Rocky Mountain Rose by Lee Savino
“It’s all
right, Rose. It’s me, Lyle Wilder.”
Lyle? Why? She must
have spoken out loud, because her words were muffled against his hand.
“I’m
going to let you go now,” Lyle said. “Don’t scream.” His hand lifted, and Rose
scrambled backwards, fumbling for her gun. She’d managed to hang onto her gun
in the commotion, and now she brought the Deringer up, pointing it at the man
in shaking hands. In the darkness, she sensed, rather than saw his hands go
into the air.
“You
gonna shoot me, Rose?” Breathing hard, she registered the amusement in his
voice. He always was a smug bastard.
Catching
her breath, she rallied. “Where am I?” A pause, and then a match struck. Light
outlined the perfect contours of Lyle’s face as her sister’s husband regarded
her soberly. “In a hotel. This is my room.” Keeping her aim fixed on him, Rose
darted a glance around the room, a shabby replica of any other boarding house’s
room like the ones she and Mary lived in.
Hands
still in the air, Lyle slowly moved to a side table and lit the lamp. Rose
backed into a corner, wondering if she dare kill the man her deceased sister
had loved. Lyle watched her, a slight smile on his face. “You want to lower
your gun?”
“No,” she
said.
“Come on,
Rose. This is how you repay the man who saved your life?”
“No. This
is how I repay the man who destroyed it.” One second she was staring him down,
then he moved, and the gun was aiming at nothing. Rose pulled the trigger,
hearing the hammer click uselessly before Lyle’s long arms wrapped around her
and locked her arms against his chest. She looked up into cold blue eyes.
“That’s a
single shot Deringer, Rose. And you already shot a man tonight. You think I
wouldn’t notice?” He was tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to look
up at him—a rare thing since she was taller than most men.
Her lip
curled. “I could only hope.”
“Careful,”
he growled. “You are very, very close to making me lose my temper. You don’t
want me to do that.”
Her heart pounded, and she was breathing hard, her chest
rising and falling, brushing his. She stared up into his sculpted features,
taking in the lush lips and proud forehead, the dark hair brushing his collar.
Pressed against him, she couldn’t help but notice the strength in his chest and
arms, and the long, dark lashes around his brilliant eyes. It should be illegal
for a man to be so beautiful. His scent, masculine and clean, rolled over her,
and suddenly her limbs were weak, and her thoughts screamed, “Danger!” During
the pause, his expression went from angry to curious. His blue gaze flickered
down her face, and his lips parted. She couldn’t help it, inches from his
mouth, her tongue came out and slowly licked her own lips.
“Rose.”
His face softened, and she remembered herself. She shoved at him, going nowhere
but at least putting in an effort to fight.
“Get your
hands off me.” She slapped his away.
“What the
hell?” He released her, and she took a step backwards then immediately went on
the offensive.
“What do
you think you’re doing?” she snapped, hands on hips. With her height and fiery
hair, she knew her angry pose would strike fear into most men’s hearts. Lyle
wasn’t most men.
“Saving
your life,” he said, glaring down at her with the same force.
“I didn’t
need saving,” she snapped. “I’m fine.”
“Far from
it, Rose.” Lyle’s blue eyes flashed. “You waltz into Doyle’s town after all
these years then throw yourself into a brawl. You could’ve been killed.”
“I can
take care of myself, Lyle Wilder.” She tossed her head, sending red hair flying
around her shoulders. “I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Really.
Dancing on tables for a living in front of a room full of drunken men.” He
folded his arms over his chest. “Quite a show you’ve got, Rosie May.”
“Shut
your mouth,” she spat.
His eyes
flashed at her. “You better start showing some respect, young lady, or I have half a mind to teach it to you.”
“No one
asked you.” She started towards the door. “Take me back.”
“Not so
fast.” Lyle pulled her towards him. She fought, but he was stronger and soon
had her seated on the chaise, his hands on her shoulders. “Rose, stop. There
are men out there looking for you. One of them is Otis Boone—fastest shot in
this town, maybe the whole Territory.”
“Get off!” She fought, her fingers turning
into claws headed for his face. He weaved out of the way, then caught her
wrists and used them to pull her body over his lap.
“Stop!
Help!” she shrieked.
“Shut it,
Rose.”
“Go to
hell!”
“If you
won’t shut up, I’ll make you,” he growled. She started to scream, and he
stuffed his handkerchief into her mouth. Writhing on his lap, Rose kicked her
legs then felt his hand come down hard over her skirts. “Stop fighting, Rose. I
am trying to help you.”
She
shouted through the gag, and he smacked her bottom again and again. Even
through her dress and petticoat, she could feel the blows warming her bottom.
It didn’t quite hurt, but it was a warning, and she took it as such, going
still and letting the fight drain out of her. She’d save her fury for when she
wasn’t pinned over her enemy’s lap.
“Now,”
Lyle said and pulled her to stand between his legs. “Can you keep a civil
tongue in your head?” Breathing hard through her nose, she nodded. Still
gripping her wrists, he pulled out the handkerchief then used it to wipe her
mouth. The kindness in his touch gave her pause. His hands slid down her arms.
“You’re
bleeding,” he muttered. She felt panic, and her fingers tore at her dress to
see the rust colored marks on her white dress. Lyle’s hands were at her
buttons, undoing them with expert fingers.
“Arms up,
Rose,” he ordered, and when she didn’t obey, he forced them up, pulling her
dress over her head. She stood in her petticoats and corset, too stunned by
this turn of events to curse him.
Lyle
loomed over her, and her arms automatically came up to cross over her chest,
hiding her body from him. Something about being alone and unclothed with a man
tore through her defenses, and shock started to take over, numbing her. Her
body was her weapon, and it frightened her to have the power stripped from it
so easily.
Lee Savino
Bestselling author Lee
Savino intends to do something big and important with her life, but most days
can’t keep track of her wallet or her phone so she just stays in bed and
writes. She's super excited about partnering with Blushing Books to publish her
erotic Westerns, and hopes you are enjoying the fictional town of Royal,
Colorado as much as she is.
Check out her website
to download a free novella or to say hi:
www.leesavino.com. She’d
also love to hear from you; email silverwoodpress@gmail.com to let her know
your favorite Rocky Mountain hero or bride! :D
Visit
her website here:
Mail Order Switch by Patty Devlin
“I
don’t take kindly to liars. I told you I am an honest man. How can I trust you
to be a good mama to my children if you will lie to me? And just what else have
you lied about?”
“Stop,
stop the wagon. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come; you can just take me back to
town. I understand if you don’t wa—” She dashed away the tears that were
falling heavily, but it was no use. There were just too many.
“It’s
too late for that. I am not happy with you right now, but we’ll talk—”
“I
don’t want to do this; just take me back to town please. I shouldn’t have come,
I’m really sorry I lied.” Her throat hurt from swallowing back tears. She was
shocked and a little outraged a moment later when she heard Wade’s deep
chuckle.
“I
don’t work like that. We’re married now and we are both just going to have to
deal with it. I am not happy to have a liar for a wife, but I know how to take
care of that problem. I can assure you—you will not dare lie to me or anyone
else again.” Those eyes went from narrowed to having one eyebrow arched high
above the other.
Whatever
he was insinuating made Liz squirm. This was exactly what she didn’t want to
happen. If he didn’t like her, why wouldn’t he just let her go? He must be just
like Uncle Rupert. She had to get away.
Without
another thought or a plan, Liz jumped from the moving wagon. She hit the
embankment on the side of the road and pain shot through her ankle and up her
leg before she fell to her side and rolled. It took her a moment or two to
orient herself when she came to a halt. She crawled to her knees and looked to
the wagon that had already stopped. Wade swung down and was marching toward
her. She climbed to her feet to stand. She needed to run, but when she put
pressure on her right ankle, screaming pain ripped through her foot and lower
leg.
“Are
you hurt?” Wade demanded as his long legs ate up the distance between them. So
much for an escape.
“No,
I’m fine,” she lied. “I’m going to walk back to town. You are free to go on, to
uh— find a better wife.”
“No,
I’m just going to show you right now how it’s going to be. Come here.” He
grabbed her arm, thankfully her right, and she was able to hobble with him as
he dragged her to a fallen tree. He sat down and before she knew what had
happened, she was bottom over top, across his lap, looking down at a line of
ants. They were moving from a small mound of loose sand to a hole under the
log.
“What
are you doing? No! You let me go!”
One
jarring swat fell on her seat and then another. She pushed against his legs,
trying to sit up and twist. She had to get away! He pressed his free arm
against her back, his strength against hers, and she had to lie back down. The
swats kept falling, one cheek and then the other, building an intense amount of
heat on her seat.
“You...
you... you let me go,” she tried again.
“This
is what is going to happen when you lie to me, little missy. I call the shots,
you got that? No? Well, you will. I’m not making a good impression on you, am
I?” He stopped swatting momentarily and Liz struggled, thinking maybe she could
get away. But, no—he locked his leg over hers and lifted her skirt.
Patty
Devlin
“I have always loved to write, and daydream, of course. It
just comes naturally to me. I love to read. I devour books. Sadly, I had a hard
time finding the good books, the ones that had sexy, dominant men in them. The
ones where the men weren't afraid to spank a girl if she deserved a few well
earned swats. The books that had those scenes were very few and far between.
My books are romance and they are fun and naughty but you
won't find any full sex scenes. (Just enough teasers). However, there are
plenty of spankings all the way through and tons of plot to keep you turning
the pages.”
Visit her blog here:
The Outlaw’s Bride by Renee Rose
“Never wield a weapon you are unwilling to use,” he gritted,
applying five smacks to the same exact place on one side, then moving to the
other. “I nearly shot you before I realized who you were.” He paid special
attention to the crease where her bottom met thigh, which she knew would make
it difficult to sit later.
Somewhere in the confusion of managing the onslaught of
stinging smacks, his words sank in and surprised her. He punished her not for
trying to kill him, but for endangering herself?
“If you can’t pull the trigger, don’t even handle the
weapon, do you understand me?”
“Yes!” she gasped.
“Yes, sir,” he corrected with an extra hard smack.
Yes, sir!”
He continued to pepper her entire bottom with spanks, the
small surface area of the spoon traversing every inch of one cheek, then the
other, then back to the first, until she panted from the burn.
He slowed down. “Do you even know how to fire a gun?”
“Not exactly,” she gasped.
He sighed and placed the spoon across the backs of her legs,
running his calloused hand over her swollen buttocks. The roughness of his palm
stung her sensitive skin, but even so, she relished the gesture, hoping it
signaled an end to her chastisement.
“I am sorry,” she offered.
He brought his open palm down with a sharp slap. “You had
better be.” His hand rubbed a circle over her heated flesh. Her heart pounded,
though not from fear. The heat from her bottom seemed to travel between her
legs as well, warming her most intimate area. She squirmed on his lap.
He must have taken her squirm as discomfort, because he
lifted her to stand. Even in darkness, she did not want him to see her face,
too humiliated by the punishment. When he pulled her to sit on his lap, she
lurched off to escape.
He pulled her back and held her between his knees, his hands
gripping and kneading her punished bottom. “You can sit here on my lap and we
can talk, or you can go stand in the corner before you take another round over
my knee. Which is it?”
Her bottom throbbed at the threat and her face burned with
embarrassment. In fact, heat pulsed through her entire core at his words.
“Will there be a second round, regardless?” she asked.
One corner of his mouth tugged upward in a smile. “Depends
on how our talk goes.”
Renee Rose
USA Today Bestselling Author Renee Rose is a
naughty wordsmith who writes kinky BDSM and spanking romance novels. Named
Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author
in 2013, she has also won The Romance
Reviews Best Historical, Sci-Fi and BDSM awards, Spanking Romance Reviews‘ Best Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite author, and was a
finalist for The BDSM Writer’s Con Golden Flogger award. She’s hit #1 on Amazon
in multiple categories in the U.S. and U.K., is often found on the list of
Amazon’s Top 100 Erotic Authors and has been a regular columnist for Write Sex Right. She also pens BDSM stories
under the name Darling Adams.
Life After Rachel by Maren Smith
“Nei!” Shaking her head, she leaned away, dropping almost
all the way to the floor in her fight to avoid his lap.
“Stop,” he commanded, but she erupted in a flurry of panic.
Slapping at his hand, she yanked to free her arm, forcing Daniel back to his
feet. He jerked her close, abruptly stilling her struggles when he caught her
shoulders and shook her. “Don’t!”
Hands braced against his chest, she pushed back. She shook
her head, her eyes tearing all over again. It was a look that would haunt him,
but he knew better than to yield. Not when the lesson she needed to learn was
this important.
Daniel pulled her in so close that when she sucked another
panicked breath, he felt the tips of her breasts brush against his chest. It
sparked an instant reaction within him, a reaction he forced himself to ignore.
“Stop,” he repeated, lower, darker, infinitely more
threateningly. “Don’t you dare fight me. If you want to risk your life, fine.
Be my guest. But you don’t do it with my son around your neck. You understand?”
Her lips parted as she winced as his hands tightened on her
arms. To bruise her arms wasn’t his intent and he made himself relax his grip.
He didn’t reclaim his seat until, her bottom lip trembling, the fight seemed to
ease out of her. This time when he drew her down to lie across his lap, her
only resistance was a stiffening of her legs and the faintest lean backwards.
She shook her head, but the end result was inevitable. She was bent until she
toppled face-down across his waiting thighs and her whole body became as tense
as a plank of wood.
Wrapping his arm around the small of her back to keep her in
place, Daniel caught the back of her skirts and drew them up over her
shoulders. The excess folds fell over her head like a homespun drape.
“Nei,” Ane whimpered, kicking her feet up in an attempt to
cover her backside.
“Don’t.” He pushed at each ankle until, reluctantly, her
feet returned to the floor.
Hers was a muffled whimper when he untied the backs of her
bloomers and skinned them down her legs, baring the blushing swells of her
bottom for a proper dose of discipline. Three thick, angry welts crisscrossed
her flesh where the length of his belt had struck her before. The livid red
tail of one weal extended a good four inches down the back of her right thigh.
The flesh there had a purplish tinge and by nightfall would likely be an ugly
bruise.
Daniel covered the mark with his hand, for a moment so ashamed
of himself that he almost let her go. Thoughts of Torn-Ear changed his mind,
but in that moment he knew there was no way in hell he would use his belt on
her again.
Her whole body tensed when his hand abandoned the back of
her thigh.
“Nei.” She thrust a hand back, desperately warding off what
she knew was coming. He had no idea even if she understood what he was spanking
her for, but he caught her wrist anyway and pinned it under her belly and out
of his way. It only made her struggles frantic all over again. “Nei! Nei!”
Yes, was in the first hard slap of his palm. Welts or no
welts, he was resolved to make this spanking one she remembered for the rest of
her life, and he lit into her with all the strength of his arm.
Author Bio for Maren Smith:
Fortunate enough to have married my Dominant, I am a wife,
coffee whore, pain slut, administrator at two local BDSM dungeons, resident of
the wilds of freakin’ Kansas (still don’t know how I ended up here) and
submissive to the love of my life. An USA Bestselling Author, I have penned
more than 120 novels, novellas and short stories, and am the author of the
Masters of the Castle series, of which Kaylee’s Keeper reached #1 on all
Amazon.
Visit her blog here:
http://badgirlscorner.wordpress.com
