Page 24 of Hunted by the Headless Horseman (Roars and Romances #5)

“You will indeed be punished.”

JACK

The temptation to take my belt or crop to her bottom rises in me as I bring her back to the manor and run a warm bath.

But this time, I won’t give her what she ultimately desires. No matter if my punishment will affect us both. Perhaps it’s an apt one, affording us more time to search for my heart. Samhain is coming.

History repeats itself, but in a new way, as I strip my little bookworm, blowing frustrated air through my nostrils. I shouldn’t be too hard on her, but I do not have that luxury. With recent events and the understanding of what kind of man her former husband is, there can be no room for foolhardy risks. Belle requires my protection. Therefore, she must follow my command.

Her heart may be weak, but it is truly great, much too great for this world. Now that I’ve seen a piece of her former life, she truly awes me with how much she has overcome, how she has found peace from her past, reclaimed herself, and holds no bitter spirit. Hurt, yes. Righteous anger, naturally. But bitterness? The word could never apply to my Belle.

After ensuring no moonlight may pierce the heavy drapes, I remove my clothes and lower her into the bath. She stirs, roused by the change.

“Jack?”

she mumbles, coming out of her unconscious stupor.

“Don’t turn,”

I command and take the rose shampoo to her hair, working it into a lather.

“What…happened?”

“Confound it, Belle! I told you to stay at the bookshop.”

“Mmm…”

She arches her neck, eyes closed as I massage her hair, scraping my nails along her scalp.

“I can’t lose you, Jack. I knew what you were doing, where you were going.”

I give a sharp yank on her hair, silently praising her when she keeps her eyes closed.

“I can handle myself, Belladonna Moore. When I give you such a command, I require your utmost obedience.”

She scrunches her brow, parting her lips, but I interrupt her, “Please do not misunderstand. This is not my endeavor to rule over you or imprison you. I am not like those men, like your?—”

“Don’t, please,”

she pleads softly, eyes still clenched, submissive to a fault.

“Don’t say his name or even what he was to me.”

“Regardless, I am not?—”

“I know you’re not,”

she interrupts a second time, rippling a perturbed prickle along my spine.

“You never could be.”

Thunderation, she makes it nigh impossible to scold her, much less punish her. She is strong in every way, but her sweet disposition, her will to always see the best in me, undoes me every time, nearly strangling my breath.

Heaving a sigh, I reach for the bath cup nearby, urge her to sit up, and fill the cup before tipping it to rinse her hair clean. She shivers, though the water is steamy. And when I set the cup aside, she throws her arms, her body against mine—the shiver evidence of her never wishing to be parted from me. I remember our vows to one another. They were as sacred and spiritual as wedding vows. I care not for tradition and legal requirements.

Belladonna Claire Holloway became Belladonna Claire Moore that night. Married in the eyes of all the gods and spirits of this precious earth.

Belle is my wife. And I will care for her as such.

When she squeezes my frame, nuzzling her head along my shoulder, I gather her in my arms and do my best to explain.

“Belle, you are the center of my universe.”

“And you’re mine.”

I grunt, annoyed, but annoyed more at myself for feeling annoyed by her interruptions.

“My turn to speak. As much as I love and cherish your tongue, my Belle, please…fucking hold it at present.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Good girl.

“While you may think the best of me, I still wish to explain my intentions. It is my duty and my honor to protect you, my Belle. If I were to ever fail in this, the sin would be far greater, the understanding and emotion would be far worse than if anything happened to me. I will always choose you first. Unconditionally. Irrevocably. Everlastingly.”

I stroke her hair, continuing firmly, “Therefore, Belle, I must insist you choose yourself. I am unworthy of such an elevated position. And…I do not desire it. I forbid it with every bone in my body.”

She stiffens, but I raise a hand, not allowing her to respond.

“First, you must take care of your heart. When you put yourself first, you put me first. Your heart is my heart. Your soul is my soul. As Cathy said, ‘I am Heathcliff.’ So, I am Belle. I am Belladonna. Is that understood?”

“No promises. Because I am Jack, Jackson Elias Moore. My own being.”

She leans up and tenderly kisses my neck.

“But I’ll do my best.

I pause, satisfied with that for now.

“I will not be lax in my duty and protection of you. You will indeed be punished.”

“Mmm,”

she sighs, melting against me, snuggling closer to my collarbone. A yawn confirms she is fatigued.

“Can I sleep first?”

“We may sleep first, my Belle. Until the dawn comes, I will lie awake, watching my beautiful wife rest. And hear her snore,”

I add with a chuckle.

“Oh, bloody pumpkins.”

THREE DAYS LATER

I love seeing her feathers ruffled.

“I knit you a new pumpkin head,”

she mutters, and it hits me softly a moment later. I manage to catch it and chuckle darkly.

It takes me a moment to secure the straps to my coat. Belle mutters something indecipherable and continues with her sweeping of the shop.

“Hung like a fucking Jack donkey, and pumpkin spice just going to damn waste. All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy,”

she spits the insult at me while sweeping the floor.

Amusement ripples through me at how hot and bothered she is. I feel it even before I take her hips from behind, and she stiffens…and hisses. Because I am heavy and hung like an ass.

Is my sweet damsel in distress, Belladonna? I slide my hand around her waist.

“Mmm…”

she whimpers as I lower my hand to her luscious center.

“Jack-off. Ughn…prick,”

she mutters, gripping the broom tight with one hand while her other clutches mine at her waist.

I laugh softly at how wet she is. Little wonder when I roused her from her bed this morning, but denying her the pleasure she so longed for. Just as I did intermittently during the day while I pretended to be a Halloween decoration for the shop. A brush of my fingertip along the curve of her spine, a subtle fondling of her ample arse. A firm capturing of her chin. Numerous little techniques I’ve devised to drive her mad.

Coiling one hand around her throat and drawing her chin up, I rub her pretty quim through her dress. From what I’ve determined throughout the day, it’s the perfect dress for my intentions this evening. Vintage, chic, and pleated, the dress has a surplice neckline and long sleeves—a belt for her waist. And I will certainly enjoy relieving her of that belt for other purposes.

A few gasps leave her throat. She arches her back, and just as I sense her about to go over the edge, I remove my hands.

“God, Jack!”

she whines and tries to lower one hand, but I growl and grip her wrist, confining it to her stomach.

I know what my woman needs, I reiterate from our first night together. I have everything prepared.

“Prepared?”

she chirps, straightening.

Yes. If you are finished cleaning the shop, I have a little surprise for you.

She drops the broom and practically rushes to the back door. I laugh heartily through our mental tether, following her to the kitchen.

“Are you coming?”

she asks, demanding and annoyed.

“I’ve seen pumpkins grow faster than you’re walking.”

Oh, I will punish her quite well tonight.

“Am I missing something?”

Belle wonders once we’ve arrived at my property, where I’ve led her to a little clearing between a grove of trees. Thick enough to obscure the sliver of moonlight. Not that Belle will be facing me when I fuck her this time.

The manor lies a hundred yards or so to the west.

While blood surges to my manhood at what I have prepared, I sense she is far more perplexed.

Gripping the silver handle of my cane, I close the distance between us and perch the cane just beneath her chin, speaking firmly. When you took me to the harvest festival and described the many sights and sounds, something stood out to me. A lovely little children’s game. And I could not get the vision out of my sight of bending you over a barrel while you open those pretty lips and try to snatch up a floating apple. If you succeed in capturing one for me, you will get a reward. Fail, and there will be a consequence.

A consequence I would fulfill regardless. One I did not meet during our first lovemaking, as I spent the time fucking her on every other surface before binding her to the bed and taking a flogger to her lovely flesh.

I hear her heavy breath, but she has not replied.

What say you, my Belle? Are you ready to be my little bobber?

A sweet giggle leaves her lips.

“Just tell me how you want me.”

Begging and screaming, but there will be time for that soon.

Removing the handle, I spin her around and place her hands on the edges of the barrel. Her breath catches as I slowly lift her dress, bunching it up and keeping the fabric trapped between her body and the barrel. An adorable whimper creeps through our bond as I slide her stockings down to her ankles, but I keep them there. I will soon enjoy the sight of them above her leather ankle boots.

Unbuckling her belt, I remove it in one swift move. She lurches but thrusts her ample bottom out toward me, knowing she will likely receive a punishment. I confirm with a glide of the leather along the right mound of her arse, giving her a soft warning slap. She gasps.

Thrusting my hand between her thighs, I chuckle darkly at her arousal glistening on her nether folds.

What do you have to say for yourself, my naughty girl?

“I’m sorry, Sir?”

A fair beginning. But I will require much of you tonight after you foolishly and stubbornly endangered yourself. A sharper slap this time, enough to elicit a moan and pinken the skin.

“I’m sorry was meant as more of an ‘Excuse me’ to be truthful. Sir,”

she adds at the end.

As much as I appreciate honesty, in this case, I require a heartfelt apology and a guarantee that you will put yourself and your heart first…before me, Belladonna Moore.

“If we are truly married, Jack?—”

We are, I say in a darker, deeper voice, one that advises her to tread carefully.

“Then it means, we are one flesh, one soul, one heart. Your heart is my heart, Jack. And I will protect you.”

Gripping her hair, I yank her head just enough for me to lower my mouth to nip at her skin. I do not require your protection. This is not a power exchange. I am your master and protector, the gentleman and the highwayman of your heart. I am yours, body, mind, and soul. But I need you to prioritize what I care for most in this world. If you don’t, I would sooner be dragged through all the mountains by my horse until there is nothing left of the Headless Horseman. Is that clear, my Belle?

I sink my teeth deeper into the base of her throat, close to the collarbone, reveling in her cry.

“It’s clear! It’s clear!”

Do you submit to me? And trust that I will protect and command you justly and honorably for the rest of our days? Do you trust that I know what’s best for you, even when you defy me, even when you challenge me, even when you believe that your way is right?

Her chest rises and falls against mine, as I feel her heartbeat quicken, that defiant pulse drumming against my lips.

“Yes, Sir,”

she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I trust you.”

Good, I murmur, my fingers threading deeper into her hair, tightening my grip just enough to remind her of the power I wield. Yet, I loosen it to remind her of the choice she holds. You are mine to cherish, to protect, to love. And while your spirit is fierce and your heart unyielding, you will learn to let go, to yield when I demand it, to follow when I lead.

“Do you know how damn sexy you are when you get all possessive and poetic?”

she gushes, and I sense her growing warmer, slicker between her legs.

You will soon have other words to describe me, Belladonna. Foul, filthy words.

Her whimper turns into a shrill scream the second I bring the leather down on her pretty arse.