Puck’s Property by Monique Moreau

ChapterFifteen

It was past eight o’clock before Puck allowed her out of the bed. Not that she was in any rush to leave the cozy, sex-saturated scent of her bedroom or the hard, warm body that spooned hers after a marathon session of fucking. Sitting up, the blanket fell off her, and cool air puckered her nipples. Puck’s hand reached for her. Starting at her collarbone, his touch skimmed down her breast and flicked a nipple lightly before taking a handful of her bottom. She squirmed a little because he’d given her butt a little talking to with the flat of his hand earlier. Naturally, in the most delicious way possible. His soothing touch rubbed away any residual ache, but it set off an altogether different kind of ache in her core.

“You must be starving. We need to eat,” she said.

“Hmm…don’t mention hunger, because given the choice, I’m gonna choose your pussy over food every time.”

A soft giggle flew out of her mouth. “You had my pussy in jail, but you didn’t have enough good food.”

“I’ll never get enough of your pussy,” he answered soberly, his dark eyes taking on a glittery sheen. She caressed the large, rounded muscle of his shoulder then dipped her hand into his chest hair, twisting a little with her fingers. A rumble from deep in his chest vibrated through her hand. Dark eyes flashed up to hers. “You teasing me, angel? You don’t wanna know what I do to cock-teasing little girls.”

“Maybe,” she replied, but dodged his hand and scrambled off the bed. If she didn’t initiate it, they’d never leave the bed, and Ava had a profound desire to cook for him. To feed and take care of him. She grabbed her robe from a nearby armchair. It was old and raggedy on the ends, but it was made of fleece, and she’d gotten into the habit of wearing it when she puttered around the house. Not exactly sexy…unless you count the fact that I have no clothes on underneath, that is.

Like any girly girl, she had a drawer full of sexy underwear, but Puck would have to learn to take her as she was, which was quite different from the hipster she’d been when they first hooked up. As Kat constantly teased, she was now washed.

Not that Puck seemed to mind, because he soon padded into the kitchen after her, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. Throwing the pizza dough down on a wooden cutting board, she scraped her bottom lip. How in the world was she going to concentrate with those gorgeous muscles of his graphically on display? She wanted to lick every last one of them.

Turning her attention to her task before she jumped him, she called out, “Would you please put the oven on at 425 degrees?”

An instant later, his hot breath was warming the curve of her ear. “I fucking love to hear you say please in that prim teacher–social worker voice of yours.” His chest was a wall of heat at her back. He palmed her ass and grunted when he got only a handful of cloth. Flipping her robe up, he grabbed a butt cheek and commanded, “Say it again.”

“Please,” she obeyed, her voice a low rasp. Her breaths were coming out short and fast. Puck untied her belt and slipped his arms around her waist as she did her best to focus on kneading the pizza dough. His fingers skidded down her belly and played with her small patch of hair. She pressed her lips tightly to thwart a moan that was desperate to escape.

“Your skin is like silk. I can’t stop touching you, and I can’t stop fucking you.” His chin settled on the dip of her shoulder as his middle finger stroked into the cleft of her pussy. “You sore?”

“A little,” she mumbled through her front teeth, clenching her lower lip. She might be a little sore, but that did nothing to prevent wetness from seeping out and coating the finger that breached her. She clamped her hand over his, strings of dough dripping off. “Let me finish. It won’t take much time.”

“How long?”

His teasing finger was clouding her brain. A notch furrowed between her eyebrows. “How long what?”

“How many minutes will it take you to make the pizza?” he inquired.

“Uhm… I’ve never timed myself before… Maybe seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes it is,” he declared as he stepped away from her. “You got a timer?”

“Yes, in the top drawer over there,” she said, gesturing toward the stove.

He prowled over, yanked it open, and rummaged around until he found her green owl-shaped timer. “I suggest you hurry up ’cause every extra second will be a smack to your ass before I fuck you.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “I’m not exactly sure that it’s seven minutes.”

“Then, make exactly sure it’s seven minutes ’cause that’s the amount of punishment-free time you’ve got. If I were you, I wouldn’t stand there and argue. I’d get crackin’.”

Her eyes flew to the clock and then back to his face. His eyes had turned a flat steely black. He wasn’t joking. She ran around the kitchen like a whirling dervish, grabbing the round pizza dish, spreading the dough, and then throwing the fridge open to grab the pizza sauce and mozzarella. After shredding the mozzarella and spreading the sauce, Ava was about to spread the cheese when the ringer sounded loudly throughout the kitchen.

“Dammit,” she cursed out.

Chuckling low, he counseled, “Hurry up. The clock isn’t stopping.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she finished spreading the cheese, grabbed the large wooden pizza peel, flung the oven door open, and thrust it inside. Slamming it closed, she leaned against it and folded her arms over her chest, a disgruntled moue on her lips.

“Not bad. Only twenty-seven seconds over. C’mere,” he ordered with a crook of his finger.

Grrr. She hate-loved when he said that and crooked his finger at her like she was a wayward child. It pissed her off and turned her on at the same time. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her folded arms over her breasts and protested, “No.”

“No? That word shouldn’t be in your vocabulary when it comes to responding to an order.” His baritone dropped a sexy octave as he promised, “I’ll make sure you have the climax of your life after you take your punishment like a good girl.” Then it turned harder as he finished, “But, if you get salty on me, you’ll get the wallops without the coming.”

Ava curled her lip at him. “Fuck you, Puck.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve slapped your ass,” he noted as he took a step closer to her, cocking his head to the side as he watched her curiously. “You never complained before.”

“Those were a few slaps in the middle of having sex. Not twenty-seven smacks without a guaranteed climax afterward. There’s nothing in it for me, and I’m not doing it,” she concluded with a stomp of her foot.

He scowled at her. “You’ve refused long enough, so no orgasm for you. One thing you better learn is that you’re my property, Ava. My old lady. I’m a biker, and sometimes, being an old lady means answering directives without question. We’ve got enemies. Could be the difference between life and death. More than that, you’ve got to trust me enough to turn your ass over to me. It’s mine, to do with what I want.”

What had started out as a fun game had veered into a lesson in obedience. “That’s not fair! I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“There are smacks and then there are smacks. I was gonna make your punishment so damn good you were guaranteed a climax, but your stubbornness changed this into discipline. We didn’t get to this point when I was in jail. Didn’t have enough time to do much more than have a conversation and a fuck. But I’m out now, and we’re building a life together. That’s gonna require a little molding from me, I see.”

Okay, his words were doing a whiplash on her emotions. She almost curled up to rub on him when he talked about building a life together so casually, like it was a done deal. But the idiot had to mess it up with his last comment, which had her seeing red. Ava didn’t lose her temper often, but when she did, logic and rationality were swapped out with dogged obstinacy. He wanted to get to her ass? Yeah, well he was going to have to catch her first.

Her chin raised an inch.

“Make me,” she snarled low.

“Oh, angel, you don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He barked out a laugh. “You wanna play? Game. Fucking. On.”

Stalking her, his hand stretched out to grab her, but she backed out of his reach, twirled around, and raced out the kitchen door. Down the corridor and into the living room she went, with Puck in hot pursuit. Panting out a staccato of breaths, she circled the low coffee table. His hands swiped for her, but she dodged his grasping fingers. Little giggles escaped as she bobbed and weaved. She was impressed with herself, considering he outweighed her by almost a hundred pounds. Whirling around, she broke for a run and fled back into the kitchen. Hot on her heels, he almost caught her robe, but she’d escaped around the corner of the kitchen, down the corridor and out into the living room. His footsteps pounded behind her, and panicking, she sprinted past the couch and coffee table to the far end of the room. Where she promptly realized her mistake. There was nowhere to go but behind a compact swivel armchair.

Cornered.

She rounded it swiftly, holding on to the back of the chair like a shield. Out of breath, she stared Puck down as he prowled toward her slowly, wearing a shit-eating grin that made her want to smack him. His bare chest distracted her for a moment, but she snapped back to attention when he grasped the arms of the chair dramatically. Scooting the chair backward, he effectively shoved her into the corner of the room.

“Hmm, looks like my naughty angel got trapped like a little birdie. You need to get your wings clipped, and I’m the owner who’s gonna do it,” he gloated.

“Fuck you,” she spat out, doubly mad because it’d taken him only five minutes to catch her and the chase had turned her on. Meanwhile, he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

He might be shaking his head as if disappointed, but he looked a tad too gleeful for her liking. “That mouth is going to cost you. Come on out. Every second you stay there is another smack tacked onto your punishment.”

“What does it matter after what I have coming for me with no pleasure at the end of it,” she gritted out as she smacked her palms against the top of the chair.

“You do have a point there, but I can’t have my woman losing her temper. You’re gonna have to earn your way to getting your pussy tapped good and hard the way you like it. Now, don’t make it any harder on yourself,” he counseled. “Come on out of there. Like a good girl.”

“No,” she bit out. Her thighs were quivering with want, but she pressed them together.

He grabbed her by the scruff of her robe and dragged her out from behind the chair. Furious at how easy it was for him, she fought him, pulling at his firm grip and digging in her heels to stop his forward movement. Stripping out of the robe he was holding by the collar, she almost got away. Finally losing his patience, he simply hauled her up against his chest and carried her to the sofa. With a huff, he dropped onto the couch and maneuvered her over his spread thighs.

Nose twitching, she smelled the pizza in the oven. “The pizza! It’s going to burn. Let me go. I have to take it out of the oven.”

His hand stilled on her lower back as he turned his head in the direction of the kitchen, scenting the air. “Hell no, I’m not letting you go. We go in together; I tie you up and take care of the pizza. Then we continue with the lesson.”

She groaned, curling her hands into fists.

“Either that or the pizza burns,” he warned.

“Fine,” she snapped, eyes flashing. He’d better tie her up because she had zero intention of making it easy for him.

He helped her stand and held up her robe. She peevishly thrust her hands into the armholes then she was instantly tucked to his side before she had a chance to escape. By chance, her gaze swept down and landed on his crotch. She smirked up at him. The thick, defined line of his cock bulged against the stretchy fabric of his boxer briefs. At least she wasn’t the only one aroused by their little cat-and-mouse game.

Once in the kitchen, he used the belt of her favorite robe to tie her to a chair. Not having bothered to close the flap, her breasts were bare, pebbled nipples proudly on display.

After checking the tautness of her ties, Puck carefully pulled out the pizza and let it cool on a rack.

“You better hurry up and get this over with because I’m ready to eat,” she griped.

He arched one eyebrow. “You ordering me around? At this rate, you’ll be lucky to sit on that fine ass of yours until next week without being reminded of the marks of my hand.”

“Asshole,” she grumbled under her breath.

Ignoring her, he untied her and hauled her back into the living room. Man-spreading his legs, he released her and pointed to the rug. “First position.”

She shifted from foot to foot, considering her options. She didn’t have many. He was stronger, faster, and more bullheaded. She glanced at the hallway leading toward the bathroom. Even if she managed to lock herself in the bathroom or bedroom, he’d stand guard through the night to catch her the instant she unlocked the door. Then she’d be in bigger trouble. While there was a part of her that wanted to test him—because, dammit, he was irritating as hell—she knew what she had to do.

Jaw tight, she slowly dropped to her knees. Instantly, his legs closed, corralling her with his knees. His hand fell to the crown of her head, and he repeatedly stroked her hair, like she was a fucking pet. A flurry of conflicting feelings pulsated in her chest. Pissed but also aroused. He had control and wielded it oh-so well. His caress called to her soul, and no matter how irate she was, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Seriously, there was nothing like it. It was magic—comforting, thrilling, and drugging at the same time. Tucking her legs beneath her, she bowed her head, giving him silent directions of where to stroke.

He broke the silence. “Time to get this over with.”

She glanced up at him with a pout and pleading eyes. “We don’t really have to do this, you know. I lost my temper a little, but I’m calm now. I can even apologize.”

He grinned. “You sorry?”

Her eyes skittered away from his, and she chewed her lips for a few moments. “Not really,” she replied candidly.

He let out a guffaw. “You will be after this.” Looking down at her curiously, he said, “This has always been part of our relationship. What’s different about this punishment?”

She shifted on her calves, and her fingers fidgeted on her knees. Focusing on the corner of the rug, she answered, “Punishment would be the key word. You’ve only ever smacked my butt while we were having sex. I haven’t done this kind of stuff with others. Sure, I’ve dated, and I had a couple of relationships that lasted several months, but they’ve never…you know…”

“Given you a spanking,” he finished for her.

She glowered up at him. “Yes. Anyway, you were an asshole today for not calling me.”

“I already explained. Didn’t get out of there till after ten o’clock in the morning. By the time I was over my rage about Sammi, I figured it’d be easier to show up at your door.”

“It was thoughtless, Puck. You want me to be your old lady, but I was torn up when you didn’t show up for your appointment. I had no idea where you were. It was only once I searched the database that I came to find out that you were released, and you didn’t bother giving me a call. You’ve already ripped my heart out once…” she finished with a firm shake of her head.

“Fucking Sage warned me you’d me pissed,” he mumbled.

She glared at him. “She told you to call me, and you still didn’t?”

“She didn’t tell me shit. No one tells me what to do. She warned me you might be upset, but I was eating the first fucking real meal since being out. You don’t know what it’s like, your first day out of jail. It’s disorientating as fuck. And then Sammi’s bullshit was on top of that.”

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes trailing down as he talked. Was this how it was going to be? The club, Sammi…everything but her came first. He placed his index finger under her chin and lifted her head up. “I’ll do better.”

“I’m scared. Little things that normally wouldn’t bother me trigger me. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. What if you leave me—”

His fingers pinched her chin, and he shook it slightly. “Hey, that’s not fucking happening. A biker can be married multiple times, but he chooses only one old lady, feel me? On my end, I gotta know that you can trust me when it comes to this.”

He was talking about domestic discipline, of course. Now that he was asking like a civilized person, and not acting like a brute—granted a sexy brute—she was calm enough to carefully consider it. She didn’t mind being spanked in certain situations. Oftentimes, it was the final push she needed to climax. Since she’d only ever orgasmed with Puck, she had to admit that whatever he did, worked for her. And he clearly wanted to take their relationship to the next level; he wouldn’t have brought it up unless it was important to him. What exactly that entailed, she didn’t quite know. Hadn’t thought about it before this moment. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.

“You asking me if I’ve been with another woman like this before? Yeah, a good number of them.”

She shuffled on her knees to back out of his legs, but he pressed them inward, and his hand slid down to take hold of the back of her neck. “I like to see you get possessive ’cause it’s hot and it shows me how much you care, but I mentioned them to prove that I know what I’m doing. I didn’t have a fit earlier when you mentioned dating men, though the thought of it makes me want to lay into that ass of yours. That wouldn’t be right. We’ve been apart for eight years. I didn’t live the life of a monk, and I’m sure you weren’t a nun. Point is, we’re together now. It’s part of who I am, but we wouldn’t be a perfect fit if I had any doubts that it’d work for you, too. I don’t have to check to know what makes you wet, angel. Now, come on. I need to clip those wings of yours because I’m getting hungry. The pizza looked fucking tasty as hell.” He patted his lap. “Up you go.”

Dragging her feet, she inched up and crawled over his thighs. He placed a hand on her spine and applied pressure until she hung over his lap. She heard the rustle of her robe as it was rucked up, and with a final huff, she laid her cheek on the couch. Goose bumps pricked her skin as the cold air hit her exposed skin. She had a view of the bookshelf and the window, with the shades still up. Silently, she prayed that her house was situated far enough back from the sidewalk that no one walking by would see her.

“Now for the spanking.”

“Puck!” she lamented. He was enjoying this far too much.

A chuckle gusted over her bare flesh, causing her to jerk her hips nervously. The anticipation, along with the smooth glide of his hand over her buttocks and his hard quad muscles flexing beneath her, fueled a heat in her core that she really wished would disappear. If the slickness at the juncture of her thighs was glaringly obvious to her, it was only a matter of time before he noticed. She gave an inward groan. What was it about Puck and his dominance that made her clit ring like a little bell when he took full control? She was like a cat in heat, wanting to rub her wet pussy all over his thighs. If she had her way, she’d pull off his briefs and ride him bare. Just his hot flesh parting hers as she bore down on his cock.

Her reverie was cut bluntly short the instant his hand came down, catching the outer flank of her thigh.

“Ow!”

“Better hold those in ’cause there’s a lot more where they came from. That was one. Count them off, Ava,” he commanded as a hard swat landed on her buttock.

“Mmffm,” she said between sealed lips, as she fought to stifle her cry.

“Two. That’s the last one, Ava. They’ll only count toward the total if you count off,” he warned before another landed on her ass.

“Three!” she screeched.

“Good girl,” he replied. He may have called her a good girl, but he wasn’t treating her like one by giving her a break. At first, she writhed over his lap until he sharply told her to settle down. Instead of taking it easy, he pursued a punishing pace. She was forced to call out every time the flat of his hand connected with a section of her body. He didn’t restrict himself to her butt, either, but swatted her thighs and on the sides of her bottom. His smacks built on top of one another. The blistering fire of his paddling shot electricity right between her legs. Pleasure and pain danced a tango in her body. Head hanging down in delirium, she let out a low, carnal moan.

“Christ, the noises you make could bring a weaker man to his knees.” He bent forward and took his teeth to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Only, after sucking long enough to guarantee a bruise—on purpose?—he lapped it better. By now, her nerve endings were whirring.

He spread his thighs, widening a gap between her own legs. They were only halfway through her punishment, but he was definitely intent on torturing her, because while rubbing her abused flesh, his fingers dipped between her thighs. Her secret was out. He could feel how saturated she was. One finger circled her swollen little clit.

“Dirty little angel, not only can I feel it but I can smell how much you need to get fucked. How bad do you need it, girlie?” He added another finger to her core.

She pressed her lips firmly closed but circled her hips, clenching her inner walls to suck in his fingers. He pulled away, purposely keeping his touch light. Sadistic bastard.

“Don’t wanna talk? Alright, that must mean you want me to return to the task at hand.” With that, he withdrew his touch completely. She almost whimpered, but bit down at the last moment. She’d prove to him she could take anything he threw her way.

They returned to the spanking, blood rushing back to the places where his hand fell. By the time Ava counted out a final thirty-five, her thighs quivered and both her buttocks were on fire, but she was also wetter than ever. He’d found just the right pressure and rhythm to morph that pain into searing pleasure.

Puck eased her up to her hands and knees and then sat her down on his lap. Ava was in hell. Her pussy was throbbing for release while her stinging bottom was pulsating with pain.

With a well-placed kiss on her cheek, he suggested, “Let’s eat that pizza. Then you can earn your way back into my good graces and get the fuck you need.”

Her jaw clenched. How was she going to eat when she wanted to kill him?

※※※

“Die, motherfucker, die!”

Ava struggled out of sleep. A rough, animalistic sound coming from beside her shattered the stillness of her bedroom. She bolted up, shaking the cotton out of her head until she got her bearings. The hairs on the back of her neck went stiff. Blinking her eyes, she adjusted to the darkness and turned to find Puck twisted into contortions, his face scowling and grunting. A few more curses flew out of him.

He jackknifed up and bellowed out, “I’m gonna kill you!” and then fell back down on his back.

She jerked at his outburst, her hand clutching her racing heart. Night terrors. Leaning over, she checked the digital clock on her nightstand. It was 2:47 a.m. He was in his REM sleep cycle, for sure. While she yearned to give him relief, there was only one option.

Wait it out.

Hands clenched around the edge of the bedsheet and blanket; his head swiveled from side to side on the pillow. Moonlight streamed through the windows, falling on the sweat dotting his forehead and the strands of soaked hair along his hairline. He must have been suffering for a while.

Fearing to touch him in his agitated state, Ave laid on her side, facing him, and sang the first thing that came to mind. “Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock.” Her voice was soft and raspy, but she sang until her voice was too hoarse to go on. She continued humming the silly nursery rhyme until, finally, he settled into quiet sleep.

Ever so slowly, she crept off the bed, rushed to the bathroom for a washcloth and returned to gently pat him dry. Flinging the cloth on the floor, she returned to bed and cuddled against his side. As if sensing that she’d left and returned, he rolled over and gathered her close into his arms. Using his bicep as a pillow for her head, Ava inhaled the woodsy scent of him. His large chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

He’d been fast asleep through the entire episode. She’d seen it often enough to recognize that he suffered from Post-Incarceration Syndrome, a common problem, especially for those who’d been recently released. Perhaps he was reliving a fight he’d been in, but the very fact of being imprisoned could trigger PIS. Tomorrow, he’d wake up without a clue of what had transpired in the middle of the night. It was his mind’s way of coping with whatever trauma he’d experienced. Uncomfortable conversations were a part of her work, but she wasn’t looking forward to this one.

She gently brushed the sweat-laden hair off his forehead, traced the bold line of his nose, and outlined the top of his lips. Something had shifted in her after their disciplinary session. Although he’d left her unsatisfied, it had blasted through the final walls she’d unwittingly retained between them. Despite his release, she’d kept a part of herself in reserve. When he’d made her his old lady and said they’d get married, she hadn’t verbally agreed. Puck didn’t comment on her lack of reciprocity, but the fact remained that his declaration had been one-sided.

Tonight he’d blown through her remaining reservations. Perhaps her brain was scrambled, because after he was done with his punitive session, her spirit felt lighter. Freer. The doors to her heart had swung wide open for him to saunter in and stake his claim. They might both be a little twisted, but that didn’t take away from the reality that their twistedness fit together in perfect harmony. These night terrors proved that he needed her as well because this was her specialty, and she intended to help him any way she could.

Ava lifted herself a bit and pressed a kiss against his lips. Yup, it was official. Broken or not, she’d fallen for him.