Her Cowboy, Her Daddy, page 5
Thankfully, his attention moved away from me. Turning to my father, he said, “Mr. Smith, my mother wanted me to extend an invitation for your family to join us on the ranch for dinner one night this coming week. She has all the new members of Little Peak up for supper at the Mess Hall, a little welcome to the town.”
A ball of ice formed in my stomach. ‘No, Dad, say no,’ played on repeat in my mind while my stare stayed trained on him, trying to get him to read my thoughts. It was bad enough I had been daydreaming about this guy all week; I didn’t need to be forced into a meal—at his house—with my parents.
My father didn’t even glance my way. Putting his hands in the pockets of his khakis, he said, “Well now, that’s a mighty nice offer. What did you say your mother’s name is, again?”
“It’s Alice, sir,” Travis said.
“Right, well, you tell Alice we would be delighted to join you. When about would you like us?” Dad asked.
“Wednesday sound good?” Travis’ eyes slid to mine. “And just so you know, we are pretty casual on the ranch. You don’t have to wear dressy church clothes. Plan on something a little more comfortable?” Was he openly snickering at my USC sweatshirt?
“Oh, dear,” my mom mumbled. She had caught Travis’ joke about my choice of clothing and was probably mortified. There was no end to the ways I, or my mother, could potentially embarrass ourselves if we went to dinner on the ranch. I had to end this.
I narrowed my eyes at Travis. “Tell your mother thank you, but we have plans. Right, Mom?”
“What plans, Bridgette? I don’t think we have plans,” my mother said.
My turn to ‘throw a bow.’ I poked her gently in the ribcage.
“Ow, Bridgette! What was that for?” my mother shrieked.
Covering his mouth with his hand, Travis let a chuckle escape. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Yes, I had been turned on by him at the bar. Yes, I had loved the kiss. Yes, I obsessed over the man for the entirety of my visit so far. But dinner on his ranch was too much. “I just, erm… I thought we were having a quiet family dinner that night—”
“Bridgette, may I drive you home?” Travis interrupted.
Oh. My. Dear. God.
Before I could answer, my dad grabbed my mother’s arm and quickly whisked her out of the pew and halfway down the aisle, calling over his shoulder to Travis, “See you Wednesday night, young man!” My mom’s eyes were bugging out of her head as she stared at me on her way out.
The church was suddenly very, very empty, save me and the tall, dark, and handsome cowboy.
“Lying, huh?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
He leaned down until he was only inches from my face. I could smell masculine aftershave. Hints of pine and—
“You know what lying gets you? Don’t you?” he asked.
“Um…” I couldn’t think. I could barely see. I felt so lightheaded from his nearness and his delicious man smell… and my God, that man could rock a white button-down. The way he had the sleeves rolled up above his tanned forearms—
One brow rose as he spoke. “Spanked.”
Heat rose up me like a wave.
There it was—that little ‘s’ word again. My pussy throbbed, my nipples tightened, I felt like I was going to implode. Just don’t say the d word—
“I declare—I’ve never seen a girl who needed a daddy in her life as bad as you do.” He grabbed my hand in his and began to lead me down the aisle.
Again, like the first time we met, I wordlessly let him lead me.
I was a disgrace to my entire gender. Where had my feminist values gone? My woman’s rights ideals? Was I really going to let this man flip my entire world upside down with his archaic—not to mention kinky and slightly taboo—words? Where was Bridgette Smith, strong woman who took no crap from anyone?
Even if it was a Chris Pratt lookalike standing at six feet and some change with that delicious scent and dark stubble and my God, the memory of him in that skintight black tee shirt, and now the sight of him in that white button-down, and even though I had been dreaming of this moment—I had to come to my senses.
I couldn’t do this. Dreams alone in bed at night were one thing. This… I didn’t know what this was, but it had my stomach in knots and my knees like jelly and my head spinning.
I stopped dead in my tracks in the center of the church aisle. His hand tugged at mine. When he realized I had stopped without letting go, he turned to me. The tone he used sent a rush through me. It was that daddy dom tone from my fantasy. “Is there a problem, young lady?”
This is what I wanted, right? A guy to call me out, take me in hand? Now that it was happening in real life, my conscience wouldn’t rest.
This was wrong.
Wrestling my hand from his, I slapped both my hands on my hips. Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to gather courage that I did not have, to say the words I did not feel.
“Who do you think you are? Huh? Threatening to spank me? Telling me I want a daddy, of all things. Then telling my parents you will drive me home without even asking my permission, or giving me a say? I might have kissed you in the bar, and yes, that was wrong, but that does not mean you now rule my life. Besides… you kissed me back! And I do not need a daddy. I have a perfectly good father—as you saw just a few minutes ago—thank… you… very much.”
He took a step closer to me. His hand reached out toward my face, his fingertip gently tracing a line down my cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind, and resting on my bottom lip. This time, when he leaned in, his lips hovered over mine. The palm of his hand cupped my cheek, his fingertips brushing the hair on the back of my neck. His hands were enormous. All of my insides melted into an internal puddle as he whispered, “You have a father. You need a daddy.”
Then, his lips were on mine.
There are no words to describe the heat that rushed through me as he kissed me. I imagined it was like Sleeping Beauty when true love’s kiss woke her from her dreamlike coma. I had thought the alleyway kiss was the best of my life, but Travis outdid himself. When he pulled away, my entire body felt weak and I was left breathless.
“The other night I let you get away without being properly punished. Seeing as we didn’t know one another. But today, you show up at church—and so well dressed I might add—it’s just my luck I ran into you for strike two and three.”
“What strike two and three? I’ve been nothing but pleasant to you and I sat through that whole boring sermon quiet as a church mouse.”
“Strike two—lying to get out of coming to my mother’s for dinner. Tsk tsk, very rude. And strike three—let me guess, your mother surely asked you to wear more appropriate attire to Little Peak Baptist. Did she not? I highly doubt Glenda Smith would want her daughter tromping down the aisle in a leather jacket and combat boots. Hmm?”
“What do you know of my mom?” I asked huffily.
“Enough to look at her and see that she was mortified.”
“Only when you brought it up with your rude little comment about changing into something more comfortable for the ranch,” I huffed.
“Tsk, tsk. Lying again. I already told you what happens to little girls who lie,” he sneered.
“You can’t spank me—you don’t even know me!” I protested, my voice echoing in the empty church.
His brow rose as he coolly replied, “You kissed me, and you didn’t know me.”
“You kissed me back!” I protested.
His arms crossed over his chest in that threatening way that I found to be… dead sexy. “That’s right. And now, I’m going to spank you.”
Wha, wha, what? He wouldn’t really, would he? Knees shaking, tummy in knots, cheeks flushed, I stared at him. Finally, I managed to say, “No… you wouldn’t dare.”
He replied, “Yes, I would, and I will. And when you come to the ranch, wear what your mother tells you to, or I’ll do it again.”
Panic ensued. “I’ll do no such thing! You have no idea the kinds of outfits my mother would suggest!” I shrieked.
A slow smile spread across his face. “So you’re more worried about wearing an outfit your mother picks, than the spanking you are about to receive?”
“I—I… both.” He didn’t know the first thing about Glenda Smith’s taste in fashion. “And, I didn’t agree to a spanking.”
“But you need one. Don’t you?” he asked, making my nipples throb.
That was a twofold question. On one hand, a grown woman never needs a spanking, right? On the other hand, grown women like me… well, that’s another story—we could always use a spanking.
I answered honestly, “Needing one and allowing you to administer one are two different—oomph! Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Put me down, you… you… Neanderthal!” I was hanging upside down over Travis’ shoulder, pounding his back with my fists as he unceremoniously carried me down the aisle of the church, over the stagey thing, and through a door.
We entered a small room filled with white choir robes. Travis kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. He sat himself down on an empty stool and flung me down from his shoulder and right over his lap. My head hung down, the blood rushing to my face.
My denim-covered bottom felt completely exposed as my short legs hung down from Travis’ thighs. My hands gripped the legs of the stool to balance myself. “What on Earth do you think you are doing?”
“Getting ready to spank you, my dear,” he replied matter-of-factly.
My pussy pulsed, my nipples further hardened. His hand rested lightly on my bottom, making me melt to the core. What should I do? What could I do? His ridiculously strong arm was wrapped around my waist, pinning me in place.
Oh, my goodness, I was going to be spanked!
The realization settled in and I started to panic. “You can’t spank me. Don’t spank me. Please? I’ll be good. I promise. Just let me up!”
Travis chuckled. “Too late for that, little lady.” His hand gently patted my posterior, leaving behind a yummy tingle.
“Uh… just wait a minute… I… well… is it going to hurt?” I managed to squeak out.
“It’s a spanking,” Travis answered bluntly. “But seeing as it’s your first one, I’ll go easy on you. I’ll even do you a favor and leave your jeans on. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”
“Next time? Ow!” Did leaving my jeans on mean if there was a next time, Travis would be spanking—and viewing—my bare ass? My worried train of thought disappeared as the first spank landed on the center of my right cheek. A sharp sting danced over my skin. Pain wasn’t the word I would use to describe the feeling. More like a delicious yet potentially dangerous thrilling sting.
Another spank landed on the left side, the same sting glittering over my bottom. Funnily enough, as in my dream, the spanks made my pussy throb—the skin on my bottom was so sensitive and the spanks were highly arousing.
Travis spoke in ‘that tone.’ “Yes. There will be a next time. I’m sure this will only be the first of many, many spankings I will have to give you as your daddy.”
Two more spanks landed in the same exact spots at the first, intensifying the sting. My pussy clenched as a rush of wetness came from me. “You—you’re my daddy… now?”
“At least for the duration of your stay in Little Peak. The way I see it (two more spanks—same spot—my hips wiggled at the beginnings of discomfort as the spanking crossed over to be slightly painful), you made it very clear at the bar that you need a daddy, and I just happen to have an opening. I’ll take you on and care for you till you go back to LA.”
Who did he think he was? Dragging me down the church aisle, throwing me over his shoulder like a barbarian. Putting me over his knee and telling me he was my daddy and would spank me whenever he saw fit? I had to put a stop to this—even if my nipples were harder and my pussy was wetter than it had ever been. “Travis Jenkins, you… you… you… jackass! You let me up right this instance, or I’ll—” My threat never made it out of my mouth because the spanking stopped and the room filled with a terrible silence.
His tone was as cold as ice when he spoke. “What did you just call me?”
My temper suddenly disappeared, leaving me a stammering mess. “I… uh…”
His fingertip tapped on my denim-covered rear. “You know what? Little girls with mouths like yours do not get the privilege of leaving their bottom covered for a spanking.”
My breath caught in my throat. I pictured my generous, bare ass jiggling under his spanks. A ball of ice formed in my stomach. That could not happen. I would beg. I would call him Daddy. I would do anything to keep my jeans up and over my behind. “I’m sorry… D-Daddy. I shouldn’t have called you that name. I’ll take my spanking like a good girl.”
“That’s nice to hear. Now stand up so we can get those jeans pulled down,” he said.
I lay over his lap, frozen. I had barely gotten these tight, skinny jeans on myself. What panties was I even wearing? Oh, God in heaven above, please let me be wearing cute underwear! He tapped my bottom, growing impatient. He said, “Today, please.”
Taking a deep breath, I stood on unsure feet. My knees were shaking. He gave me one long look, causing my cheeks to burn. My eyes left his, going to the waist of my jeans, where his fingertips rested. I watched in horror as he unbuttoned the button. His fingers slowly pulled down the zipper. His hands went to the denim waist, and with a pull and a tug, my jeans were suddenly below the curve of my bottom, my panties still in place.
I was wearing a cute black thong. This was good, and bad. Good because I looked pretty sexy in the thing, if I do say so myself. Bad because had I been wearing full-cut panties, he may have left them on and I may have been spared from him getting the full view of my generous globes.
He gave me a wink and a smile at the sight of me standing before him, my thong and ass exposed. His eyes roved over me as he murmured, “Nice view.”
The blush in my cheeks crept downward over my neck and chest. Before I could respond, Travis had me flipped back in position. My bare bottom, save the tiny strip of fabric from my thong, sat perched over his knee.
His hand landed on my bare skin. I sucked air in between my teeth. The sting was much worse without the protection of the jeans. He began to spank me in earnest. My hips kept shifting my weight and my feet started to kick as the spanks were getting faster. The punishment quickly went from pleasurable and thrilling to pain. Was it supposed to hurt this much? In my dream it was always arousing, not painful, per se, but my ass was suddenly on fire. Between clenched teeth, I stammered, “I… uh… are you almost done up there?”
“Not a chance, honey.”
“But it hurts!” I squeaked.
“Just setting some boundaries—letting you know who your daddy is now. You’ll be surprised how refreshed you feel after being soundly spanked. And maybe you’ll even learn your lesson—and to hold your tongue the next time you want to call Daddy a nasty name.” The spanking continued. My hips started shifting left to right, trying to escape his hand. His grip tightened until I couldn’t move. “No more kissing strange men in bars. Yes, Daddy?”
“Yes, Daddy!” I shouted the words before I could overthink it. The spanks kept falling. Tears sprang in my eyes. I didn’t know how much more I could take. “Ow! It was one time… I’ve never even done that before!”
He spoke as he spanked. “Good, because you wouldn’t even want to know what would happen if this was a spanking brought on by you kissing strange men at bars for the second time.”
I shuddered at the thought. How could a spanking possibly hurt more than this one did? “I won’t do it again! Please stop—this hurts.”
And I wanted him to stop, and part of me didn’t. Probably the naughty little girl part that had been hiding away for years, waiting for this moment.
“Punishment fits the crime,” he said.
“What crime! Ouch—my ass is on fire! Can you stop, now? I get it, I get it, no more kissing guys in bars!” I cried.
He stopped, his hand resting on my poor, sore bottom. I lay limp over his lap, my face wincing, my ass burning. He continued his lecture—but his hand lay still on my aching bottom. “And you’re going to go home and when you come to the ranch for dinner you are going to wear what your mother tells you like a good girl?” He gave my bottom a jiggly little pat that made my ignored pussy tingle.
“Ugh—yes!”
“I don’t know… I’m detecting a hint of sass in that voice. I don’t think we are quite finished here.” His hand lifted from the seat of my pants, hovering over my poor ass.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I cried.
“There we go. That’s better.” He patted my bottom softly. “Now, say, ‘thank you, Daddy.’”
I would say anything at this point to end the spanking—I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week as it was! The words rushed from my lips—words I never thought I would say. “Yes, Daddy! Thank you, Daddy!” I lay limp over Travis’ lap. My burning ass was now throbbing as I tried to process the words I had spoken. Emotions welled in me.
Standing me upright, he gathered me onto his lap. My jeans were still down around the tops of my thighs. His big strong arms wrapped around me, holding me tightly. My bare bottom hurt more from sitting on his hard thighs, but the comforting embrace soon made me forget all about my punished behind. I sighed, laying my head on Travis’ chest. His hand stroked my back, sending delicious tingles down my spine.
Snuggling into him, I couldn’t help but feel that we fit together perfectly—like two pieces of a puzzle. A spoony, huggy, comfy cozy puzzle that was also banded with sexual tension. I never wanted to leave his arms. It was the safest, most satisfied I had ever felt.
What was it about being a grown woman and sitting on a man’s lap? There was something so… safe and comforting and sensual, all wrapped up into one.
Travis’ hand ran down my cheek, reaching my chin and tilting my gaze up to meet his.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
How did I feel? Sore, yes, but also floaty, like I was resting on a cloud of fulfillment. “I feel… good. My ass still hurts—” I shifted my weight on his lap, which made him laugh. I felt a blush creep into my cheeks as I admitted, “I think I’ve been needing that for a while.”
