Her Knight In Faded Denim Page 9

  "If you'll trust me, I'll order for us."

  "Okay."

  "Is there anything you won't eat or are allergic to?"

  "Not allergic to, no, but I'm not a fan of anchovies or bok choy."

  "You're not one of those heathen vegans, are you?" He peered at her comically.

  "Hell no. I enjoy meat." She cleared her throat delicately at the double entendre and continued, "Entirely too much."

  "Good. That's another of the ways we're compatible, besides the more intimate ones."

  She blushed and took another sip of champagne.

  "So? That remark?"

  "What remark?" she repeated again, only not quite as innocently, as she reached for a piece of the artisanal bread that the waiter had left in a gorgeous display on their table, along with a hand churned honey butter that she was dying to try.

  His only answer was to pull her even more closely to his side and away from the food. When she turned to him to protest, his lips settled over hers in one of the tenderest kisses that anyone had ever bestowed on her.

  His voice reflected how delicate he had been with her mouth, only the words didn't quite match his tone. "You have exactly five seconds before I bend you over this table and spank you until you give me a straight answer, cherie."

  Dodge watched her eyes widen and heard her breath catch as she stiffened beside him even further when he said softly, "One."

  Rissa began to babble unthinkingly, only hoping that she actually answered his question because she was so flustered that she really couldn't be sure. "I was talking about you scoring points because you apologized to me."

  He had released her as soon as she began to speak to butter the bread she'd selected and hand it to her.

  "And that's unusual?"

  She took an absent bite, nodding vigorously. "Yes. How could you not know that?"

  Dodge chuckled. "I haven't dated very many men, I guess…"

  That sent her into gales of laughter, and he sat back to watch her, enjoying how natural she was. His first impression of her as an air headed city dweller had been wrong, and he was glad that his genitals had required that he get to know her a lot better.

  She was a pistol, but she was his pistol, and he was going to enjoy the hell out of holstering her.

  "You are the least homosexual man I think I've ever met."

  He frowned. "I think I'll take that as a compliment…unless, of course, it's politically incorrect to do so."

  More tinkling laughter as he continued to do everything he could to amuse her throughout the sumptuous meal. He had ordered an appetizer of shrimp cocktail, only one, because he knew that they were positively enormous. So they shared it, and he insisted on feeding her, an idea which he was gratified to see that she simply surrendered herself to.

  Being a gentleman, he took much less for himself than he gave to her, until she refused the last one, claiming she didn't know how she was going to manage to eat the rest of her meal now, she was so full already.

  One of the reasons he had brought her to this particular restaurant, besides the exceptional food – they had a dance floor and a live band playing hits from the forties – some swing, but also romantic ballads like "Sentimental Journey," which was what was playing when he tugged her onto the dance floor and took her in his arms.

  "Won't our dinner get cold?" she asked, gazing longingly back at their booth.

  "No, the staff will accommodate us."

  "But –"

  He tipped her chin up. "But what, baby?"

  She closed her eyes on a full body blush. "But…I don't know how to dance like this," she confessed on a whisper.

  Dodge chuckled and tightened the arm he already had around her waist. "Just follow my lead."

  "What if I step on your feet?"

  His guffaw lightened her heart. "You don't weigh any more than a flea. I can't think I'd even notice."

  He did, just barely, but he never let on, although she was still too stiff and tense in his arms. "Relax and let me guide you, Marissa. I promise you're always safe with me."

  She looked up at him, really looked at him, at the way he was smiling down at her so tenderly and it was as if all of her worries faded away.

  When he finally decided they might want something to eat – after they'd danced beautifully through several songs – she was the one trying to pull him back into her arms for just one more dance.

  But a sharp swat to her rear – that had several of the other, older couples who were dancing around them chuckling – got her going in the right direction.

  Within minutes of them having sat down, their twice baked potatoes were delivered, fragrant with cheese, garlic and onion, along with fresh green beans sautéed with shallots, white wine and pecans, as well as the piece de resistance, a gorgeous chateaubriand, which the waiter efficiently served up for them, then left them to their own appetites.

  Dodge was gratified to see how she dug into her meal instead of picking at it like a lot of women he'd dated did. He fully intended that she was going to need every ounce of energy she could muster later on.

  When they'd both eaten their fill and the dishes had been cleared, the waiter came by with a dessert cart loaded down with tempting pastries, tarts, pies and cakes.

  Since he'd eaten here before, Dodge selected his favorite, which was a sort of a key lime parfait, as if someone had rethought the pie idea and put it into a big parfait glass, complete with chunks of buttery graham cracker crust, smooth key lime custardy pudding and real whipped cream.

  Rissa was overwhelmed by the choices. There was no chocolate cheesecake – the dearth of which she reminded him about, pointing out that she hadn't gotten any of the promised dessert last night, either.

  But she was very happy with her choice, regardless. It was a mile-high mud pie, with chocolate cookie crust liberally slathered with homemade fudge sauce, then layered with a luscious combination of two homemade ice creams – chocolate and coffee – piled literally eight inches high, topped off with another generous layer of fudge sauce. All of this was frozen, the waiter informed them, and then each slice was cut individually, completely smothered in homemade whipped cream, and topped off with shavings of Ghiradelli chocolate.

  Marissa was certain that she was going to die if she attempted to eat even just half of the confection, so she shared liberally with Dodge, and even then, they barely put a dent in it.

  The waiter generously offered to box the dessert up – as well as the remains of the rest of the meal – cautioning that they should go right home and stick it in the freezer.

  Since home was exactly where he intended to take Marissa, Dodge thought it would be a great idea for a midnight snack later.

  When they found themselves at his house, he lifted her out of the truck, as had become his habit, but worked his way around to the trunk, where he'd put their leftovers.

  "Good job! Heaven forbid, you should forget the food!"

  "Exactly – my larder's kind of low at the moment." He detested shopping of any kind and hadn't been able to force himself to restock.

  "Yeah, and you don't know it yet, but I'm an abysmal cook."

  "So?" he asked, setting her down in his kitchen to put away the food. "So am I. That's what restaurants are for."

  Her broad smile had him smiling back at her. "I've always felt really inadequate about that, since Sophie's such a great cook."

  "Yes, but Sophie likes to cook, and you don't?"

  She shrugged. "We grew up poor, you know? And I was always afraid – well, not afraid, like I was going to get beaten – but just worried that I was going to ruin a meal when there's no money in the budget for another, you know?"

  "Well, there's no such pressure here. Feel free to noodle around in the kitchen if you like, but a ruined dinner just means reservations to me."

  He didn't think he'd said anything all that special, but it had her throwing her arms around him and standing on tiptoes to offer her lips to him.

  "Wow. I have no
idea what I said, but if I say it again, do I get kissed again?"

  "Definitely."

  By the time they made it up to his room, Rissa was riding on a cloud and had completely forgotten that there was a less than happy situation that he intended to deal with before he could – would – make love to her.

  But Dodge hadn't, apparently, because instead of following her down onto the bed, as she tried to coax him to, he instead stepped back from her, extending his hand to help her up.

  The reality of the fact that he wasn't going to be distracted from punishing her hit her like a ton of paddles.

  "I don't want to get up," she pouted, refusing to take his hand.

  "No," he corrected sternly. "What you don't want to do is make me lift you to your feet, young lady."

  Rissa was standing before he finished the sentence, although she still chose to eschew his assistance in doing so, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest, her face set in what looked like a permanent frown.

  He undressed her quickly and efficiently, doing his best not to allow her nakedness to affect him. Then he realized it was way too early in their relationship for him to test himself like that, so he tugged one of his uniform t-shirts over her head, and although it was ridiculously large for her, she filled it out in a way he certainly never could.

  Rissa, though, was busily watching his determined expression, looking for a way to entice him out of doing what he intended, even though he didn't seem in the least enticable at the moment.

  "I suppose begging for mercy is out," she threw out, only half kidding.

  Dodge stopped in the act of putting his tie away and turned back to where she was standing quite forlornly at the end of the bed, hugging herself like a lost child.

  He caught her around the waist and looked down at her with a serious expression. "It would hardly be merciful of me to allow you to go on thinking that I don't care enough about you to correct your behavior, now, would it? Consistent strictness, and strict consistency, I always say."

  "Yeah, you would say that, wouldn't you?" she replied dourly.

  Chapter 8

  She got a couple of good wallops for that sarcastic remark, even before her punishment started.

  There was something very not right about getting a spanking before getting a spanking, but she was quite sure – even after having only known him for such a short time – that he wouldn't agree with her stance in the least.

  Especially since, within the next few minutes, while her butt was still pre-sensitized by the swats she'd already earned from her acidic tongue, she found herself over his lap as he sat on the end of the bed. Only he didn't allow her to stretch her legs out onto the bed itself. No, he considered that to be too much of a temptation for her to kick up at his hands – and kicking had already gotten her into this situation once before. He wasn't going to be any more tolerant of it while she was being spanked.

  But just in case the temptation was too great, he had already decided to scissor her between his legs, with her over one of his legs, and one long appendage over her smaller ones, effectively pinning her onto his lap.

  "Now, you're getting two spankings tonight because I don't like to let things go very long before they're addressed. First I'm going to give you your spanking for leaving me yesterday morning without so much as a peck on the cheek, as if you thought you needed to run away from me for some reason that I'll never fathom."

  He was hitting just a bit too close to home for her comfort. How did that man manage to read her mind so frighteningly well?

  "And I aim to discourage such behavior as completely as I do unsafe behavior. I want you running towards me, young lady, not away from me."

  Although what he'd said warmed her heart, it wasn't her heart she was concerned about in the least, especially once he started spanking. It hadn't really registered with her that she'd been completely robbed of the ability to kick her heels up in protest until that's what she absolutely had to do and couldn't. All she could do was lie there, sob and cry wildly, and be spanked most thoroughly and painfully.

  There was no lecture this time, either, nothing at all to distract her in any way from the discomfort he was creating, forcing her to face it baldly.

  Just when she would begin to think that he was easing up some and going to stop, he'd start right in again, covering the same area four and five times, at least. No until she stopped attempting to get away from the swats and found she only had the energy to react when the flat of his palm caught her devastated backside, did it end.

  And when he finally did stop, he didn't give her any time to think or recover or try to collect her wits. Instead, she found herself over a pillow at the end of the tall bed, which she knew was going to throw her already too rounded bottom – as far as she was concerned – into even further prominence.

  And that was when she heard the tinkling of a belt buckle as he retrieved one from his closet. Continuing from where he'd left off with his explanation of what he was doing and why he was doing it, he said, "And that leads me right into the spanking you're owed for not being better prepared for anything while you're driving on Maine roads." He came to stand next to where he had positioned her, placing a big hand on the small of her back. "And if I check your car again – which you know that I will – and the things I mentioned aren't there, you're going to get it twice as bad every day, until they are. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

  "Yeeeesssss," Marissa wailed, already concerned because she knew she was never going to remember everything that was on that enormous list of his.

  "I should have spanked you the day it happened, regardless, but I didn't want to offend Sonny. Of course, you realize that those particular gloves are off now…"

  His only answer was her heartfelt sob.

  "It's going to be less of a spanking than it will be if I ever catch you driving around like that again, because, at the time, you weren't mine."

  Although she loved the thought of being his, at times like this, she wasn't so keen on the consequences therein.

  Why she decided she had to crane her head around so that she could see the implement he was going to use, she would never know. It certainly wasn't the smartest impulse she'd ever had, especially once she saw how thick and stiff the belt was, much more so than any dress belt. It looked much more like something a cowboy would wear with a big old silver buckle.

  The sight of it set her to wailing even louder than she had been when he was spanking her, until Dodge put his fingertips to her well-roasted bottom and said, "Quiet, Marissa."

  She was barely able get herself under control, but managed, somehow. Lord knew she didn't want to earn yet another punishment.

  "I know this won't be easy for you, but I'm not going to hold you down in any way. The spanking you just got was for leaving me yesterday morning. The belting is for being so unsafe, and blatantly disregarding my recommendations about what you needed to have on hand." He let the folded end of the belt hang down onto her bottom, making her flinch just a bit. "I'm not going to tie or hold you down because submitting to this punishment without that will demonstrate to me that you realize you were wrong and that you willingly submit to my discipline."

  And with that, it began, with a searing, stinging swatch across her bottom that had her screaming uncontrollably, for the first time in her life.

  She made as if to get up immediately, of course, but those fingertips on her back reminded her. "If your feet touch the floor at any time during this, sweetie, I'm sorry, but I'm going to start again. I want you to stay in place."

  Her second taste of his belt caught her right where cheek met thigh on both legs at once, the tip of the belt snapping cruelly at the bottom of her right cheek. Howling was highly undignified, but Marissa didn't feel like she had any control over her response whatsoever. The biggest thing on her mind – after the horrible fires he was lighting in her backside – was to do her best to stay in place. She'd never live through the promised repeat of this performance if she didn't,
she was quite sure.

  Dodge had put her into one of his big t-shirts, loving the way it looked on her, coming, as it did, to well below her bottom. But it was absolutely no help to her, as he'd long since gathered it up above the beginning swell of her nates, tucking the excess under her. And that was where she'd tucked her own arms, hugging herself for comfort, yes, but also better able to keep them from levering her off the bed entirely.

  He had arranged her so that she was angled just perfectly, not likely to slide onto the floor or even enough that her toes would touch down as she kicked enthusiastically, not that it did her one iota of good. And he was expert enough that the stripes landed exactly where he wanted them to – not too low, not too high, and covering a lot of the same territory multiple times, until he could see the abstract pattern of angry wheals left, from mid bottom to mid thigh, on what had been that pristine, creamy skin of hers.

  When he finally dropped that horrible implement to the floor, Dodge joined her on the bed, pulling her up to the pillows and into his arms, burying his face against her neck. "Promise me you'll do as I say, Marissa," he whispered hoarsely against her skin.

  She nodded, because words were still well beyond her.

  He seemed satisfied at that, though, kissing her as if she meant the world to him, murmuring softly as he divested her of the t-shirt and made his way from her mouth to her nipples, suckling avidly at peaks that had hardened long before he got to them, he realized.

  Then he turned on his side, his head supported by one hand as he allowed the other to drift down her body until it claimed what it sought, although Rissa didn't seem too enthusiastic about granting him access to her secrets just now.

  Four swift, cracking smacks to the fronts of her thighs had her reconsidering her stance, though, and he could see that she wasn't at all sure which way to turn, since now she had fierce stinging on both her front and her backside.

  "Open."

  One word, calmly and sternly said.