Unexpected Consequences (13 page)

She heard him suck in his breath, imagined his hands shaking as he smoothed his palms over her bottom, caressing each rounded cheek slowly, almost reverently. He sighed heavily, mockingly. “It’s a shame that such a gorgeous ass is wasted on such a naughty girl.”

“I am not naughty. It was your fault the cookies burned,” she protested. “And my ass is not wasted on me.”

“Argumentative too.” He smacked her left cheek with the spoon. A light tap, it bore only a slight sting. Another tap grazed her other cheek.

She squirmed, trying to roll off his lap, but he clamped his arm on her lower back.

“This is for trying to get away!” The spoon descended in a fusillade of butterfly kisses.

A deep-seated craving awakened with a yawn and rose inside her. Her breathing hitched. Because voicing her dawning desire would require admitting it to herself, she couldn’t speak the words. So instead, she kicked.

Jared swung a thigh over her flailing legs and immobilized her. She reveled in his show of superior strength—and his weakness. Beneath her abdomen, his cock hardened. A sensation of warmth, like a dose of hot chocolate on a cold day, coursed through her veins.

She wiggled the best she could to arouse him further. It worked. His cock became rigid.

“Now look at what you’ve done,” he scolded. The spoon left a delicious sting, and Melania whimpered in delight.

Lord help him if this woman ever became aware of her power. All she had to do was wiggle her butt, and he’d drop to his knees and kiss her feet.

Jared had never been much of an ass man, preferring other parts of the female anatomy, but since his marriage to Melania, he’d developed a serious obsession. He adored everything about Melania’s ass: the way it nestled against him when they spooned and when she cuddled on his lap—how it looked bent over his lap. He loved the way she filled out a pair of jeans, and he sometimes walked behind her so he could watch her buttocks shifting. And dressed in a thong? Holy fucking Christ. Whoever designed that piece of silly, useless underwear deserved to be crowned king of the universe.

“Admit you’re a naughty girl, and maybe I’ll let you up.” He grinned wickedly to himself. Not a chance.

“I won’t!” Melania yelled, the response he’d hoped for.

He rewarded her by peppering her luscious cheeks and watched in fascination as her creamy white skin turned a delicate pink. That was another of his favorite things—the way her ass blushed, the way
he
could make it blush. He caressed the pink mounds, and she emitted a little moan of pleasure. Seeing Melania this way reminded him of the erotic photographs in the men’s den at the Rod and Cane Society. Perhaps he should commission the photographer to shoot a photograph of Melania for his home office.

Or for their bedroom. He didn’t want to share even a glimpse of her ass with anyone.

Jared made a mental note to contact the photographer first thing on Monday.

He delivered two more stinging swats with the spoon. “I think you’ve learned your lesson now,” he said sternly and released her. She wiggled off his lap and rubbed her bottom. Her luscious mouth curved into such a sweet pout, he wanted to spank her again.

Turning her ass a pale pink for play was one thing; reddening it was left for serious discipline. He didn’t want to hurt her. It ripped at his guts to hear her cry and know his spanking caused it. But he stood by the principles of domestic discipline, believed it made for a happier, more harmonious marriage. His father hadn’t hesitated to tan a backside that required it, be it his children’s or his wife’s, and his parents had been as happy as two people could ever be until the day they died in a car accident.

And as much as he loved Melania’s spunk and playfulness, her exuberance needed to be channeled. Unpleasant as a disciplinary spanking was for both of them, it was his duty to ensure she received what she needed.

But this afternoon was all about fun.

Melania stood before him now, her nipples perky and hard, a seductive smile curving her lips, her eyes glowing. He wanted to kiss her beautiful blushing behind and then the rest of her. Yes, he was enthralled with her sweet, rounded ass. But not only her ass. He loved her. All of her. Totally.

Her love, trust, and acceptance meant everything to him.

Chapter Nine

Melania and Jared awoke Sunday and spent a leisurely morning cuddling in bed before enjoying a pancake breakfast that Melania managed not to burn even though Jared kept slipping his hands under her robe to caress her.

It was midmorning by the time she finally showered and dressed for the day. She donned her most comfy jeans and a supersoft, clingy printed tee. She was sorting through the jewelry box on her dresser for earrings when Jared entered the bedroom.

She found the pair she wanted and glanced at her husband. As it was a casual, laid-back day, she’d skipped a bra, and she could tell from the appreciative glint in his eyes that it hadn’t escaped her husband’s notice.

She fastened a loop to her ear and was about to do the other when Jared spoke. “Your father called me this morning.”

Melania’s heart picked up a beat. She’d forgotten she’d contacted her father. Her gaze threatened to stray to the suitcase’s location under the bed, but she forced herself to ignore it and act normally. She pasted an unconcerned expression on her face. “I guess they’re back from vacation, then,” she said nonchalantly, but her hands fumbled with the other earring.

“He said you’d left a message and said it was important.” Jared’s expression was questioning.

Silently Melania cursed dominant males everywhere.
She
was the one who’d phoned her father, so why was he calling Jared? She nibbled her lower lip as she weighed plausible excuses. There was no good way to explain. “I’m sure I must have thought it was important at the time”—she shrugged—“but I can’t remember what I wanted. I’ll call him later.” That would give her time to think of something to tell her father.

“Okay.” Jared’s features lightened. “What do you want to do today?”

Melania released her tension with a silent sigh. “I don’t have anything planned. What would you like?” The earring was giving her trouble. She couldn’t seem to find the hole in her lobe. Of course, her trembling hands didn’t help.

“There’s an outdoor festival up the coast. We could take a drive and check it out.”

“That sounds nice,” she said. The earring popped out of her fingers, and she watched in horror as it bounced under the bed.

“I’ll get it.” Jared stepped forward.

“That’s okay, I got it,” she said quickly, but Jared was already on his knees, lifting the dust ruffle.

No, no, no
. She wanted to yell. She pressed her hand to her mouth as a slow-motion train wreck played out before her.

“Something’s in the way. Ah! Here’s your earring…” Jared trailed off. “What’s this?” He dragged her bag out from under the bed.

Melania’s stomach lurched. “It’s nothing. Here, I’ll take care of that.” She tried to take the suitcase, but Jared’s bulk blocked the way.

“What’s your suitcase doing here?” He shifted his gaze from the Pullman to Melania. A heavy silence sucked the air from the room. Her breathing labored, and Melania could do nothing but watch in dread, rooted to the spot, as Jared unzipped the bag. He flipped back the top to reveal the jumble of her clothing.

Melania stopped breathing as Jared’s frown of puzzlement gave way to head-jerking, wide-eyed realization. For a heartbreaking moment, Jared looked as if someone had died before a door slammed shut on his pain, leaving only anger. The icy look he turned on her chilled her to the bone.

“I’m so sorry.” Melania’s voice quivered. “It’s not what you think.”

Jared rose to his feet. Thunderclouds coalesced in his eyes. “If it’s not what I think, what do you have to be sorry about?” His voice was soft—too soft.

Tears pricked Melania’s eyes. She’d never, ever wanted to hurt him. She wanted to comfort him, reassure him, beg for his forgiveness, but she could tell from his stiff posture if she were to throw herself in his arms, it would be like bouncing off a wall.

Why, why, why hadn’t she gotten rid of the damn suitcase?

“Were you going to wait until I left for work and sneak out? I’d come home and you’d be gone?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” She touched his arm, but he shook her off. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists.

“Then how it is, Melania? How the fuck is it?” he yelled. She jumped. He’d never raised his voice to her before.

Melania bit her wobbling lip. “I was…confused. After you spanked me. I panicked. I meant to unpack the suitcase.”

“Then why didn’t you? You’ve had plenty of time to do so. Why keep it?”

Every time she’d thought about the bag, Jared had been home. When she was alone, she never seemed to remember. Her hands fluttered impotently. Her stomach churned. How was she going to fix this? “I don’t know.”

“I know why.” His eyes glittered like two obsidian orbs. Two hard, unforgiving stones. “You don’t want to be married to me,” he accused. “The first time things didn’t go your way, your instinct was to run to Daddy.”

Her face flushed with guilt. It had been only one small moment in time that she had panicked. Even if she had left, she would have returned; she knew that now. “I know it appears that way, but—”

“That’s why you called your father.” His voice, calm now, frightened her more than when he had yelled. “You wanted to ask him to take you back.” His cold eyes dared her to deny it.

Melania hung her head. She had no defense. There was enough truth in his accusation to make it impossible to deny. “I wouldn’t have done that. I only wanted space to think.” Her words sounded lame even to her.

“Go home to Daddy, Melania.” Jared dropped her earring into the open suitcase. “That’s where you belong.” He strode from the room.

The bedroom door closed. Melania burst into tears and flung herself on the bed. She grabbed Jared’s pillow and hugged it to her chest. His masculine scent on the soft cotton made her cry harder. What had she done? Why hadn’t she put away the suitcase? She never should have behaved like such a baby and packed it in the first place. She loved Jared. She’d rip out her heart before she left him.

If she still had one. She ached as if the organ had already been torn from her chest. Jared had acted so cold. So angry. She had wounded him so deeply, he didn’t want her anymore. He ordered her to go away. Aching and heaving, she sobbed into his pillow.

All she had to do to prevent this was put away the suitcase. One simple, tiny task. And she hadn’t done it. Why? Was Jared right? Had she kept it so she could escape if she felt the need? She’d been restrained and spanked to tears until she could hardly sit down. The entire disciplinary session had knocked her off balance, sent her reeling in confusion. But she never stopped loving Jared. Never stopped wanting him.

Like an ostrich with its head in the sand, Melania had tried to ignore the knowledge of what marriage to Jared would entail, but she’d known. Jared had made it clear before they married, and their wedding ceremony had cinched it.

“I, Melania LeAnn Jackson, promise to gladly and obediently submit my heart and body unto the loving hand of my husband…”
The marriage vows she’d pledged came back to her. Most of the guests probably hadn’t understood the significance of the unusual wording, but she and Jared had.

Domestic discipline required work. It was like her job as a court reporter. She didn’t look forward to taking depositions every day, but she did because she had made a commitment to her employer and because, frankly, there was a payoff at the end of the week. But once committed, she didn’t get to choose her assignments or opt out of completing a job because she didn’t feel like it.

She had promised to submit to Jared. To obey him. He’d vowed to cherish her, protect her, and fulfill her needs, including those of guidance and correction. Sometimes that meant he would spank her. The payoff was she would grow and mature. And she would always come first. Indulged and disciplined, cosseted yet reprimanded, Melania would be the nucleus around which the marriage orbited. For a girl who’d grown up pampered and sheltered, wasn’t that what she needed?

Melania’s sobs subsided to hiccupping shudders, and she clutched Jared’s wet pillow. Since the spanking, she and Jared had grown even closer. That was to be expected in a marriage, but she sensed his discipline of her had sped up the process. Her willingness to submit and trust further strengthened the bond forged by their love and commitment to each other.

Until she had severed it.

She cursed herself for not putting away the suitcase. She never intended to confess what she’d contemplated ever so briefly, so why had she abandoned the bag when Jared could find it?

It was almost as if she wanted to get caught.

Melania’s heart skipped a beat. She raised her head from the wet pillow.

She wanted to get caught!

Jared had considered the entire shoe incident closed; her disobedience and the discipline were over in his mind. But not in hers. Because she’d considered leaving him, her conscience wasn’t clear, and she wanted no secrets between them. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth, but she felt guilty about what she’d almost done. Subconsciously she wanted Jared to discover the suitcase, forgive her, and wipe her slate clean.

Except only the first part had occurred. Jared had found the bag but had been so wounded by her perceived desertion that he was kicking her out.

If only she could do it over again. Rewind the clock, push a Reset button or something. Melania’s stomach clenched. As awful as the spanking had been, she’d gladly, joyfully take one now if Jared would forgive her.

Melania bolted upright. Her heart thumped as a tiny seed of hope sprouted.

Would that work? If Jared spanked her, would that restore their marriage to what it had been?

* * *

Jared slumped at his desk, his head in his hands.

Melania was planning to leave him. She had denied it, but her suitcase had confessed the painful truth. Her passion and devotion, her playfulness during the mock spanking, her attendance at the Wives Auxiliary meeting—all of it meant nothing. Nothing! She had been playacting, stringing him along until she could make proper arrangements. What a fool he was. The whole time he had believed she loved him and was learning to embrace domestic discipline with eager submission, his wife of six weeks had been biding her time, waiting for her father to return so she could leave. The realization turned his blood to acid, burning and scarring from the inside out.