Page 21 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

“Don’t you ever drive that fast again, do you hear me?” he demanded as he picked up momentum to bring about his own release.

“I won’t. Please? I need you,” she cried.

“If you ever behave that way around officers of the law again, I’ll stripe your backside, and you won’t be able to sit or fuck comfortably for days.”

“All right. Please, John, please.”

She was now actually crying. He knew it wasn’t from pain but from need and her own acceptance of his dominance.

Taking an even firmer grasp on her, he increased the speed and the strength of his thrusts until his cum rushed up from his balls and down the length of his cock to spill into her as he repeatedly spurted, emptying himself as deeply as he could. He stayed lodged inside her until her pussy ceased to tremble all along his length, and he softened. Reluctantly, he withdrew and leaned down to kiss her neck. Standing back, he admired how red and swollen her ass was. He hoped it would be a while before he had to take her to task that severely again, but her speeding had been dangerous and her behavior afterward appalling.

He reached down and took her hand, pulling her into his arms. Wrapping his hand in her red mane, he gently tugged her head back and leaned down to capture her mouth with his. He didn’t much care for the taste of soap, but he wanted to reassure her that her punishment was truly over and show her the depth of his feelings. She returned the kiss with a fervent ardor and pressed her body against his.

John swept her up in his arms, carried her to the bathroom, and into the large shower, where they leisurely washed one another before getting out and drying off. When they were finished, John again picked her up and carried her back to their bed, gently setting her on her feet while he turned the bedding back, then helped her slip into bed before joining her. John enjoyed the drowsy way she sought comfort, snuggling close to him and guided her onto her side, spooning himself along her back before they both fell asleep.

Chapter

Six

When she woke, Mandy could see it was still light out, but that the sun was beginning to set. John was still fast asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, so she slipped out of bed and into the shirt he had removed earlier. Holding the fabric up to her nose, she inhaled and smiled. There wasn’t anything about John Hampton, she didn’t find incredibly arousing and oddly, comforting. The shirt was a light cotton weave, but even so, as the tail skimmed over her buttocks, she was reminded he had spanked her.

She left their bedroom and idly wondered when she had begun to think of it as such. Probably about the same time, he referred to it that way. Mandy liked the fact he already included her in his life and blushed as she recalled his referring to her as his partner and more than just a girlfriend. Shaking her head, she tried to figure out when she had fallen in love with US Marshal John Hampton. Willa was going to have a field day with this. Of the two of them, Mandy had the more mischievous spirit, so for her to be the one to fall for a lawman was going to tickle Willa’s sense of humor.

Wandering into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and smiled. Killian Red. She grabbed one and opened it, takinga long drink. The kitchen was a true chef’s kitchen, and she wondered if John cooked. Certainly, the thin pancakes he made for her, stuffed with the tiramisu, had been delicious. The cookware hanging from the pot rack suspended from the ceiling looked to be the same or similar quality to Willa’s, who was a trained chef.

She found the large, sun-drenched space off the back of the kitchen. John had turned it into his office, but it also contained a leather chesterfield loveseat and an overstuffed chair. French doors led out onto an enormous, tiled patio, which she could see extended along the back of the entire house. There were two seating areas, a fire pit, a fountain, and an outdoor kitchen. Mandy wandered through the well-maintained planter boxes and trailed her hand through the water fountain. Turning to head back in, she saw John, dressed only in jeans, lounging in the doorway, quietly watching her.

Smiling as he walked toward her, he reached for her ale and took a long swig before handing it back and pulling her to him as his mouth descended on hers. One thing about John, he knew how to kiss a woman, so she had no doubt in her mind about his feelings.

“You all right?” he asked.

Mandy was unsure what to say. Part of her thought she should rail at him for his earlier treatment, but the other part, the greater part, just wanted to let go and accept, as he had said, he would be the dominant partner. Not trusting her voice, she merely nodded.

Softly he continued, “Do we need to talk about what happened?”

“No, not really. Part of me keeps saying I ought to deck you, storm out of here, and never see you again.”

“Not your best idea,” he said with a chuckle. “First, it’s difficult to make a dramatic exit without any clothes. Second,your car is in the impound lot, and we’ll need to get it tomorrow. And third, if you run away, I’ll come after you, bring you home, and paddle your bottom.” His hand slid down to gently cup her derriere. She moaned, not from discomfort, more from remembered passion.

“Is that going to be your answer to everything? Either I do what you want, or I get spanked?”

He thought for a moment. “In general, yes. That doesn’t mean we won’t talk about things, or you can’t persuade me I’m wrong and get me to change my mind. But once I make a decision, I’m going to expect you to mind me, and when you don’t, there will be consequences for your bad choices.”

She shook her head. “You really are a jerk.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m the guy who loves you. I know it’s probably far too soon to tell you that, but I do. I think I have from the very beginning.”

Mandy froze, then pulled away. She despised those three little words. In her experience, nothing good ever came from a man telling her he loved her. The last thing her father had said before he abandoned her and her mother was that he loved her. And every break-up with every man after that had been filled with those three little words—lies every time.

“Don’t. I don’t want you to,” she said, putting distance between them.

“Too late,” John said, reaching out to stop her retreat.

She snatched her hand away.

“I really think I need to get my things. I’ll call a cab or something. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll get my car tomorrow. I think we should call it a day.”

“Do you? Why does it upset you so much that I said I’m the guy who loves you? Talk to me, Mandy. If you think you’re just going to grab your clothes and walk out on this—on us—you haven’t been paying attention.”

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