Unexpected Consequences (12 page)

She smiled. “We’ve been married ten years now. I respect Ed so much for having the guts to take a stand and not give in to me. Besides making our marriage operate more smoothly, having Ed as the head of the household, the leader, makes me feel protected.”

“You don’t ever want to rebel?” Emma asked. Melania arched her eyebrows. Emma’s question was one that had weighed on Melania’s mind too, but it surprised Melania that the younger woman would ask it since she wanted a domestic discipline marriage. But she could understand ambivalence—boy, could she understand ambivalence.

The other women at the table laughed and nodded. “Of course,” Jonée answered. “Old habits die hard, and it’s only human to want the easy way out. But Ed won’t permit it. And I respect that.”

The conversation shifted, with the women recalling their memorable spankings. They spoke fondly and with humor, adding to Melania’s amazement. Only she and Emma had no stories to share. Melania had no desire to revisit her close encounter of the discipline kind, let alone share details.

Melania’s tablemates continued to chat through a lunch of Caesar salads with grilled chicken. As a dessert of chocolate mousse was being served, the president of the Auxiliary took the dais, and conversation ceased. The president welcomed the new members, encouraged them to get involved with the Society and Auxiliary activities, and had each of them stand to introduce herself. Melania counted twenty-five newbies, mostly in their twenties but several in their thirties and forties. Normal-looking women, all of them.

The president introduced the keynote speaker, who talked about how to achieve balance in life. The women in the audience seemed to appreciate it, but Melania couldn’t concentrate on the speech. She thought of Jonée, who embraced domestic discipline after one failed marriage, of Liz’s and Candi’s commitment to the practice, and of Emma, who’d probably never been spanked but thought she wanted to be. Melania wanted to warn her to be careful what she wished for, because she might get it.

Melania surveyed the women at her table and the others in the room. Lawyers. A judge. Nurses. Teachers. Career women and homemakers. Single women and mothers. Smart, sexy, self-assured, poised, humble. Seemingly
ordinary
women. She couldn’t get over how so many embraced domestic discipline, raved about it, credited it with improving their marriages. Could so many women be wrong?

Chapter Eight

Chocolate chip cookies were baking in the oven as Melania tidied the kitchen. If she had a lot of dirty dishes to do, she used the dishwasher, but when there were only a few like now, she appreciated the simple task of washing by hand. Baking and cleaning usually calmed her, but not today. Operating on autopilot, she found her thoughts flew at Mach speed. She couldn’t let go of what she’d heard and experienced at the meeting. Like some amusement park Tilt-a-Whirl, her emotions careened from one extreme to the other.

She was wiping the counter when two strong hands slipped under her skirt and seized her butt cheeks. Melania shrieked. A male voice laughed, and the hard body that belonged to the voice pinned her against the lower kitchen cabinet.

“Jared!” She squirmed. “You scared me.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I love a woman in a thong. You have the most delectable ass, do you know that?” He cupped and stroked the curves of which he spoke so highly.

As if under a magician’s spell, her roiling thoughts and emotions quieted, and she relaxed under his hands.

“How was the meeting?” He nibbled on her earlobe.

“Good,” she said. “I met a lot of nice people. It was interesting. I had no idea there were so many spanked wives.” She’d had no idea she’d one day be one of them.

“I know you were…shocked by the spanking.” Jared’s caress of her bottom paused.

“I’m okay,” she said. She was because his hands on her ass were arousing sensations completely different from the ones the spanking had inflicted.

“We haven’t talked about the other night,” he said. “I figured you needed some space to process what happened. I hoped if you attended the meeting and talked to wives who experienced discipline, it would be a comfort to you. I don’t want you to think I’m an ogre because I spank you.”

Her stomach clenched at the mention of the dreaded
S
word, but she turned her head around and met his gaze. “Jared! I’d never think that. Never.” She shook her head.

“That makes me feel better.” He squeezed her bottom, then moved his hands up, around, and over her breasts. He unhooked her corset top and pulled it off her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Melania whispered. The kitchen window had no blinds. Although a tall, thick hedge shielded their house from curious eyes, she still felt uneasy.

The hooks on her bra released under Jared’s expert fingers. Despite her exposure, a quickening of desire stirred in her stomach.

She relaxed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Jared, it’s the middle of the day. I’m standing in front of the window,” Melania protested weakly as her inhibitions slipped away with her clothing. Jared only had to touch her, and she softened into putty, his to mold as he wished. She arched, pressing her breasts into his palms. He leisurely rolled her nipples between his fingers, squeezing and tugging. Melania closed her eyes, letting his fingers work their erotic magic. As her nipples grew tighter and harder, an electric current of desire sizzled from the tips into her core. The folds between her legs swelled, her pussy preparing for him with a release of moisture.

Dimly she heard the oven timer ding, signaling the cookies were done.

“Jared…cookies…somebody…will see,” she murmured, feeling her sanity melt like chocolate chips in the oven.

“Nobody can see.” His breath blew hot against her ear. “We don’t have any close neighbors.” He laid waste to her modesty, continuing to tug on her nipples, elongating them to hard, red, aching beads. A pinch of pain and her responsive pussy pulsed in yearning.

She leaned into him. His erection, as rigid and thick as a length of pipe, nestled between the cheeks of her bottom as if it belonged there. She thought perhaps it did.

She knew where else it belonged and wiggled.

Jared pinched her nipple hard. “Hussy.”

She giggled and opened her eyes. “I am what you made me. I was an innocent, remember?”

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing innocent about what you do to me.” Jared chuckled, a rich, low rumble that lit a fire in her belly. It wasn’t only this man’s touch that aroused her, but the sound of his voice, his smell. Everything.

Jared moved his teasing hands under her skirt and stripped off her thong. Eagerly she stepped out of the scrap of fabric. He turned her to face him, then lifted her easily, plopped her bottom on the counter, and balanced her on the narrow ledge of granite in front of the sink.

She squealed. “It’s cold.”

“I’m hot,” he said. “Hot for you.” The carnal glow in his gaze made her heart race. Jared bent his head and captured a nipple in his mouth. His shadowed jaw scraped her skin, igniting delicious tingles. He drew on the bud deep and hard as he shoved her skirt up and found the wetness of her sex with his fingers. She spread her legs with a sigh of satisfaction.

He bit into her nipple and tugged. Then he teased the other with his mouth to the same length and aching need. Melania moaned. She wound her fingers in his hair, holding his head against her.

Pressure pervaded as Jared pushed two fingers into her channel. Her muscles clamped around him, wanting more. He gave it to her, working a third finger inside, and Melania whimpered at the pleasure of it. He circled her clit with his thumb, driving her wild, decimating any remnants of reservation. She arched her back and surrendered to the sensations, no longer caring that she was in the kitchen, perched in front of her window, the faucet poking her back. She smelled her need, hot and musky, a primal scent of sex, as Jared’s hand grew slick with her juices. Lewd sex noises filled the kitchen—her low whimpers, his fingers squishing in her creaming pussy, his mouth suckling hard at her breast.

Then his magic fingers were gone; his wonderful mouth was gone.

Panicked, she sought his gaze.

His eyes glittered with carnal intent, and he undid his belt and pants. Not bothering to remove his clothing, he shoved his trousers and shorts down. His beautiful cock sprang up, rigid and ready, the crown glistening. Melania’s mouth went dry, and her heart beat a frantic rhythm. Delicious anticipation skittered through her.

In one scoop, Jared pulled her off the counter and impaled her. She jerked in his arms at the familiar burn of tissues stretching to accommodate his girth. How could pain feel so delicious? Moaning in delight, she wrapped her legs around him.

He thrust into her, his fingers biting into her bottom, using his strength to raise and lower her on his cock. She couldn’t discern if he was thrusting or if she was. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating pleasure of having his cock stretching her, thrusting inside her. The hood of her clit was pulled back, exposing the engorged bud to the tormenting friction. The need for release, a release only her husband could give her, wound her into a tight spiral of tension. She clung to Jared, moving with desperation.

“Tell me what you need,” his guttural voice commanded. “Tell me, Melania.”

“I need you,” she moaned, resisting. She knew full well what he meant, and his demand caused a flood of embarrassment to heat her face even as new wetness drenched her pussy.

He shook his head. “Tell me. Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Please, Jared.” She dropped her back and bared her neck.

“Please what?” He nipped the sensitive skin she’d exposed. He slowed his thrusts to a tormenting slide, denying her the satisfaction she craved.

He bit her again, and the words he’d commanded, that she wanted to say, tumbled out. “Fuck me, Jared. Fuck me with your cock—hard.”

“Ah, Melania,” he groaned. The grip of his fingers bruised her ass cheeks as he drove into her, a man possessed. He pistoned his cock into her sex so forcefully, she half expected actual flames to ignite. Her nostrils flared, and she even imagined she smelled smoke. Knowing he needed her as much as she needed him pierced the sexual haze that fogged her mind, but she jettisoned it, unwilling to think about anything but her body’s demand for satisfaction.

He crushed her lips with his mouth, kissing her fiercely, muffling her tortured moans before moving to her ear. “Mine. Melania. Mine.” Jared punctuated each growled word with a hard thrust.

She gasped as the tension in her clit swelled to a crescendo and detonated in a searing orgasmic fireball. Stars exploded behind her eyes as her muscles went into rigor. Her clit spasmed in painful pleasure as her pussy contracted around Jared’s cock. His body tensed, his cock convulsed, and he came with a roar.

Together they tumbled in a freefall of orgasmic bliss—then crashed to a hard stop as an ear-piercing shriek sliced the air. Jared jerked, and Melania cried out.

“What the fuck—” Jared clasped her protectively against him. He turned his head. “It’s the smoke alarm,” he shouted above the wailing siren at the same time she spotted the gray cloud floating over their heads. She hadn’t imagined the odor of something burning; it was real.

She stared at the smoke streaming out of the oven. “It’s the cookies,” she yelled.

They disengaged, and Jared set her on her feet. He ripped off his shirt and fanned the wailing smoke alarm as Melania dashed to the stove, turned it off, and turned on the fan. She yanked open the window that only moments before had framed their carnal exhibition.

With a potholder, she extracted a tray of charred, smoking blobs from the oven and tossed it in the sink.

The alarm shut off. Blessed silence filled the kitchen. For a long moment they stared at each other.

Jared had pulled up his briefs and trousers, but his pants were still unbuttoned, and his hair stood at all angles. She still wore her skirt, but she was naked from the waist up. The kitchen smelled of sex and burned cookies.

A giggle erupted from her throat. “That was quite a climax. We set off the smoke alarm.”

Jared’s gaze shifted pointedly from the trace of haze hovering over their heads to the tray in the sink. “You think it’s funny?” He regarded her with narrowed eyes. “The cookies have been ruined. The kitchen reeks of smoke.” He stepped toward her. “Leaving food unattended in the oven is dangerous. I’m very disappointed in you. I think I need to teach you a lesson,” his gravelly voice scolded.

She sucked in a shocked breath, her body tensing until she noticed the teasing glint in his eyes, the quirk of his lips. Jared was trying hard not to laugh. His displeasure was all a put-on.

A different kind of flutter shivered through her. With the wisdom of feminine intuition, Melania knew how to goad him. She wanted to push his buttons in a way that only a wife could. Hands on her hips, she struck a defiant pose. “You distracted me, Jared Traynor. I told you the cookies were done. This is
your
fault.”

“My fault, is it?” Six feet of masculine menace, he padded toward her and stopped an arm’s length away. “So, first you burn the cookies, and now you’re refusing to take responsibility?” He shook his head in mock regret. “You’re a naughty girl. You leave me no choice but to punish you. Severely.”

He gestured toward the dishes and utensils she’d left to dry in the rack. “Is that the wooden spoon you used to make the cookies you let burn?”

“Y-yes.” A warm, liquid sensation curled in the pit of her stomach. Her clit, which should have been immune to stimulation, pulsed. She couldn’t believe she was becoming even the slightest bit aroused by the threat of a spanking. Even a pretend one.

“Give it to me.” He stuck out his hand.

“No.” She stomped her foot and watched lust light up his gaze. Her pussy clenched with an answering need.

“I’m going to spank you extra for that.” Jared’s eyes flashed wickedly.

Melania’s breath was coming in shallow gasps. She flattened her palm against her naked chest to calm her racing, wayward heart.

Before she could blink, Jared lunged and grabbed the spoon out of the rack with one hand and her wrist in the other. As he dragged her toward a counter barstool, she dug in her heels, but her sandaled feet had little traction, and she slid across the tiled floor. He sat down and hauled her over his lap, then flipped her skirt over her waist.