Epilogue

Just when Jayne thought that things couldn't get any better for her, she fell in love with Pace and he with her. Although she still wanted them to take things slowly—even though she knew that Pace would have married her the very second her divorce became final—she stuck to her guns. Every time he tried to rush her, she gave him a look, and he backed off. At first, he'd get all guilty and explain about how much he wanted her to be his wife and how he wanted them to be together forever, but eventually, when she did that, he would close his mouth and then just say one, very potent thing, that he found that her ex had never once said to her.

"I love you." Pace said it a lot, casually, impromptu, and especially when they were making love.

He had awakened her passions, although she was still delightfully, sweetly shy about them when he had her beneath him.

He even, at one point, not long after their first time together, showed her how he knew that she liked to be spanked.

They were alone in the house—Auntie 'Bwownie' and Hank, who had arrived to visit for a little while, had taken Braeden to a rodeo, and then they were going out to dinner. Jayne knew they were just trying to give the new couple some time alone together, but she was not about to disabuse them of that impulse, either.

Jayne had been developing a little bit of a sassy side—taking after his sister, no doubt—which Pace frankly enjoyed. He loved that she felt comfortable enough to tease him. But he wasn't about to allow her to get away with anything, either, because of it.

She was in the living room while he was making them lunch. Because they knew that Brownie and Hank were going to take care of Brae for the day, they had slept in and made glorious love before venturing out into the rest of the house, in search of food. It was nearly noon, so Pace was making them a kind of brunch, with steak tips, onions and peppers, scrambled eggs, homemade hash browns, and raisin bread.

She hadn't even bothered to get dressed yet and was sitting in his ginormous chair—which she had decided she liked a lot, with or without him in it—while he attended to her as he seemed to like to do.

The first thing he did was bring her a mimosa, which she'd never had before. "It's mine," he'd said, handing it to her. "See if you like it, and if you do, I'll make you one."

It was excellent. She generally didn't like champagne or wines, but that tasted mostly like orange juice to her, so he brought her one.

"Not too long now, princess," he promised, kissing her hard then leaning back up to head back to kitchen duties.

It was a fantastic meal, and halfway through it, he took her plate away and began feeding her himself, complaining that she didn't eat anywhere near enough.

"I do so."

All he needed to do was raise one eyebrow at her, and she felt a tingle between her legs and a warming of her behind that she couldn't ignore.

"I don't want you to think I have a hang up about it. I don't. All I want is for you to be healthy, Jayne." He tipped her chin up. "Understand?"

"Yes," she said, pouting prettily.

"Good. Now have another piece of steak," he said, holding it up to her on her fork.

"No."

It was soft but undeniably defiant, and she wasn't looking at him anymore, which was a telltale sign that she thought she was probably doing something she shouldn't.

"Jayne."

It was all the warning she was going to get, and she knew it. So, the moment her name was out of his lips, she shot up and ran out onto the deck.

And the little minx had an enormous smile on her face while she did so, he noticed immediately, as she stood there practically daring him to come after her. Which, of course, he did, standing slowly and moving the plates to the end of the table for some reason she couldn't fathom.

Why wasn't he chasing her? She should have been very careful about what she asked for, because in less than a second, he was barreling toward her. She led him a merry chase around the house as he kind of loped around behind her while she sprinted everywhere, one of his steps equaling about three of hers.

The deck had a door that led to the kitchen, so she circled back into the house, ran around the great room and living room, then tried to head down the hall to his study, but she didn't make it. Big, strong arms closed around her waist and lifted her off the floor.

"No! I don't want to eat anything more!" she half giggled, half yelled.

He held her at his waist as if she was a sack of potatoes. "Well, now, because you were so naughty, you won't have a chance to eat anything more until you have to sit back down in your chair on a very sore backside, I'm afraid, sweetheart."

When he'd gotten them back to the dining room table, he put her on her feet, keeping her close to him with one arm while he assessed that the table was clear, then he looked at her.

She was practically sparkling with the excitement of being chased. He adored how she was blooming now that she was in a relationship where she felt valued and cared for. And this was just another part of that, as far as he was concerned.

He put her in front of the table then bent her over it, keeping her there with his fingertips poised on her mid-back.

"No, Pace!!"

"Absolutely yes, Jayne. You can't possibly think that you're going to get away with running away from me, can you? You know better than that. I will always find you and bring you back to be spanked."

As he gathered her t-shirt—which had been one of his—up her back in one hand and slowly relieved her of her panties with the other, leaving them around her ankles in case she decided to kick, he remembered something. "And, as I recall, you are one of those lucky women who liked being spanked."

"I do not!" She tried to get up at that, all affronted, but he held her in place with ridiculous ease.

"Let's just see about that, shall we?"

He proceeded to prove her very wrong, after having applied more than adequate correction to her poor behind while her feet danced in place.

Jayne was annoyed that she could move all her limbs, but she couldn't seem to avoid even one sharp, stinging smack!! And the longer the spanking continued, the worse it got.

No amount of pleading that she'd thought she'd never, ever do earned her any bit of grace from him, either. No, Pace spanked her pretty sternly—much harder than he had previously as she cried out and sobbed with each new slap that greeted her bright red cheeks.

Even when he stopped, he wouldn't let her get up. "Open your legs for me, Jayne."

Considering the position that she was in—and the condition of her backside—she obeyed him with alacrity.

His "good girl" rumbled from deep in his chest, and Jayne was just realizing that it felt extra good to her when she'd just been punished, for some reason. Perhaps it was a reaffirmation that he wasn't angry with her.

His hand came up to cup that very private place, one finger probing gently between lips that were already puffy and swollen—and dripping wet.

Pace dipped his middle finger into her honey then brought it up to put it in front of her face.

"Do you remember when I told you that you liked being spanked? This is how I knew. You're going to flood the whole house."

Her "no" was soft as she blushed.

Jayne thought he was going to make her lick her own slick off his finger, but then he did it himself, slowly and thoroughly, acting as if it was an incredibly powerful drug he craved.

And he did. Pace stood behind her, lifting her a little bit—because of their height differences—and presenting himself at her entrance for barely a second before he jammed himself into her. He loved the sound she made when he did that—startled but drowning in pleasure, at the same time.

Then he leaned his entire body over hers, using it to hold her still as he fucked her, holding her wrists down experimentally, watching and listening for any signs of distress from her, although there were none.

At one point, he caught both wrists in one hand as the other found her little bud, and he expertly brought them to paradise at the same time, that hand remaining right where it was even after he'd reached the ultimate heights, bringing her to them many, many more times before he allowed her some respite.

Then he carried her into what was—slowly—becoming their bedroom and laid her down on the bed. She looked exhausted. "Sleep," he said, kissing he cheek. She was out before he left the room.

That evening, there was a knock on the door, and Jayne answered it, wondering if Brownie had forgotten her keys, or what.

But when she opened the door, it wasn't Brownie. It was a State Trooper.

"Are you Mrs. Jayne Otis?" he asked.

"Y-yes, Officer, I am. Why are you asking?"

"Jayne, who is it, honey?"

"It's th-the S-state P-police," she answered, and the sound of her voice brought him running to her side.

"Can I help you, Officer?"

"Mrs. Otis, I regret to inform you that your husband, Jacob Tallent Otis, died this morning in a car crash, just outside of Glendo. His car was totaled, and he died on impact."

"Oh, my God!"

Jayne collapsed against Pace, and he swung her up into his arms to carry her into the living room and put her down on the sofa before taking a seat next to her himself.

"Please sit down, Officer. I'm Pace Marshall, owner of the Marshall Family Ranch."

"Yes, sir. I know who you are."

Jayne couldn't believe what she was hearing, but Pace stepped in and took care of everything for her. There were no funeral arrangements to be made. Jake hadn't wanted a ceremony, and Jayne and Braeden were his only family. Pace had him buried in the town where he was born, in the same cemetery with his parents, which he thought was probably the best thing to do, and Jayne had just nodded numbly.

"Is it wrong that I don't really feel anything now that he's gone, but relief?" she asked him one evening, several months later, while they were lying in bed together.

"No, it's not. And if you feel anything other than complete contempt for the man, you're doing really well, because I can't get to numb. If he was here, alive, in front of me, I'd kill him again for what he did to you."

His body was all tense, as if he was ready to fight Jake right now, and, in a reversal of their usual roles, she soothed him as best she could.

"He's gone. We don't need to think about him again. It's a terrible thing to say, but he's not hanging over us anymore."

Pace nuzzled his nose against hers. "You are very wise, my Jayne."

"I have a wonderful example to learn from," she whispered, kissing him lovingly.

The End Blushing Books Blushing Books is the oldest eBook publisher on the web. We've been running websites that publish steamy romance and erotica since 1999, and we have been selling eBooks since 2003. We have free and promotional offerings that change weekly, so please do visit us at http://www.blushingbooks.com/free.

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