“You can’t see me or hear my thoughts when I’m with Heck,” she whispered, understanding why. “Can you?”
As if she’d slapped him straight across the face, Frank threw his head back and stared down the wide bridge of his nose. A very troubled expression washed over his handsome face as he released her. He tucked a lock of black, silken hair behind his ear and squared his shoulders as if he expected to carry a burdensome load.
It was one of the rare times when Carla had seen the Arapaho Indian emerge. His chiseled, high cheekbones flexed over and over again. He ground his molars until they made an awful racket.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said softly. “I only want to love who I’m supposed to love.”
“You were imprinted on by two pack masters. You belong to me and you belong to Jock.”
“I belong to him, too, Frank.” As if the words were torn from her throat, she added, “I’m certain of it.”
“You do not!” Frank’s voice ricocheted off the walls of their small home. It was a miracle the logs didn’t split down the middle.
Trying to understand how Frank might have viewed her expressed feelings as outright betrayal, she took cautious steps toward him. She cupped his cheek and stroked the wide corner of his curled lip, massaging his mouth with the pad of her thumb.
“I love you.” She wanted to reassure him, needed him to know that regardless of her feelings for another, she would always belong to him. He’d been her first lover. He’d been the one to teach her so much about loving another.
He turned his face to her hand, kissing the center of her palm. His eyes grew heavy. His tense cheeks relaxed.
“I need you,” he whispered, arching his brow as if he thought she would deny him.
“I’m right here, Frank.” She took his hand and led him behind the bedroom curtain. “I’m always right here for you.”
“Show me,” Frank said, sliding his suspenders away from his shoulders and down his arms.
Carla reached for him then, realizing this was one of the very few times when he would let her lead. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the garment out of her way, loving the way his muscles bunched under her fingertips.
“That’s right, honey,” he drawled, running his hand over the obvious erection imprinting the material he wore.
She stuffed her thumbs under the top of his low-riding breeches and with one flick of her wrist and a little applied pressure, Frank’s pants dropped to his hips. His cock sprang forward and her mouth watered at the sight of his long, stiff length.
Frank pushed down on her shoulders as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Carla went to her knees, situating her body in front of Frank’s.
She walked her fingers up his thighs, watching him as he looked on with such a heated and fierce expression, one filled with ownership and devotion. She’d just touched the base of his shaft when he snatched her wrists and held them together between his hands.
“Don’t touch me with your hands.” His nostrils flared. “Use your mouth, honey. Show me how much you enjoy pleasing me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, grabbing hold of his legs and hauling her upper body forward.
Frank aimed his penis forward. Her lips parted and he stuffed his heavy cock deep between her cheeks, watching with obvious approval as she went straight to work, caressing and pampering him with a firm and giving tongue.
* * * *
Jock arrived in time to witness the best of good loving. Frank was aware of his presence, but uninterested in inviting him to join them.
Helping Carla to her feet, Frank turned her to the bed and applied pressure to the small of her back, forcing her forward. Taking a belt from the top of an old wooden trunk, he doubled the strap over. “Do you know why you are being punished, Miss?”
“I know why you think I should be punished,” Carla replied.
Hard as stone, Frank quickly debated if he had the energy to spank her when all he wanted to do was ride the rebellion right out of her. Instead of considering the latter, he raised his arm and delivered the first of many strikes, loving the sound of the leather thwacking against her flesh. He especially enjoyed the markings on her skin, the evidence she would wear for a good number of days, something significant to remind of her betrayal.
“Are you wet, Miss?” He threw down his belt after he’d spanked her properly. Leaning over her back, he whispered at her ear. “Do you need me as much as I need you?” His firm cock rested against her hip.
“Yes, Sir. I always need you.”
Frank pushed against her. He reached around her chest and pulled her nipple, twisting the perky point until she cried out in pleasure and in pain.
“Again, Frank,” she whispered, arching against him. “Spank me again.”