Merry was a delicate creature, but she was sturdy too. She would taste good, sweet in some areas, tart in others, much like her personality. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be responsive, yet she’d be angry as well. Taking the chance might not be in his best interest, for he wanted much more from her than one night of passion.
She was not a female to be toyed with. Her idiotic husband had done that and he knew what Merry now felt for him was disgust, bordering on hatred. No way did he want to end up in that category of the male species.
Bartlett recognized that he was not a patient man, never had been. Still, Merry was different. He suspected she was a keeper; a woman he would not want to let go. Although he wasn’t sure it would be a forever relationship, he thought it might be. He would need to tread carefully; maybe wait for her to make the first move and her touching him tonight reaffirmed that. He had to be patient. He had to be supportive, and most of all he had to show her he was not the sort of man who would use and abuse her.
He would spank her on occasion. It was in his nature and he’d stopped trying to bury that part of himself long ago. Whether it would be part of their foreplay would be up to her, for if she disobeyed him or disrespected him a spanking would be the natural result, expected and forewarned.
Forcefully he pushed those thoughts from his mind. They only made his erection harder as he imagined having her over his knees while he smacked her pretty, heart-shaped bottom until it was rosy and warm. Other times might be more severe, depending on the circumstances, but it was entirely possible he would want to warm up that sweet ass nightly.
Damn! He had to stop it before he humiliated himself. What was he a schoolboy who could not control his own body? It was ridiculous, but there it was, rising higher and pushing against his lounge pants. Grabbing a throw pillow he placed it on his lap and downed the rest of his whiskey. He hoped she didn’t stay long as he wasn’t sure if he could behave as a gentleman now that the picture of her little red bottom was planted firmly in his mind! Lord, he was pitiful.
They atelasagna in the great room. She carried in two plates, a basket of Italian bread and a bowl of grated cheese and placed it all on the coffee table. The silverware was wrapped in napkins and she handed him a set. Then she sank cross legged to the floor on the opposite side of the makeshift dining table and began to eat.
“This is delicious,” he said between bites. “Did you make it?”
“No, I stopped at The Dancing Snowflake on my way over here. They have the best Italian food in the village.”
“I haven’t been there. I’ll take you to dinner once things settle down,” he said gazing at his private area.
“I’d like that,” Merry replied with a grin.
“Which…things settling down or going to dinner?” he asked teasing her.
Merry cocked her head to one side and looked up at him.
“Maybe both,” she replied.
Before he could pin her down on that answer she’d jumped up to refill her wine glass, holding up the bottle with a questioning look.
Bartlett nodded and she returned with two glasses.
“Are you feeling a little better?” she asked as she sank back down onto the floor.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I guess as long as I stay still I’m okay. Hell, Merry, you should have stopped me.”
She laughed.
“You’re blaming me for this?” she crowed. “That’s priceless and so typically male. Besides, I did try to warn you.”
“I guess you did, but you could have been more vocal about it.”
“How?”
“You could have said ‘are you sure you want some stranger to pour hot wax on your asshole and rip the hair from it’?” he insisted with a dark scowl.
Merry burst out laughing and had to cover her mouth to keep from spitting out the swallow of wine she’d just taken.
“You got the works?” she asked, grinning in disbelief.
“Apparently, I didn’t know what ‘the work’s’ entailed, pardon my pun,” he growled.
“You should have asked.”
“I didn’t want to look stupid, like I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admitted.
“But you are stupid, and you didn’t know what you were doing,” she pointed out.
“That’s beside the point. A man expects his friends to inform him when he’s about to make a huge mistake.”
