The next day, I woke to the smell of bacon sizzling in the pan and the whir of the fan above the wood stove. First Noah ground fresh coffee, then came the sound of a knife chopping against the cutting board and it stirred my curiosity.
He’d left a giant t-shirt on the bed for me, and a pair of wool socks, which I slid on my feet before entering the kitchen to the sight of him slicing potatoes to make home fries. Next, he dropped raw eggs from what seemed a great height into a pot of steaming water, to poach them (did he know that’s how I liked them cooked?), and slipped slices of sour dough into the toaster before turning to squeeze fresh orange juice.
His was the hard, muscled body of a warrior, and after yesterday, I could easily imagine him galloping across the battlefield on his horse, sword swinging.
For now, he resembled a human assembly line, performing every job required to get breakfast on the table. It was a sight for a sore thighs, smarting butt cheeks, and a well-pleased pussy which throbbed her eagerness. She was ready for action again, even though she’d definitely had her “fill” last night. After dinner, he’d taken me back to his bedroom, bent me over the end of his bed next to carvings of me in the buff, and stuffed me so full of him I’d screeched like a wild vixen.
In his natural environment, the man exhibited much less narrowing of the eyes and crossed arms, and he actually smiled at me when I entered the room instead of pressing his lips into a white slash, jaw clenched, mouth frowning. He was a different person out here in the woods. Someone I might like to know a lot better.
Unfortunately, responsibilities waited for no woman. I had to go back when breakfast was over. Unless I worked out on my skates every day, my symptoms returned with a vengeance.
Noah didn’t need all the details. It was my business. ADHD was no small thing to master, and I did so with exercise instead of Adderall, a drug with a list of side effects taller than the Coast Redwoods which grew around here.
The smell of onions frying in butter caused my stomach to snarl, and Noah replied, “Just a few more minutes to go. Here’s your coffee.”
I regarded him with an incredulous stare and stuttered, “Where on earth did you find a Chocolate Caramel Truffle Mocha Cooler way out here?”
His body radiated a raw and primal strength and made it super hard to concentrate, though admittedly, doing so was never my strong suit. Teachers always said it was like I was driven by a motor, and that included my mouth.
My personal chef reached a swollen bicep across the counter and tapped the surface of my coffee cup twice with his index finger. His behavior bewildered me, and it must have shown on my face. Our hands collided when he spun the cup around, turning the opposite side towards me. I glanced down and, just like a coffee shop employee, he’d carefully identified the drink as mine. Only he wrote “YOU’RE SO FUCKING PRETTY.” in place of my name.
Our eyes met.
My stomach did a triple half flip, and I pulled at the t-shirt collar, stretching it away from my neck.
My feelings towards him were confused. I was no longer a passenger on board the locomotive of pure lust, but traveling in the direction of something resembling admiration or affection. He set a fire between my legs, but also in my heart. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked.
He scrubbed his stubble with the palm of his hand. “I think I just… finally understand you.”
I wavered, trying to comprehend what I was feeling, and disclosed, “The first thing you should know about me is that I’m not you.” A sip of my specialty drink proved it delicious, and I pronounced, “A lot more will make sense after that.”
I felt sorry for Noah, watching the tumble of confused feelings nag at him.
“Bacon’s burning.” I warned.
“Crap.” He growled, turning to spatula the charred strips onto a plate covered with a paper towel. “You’re very distracting.”
Mentally shaking off the spell of longing he cast over me, my tone hardened, and I retorted tartly. “Speaking of distractions, I need to go home after breakfast. If I don’t clock my skating hours in, I get overwhelmed.”
“I know.” His eyes brimmed with tenderness and passion. It confused the hell out of me.
“What do you mean, you know?”
He wrapped his arms around me, and I had no desire to back out of his embrace. “I’m aware you struggle to focus, and grapple with managing your impulsivity, but it doesn’t always work.” He let go of me, picked up the blackened bacon, threw it in the trash, and placed several strips of fresh meat in the pan. “Take the fox hunt, for example.”
It was so strange to hear him talk freely about what he was thinking, that the meaning behind his words didn’t register.
When they finally did, it pissed me off. My accusing voice stabbed the air. “You have your entire life to be a jerk. Why not take today off?”
He watched me intently for several uncomfortable moments. “Daddy Dom’s don’t get time off from keeping their Littles safe. I’m making it my full-time job to dominate and discipline you.” There was a possessive desperation in his voice. He reached under the counter to pull out a coloring book and a sixty-four crayon set. “Here. Try this out for a spin. It’ll help you relax.”
I bristled with indignation. “What am I? Six-years-old?”
Aware of my annoyance, he tried to coax me into a better mood. “Did you even look at it?” His eyebrows raised inquiringly, and I was powerless to resist taking a peek.
When I turned the pages, my heart sang. “Bonnie Thunders?” I spoke eagerly. “No, way!”
With trembling fingers, I flipped through the publication, featuring “the LeBron James of roller derby,” and my mind started thinking about how awesome she’d be in a Razzle Dazzle Rose and Copper-colored uniform. “This is so bitchin’.” I announced, and my voice faded to a hushed stillness. “I’m sorry for calling you a jerk earlier. This is actually really cool.” The bleachers of the rink would look great in Screamin’ Green.
“Alright, it’s time we get some food in your belly. Put that away until you’ve finished your breakfast. What I have in store for you today will require plenty of nutrients.”
And in a blink, it was over.
I permitted myself a withering stare, finding myself utterly dissatisfied when he fell back into his role as Mr. Bossy Britches. It totally ruined the moment.
I put both hands on my hips and stuck my chin out. “Make me!”
Noah gave me a brutal and unfriendly glare. “Watch your mouth, baby girl. You are one bratty sentence away from coming to blows. You really want to start a war on an empty stomach?”
My rebellious emotions got out of hand. “Where else does this lead? It seems no matter how hard we try we can’t stop bickering.”
He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth and fumed. “We’re not fighting. You’re just being a brat.”
Once more, I was the victim of his glare. His movements were swift, poetry in motion, while at the same time down right beefy. People told me I moved fast, but he was faster. His words lashed out at me, conveying his reproach, “If you obey daddy, he won’t have to punish you. Apparently, that’s a lesson that hasn’t sunk in yet.”
There could be no doubt about it as he hoisted me onto the elevated work surface and yanked the oversized t-shirt above my hips. “Clearly, a few rules are required. Starting with the first, ‘no back talking to your daddy.’ If I tell you it’s time to eat, you do as I say.”
I wouldn’t let this brute order me around. “Or what?” I pushed off the counter with my arms, but wasn’t fast enough. Before I could get up, he pressed his hand above my rear and with the other gave my butt cheeks a hard squeeze, proceeding to boss me. “Second lesson, count your spanks for me. Otherwise, I have to start from zero.”
Smack!
I yelped at the sting. He waited.
“You’re not counting, little fox. Back to zero it is.”
Swat!
Spank!
Whack!
I got a sick thrill from opposing him, and grit my teeth against the smarting soreness, refusing to give in.
“Back to zero it is.” His voice turned darkly erotic, almost dangerous, and he ground his erection against the back of my thighs, which dangled from the horizontal surface.
He spanked my butt again, sending a shivery tingle up my spine, but the next blow was hard enough to make me clench my jaw against crying out. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurt.
“Apparently, you require something a little more extreme.” He moved away and reached into a drawer with an air of efficiency that fascinated. After all, I’d been trying for months to get his attention. Now I had one hundred percent of it, as he gave my body a raking gaze. “Recommend you hold on tight to the edge of that counter, my vixen. Brace yourself.” In his hand was a long, wooden spoon. Never had a kitchen utensil been so full of malice.
His attitude grew more serious. His grip tightened around the back of my neck; the air heavy between us. Draped over the cold slab of quartz, I heard the sizzle of fat in the pan and toast popped up. I had no desire to escape him. My body tingled, waiting for whatever came next, and when it finally did, with a blistering assault to my buttocks, I clamped my lips closed, silencing my screech.
Noah’s method of spanking was scientific in its approach. He delivered direct hits to my ass, covering every inch of flesh, and I blinked back tears and clenched my fists, refusing to submit to him.
“Give up yet?” His heat warmed my body from behind and the mere touch of his hand sent a warming shiver through me as he rubbed the sting out of my backside. “Ready to count?”
In my mind, I was begging for the punishment to stop. But I’d certainly not let him know that. “Never!” I lifted my chin and looked over my shoulder to meet his icy gaze straight on. “You can’t make me.”