The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) Page 4

  “That last part wasn’t convincin’,” he frowned. “Why do you want me to spank you hard?”

  “Ooooh,” she moaned. “I want you to spank me hard because I speed all the time, and get tickets…”

  “And I wanna stop doin’ that; say it,” Clint ordered.

  “And I want to stop doing that,” she parroted.

  “Do you think a good spankin’ will be effective?” he asked.

  “I, uh, I…”

  Her voice had grown shaky, and he knew a hundred responses were swirling through her head, but he could feel her defiance waning, and perhaps, just perhaps, the scolding was having the impact he wanted.

  “You what?” he pressed, leaning forward.

  “I, uh, think it might,” she whispered.

  “I think that’s about the most honest thing you’ve said in a while, right?” he inquired, leaning back.

  “Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.

  “Hmmm, I think the arm of the couch for you,” he declared, and taking her by the elbow he walked her to the sofa on the opposite side of the room.

  “Do you mind if I wait outside,” Grant asked. “I don’t know why, but I feel a bit weird watchin’ this.”

  “If you’d prefer,” Clint replied.

  Grant nodded, and walking out the door, settled into the chair on the porch.

  As the door closed, Clint ordered the girl to bend over the wide, padded arm of the couch.

  “You were in court this mornin’?” he asked, walking to the oak buffet to pick up the paddle he intended to use.

  “Yes, Sir,” she quaked, horrified at her predicament.

  “And you came straight here?”

  “Just stopped for a coffee first,” she answered as she bent over the arm of the sofa. “You couldn’t see us right away.”

  “Yes, this is true,” he murmured absently, and picking up the round leather paddle he walked back to her, stopping to pick up the clipboard with the written agreement.

  “How many speedin’ tickets in total?” he asked sternly, handing her the clip board and pen. “Sign at the bottom”

  “Four,” she whimpered, picking up the pen and scrawling her signature without hesitation.

  “What about shopliftin’? How many times have you been caught?” he asked, picking it up and placing it on the coffee table.

  “What? How did you know?” she squeaked, looking back at him.

  “Just answer the question, how many?”

  “Two times,” she muttered.

  “And what about the times you weren’t? How many?”

  “Uh, maybe four or five.”

  He hit her bottom with a hard swat, eliciting a loud yelp. Her hand flew behind her in a vain attempt at protection, and he immediately slapped it away.

  “How many, precisely?”

  “Seven,” she whimpered.

  “This is all gonna stop!” he exclaimed. “Time to grow up. I’m gonna spank you for the speedin’ tickets now, and you’re comin’ back in a week for the shopliftin’. If you make me come to your house and get you, you won’t be sittin’ for a week. Understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she mewed.

  “I’m gonna swat you slow and hard, a baker’s dozen. After each one you’ll say, I promise not to speed again. Any questions?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Sliding the black leather across her waiting bottom he tapped lightly, then landed a stinging smack; the girl let out a cry and lifted her body.

  “I can’t hear you,” Clint declared.

  “I promise not to speed again,” she uttered.

  “Back down, and don’t try and stand up again,” he directed. “If you do you’ll be sorry.”

  He tapped again, then swatted down, slightly harder than the time before. She cried out but didn’t raise up, burying her head into the sofa cushion instead.

  “I promise not to speed again,” she groaned.

  Slapping the paddle for the third time, he watched her squirm in response, bleating out her vow, but as he raised his hand to deliver the fourth his mind unexpectedly turned to Amelia.

  If you were over my couch I’d have your butt naked, I’d be using my hand, fondling your lovely cheeks, and your legs would be separated so I could watch your pussy’s glistening glow.

  Shaking himself, he bounced the leather against Yvette’s scalded bottom, and she howled into the couch.

  “I promise, I do, I swear, I won’t speed again, not ever,” she cried.

  “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he declared. “One more and we’ll take a short break.”

  Delivering the sixth he let her wriggle and squirm before placing his hand on her hot moons.

  “You know this is a long time comin’, right?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.

  “If you’d been spanked earlier you wouldn’t be here now,” he remarked.

  “I was, once,” she admitted.

  “Tell me,” he frowned.

  “I guess I was about eight. I’d been told to stay out of the mud in the backyard, but I went there anyway and made a huge mess of myself, then brought it all into the house. Dad whacked me a couple of times but my mom had a fit.”

  “She was upset your daddy spanked you?” Clint asked.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you think she’ll be upset when she hears about this?”

  “No, Sir, she already knows.”

  “Good, sounds like you both needed to wake up. I’m gonna give you the next six now, you stay down, no screamin’, no hands behind you. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she quivered.

  Moving the paddle lower on her cheeks, he tapped lightly before landing the smack on a fresh patch of skin at the top of her thighs.

  “I promise never to speed again,” she cried into the cushion.

  “I thinkin’ you really mean that,” Clint remarked, and slowly continued with the punishment.

  By the time the twelfth paddle had landed, she was bleating her apologies, swearing up and down she would behave.

  “I promised you a baker’s dozen,” he declared, smoothing his hand over her bottom. “You can have one more with the paddle, or a few quick licks with my hand. Which you would prefer?”

  “Your hand, please, Sir,” she whimpered.

  He walked the paddle back to the buffet, giving her a minute to catch her breath, but as he passed the window he moved the curtain slightly open, and peering down at the scene below he saw Jiminy in the round pen having his saddle taken off.

  I guess she took him for a long walk to cool him off.

  He watched as she reached up and slid the saddle off his back, then carefully removed his bridle. The horse wandered away, dropped down and rolled in the sand. It was a pleasing, relaxing sight, and caused him to sigh, wishing he was with her enjoying the moment, but Yvette was waiting, and dropping the curtain he returned to the recalcitrant young woman.

  Placing a hand on the small of her back, he bent slightly over and spanked her smartly, dispatching his spanking palm with quick, sharp slaps.

  “There, that’s a well-spanked bottom. You stay there and think about why you’re here with a sore backside.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she wriggled.

  Moving into the small kitchen he pulled a beer from the refrigerator. Rarely did he drink during the day, but it had been a strange couple of hours, and popping the cap he took a couple of swigs, then placed the bottle on the counter.

  Sighing heavily he wandered back to the window, and staring at the scene below he saw Amelia lead Jiminy to the grooming area, place the big horse in the cross ties, and drag over a plastic mounting block. Climbing up she began to sponge off the saddle mark, a bucket of water in one hand, a cloth in the other.

  Damn, you’re a cutie, he smiled, but a whimper from across the room caught his attention. Dropping the curtain he moved back to the punished girl, and taking her by the shoulders he stood her up.

  “All right, Yvette. I’ll see you in a week. I’m going
to tell Grant you’re to be back here for more punishment, but I’ll leave it up to you to explain why. If you’re honest with him and your parents, and I mean completely honest, I’ll be lenient. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.

  “What else do you have to say, what else crossed your mind?”

  “Uh, thank you, Sir, and, I, uh, was thinking…”

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe you saved my life, or someone else’s. Speedin’ is dangerous. I get carried away.”

  “Yvette,” he sighed, hugging her, “that’s about the best thing you could’ve said.”

  “I really mean it,” she declared.

  “Call me if you ever need to, I’ve got a good ear.”

  “Thanks. I might,” she said quietly.

  “You’re a sweet girl when you want to be,” Clint smiled. “I’m gonna let your brother in. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  Giving her an extra squeeze, he walked across the small space and opened the door.

  “Grant, you can take your sister home now. No need for anymore lecturing. She’s paid her debt to society, and I don’t think you’ll be seein’ anymore speedin’ tickets, right Yvette?”

  “No,” she said softly, “no more.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Grant nodded, and putting a casual arm around her shoulder he led her back to the car.

  “She’s comin’ back in a week,” Clint called after them. “She’ll explain.”

  Standing on her mounting block in the cross-ties, Amelia glanced up at the sound of his voice. Though she was too far away to hear what was said it was loud enough to catch her attention.

  She’d noticed the guy sitting outside on the porch, and now both he and the girl were getting into the car. When Clint looked down in her direction she waved up at him, and he waved back. As she watched the car head down the driveway Clint walked back into the guest house, and she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

  Huh, that was interesting. The girl went in, stayed for a short time while the guy waited outside, and now they’re both leaving. None of my business I guess, but, huh, interesting.

  CHAPTER SIX

  By the time Amelia had finished cleaning up her gentle giant, Mitch and Zane had emptied the high-fenced, large corral of its contents.

  “You’re amazing,” she sighed, stroking Jiminy’s neck as she handed him to Zane, and one day you’ll be mine, I promise!

  “He’s taken a likin’ to you,” Zane remarked. “We weren’t sure which one of us was gonna get on ’im, but you’ve solved that problem.”

  “I left the saddle on that saddle rack over there,” she pointed. “Is there somewhere you’d like me to put it?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it,” Zane replied walking the horse towards its new home.

  “I’d like to say goodbye to Clint. Do you know where I might find him?” she asked hopefully.

  Not sure where he might be, and fully aware of their boss’s use of the guest house, Zane and Mitch shared a look.

  “He’s probably workin’ in his office. We’ll tell ’im you said bye,” Zane promised.

  “Oh, okay, thanks,” she replied, realizing neither of them wanted to send her up to the house, or wherever they thought Clint might be. “I’ll call him later.”

  “Bye then,” Mitch said, touching his hat.

  “Bye,” she smiled.

  Huh, that was interesting too. I shouldn’t read too much into it I guess, but, huh.

  Picking up her pace she headed to her car, and jumping in she turned around to head out, but glanced up at the house as she did; it was quiet, no sign of life. She’d been hoping he would have made an appearance to say goodbye, and feeling an unexpected rush of disappointment she headed to the road.

  Clint had purposely remained in the guest house sipping his beer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, he did; that was the problem.

  He knew he didn’t have to worry about her knocking on the door of the guesthouse. Mitch and Zane knew exactly what transpired there, and would have intercepted her if she’d started on her way. Standing at the window watching her hand Jiminy off to Zane then head to her car, he felt a bit guilty about not saying goodbye, but he needed to think about things and seeing her cute face wouldn’t help.

  The front of the driveway couldn’t be seen from the guesthouse, so he waited five minutes and finished his beer before walking across to his back door. Once safely inside he peered out the front window; her car was gone.

  Wandering into his office he stared at the paperwork sitting on his desk waiting to be done. Sighing, he shook his head.

  I’ll never be able to focus. I need a shower and a nap, and turning around, headed to his bedroom.

  Ten minutes later, stepping from the hot water he toweled off, and donning his bathrobe he fell on his bed, closed his eyes, and locked his fingers across his stomach.

  This is the last thing I expected. Where the hell did she come from? I could really use her help with that horse. Maybe I could just be busy when she comes, or I could leave altogether.

  That’d be the safest thing, leave altogether.

  Maybe I’m being foolish. Maybe I can start spendin’ some time with a woman. I’ve been spankin’ naughty girls for what, almost a year now, and if anything it’s helped.

  Yeah, it has, it’s been scratchin’ that itch of yours.

  I could use some female company. What the hell, what’s the danger in just hangin’ with her when she comes to ride?

  Slippery slope…

  I promised her I’d help her with those shelters.

  Slippery slope…

  He could feel himself drifting off, and with visions of her gorgeous, round, spankable bottom beautifully outlined in her tight, english riding britches, he fell asleep.

  It was early evening when Amelia headed off to Tom’s Tavern. While she carried hope the handsome, mysterious cowboy might show up she didn’t expect him, but that hadn’t prevented her from choosing the turquoise shirt that brought her eyes to life and complimented her fair complexion and auburn hair.

  As she headed through town towards the highway, Clint Hogan remained in the forefront of her mind. There was something guarded about him, almost wary.

  No sign of a woman in your house, no photographs, nothing. You must be living a solitary life for a reason. You’re too handsome and successful to be single.

  She found the turnoff, and as she crossed the highway into the narrow road she spotted a small, almost invisible sign that read,

  Tom’s Tavern 1 Mile. Great Food, Great Company.

  You need better advertising, she giggled, and drove carefully forward, finding the restaurant set back from the road amongst some trees, its well-lit parking lot in front. It looked warm and inviting, and stepping from her car she pulled her jacket around her. There was a chill in the air, and she could see thick charcoal clouds skimming past the moon.

  Trotting up the steps on to the wide patio she saw two large, metal signs. One read, RESTAURANT and had an arrow pointing down the verandah, the other read, TAVERN, with the arrow pointing to the door in front of her. Moving forward she pushed it open and found herself in a brightly lit bar; a few patrons were seated at the counter, and others at tables. Busy waitresses were serving both food and drinks, and staring down the length of the room she could see swinging doors leading into what she assumed was the actual restaurant.

  “Sit anywhere,” a waitress offered as she walked past carrying a tray with beer and a large basket of french fries.

  “Thanks,” Amelia smiled, and headed to a table in the corner next to the windows.

  Settling in she pulled the menu from its holder, and immediately saw what she wanted; barbecued chicken in homemade spicy sauce. It was offered with cajun rice or french fries. The waitress promptly appeared, and Amelia placed her order, choosing the fries.

  “And a beer, whatever you have on tap,” she added.

  “Haven�
��t seen you in here before,” the waitress remarked. “We don’t get many strangers.”

  “I just moved, or rather, am moving here. I bought a place on the other side of town. Your boss needs a bigger sign.”

  “He likes just the locals here,” the waitress laughed. “He says you never know what strangers off the highway might bring with them. He likes to think this is a safe kinda, home away from home. How’d you hear about us?”

  “Clint Hogan,” Amelia replied.

  “You know Clint?” the waitress asked, unable to hide her surprise.

  “Just met him. Is that strange, that he would recommend this place I mean?” Amelia inquired, intrigued by the girl’s reaction.

  “Clint is a hero around here,” she explained, then dropping her voice, lowering her head and grinning she added, “lots of us have a mad crush on him.”

  “I can understand why,” Amelia nodded. “He’s a handsome guy. I’m really surprised he’s single. He is right? I was just assuming-”

  “Oh, yeah, he is, for sure, and everyone wonders why,” the girl responded, “but I’d better get your order in before Tom gets on to me for chatting. I tend to do that.”

  As she watched the waitress bustle away, a smile cross her lips.

  Hmmm, a hero. I wonder why, but turning her gaze to stare out the window her thoughts turned to her new life.

  Moving into the country community was a big change, and though it was a dream she been working towards for many years, now that it was becoming a reality her nerves were beginning to kick in.

  A new home, new town, new people; her best friend had told her she was immensely brave. Amelia was beginning to think her friend was right, but having her horses grazing happily outside her door, having the room for even more needy equines, and finally having the financial freedom to make it happen was exhilarating.

  She certainly hadn’t expected to meet an interesting man so soon, in fact she hadn’t expected to meet an interesting man at all. The few relationships she’d experienced had not been very successful, mostly because of her passion for horses.

  No man could understand why she had to be at the barn twice a day, or would often arrive late to meet them. “I had to wait for the grain to get mushy and it took longer than I thought,” she’d explain, or, “I couldn’t find my waterproof sheet and there’s a chance it will rain tonight.” They would just look at her quizzically and shake their heads, or become sullen and morose during the evening. Her devotion to her horses had never been understood, and was either resented or seen as competition.