Page 8 of Wilderness Daddy

“What’s worse than being manhandled, spanked, and dumped in a freezing cold lake?” I ask distractedly, dragging my dripping dress up my legs so I can walk back down the porch steps. But I know one thing worse. Working your ass off in University for an honors degree and not being allowed to use it in the family business and instead being forced to... Landon’s words cut off my thoughts.

“Worse?” I question, shivering from the cold.

“Being bent over the bed and strapped with my belt on your cold, wet, bare ass.” His matter-of-fact tone and words send a zing of arousal through me while simultaneously angering me. I look up. He’s right there, so close I can feel his heat. His masculinity is intoxicating and it melts away the anger, leaving only pulsing heat. I shiver again, and this time it’s not from the cold.

Grabbing my hand, he pulls me across the path to the next cabin and up onto its porch. He jams his own key in the door and leaves me speechless, unsure whether to follow him into the cabin or not. He wouldn’t spank me again, would he?

My brows knit as he disappears into a part of the room I can’t see. I wonder if he’s left me for good, or if he’s gone to find a thick leather belt. Another quiver rolls through me but he returns with a big fluffy towel. When he gets close, I hold my breath. He’s so large and manly, and smells so damn good. He wraps the towel around my shoulders and gives them a rub. I don’t accuse him of pawing me this time, mostly because I’m icy, but also because I want him to touch me.

“Get in here.” He yanks me in using the towel and shuts the door. I watch it close. I should feel some foreboding or anxiousness at being alone with him so late at night in a semi-secluded cabin. He’s a stranger, after all, but I don’t.

“I’ll start a fire. You dry off.” He’s still dripping himself. There’s a path of wet footprints and water drips down his neck and temples from his dirty blond hair, which is a little longer than it should be for a businessman; as if he’s due for a trip to the barber, the ends curl, especially now that it’s wet.

I don’t know what it is about this man. Even though I hate him to my very core, despise that he’s domineering, demanding, and gruff, he’s the only man I’ve ever met who’s made me itch with the need to be fucked. Not made love to, but to be fucked—hard and dirty.

I want to drive my hands through that too-long hair, latch onto those curls, and kiss him until we’re a wet tangle on the floor.

“So... um... do you always solve your disagreements with... um...?” I ask dumbly, trying to break the spell he has on me. His brows rise in question. And then his mouth curves up on one side showing the sexiest dimple I’ve ever laid eyes on and my heart trips.

“With spanking?” he asks, his brow still high and his smirk tight. My gut drops.

“Uh, yeah.” I swallow, wanting to look away but unable to.

“You were acting like a spoiled brat out there.” His big hand rises to point toward the dock. My head turns to follow and when I turn back, I have to swallow again. His eyes narrow and spear me in place, making my belly squirm.

He’s looking at me like he wants to spank me again and my sexual impulses battle with my feminist heart so I’m unclear whether I’d agree. A small voice in my head tells me he wouldn’t care either way and a distinct spasm of need has me leaning a little further toward yes. Okay, more like, God, yes!

“I guess I was being childish,” I murmur.

He laughs at that and leans into the stone hearth. “No guessing. Own it. You were and you know it.” He props wood logs up against each other like a tent in the fireplace, placing smaller wood pieces underneath and then twisting old newspapers and shoving them under too. Everything about him is large, powerful, and no-nonsense.

“Okay. Yes, I was,” I admit, trying to ‘own it.’

“And you got what you deserved?” he prompts me, looking over his shoulder, those damn piercing eyes sending shivers through me. “Punished like a bratty little girl?” His eyes penetrate me so deeply I feel the magnetic pull right through to my pussy. “Spanked until you were sorry?” His left brow cocks up, making my mouth go dry.

My heart pounds between my legs, heat flashes through my body, and I tingle all over. Have I ever wanted someone more?

He winks. “Of course, if you think you need more...”

“No, no,” I reply, holding my hands up. “I’m sorry enough.” But am I?

“Good girl.”

Gah, his words cause a flood of emotion and sexual need. How can two words affect me so much? Be so conflicting. One part of me finds them demeaning and yet the other part, the much larger part, makes me want to please him. Makes me want to do anything for him just so I’ll hear those two words again.

Being under my father’s control is bad enough so I don’t want to be under another man’s thumb and Landon Steed is clearly the kind of man who likes control. But somewhere deep inside me, something old—perhaps instinctive or feral—wants just the opposite. I suddenly need to be under this man’s thumb for just one night. If only my brain would turn off.

“But you know, it’s assault so...” I look away, unable to stand his intense glare or finish my sentence. And then suddenly he’s in front of me, his hand on my chin, his thumb and forefinger forcing my eyes to his.

“I don’t see you calling the cops,” he whispers, deadpanning me. “Is that because you know you needed it?”

I nod—it’s the slightest of movements and as soon as it’s happened, I regret it. But it’s too late. He grins and my heart flips at that stupid dimple. A God damn dimple that should make him look boyish and unintimidating.

Hoping I’ll come to my senses, I step back slightly. Maybe I had too much to drink, I consider. But I know I didn’t. What the hell did I just do? Did I just admit to needing a spanking? Nuh uh! No freaking way! But before I can renege, something inside me takes over and my lips are on his.

And dammit, he reciprocates—punishingly hard.

I turn to mush in his arms, my weak knees buckling so he holds me tighter. His mouth is firm, warm, and demanding, his arms like bands of warm steel. I have never been kissed like this. My pussy is tingling and pulsing with a need so powerful I’ll never be able to resist. The kiss, so intense—so heated, has me feeling so... owned.

---