The Alexandra Series (47 page)

When the fire in the fireplace finally died away, and the Lodge cooled down, Reggie pulled a soft wool blanket over them to keep them warm.

There they slept.

***

There was a fresh morning sun coming through the east window, and a sparkling fresh winter cold outside when Reggie woke. There was no Jocelyn beside him, but there was the distinct smell of coffee in the air.

Rising, with no wearable clothes, his strewn about the floor, he made his way to the downstairs bath and found a robe hanging in a closet. Making his way in the direction of the delicious smells of breakfast, he found Jocelyn in the kitchen, wearing just a white T-shirt and a pair of big shaggy slippers.

“You like your eggs scrambled?” she asked.

“Fine,” he answered, as he looked at her breasts pressing against the front of her T-shirt, and her bottom pressing against the back.

He couldn’t help himself, leaning out to pat her ass cheeks.

“Sore?” he asked.

“A little,” she said.

“So you liked being spanked?”

“Now what do you think?” she said. She took the liberty of kissing him on the mouth, briskly, like a regular lover might.

“You want to try another one?” he asked. The round bobbing mounds were so tempting.

“It might ruin breakfast?” she said, though there was an invitation in her eyes as clear as the one she’d given him the night before.

“We can always start that over,” he suggested.

There was something driving them, something left over from the exuberant night. The connection they’d made was still intact, the memory of their moments together from the spanking to the lovemaking inspiring them to something more.

Taking her hand, he led the willing Jocelyn into the great room, and making a detour by the wall of implements, he grabbed an old wooden paddle from the wall before he led her to the couch.

“Over the knee, this time?” she asked.

“I think you deserve it,” he said, a tease in his usually cool eyes.

Jocelyn found herself shivering, her legs trembling they were so weak with excitement.

“Is this going to hurt?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Really hurt?”

“Get over here, Jocelyn!” his voice sounded stern, but not at all angry as he’d been before. He pulled her to his side and then drew her over his lap. “I don’t do this often,” he told her. “Just with particularly naughty brats like you.”

The wooden paddle landed with a good sharp smack on her right rear cheek. A second smack then landed on the left. And then what followed were steady efficient blows, alternating cheeks back and forth, so he could see her lovely spanked bottom in the bright light of day.

“This really stings,” she exclaimed after the first nasty dozen.

“And it will even more, and you’ll like it,” he vowed, as he kept up the fierce pace.

“Oh, no, oh no,” she wailed loudly, she could hardly call this pleasant. Finding the sensations so strong, she even put her hands across her bottom to stop him, though that didn’t happen. Instead, he caught her fingers with the wood. “Yeow!” she blared.

“Serves you right, keep your hands out of the way.”

“But this is too much,” she yelled.

“But it’s turning you on,” he came right back, though he lightened his delivery for a moment.

It was hard to deny that the spanking was arousing her again. Some things you do once and love, but they never have the same impact that they do the first time, but this was different, so very very different. Maybe it was the man as much as it was the spanking.

Once she got used to a new level of intensity, Reggie raised the pace again, and she was howling madly, her legs flailing, her arms trying desperately to stay clear of her sore bottom, even though she wanted to protect it. He repeated the process for at least ten minutes, surprised to find that this ‘non-spanking’ woman was certainly taking to the treatment in an extraordinary way. And in spite of her protest, she was still sexually aroused, no different from the night before.

“Had enough?” he finally asked, once her rear cheeks were exactly the shade he wanted them.

“Yes,” she readily replied.

He gave her several more sharp smacks then laid the paddle down.

For a time, he rested his warm hand on her hot ass, and massaged it gently, letting them both enjoy the burning feel of her well-spanked flesh. She moaned, her lovely voice making enjoyable sounds for his often jaded ears. And after a time, he pulled her up to his lap, and let her rest her aching bottom on his thighs.

“You acted like you were really mad,” she said. “I thought we were just having fun.”

“I was mad,” he said, though he hardly sounded like he was.

“Why?” she asked.

“I hate you chewing gum, and you did it deliberately.”

Jocelyn wasn’t sure if he was really serious about her annoying and deliberate fault, or if he was kidding. He had the strangest way of being obscure behind all the cold and ice, the blue eyes and the starling good looks.

“Well then,” she told him, “I’ll only chew gum when I really really want to annoy you,” she replied. And she kissed him on the nose.

No one had ever kissed him on the nose before Jocelyn; and unable to abide that kind of nonsense he pushed her off his lap.

“Where’s the scrambled eggs,” he said, as an uncomfortable feeling of warmth was beginning to penetrate the chill inside him.

For her part, Jocelyn didn’t take notice of the awkward moment; instead, amused by his curious expression, she scrambled to the kitchen and finished making breakfast.

They sat across from each other over a plate of eggs and bacon and buttered toast. “I never eat like this,” she said, “but I don’t often fuck like I did with you.”

“Oh?” he said, maintaining his classic cool, which she found fascinating, but definitely intended to correct.

“You mean you do that all the time?” she asked curiously.

“Not really,” he conceded.

“Maybe I should have you try out all those nasty implements, if the belt and the paddle worked so well?” She blushed, her warm, charming face was something he could get used to.

“You’d like that?” he asked.

“Never have been into kinky stuff, but what the heck, I can do anything at least once. In fact, that spanking you just gave me…I’m ready for everything else…” Her playful eyes teased him with the same kind of seduction that she employed the night before.

“Is that so?” Reggie said, consenting to nothing. “Then again, maybe we should see about getting your car shoveled out.” With that comment, the erotic mood was abruptly broken.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Can’t have me messing up your peace and quiet for too long I suppose.”

“Last night was last night, and very enjoyable, Miss Killian. But we do have a working relationship to maintain,” he reminded her.

“Ah yes,” she answered, wondering just how they would get along when they were out of the woods and there was no full moon.

Reggie was almost disappointed when the wrecker came later that morning, and towed the rental out of the snow. After his driveway was plowed, Jocelyn would be on the road in no time.

“I almost wish they hadn’t gotten it out,” she reflected back his feelings, when they stood in the January sun, saying goodbye. “But now that they did, I have no excuse. I have a plane to catch, and an early meeting in the morning. As it is, I’ll be lucky to get home tonight with the weather what it is.”

“Then I suppose you’d better go,” Reggie said, feeling something nameless tugging at him.

They exchanged smiles, but no more tears, and no more spanks before she left. And when she did leave, he watched her blue sports car speed out the long drive and disappear, an unusual longing remaining in the place of Jocelyn Killian and her great green eyes.

Reggie never, ever went to bed with a submissive on a first encounter. Then again, he wasn’t so sure Jocelyn was a submissive at all. In spite of the fact that she’d enjoyed the rough spanking he’d given her, she didn’t need him, and didn’t seem to want anything from him but a good time. So different from all the other women he spent time with the last ten years. It was a refreshing change.

Chapter Three

The auburn haired Jocelyn Killian was on her way to the accounting department when she was hailed by a commanding voice rising above the din of noise coming from the secretarial pool.

“Miss Killian!”

She whipped around, seeing Dwight, twenty feet down the corridor. His expression was grim.

“Yes?”

“Reg wants to see you.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“That’s not possible,” she replied as she was about to turn around and resume her journey past the executive offices to the other end of the building.

“Miss Killian, please,” Dwight called again.

“Mr. Harold can wait,” she retorted. Giving him a pleasant and very provocative smile, she turned and walked away.

***

Two hours later Jocelyn stood in front of Reggie’s desk, arms loaded with files, and a self-satisfied beam on her face.

“Miss Killian, when I ask for your presence in my office, I suggest that you not be late,” Reggie admonished her.

“Excuse me, sir, but the authoritarian crap doesn’t exactly work on me.”

“I can see,” he said, leaning back in his chair, and gazing at the remarkable woman.

“Now, if we can get on to business, I’ll be presenting my findings to you.” She smiled at him pleasantly.

“By all means,” Reggie said. “But I want my executive staff here for your report.”

“If that’s what you want,” she replied. She’d learned to be as cool and unfeeling as the man behind the imposing desk.

A half hour later, with the executive staff of twelve huddled around a conference table, Jocelyn began her presentation. In a pure voice, with sass and warmth and charm oozing from every melodious turn of a phrase, she laid out the initial findings of her report, everyone staring at her with rapt attention. She could have told them that the company was rapidly going bankrupt and they’d be delighted to listen. As it turned out, the summary of her work so far was almost that bad.

“Gross disorganization in your accounting department, which could easily lead to sloppy records and financial mismanagement…an inflexible hierarchy…a stilted rapport of management with staff…” While her tones were strictly non-judgmental, her findings were condemning. Eleven executives looked at her astounded, only Reggie remained unconcerned.

“Ms. Killian, is there anything positive to report?” he asked.

“Much,” she said with a smile. “You have some very talented employees, with brilliant minds, however their ability to perform to their maximum capability is hampered by the general structure of the company hierarchy. They’re simply not flourishing in this autocratic environment.”

“Autocratic?” Reggie repeated.

“That’s what I said. I have dozens of recommendations and plans to implement. We can discuss them now, or wait for appropriate committee meetings.”

“Can you suggest an overall explanation for your conclusions?”

She smiled, trying not to be smug. “There’s a rampant dissatisfaction and general cynicism in this company. Such attitudes always start at the top, the very top.” She made her point without an ounce of guile, though she looked straight at the Chief Executive Officer, her eyes fixed with a stare it was difficult to imagine from those stunning green eyes. There was a breathless silence until it was so uncomfortable that several middle managers were squirming. Only Jocelyn and Reggie seemed perfectly complacent in the otherwise prickly moment.

“Of course I’d like a copy of the report for my review,” Reggie finally said, still showing no emotion.

“Of course.”

“Then we’ll discuss and implement the changes. In the meantime, I’d like a meeting with you in my office, Miss Killian. I sense there are a few matters that you’ve not mentioned here.

“There certainly are,” Jocelyn agreed.

No one had a clue what they were talking about, though their exchange left everyone assuming Jocelyn had specific comments to make regarding individual employees.

***

There was a soft breeze of fresh air bathing the high-rise office—a special air filtration system Reggie had installed in his office to make it easier to work in the airtight in building. Jocelyn could feel the air tickle her neck. If she closed her eyes, she could have imagined herself outside in spring, and at the moment, that would have been a delightful alternative to what she was doing.

“I wonder how personal feelings might have influenced your findings, Miss Killian,” Reggie asked her, breaking into her pleasant reverie with the question.

“Why would you think that?” she replied. She sat in front of Reggie, in the same icy stare down they’d been having for two weeks – since Tahoe. It was just an hour after she’d made her initial report to his executive staff.

“A gut feeling,” he said.