Rod of Correction: Taken and Tamed (10 page)

Rod was cursing the fact that they hadn’t mown the lawn today.  Just afterwards, when it was pristine, footprints could be seen easily in the grass, and it wasn’t tall enough for her to have left a more blatant trail.

He curved around to the left until he encountered the fence line, then cleared the perimeter of the property, with six minutes to go till the wooden paddle took over.  He went to the back of the property and began to work back towards the house, systematically clearing each of the obstacles he met.

She wasn’t anywhere to be found.  By the time he got a third of the way up the lawn, the strap was out of the running.  He had to hand it to her; he didn’t know what she was doing, but she was doing something right.  He hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of her yet.

She almost made it, too, but he got her in the wide clearing between the house and the closest outcropping of bushes.  She’d made it that far on pure instincts and adrenaline.  She didn’t see him coming at all, she was so intent on making it up to that star.  He darted up behind her and tackled her, rolling carefully to make sure that he took the brunt of the impact, keeping himself securely wrapped around her until they came to a stop.   He made sure the tumble left her beneath him; he had forgotten about the spanking she was to receive, because all he could think about was getting inside her and marking her as his.

She was still struggling, still resisting him, until he literally had to pin her limbs with his, and even then she continued to fight.  Rod began to wonder if something was wrong until he heard her mumbling angrily under her breath, “Damn it!  I want that blasted get out of spanking free card!”

As much as he desired her at that moment, and he did, he had to chuckle at how competitive she was.  She was down for the count, with a two hundred plus pound man on her, and still she was still trying to grope her way out from under him to get to what she wanted.

In a lightning-bolt flash, he realized he was in love with her, and it scared him moreso than anything else he’d ever faced, because he was sure she didn’t feel the same way about him.  He refused to allow the thought to bloom within him and, instead, shoved it into a dark corner of his mind until he felt ready to deal with it.  Maybe after she said she loved him, or something like that.

Somewhat defeated by his stark realization, despite his still rampant hard-on, he let her go, saying quietly, “Bring me back the paddle.”

Although it was the last thing she wanted, she was a good girl and did as she was told.

Rod got up and brought her to an enormous, nearby old oak tree, pressing her against it.  “Put your arms out and hug the tree, and I don’t want to see your hand leave it, or I’ll start all over.”

Then he began to light her bottom on fire.  She hadn’t noticed it, but the paddle had small holes drilled in it, which cut wind resistance which made each stroke even more powerful.  As strong as he was, he didn’t need the help.

By the time he was through with her, he could see her tears stains on the bark of the tree as he let her step away.

He surprised her by not throwing her to the ground, but rather reaching behind the tree to produce a thick, soft blanket, which he spread out, turning to her afterwards and pulling her into his arms for a hot, wet kiss that ended with him cradling her to the ground, taking excruciating care that she wasn’t even so much as uncomfortable – except for her poor behind.

He wanted to wait, wanted to take it slow, wanted to bring her further along with him, but when the tip of his cock met the entrance to her pussy, he knew she was already there with him.  As he was poised to take her, he whispered raggedly, panting from the effort of holding himself back, “I have
never
wanted any woman as much as I want you right now.”

It was quite a revelation for a man she knew was no saint, but then his cock found its home deep within her, and every coherent thought flew out of her head.  As usual with her, Rod found he couldn’t hold back.  He began mindlessly fucking her, not even sure if this point whether he could stop if he had to, his need was so great, as he took her in the rawest, most primeval sense of the word.

Sunny just hung onto him.  Even though he was taking her harder than any man ever had, he wasn’t hurting her, and she sensed that what she was able to give him was more than the essence of the act.  With each powerful thrust, he brought her closer and closer to her own culmination, as if he was going to force it out of her, but she was almost beyond that now, and just wanted to make him come harder than he ever had in his life, wrapping her arms around those broad shoulders as best she could, throwing her legs around his waist and offering herself up to him, not shrinking from his thrusts but greeting them, opening herself to him completely with no reservations.

The moment he realized what she was doing, Rod lost whatever shreds of control he’d been clinging to, throwing his head back and screaming repeatedly with the force of his release, plunging uncontrollably, until there was nothing left inside him.

Although he hadn’t brought her to that same ecstatic point, Sunny still felt a strong sense of satisfaction.  When he finally regained his senses, the first thing he did was ask her if she was okay.  She was so touched by that that it nearly brought her to tears.

“Yes, Sir, I’m fine.”  As long as you didn’t count her ravaged bottom, she added silently.  Of course, since he’d created it, he wouldn’t.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.  ‘Cause you’re going to have to haul me inside.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk again,” he panted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.  Thank you, Sir.”  She looked around a bit, facetiously.  “I take it you have a crane with which I can lift you?”

She was rewarded by a small smile. 

“Just give me a minute.  I’ll be okay.”

“Take your time.”  To his everlasting surprise and gratitude, she didn’t say another word, merely curled up against his side like they were snuggling in his big bed and waited quietly, only he could see that she was holding herself away from him a bit in a way she hadn’t before.  She was in his arms, yet she was barely touching him, her hands were folded beneath her cheek rather than her cheek on his chest and her arms around him.

He wondered what he’d done wrong, and then he ran the past hour and half over in his mind and he wondered what he could possibly have thought he’d done right.  Let’s see, hunting her like she was an animal, knocking her down, paddling her like a maniac then coming damned close to raping her like a Neanderthal.  Way to make a woman want to spend another weekend – or twelve – with you, stud, he thought.  What kind of a brainless idiot was he?

He knew exactly what kind – the kind that was thinking with his smaller head.  She was certainly going to be gunning for a long term relationship with him now, he snorted to himself.    What had he been thinking with this stupid game, anyway?

He got up and the world swirled around him for a few seconds, then steadied.  He offered her his hand, helping her up and keeping her close to his side as they walked into the house.  “You know, you were damned good for someone who doesn’t hunt.”  He figured a genuine compliment was the least he could do.  “How’d you do it?”  He was more than a little curious.

“Like I’m going to tell you that!” she snorted.  “I fully intend to win, next time,” she said.  Rod was dumbstruck, although he tried not to show it.

Next time?  Had she just mentioned a next time? Nah, he must’ve misheard her.

“What do you call the game, anyway?”

“Huh?”  He still couldn’t wrap his head around the ‘next time’ comment.  He wasn’t prepared to move on from that yet.

“What do you call it – the game?”

“Idiotic?  Ridiculous?  Stupid?  Take your pick.”

Sunny raised her eyebrow at him.  “I was thinking about something a little catchier, like Hide and Spank, or . . .”

He definitely was not into naming whatever it was. He was looking down at her as if she was an alien.

So she decided to change the subject.  “I’m hungry, Sir.”  She opened her mouth and pointed into it vast expanse.  “All of that physical activity – of various kinds – has made me ravenous.  Feed me, Seymour.  You set a high bar at breakfast, you know.  Don’t disappoint me with dinner or I’ll take my toys and go home.”

Still off balance, Rod lumbered into the kitchen and stared into the fridge, but nothing inspired him like it had this morning.

Sunny came up behind him and saw his strangely lost expression and the way he was staring vacantly at the contents of the fridge and said, “Does anyone deliver out here in the boonies?”

That seemed to snap him out of his funk a bit, and he said, “Surprisingly, yes.  There’s a little wrap-place -”

She was already shaking her head.

“No wrap place?  Well, then there’s pizza -”

More vigorous head shaking.

“No pizza.”

“We had it last night,” she pouted.

“Right.”  He thought for a moment, then said, “Ah – Chinese!”

“Is there a good place around?”

He grabbed her against him and sat on a snack bar stool in the kitchen with her on his lap, which seemed to be becoming a habit, with a well worn copy of Liu Chin’s Best Chinese Takeout menu spread out before them like a treasure map.

“What’ll you have?” he asked.

“Egg rolls, won tons, chicken fingers -”

He felt the dom side of him kick in and boot the moody side of him in the ass and out of the way.  “We’ll get the egg rolls and the chicken fingers – egg rolls at least have veggies and chicken is protein, even if it’s battered and deep fried.  But fried won tons have no redeeming social – or nutritional – value.  Pick something with veggies in it, please.”

“Fried rice?”

“We’re getting that anyway because I want it with my kung pao chicken.  Chow mein?  Moo shu?”

“Oh, moo shu for me, please.  Pork, please.”

“Good girl.”

He disappeared into his study and made the call, then locked his phone back up and returned to her side.

“It’ll be a half hour or so.”

Sunny’s lower lip was thrust out so far it practically dragged on the ground.  “I won’t last that long.  I’ll get the vapors,” she put the back of her hand to her forehead and sagged dramatically against him.

He arose and retrieved the small amount of fruit compote that was left, which he fed to her by spoonfuls, but refused to let her eat anything else, especially not the junk food she kept suggesting, reaching under her behind to squeeze one still-very hot cheek in warning.  He heard her teeth snap shut; there was never another word about junk food for the rest of their time together.

They feasted on their delivery food, listening to a mixed-music radio station and talking about everything but work.  Every time she introduced a business subject, he ignored the question and replaced it with one of his own about something more personal, and she got the hint quickly, although she mourned the fact that she had one of the greatest business minds of their time sitting across from her and he refused to talk to her about work!  She longed to pick his brain, but he wouldn’t allow it.

They found they shared a love of travel, although he’d been many more places than she.  She already knew that he could cook – although he had laughed at the idea that she considered what he’d done for breakfast to be cooking – and that she couldn’t, but he didn’t care.  That’s what chefs and restaurants were for.  She didn’t have any family left, and he had two brothers and one sister.  They were very close knit, but the brothers were closest – geographically – and each had kids.  His sister was unmarried and lived several states away.

“I think that was to get away from us older brothers.  We didn’t go very easy on any of her boyfriends.”

“Imagine that,” Sunny said wryly, around a mouthful of moo shu.

“Well, she was our kid sister.  We were all protective of her.”

“Are your brothers both big and alpha, like you?”

He’d never really considered it before, but took a moment then answered, “Yeah, I guess you’d have to say that.”

Sunny snorted.  “I’d have moved to China to get away from you and two more of you, then.  More power to her, I say!”

She wasn’t much into sports – the tennis thing having died a neglectful death – but he liked to watch as well as play sports, especially golf.  She put her hand up to stop him there.  “I know I’m not supposed to make the rules, but I reserve the right to depart and amuse myself elsewhere if you’re going to watch golf.  Might as well watch paint dry.”

Rod chuckled.  “All right, I suppose I can allow you that.”

“I’ve always intended to learn how to play golf, though, but never had the time.  I can putt like a demon on a mini-golf course, though.”

That little tidbit gave him a strained expression.  “They’re not really the same thing . . .”

“Isn’t the goal to get the ball in the hole, so to speak?”

He squeezed her tight.  “It is, but there aren’t any windmills or bridges or clown’s mouths on a real course.”

She hit him for that.  “I
know
that.  But, on a real course, aren’t you supposed to drive the ball as close to the hole as you can, then putt it in from there?”

“Yes,” he agreed with great reluctance.

“Then isn’t putting, putting?”

Rod covered his face with his hand as he shook his head and sighed.  “Someone’s going to have a long road teaching you.”

Sunny caught how he’d said that.  “Someone.”  Not necessarily him.  Since they’d begun this unusual thing – whatever it was – he’d sounded as if he expected it to continue, but now, with that remark, she wondered if he wasn’t trying to back away gracefully.

Eventually, they ended up watching a movie, snuggled together where they usually were with him molesting her lazily, which made him much more interested in her shuddering, sighing and eventually moaning responses than what they were actually watching.  He cupped her breasts, teasing those plump nipples into even further prominence, rubbing and tugging on them rhythmically, one after the other, until he noticed that she – in a manner that he interpreted as subconscious, since her eyes never left the television screen – began to arch her back, pressing her breasts into his hand, silently asking him not to stop.