Heart Song Anthology Carolyn Faulkner (rooftoppers txt) 📖

Neil not only divested me entirely of my sweatpants and panties, and arranged me in a thoroughly unattractive position, he also managed to reach into the bedside table and find my hairbrush – with one hand. It was a feat of dexterity that might have been truly astonishing, if I’d been in the frame of mind to appreciate it.

Neil can be the gentlest man on the face of the earth, and most of the time, he is. That night, though, not so much. I lost count of the swats, but I think it may have been close to a record. It wasn’t even close to the worst I’ve ever had, of course, and I’m reasonably sure it won’t be the worst one I can look forward to, but for a spur of the moment effort, it was quite respectable – and highly memorable. You have to give the man credit. He knows what he’s doing, hairbrush-wise. That night, I was in flames from mid-butt to mid-thigh, howling at the top of my lungs, and fairly begging for mercy, but by morning, there wasn’t a bruise or a welt in sight. A true aficionado of the art of domestic discipline.

At one in the morning, I was still sniffling, and Neil took me in his arms and apologized – sort of. Well, what he actually said, (after I yelped when he touched me) was, “I’m sorry you had to take the whole blame for this. It’s too bad Joe doesn’t have this arrangement with Sandy. From what you tell me, this was as much her idea as it was yours.” That’s kind of an apology, don’t you think? I hope so, because if it wasn’t, I sold out my principles, that night, big-time. After all, I hadn’t gotten to wear the little black nightgown. Anyway, the more Neil talked, the more I sniffled, and the more I sniffled, the harder Neil tried to comfort me. Anyway, one thing led to another, and before I could stop myself, I had allowed Cupid, or Saint Valentine, or whomever, to do his thing – on me. So, we did celebrate Valentine’s Day – a little late, and not in the traditional manner. I didn’t get the usual box of chocolates, which was just as well. I’d have polished off the whole box in two days, and then gone into a weeklong depression about my weight. I never got to wear my black satin lingerie, which according to Neil, at least, was a good thing, since that might very well have distracted him from his mission. (Uh! And that would be a bad thing, why?)

There is some news, though. In all the uproar, I neglected to warn Neil to take certain marital precautions made necessary by the fact that I had, once again, screwed up on my birth control pills. After the fact, I decided against mentioning my little memory lapse, since that would definitely have resulted in a quick repeat trip across his knee.

Anyway, it seems we may have to repaint the den. I won’t know for sure for a couple of weeks, of course, but I’m thinking maybe Winnie the Pooh would be nice, this time.

The End.

April Hill

April Hill is a best-selling author of women’s romance, known for her wry humor, sensitive character development and of course, the love.

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Single Titles

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Calendar Girls

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Too Many Wives

A Glitch in Time

Dungeon of Darkness

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Comanche Canyon

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Home for the Holidays

Moonchild

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Vengeance Creek

But Honey, I Can Explain!

Falconer’s Prey

Scarlet Fever

Anthologies

Confessions of a Spanked Author

Thanksgiving Tarts: A Spanking Anthology

Hero Undercover

Valentine’s Day at the Rocking Horse Ranch

Char Cauley

Chapter 1

Ike

He woke to his pain. His devil prodded him to sit up. Causing him more pain. He knew if he didn’t do as she said, she would get help and he would be forced. Better to have some pride and try and do it for himself. The evil one would help him. The pain speared his side as he moaned, his eyes still closed. He could smell her soft perfume. The smell of fresh roses reminded him of his mother’s table. Oh, to be a boy again. Not to have any cares but that of doing what his parents wanted. His nemesis spoke softly in his ear.

“You can do this, Soldier.” She put her head under his right arm to take his weight across her shoulders and helped him slowly hobble to the bathroom. This was a new routine, as he’d healed enough to finally leave his bed. Several ribs were broken, his left arm was in a sling, his right ankle smashed, put together again and secured in a cast up to his knee.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he walked towards the bathroom. Trying not to jar any part of his battered body. His eye always on the goal. Finally, after reaching the sink, he gave the evil one a growl.

She scurried away, leaving the door open as she put fresh bedding on his bed. It would feel good and smell faintly of roses when she was finished. He quickly finished his business. After lowering the lid, he sat. Sweat beading on his forehead as he watched her efficiently finishing the bed and plumping his pillows.

“Do you want to sit in your chair and maybe watch a little TV while I check your bandages?” she taunted him. Knowing full well all he wanted was the magic shot that would send him back to the darkness and no pain. They had stopped giving him that now. Instead, insisting on giving him a pill that barely took the edge off. He had too much pride to let her see him as any