t spanked you in entirely too long and this one is long overdue.”

* * *

Jess stripped off her clothes and slipped on his robe. It smelled good, like him. She glanced out the window and down the street. The sun was setting but it was still too high for it to be full dark and six o’clock would be here before that.

She headed down the stairs. He had joked once about simply spanking her daily and when she had realized after coming back to New Hope that he meant it, they both decided it just didn’t work. Logistically, it was too difficult. Besides, she did not need to be spanked daily. She’d never sit down.

Instead, they agreed on weekly maintenance sessions. She was still trying to understand it all, trying to decipher her feelings over this whole thing they did. That understanding would come, she knew that, and for now, she enjoyed the dynamic between them even if she did not enjoy the actual moments of spanking. At least not the moments of impact with whatever implement he used, be it his hand, his belt, whatever, coming into contact with her too tender bottom.

Tonight she had had a say in the implement. It both thrilled and frightened her.

She didn’t pass him as she opened the back door and walked outside. She slipped his robe off and set it on the chair there. She was to be completely naked on maintenance nights. Her nipples hardened a little but it wasn’t from cold, it was spring and the weather was already warming up. Gathering her courage, she walked across the back porch and down the stairs. The cruiser was parked where it was usually parked and she went to it, bending over the hood of it, spreading her arms wide and her legs wider. She set her right cheek on the car.

“Settle in, Jess,” she said aloud. This was going to be the longest half hour of her life.

The first minutes were the hardest and she kept shifting her weight, adjusting her position. Jess began to focus on her breath then, trying to take in deeper breaths, extending her exhales even longer. Her attention moved to various parts of her body: the balls of her feet on the driveway, the roughness of the uneven surface, the cool of the car against the fronts of her thighs, her belly, her breasts which were crushed against it. She stretched her arms wider, lifting her hips higher. She stood on the balls of her feet as he had instructed her to, a part of her evening’s ordeal.

He called it maintenance and they had agreed that when she moved in, she would submit herself to weekly sessions which would include spanking, the severity of which depended on any given week, inspection of her body, the thought of which aroused her to no end, and ultimately, sexual release—again, depending on the week. There would also be a period of time prior to his actual participation in the session which would serve to, as Jackson liked to say, get her in the right frame of mind. That was why she stood out here now bent over the hood of his car, ass lifted high, exposed. And she had to admit, it was working because by the time she heard the back door open and Jackson emerged, all she could think about was how wet and hot her pussy felt.

Jackson stood on the porch. The only light was that of the moon and the one by the back door. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt, and he had rolled his sleeves up to his forearms. In one hand he held the cane. Her clit began to throb as she turned her face so she gazed straight ahead, again, as he had instructed beforehand.

They had discussed every detail for a full week before. This was how maintenance spankings would be, he had said. They would talk it over, he would give specific instructions, and she would follow them. Her one request was that the spanking be quiet as they were outside. In order to keep it quiet, she had agreed to take six strokes of the cane. The pain would be intense but in a way, she craved it. She hated it at the moment it was being applied, absolutely hated it, but as soon as she absorbed the stroke, the burn—or perhaps it was her acceptance of it—served a different purpose. She liked the heat of it on her skin, after the fact. She liked to look at the marks on her bottom, but seeing the cane in his hands always managed to get her heart pumping just a beat faster and tonight was no exception. He hadn’t punished her with it though and she knew he struck at a fraction of his strength. One day, she would take the whole of it. One day, but not today.

Jackson walked up behind her without speaking, without touching. He stood there for a time and she imagined him looking at her. She held her hips straight and high, knowing he could see all of her, wanting to offer him all of her.

“Put your finger in your cunt, Jessica.”

He had taken to calling her Jessica during spankings. The tone he took never failed to arouse her. She moved her hand and pressed her middle finger inside herself, her eyes closing as she did. She moved it in and out a few times, the thought that he was watching making her hotter.

“Show me how wet you are.”

She pumped just two more times then pulled her finger out and held it out behind her.

“Dripping,” he said. “Wipe it off and put it back where it was.”

Without looking back, she wiped her finger along the outside of her hip and set it back across the hood of the car.

The next thing she felt was the smooth surface of the long cane along her bottom. He wouldn’t strike yet, he would warn her first. This was just to draw it out. “I believe,” he began, sliding the cane now between her bottom cheeks, slowly dragging it down the length of her as she lifted her hips higher and closed her eyes. “This exercise has put you in the right frame of mind. Are you ready to be caned, Jessica?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered. She had taken to calling him ‘sir’ at these times. It wasn’t his request, but it fit for her and she did it.

“How many was it to be?”

“Six, sir.”

“Good memory,” he said, his hand coming to rub one bottom cheek, then the other. “Just a quick warm up,” he said and without pause, he spanked her bottom—quick, short spanks that surprised more than stung but the sound of which had her eyes wide open, hoping the noise wouldn’t attract attention.

It was over quickly though and soon Jackson took his place behind her and lined up the cane, tapping just lightly against the center of her bottom.

“Legs together now, Jessica.”

“Yes, sir.” She closed her legs but kept her muscles soft.

“Ready?” he asked.

She gripped the edges of the car harder. There were only six. He would make them count. “Yes, sir.”

She knew the whoosh of the cane well and closed her eyes while trying not to clench her bottom cheeks. She had learned the hard way with a piece of ginger up her ass the last time and she did not want a repeat of that if she could help it. The cane struck, spanning the length of her bottom. He held it steady for a moment while an exhale left her and her knuckles grew white from her grip.

“One, sir,” she managed.

Five to go. She would take them without calling out. She had determined that already.

He lined up the next strike, rubbing it against her flesh while her attention was on the tightening welt just below where he planned to place this next stroke. He raised the cane and brought it down. She gasped. The pain settled.

“Two, sir.”

Sweat had broken out over her forehead already and her body felt warm.

“Good girl,” he said.

She liked those words. She didn’t know why but she simply liked those words. They gave her strength as he prepared the next strike at the crease between her bottom and her thighs. This was going to be rough.

Whoosh!

She made some sound but sealed her lips tight, clenching the muscles of her bottom, her thighs. “Three, sir.” This one sounded more desperate than the last but when he lined the next one up higher on her bottom, she knew the worst was yet to come. She shifted her weight and he touched the cane to her feet.

“On the balls of your feet, Jessica.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” She had forgotten for a moment but resumed her position, the heat from each of the previous strikes burning into her so she could trace the landing of each stroke.

He measured again, rubbed the cane against her bottom, then struck.

“Ayy!” Tears squeezed from her eyes and she pulled her torso forward, entertaining the idea of escaping on top of the car for one brief moment. “Four, sir,” she said.

“I’ll wait until you present properly but if I have to ask you to correct your position again, we’ll be adding strokes.”

“Yes, sir.”

She quickly slid back down and lifted her hips high. He lined up the next stroke directly over top of the first. She groaned but grit her teeth, preparing. He brought it down hard or at least it felt harder over her tender, marked spot. Her breath came short as she managed the pain and it took all she had not to reach back and cover herself.

“Five, sir.”

“Last one.”

He lined this one up over the highest stroke. This was going to be the worst of it. He raised the cane and let it fall against her bottom, forcing a cry from her lips on this, the last stroke. She breathed hard and only when she had repositioned herself, did she call out the final count.

“Six, sir. Thank you.”

She held her position while Jackson inspected the marks, the burn of her punishment penetrating deep into her skin. She would feel this for some time.

“Widen your legs and spread your pussy open for me,” he said.

Her breathing was slowing to normal and she repositioned her legs, reaching back with shaky hands to draw her pussy wide for his inspection. She held like that for some time, feeling the wind on her very wet folds, feeling his eyes there. She then heard his zipper and without a word, his cock slid into her pussy and pumped slowly in and out.

But he pulled out too quickly and she groaned when he did. She turned but remembered what they had discussed and faced forward once again, her hands still on her bottom, still spreading her sex wide for him.

“Stay like that, Jessica,” he said. She heard his zipper close. “Just like that.”

Before she could even ask what he was doing, she watched him walk back into the house. She remained as she was, bent over the hood of the car, legs wide, her hands spreading her pussy lips apart, exposing that secret place to the night.

He was back a few moments later. In his hand, he carried a tube she recognized. She found herself swallowing, pulling wider with her fingers, anticipating. Jackson smiled, the front of his pants tight over his thickened cock. He took the cap off the tube and set it on the car. She turned to face forward when she felt him squeeze the stuff onto her back before setting the tube down and unzipping his pants once again.

“Wide open for me,” he said, sliding his cock into her pussy. “That’s it,” he teased, moving slowly inside her. “Spread your arms back out across the car.”

She did as he said, already feeling his fingers dipping into the lubricant and sliding down along her cleft. He would use her back hole tonight. He would fuck her ass. His fingers began to circle that tight ring and she lifted to him, the sensation of his cock moving inside her pussy, of his fingers circling her other hole slowly, softly, knowing that in time, he would be moving inside her, knowing the intensity of the orgasm that would come after her punishment, after the pain of her bottom being penetrated, stretched too wide, fucked.

She moaned and his finger slid in to the hilt.

* * *

Jackson’s cock was throbbing. The look of her like this, bent over, spread wide, her ass striped a hot red, his cock working inside her pussy, his finger filling her little back hole with the lubricant, spreading her, opening her, preparing her to take him. He groaned as her muscles worked around his finger, his cock. He wouldn’t last long at this rate.

He withdrew his cock from her pussy. She knew just what to do when he did and reached back to open herself for him again. She would hold herself like this for him until he was fully seated. But today, he just needed to fuck her. No more ceremony, he simply needed to fuck her.