Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (59 page)

Trudy was such a warm and loving person, all their friends called her Mom, but it set Ariel’s teeth on edge when Sienna did it.

Please, god. Not Sienna. Anybody but Sienna
.

Hunter watched them go and then turned to Ariel. His caramel eyes, flecked with emerald, changed color with his moods. More brown when he was calm, more greenish when his emotions were stirred. If anyone would know, she would. She’d spent hours studying him, recording every nuance in her teenage diary. Perhaps only Jane Goodall who’d studied chimpanzees in Africa had logged more hours of observation.

“So, how have you been?” He cupped her elbow and drew her into the living room, away from the foyer. He smelled so good, and his touch burned her skin even after he’d released her.

I’m so pathetic.
But how could anyone resist him? As a teenager, Hunter been handsome. As a man, he was sex on two legs. His features had matured and hardened. The lines fanning out from his eyes, the determination in his jaw, the darkness no amount of shaving could eliminate, caused her panties to dampen. “Fine. Busy. How about you?” she replied, proud of her steady, level voice.

“Good.”

“Good.” Good that he was good. They sounded like two strangers who’d met at a bus stop. Would they discuss the weather next?

Looks like rain.

Good,
we need it. She almost choked.

“You here by yourself?” He glanced around the room.

Twist the knife, why don’t you?
“Yes, just me.”

“I heard through the grapevine you were seeing somebody. Mike...”

“Mark,” she corrected. “We broke up.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “My decision.”

“Really? Why?”

Because he wasn’t you
. She dated, had had a couple of extended relationships, but every guy shared the same deal-breaker personality flaw. They weren’t
him
. Nice guys all. Boring, but decent, and they deserved better than a woman who craved what she couldn’t have.

She couldn’t look at him, turned her head to focus on the living room sofa.

Thwack! Ow! Ow! I promise I won’t do that again.

The first life-altering moment had occurred when her dad had married Trudy; the second had happened on that couch, currently occupied by two cousins and an aunt.

Hunter had lived at home during college. One night during his last year of engineering school, Ariel and Reagan had been invited to a sleepover while their parents were away. Ariel hadn’t been feeling well, so their friend’s mother had driven her home.

A slapping noise and a cry had led her to tiptoe to the living room to investigate. On that sofa, Hunter had been spanking his girlfriend du jour. Her bottom had been
bare
, her jeans and panties around her knees; his hand had been broad, fast, as it rained slaps against her exposed backside. What had struck her most, though, was his expression. Determined. Stern. Scary,
sexy
.

Adolescent concepts of romance had evaporated, and, deep in her core, heat ignited, melting her from the inside out. Jealousy and longing for things she’d never considered, never knew existed, flooded her body. She’d spied on the entire spanking and its aftermath, when he’d cradled his weeping girlfriend and murmured sweet nothings. When they began to kiss, she’d slipped away, unable to watch that.

The incident had given birth to new fantasies that tormented her nights and colored them rosy and wanton. In her imaginings, with her hand inside her panties, she was the one writhing on his lap, being chided for being disrespectful, naughty.
Yes, Hunter, I’m soooo naughty.

“It’s personal,” she said, unwilling to discuss her love life or lack thereof. She didn’t ask him about Sienna, didn’t want to know if they were back together, if he took down her panties and spanked her.

Red and white helium-filled balloons floated around the living room, further decorated with hearts. A huge bouquet of red roses, a gift from Jake to Trudy, rested on the coffee table and perfumed the air. So romantic.

Be My Valentine
. She’d slipped a card under Hunter’s bedroom door the first year they became a family, and he’d given her one in return. A bear hugging a heart.
I wuv you beary much
.

She had to get over him. She couldn’t spend her life pining away, avoiding her family for fear she’d see him. Maybe it would be better if he did marry. Maybe that would hammer through her thick head and aching heart that She. Did. Not. Have. A. Future. With. Him.

“It usually is. Personal, I mean,” he said. “I’m glad you came. I hoped I’d see you. I skipped another party to be here.”

Her stomach fluttered with the surge of pleasure she always got at the slightest bit of attention.
He’s being nice
.
Brotherly
. “I’m honored,” she responded with the right amount of coolness and snark. She patted herself on the back for a great achievement. “What was your other party?”

For a moment, she thought she saw discomfort flit across his face, but then his gaze bored into hers, as bold as ever. “A Valentine’s Day dance for an organization I belong to—the Rod and Cane Society.”

“Is it like a fin and feather club?” Hunter had always been athletic, had played football in high school, but he’d gravitated toward outdoor sports like fishing, hiking, and camping.

“It’s a...leadership organization for men who practice domestic—”

“There you are!” Reagan ran over and grabbed her. “Mom said you’d arrived.”

Ariel hugged her sister with genuine, uncomplicated affection. Their relationship had always been close,
easy
. “Where are the rug rats tonight?” she asked. Only a year older, Reagan had been married for four years and had three children, a set of toddler twin boys and a baby girl one year old.

“Home with the sitter. I’ve already checked on them three times. Drew says if I call again, he’ll confiscate my cell phone.”

“You can use mine.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Reagan grinned.

“Like old times,” Ariel responded with a smile. She and her stepsister had been co-conspirators in many adolescent hijinks. Reagan had been the ringleader, Ariel her eager accomplice.

Reagan turned to Hunter. “Mom told me you have big news.” She arched her eyebrows. “Well?”

“You’ll have to wait with everyone else.”

“You! You’re worse than Drew.” Reagan scowled.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you go torment that hapless husband you managed to harpoon?”

“You want me to leave. I can take a hint,” Reagan said.

“Not easily.” Hunter snorted.

“I need to finish in the kitchen, help Mom put out the rest of the food anyway.”

“Oh, I can help,” Ariel said, feeling guilty. She should have been assisting, too.

“That’s all right,” Reagan said. “We’ve got more than enough hands. Aunt Zoe and Aunt Cindy are there.” She made a face behind Hunter’s back. “And Sienna.” As quickly as she’d swept in, she whirled away, leaving Ariel alone with Hunter.

They exchanged a glance of amusement. Reagan had always been a whirling dervish who tested the boundaries. Quiet, reserved Ariel had followed along, covered for her.
I’m almost sure I heard her come in before curfew, Dad.

Hunter’s gaze turned serious. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you?”

“About my big announcement.”

It probably involved his work. Just because she didn’t visit as often as she should, didn’t mean she was disconnected from the grapevine. Hunter had talked about opening his own engineering firm for ages.

Ariel shook her head. “No. It’s your announcement. I’ll let you share it your way.”

A glint of approval lit his eyes. Damn it all. That’s all it took to melt her insides. One glance. One gesture. A casual compliment.

And then, without warning, without reason, he reached for her hand. From the sparks that ignited, it appeared her nervous system was shorting out. He stroked the top with his thumb, and she gaped. “About what I was saying earlier,” Hunter began. “About the Rod and Cane Society. They’re an organization for men—and women—who practice domestic discipline.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Her heart pounded, and his scent, warm leather and masculine man, filled her head and disrupted her concentration. People would get the wrong impression; they would talk. She freed her hand from his grasp.

This
was why she avoided family gatherings. Because of moments like this, moments that would send her to her lonely apartment aching and yearning. She’d go back to her annoying job, her empty life, and Hunter would return to...Sienna. Were they living together? The grapevine hadn’t filled her in on that.

Her knees shook.
Don’t think about it.

“It’s a practice I’ve always been drawn to and have embraced as a lifestyle in recent years.” He stopped and glanced around the crowded room, and she became aware of the noise. Multiple people talked and laughed at once. He sighed. “I’d like to sit down with you, but this isn’t the place or time. Could we have coffee or meet for a drink?”

It sounded almost like a...a...
date
. The knife twisted, and pain rampaged through her body. The similarities to a date were there, but that’s all there was. No way could she sit across from Hunter and chitchat.

Yet, she yearned to accept. His wish was her command. Her reaction was simplicity itself, except for the complicated knots in her stomach, the way she would feel after they parted.

What do I do? What do I say?

“Hey, you two!” Sienna slithered over and slipped her arm through the crook of Hunter’s elbow. Hands off, he’s mine, hard eyes warned. “Mom says dinner will be served soon,” she said, as if she belonged here, as if Ariel intruded. A ginormous diamond caught the light and sparkled on Sienna’s right hand.

I shouldn’t have come.
“I’ll go check on things in the kitchen then.” She fled for safety.

“Ariel!” Hunter’s commanding tone stopped her. She peered over her shoulder. Frustration and an odd sort of heat lit his gaze. “Think about what I said.”

Damn him! She would think about nothing else.

“What did you say?” Sienna’s sharp voice cut through the din.

The noise, however, drowned out his rumbling response.

Chapter Two

––––––––

“T
hat’s between Ariel and me.” Hunter removed Sienna’s diamond-decorated hand from his arm. She’d kept the ring from a recent broken engagement. Her former fiancé who’d dodged the bullet probably considered it a small price to pay for his freedom. Hunter didn’t want to be rude, but from the moment he’d entered his parents’ home, Sienna had stuck to him like glue. How had she managed to finagle her way into the party?

Many years ago, they’d dated for a while and fucked a few times, but the relationship had gone no further. Somehow, though, she’d always managed to attach herself to one of his buddies during high school so that she’d been a regular visitor in the Peyton home. Not that it had done her any good. Sienna of the unnaturally flashy red hair, stiletto shoes, daggered fingernails, and even sharper personality wasn’t his type. He knew she didn’t consider him her type either, but she hated to lose.

The sweet, submissive little brunette hightailing it into the kitchen was his type. His
step
sister. Emphasis on the step. The parents had put so much emphasis on
family
, it had taken him a while to accept she wasn’t his real sister and to permit himself free rein to the feelings he’d suppressed.

“Excuse me,” he said, and charged toward the kitchen.

The Rod and Cane Society had helped him get his head on straight. The organization of domestic discipline practitioners, which emphasized traditional roles for men and women, had made him see he needed to
step
it up with Ariel and take the lead. He loved her, he desired her, and he longed for nothing more than to get her into his bed and bottom-side-up over his lap for the rest of their lives.

Before she’d begun hiding her longing, her infatuation had been expressed openly and honestly in every glance and gesture. As a stupid kid, he’d been flattered, had found it cute, but had taken it for granted.

Sublimating his feelings by dating and fucking other women hadn’t worked. Even after he’d come to grips with his emotions, the anticipated reaction of their parents held him back—as did Ariel herself. She’d crushed on him for so long. What if he’d become a “habit”? Could puppy love mature into something enduring?

Then his mother scared the crap out him by mentioning how Ariel was hot and heavy dating a Mark somebody.
I think it might be serious
, she’d said.

What if he’d waited too long? His knees had gone weak with relief when Ariel said the relationship had ended. He’d told her he was sorry, but he wasn’t in the least.
Yes!
he’d almost shouted.

He’d pegged Ariel as a submissive to his Dominant years ago from the way she automatically obeyed his simple requests, responded to nuances in his moods. She would thrive under guidance and leadership, but would she embrace the spanking aspect? Some of his girlfriends hadn’t been able to. Sienna damn sure wouldn’t. Ironic that the one person who deserved a butt-blistering more than any other was the one he least wanted to spank. He’d fucked Sienna a time or two, but hadn’t ever spanked her.

He found Ariel talking to one of the aunts who was slicing baguettes. For the kind of discussion they needed to have, he required Ariel’s undivided attention. He squeezed through the kitchen—why did people always end up there?—and entered the den. Tables with red cloths decorated with small bouquets of scarlet roses had been set up. A valentine had been placed at each setting.

“Okay, everybody! We’re ready,” his mom called out. “The food is set up buffet style in the dining room. Grab a plate, serve yourself, and then find your name card in the family room.”

Hunter glanced at the nearest table and saw that the valentines had names written on them in his mother’s handwriting. Ariel was seated at a table with Reagan and her husband. He’d been placed with their parents—and Sienna.
Mom, how could you?
He stifled a groan and glanced around. People were lining up for their food; no one was paying attention. He could switch the cards and seat himself next to Ariel and stick Sienna with Reagan. His sister wouldn’t thank him; she and Sienna had never gotten along. Also, it might upset his mother who wouldn’t like him messing with her arrangement. Reagan and Ariel had probably asked to sit together.