Chapter Seven

He was as good as his word. She was already standing around talking to the Westbrooks when there was a very hesitant knock at the door. Ava had already forgotten what he'd said he was going to try to do, but he apparently hadn't.

Jack was holding April, and Sheila answered the door, looking amazed to see him. "Would y-you like to come in?" she asked, not expecting him to agree. He did—tentatively—but he did.

Kurt crossed to Ava immediately and hugged and kissed her, keeping an arm around her waist as he stood next to her, consciously or unconsciously putting her between himself and the baby, and acting just about as uncomfortable as one person could. He hadn't looked at the baby at all, either, and she really wouldn't have been at all surprised if he had turned and run out of the house.

But he didn't.

Jack immediately offered to take the baby into the living room, but he was the one who told him no. "I-I'm trying to be better about the… baby."

And he was, although he still never once looked at her. But Ava supposed that this was progress, and he'd asked her to be patient with him. She was determined to be just that. She'd do her best to give him as much time as he needed. He'd certainly been very respectful of her issues, although he seemed much better able to coax her away from her fears than she was with him.

But then, they were very different types of traumas.

She had to give him credit, though. He wasn't the one who suggested that they go; she was.

Ava hugged and thanked the other couple for the umpteenth time for taking April—especially overnight again—but at least this time it was planned instead of thrown at them, not that they seemed to mind, regardless, bless them.

Kurt did the same—although he didn't hug Jack, who was still holding the baby—then put his hand out to Ava, who had already shouldered her overnight case and bag.

It was her nature to resist such a thing—the idea that he should carry things for her.

But it was in his nature not to allow her to do that, especially when he wasn't carrying anything.

It was a very short battle, and there really was never any doubt as to who was going to win.

Ava handed her stuff to him, and Sheila, who had missed the whole power play entirely, "awwed" at him. "Isn't he just so chivalrous? His mother did a good job on him."

"Yeah, chivalrous," Ava agreed flatly.

Kurt wrapped his free arm around her waist and brought her to his car—which wasn't his usual Jeep but an actual pickup this time, which he had to practically lift her into.

And she didn't escape without him giving her backside a couple of sharp swats while he could, either.

"Kurt!" she yelped, sitting up as he came around.

"What, Ava?" he asked casually.

"Do you not know that Sheila is looking out the window at us at this very moment, and she just saw you spank me?"

He didn't seem fazed in the least at that information. "Of course, she was looking out the window. Sheila is a notorious busybody—with a heart of gold, of course."

"But—"

Kurt started up the powerful truck and took her hand in his as he pulled out of their driveway. "Don't sweat it, Ava. It's not like I took your pants down and bent you over the hood of my car in their front yard."

Her eyes went comically wide at that idea. "That does not make me feel better, Kurt Gilmore!"

But he just grinned unrepentantly at her, bringing her hand to his lips, and kissing the back of it.

"Besides, if she wanted to see you get spanked, she could just wait until this evening and come over for a ringside seat."

"Hey! There's no need to spank me!"

"There's always a need for a girl who likes to be spanked to get a spanking," he said, as if it was some age-old adage, instead of something he'd just made up on the spot.

She tried to reclaim her hand at that, but he wouldn't let her, keeping hold of it until they pulled into his own driveway.

***

When Ava walked into the formal living room, sans bags, she saw that there were two wrapped gifts on the coffee table. "Who are those for?" she asked suspiciously.

"None of your business, Miss Nosy," Kurt commented on his way to take her things to the bedroom before coming back to pull her into his arms. Damn, it felt good to hold her again! And he loved the way she melted bonelessly against him, too. He leaned a little bit away from her, framing her face with his palms on her cheeks. "I know that you're going through a really stressful time right now."

He'd made sure to keep in close contact with her whenever they weren't together. It hurt to remember, but he'd recalled that Maureen had told him at one point, while they were dating, that she really appreciated that she wasn't the only one reaching out to him all the time just to chat or even check in.

Ava had told him, during one of their talks, about the process of getting Teara's affairs in order, and even though she'd named Ava as the person whom she wanted to take care of April if something happened to her, Ava was still having to go to court to be declared her legal guardian, and he could tell that that even just the thought of that was making her very anxious.

Of course, he would make sure that she wasn't going to go through it alone, but still. He was getting to know her well enough to recognize that she—not unlike Maureen or any of the other women he'd been close to—was a worrier.

And he aimed to try to help her with that as much as he could in other ways, too.

Kurt caught her eyes. "So, for the time that we're together, whenever we're together, but especially now, I don't want you to worry about anything. I will take care of you. You don't have to think or plan or do anything. I'll cook, I'll clean, and you are not to stress about anything, understand?"

Ava knew that he meant well, but when she heard that from him, her anxiety went through the roof.

Kurt tightened his arms just a bit around her, hoping to make her feel more secure. "What is it? Something about that scares you, doesn't it?"

He was so in synch with her that she was just amazed by him. "Yes." She nodded. "I've heard it before, but it was never a good thing. It was just him, wanting to control me."

"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that."

She began to try to fight her way out of his hold and became so frantic about it that he just let her go, his chest aching at the fear he saw in her eyes.

Ava had gone to a corner of the room and stood there hugging herself like he wanted to hug her, but Kurt recognized that this was not the time for that. So, he took a seat in one of the easy chairs, resting his ankle on his knee, and saying, in that deep, involuntarily calming way of his, "You are safe with me, Ava. I hope you know it already about me, but his goal is not at all my goal when I say I want to take care of you. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. You don't have to eat with me or sleep with me or anything. There are three other bedrooms in this house for you to choose from. I do want you in the same way that I want to take my next breath, but I also just like being around you, and I would very much like to do whatever you'd be comfortable with me doing for you, if anything. There is no obligation attached to it whatsoever." He paused then repeated, "You really are safe with me."

She couldn't hold the tears in any longer. She hadn't really been aware just how deeply she'd been affected by Jeff. Here, she had a wonderful man who only sought to make her life easier, and she couldn't even let him do that without worrying that it was going to turn into a nightmare.

His jaw began to tic when he heard her sobs and saw her burying her face in her hands. Kurt sat there for a long moment, debating about what to do when he realized that for him, there was no debate.

So, he made his way over to her slowly, standing ten feet from her before he said anything.

"Ava, honey, I want so badly to hug you right now, to let you cry it out in my arms. I can't stand that you're hurting this way and there's nothing I can do to help you." He took another small step towards her. "You're not alone, honey. I'm right here."

"Yes, but I can't keep worrying that you're going to turn into him!" she wept. "It's not fair to you! You're not a monster, but I keep reacting like you are!"

"No, baby. I understand. We're going to be patient with each other, aren't we? While we work through a few challenges? I certainly hope you're going to be patient with me, because you know I have a slew of hang-ups, and all I want is to do the same for you."

He took another baby step towards her.

"You're safe here with me, always, Ava," he whispered softly.

When Kurt had gotten close enough that he could have reached out and put his arms around her—but he didn't because he wanted to ask her first—she suddenly turned and literally leaned into his chest, her hands still over her face as she cried.

"My poor darlin'," he murmured against the top of her head as he slowly wrapped his arms around her, standing there rocking her—the both of them—gently back and forth. For a long time, he didn't say anything else, just stood there holding her tightly as she cried. He didn't make her feel that she shouldn't have been crying, didn't seem angry that she was crying at all, didn't try to convince her to stop, and there was no frighteningly familiar spiral down to threatening bodily harm if she didn't.

Eventually, Kurt—who was as hypersensitive to her as he had been to his wife—realized that her breathing was regular and she had stopped crying, but he was still rocking them.

It took Ava a minute, but eventually she realized that he had very smoothly graduated from just a normal back and forth to something that more closely resembled the extremely slow steps of a waltz, and then he began to hum The Tennessee Waltz, finally actually singing it softly into her ear.

"I introduced him to my loved one, and as they were dancing, my friend stole my sweetheart from me."

"You have a beautiful voice," she murmured against his chest, and she could hear the rumble of his laughter in response.

"Are you tone deaf, by any chance, Ms. LaValley?" he asked, still humming, and dancing her around.

"No, I'm not. I have perfect pitch, actually."

"Well. I stand corrected, then. Thank you."

He was also an excellent dancer, but she didn't say that. She'd never waltzed before in her life, but he was so adept at guiding her slowly and carefully around that she picked it up before the end of the song, and they really were dancing, and singing, together.

Kurt twirled her at the very end then captured her to him again, looking down at her and noting the dark rings under her still slightly teary eyes, as well as just how frail and fragile she looked to him. He decided that he just had to take care of her—with his usual eagle eye watching out for any sign that he was overstepping—as best he could.

"Can I get you a drink, ma'am?" he asked, bringing her to the kitchen. "I wasn't sure if Diet Coke was the only thing you drank, so I laid in a selection of sodas, some lemonade, orange juice, tonic water, and I have lemons, limes, and oranges, if you'd like any of those added to anything else."

She had to smile, although it was still a bit wan. "Wow. You went a bit overboard."

Kurt blushed, and he could feel himself doing it. "You caught me. I have dinner all prepped, the grill is ready, I bought snacks and changed the sheets and—"

"Bought me presents," she supplied when his list failed.

His smile invited her to join him. "Yeah. I did kind of gild the lily, didn't I? Like I said, I just wanted to take care of everything, so you didn't have to—for the first time in a while, I'm guessing."

"Thank you. I'll try not to wig out on you again."

He appeared in front of her and peered out at her from under drawn brows. "You are not to worry about that, either, Ava—" It seemed as if he couldn't get any further than that. "What's your middle name?"

"Why would I tell you that so you can scold me with it?" She grinned.

"Exactly so." His mind was flying from one thing to another, wanting to keep her as happy as possible. "You know, the fact that you're staying overnight has already been established with the Westwoods, which means that you could imbibe, if you wanted to." Kurt waggled his eyebrows at her. Then he added, "No pressure. Just a suggestion. I want to help you relax this evening."

And that she did, from that point on, really. And he was as good as his word—she did absolutely nothing. He installed her on a very comfortable lounge chair on the beautiful back deck, which looked out over a pasture full of well cared for horses that weren't his, he confessed, but were owned by his neighbor.

"Do you ride? I'm sure Wade would let us ride anytime we wanted. He owns all of the rest of the land you see around here, for miles and miles. Has a very successful ranch."

"I don't ride, no. There was no money for that during my childhood. There was no money for much of anything, not that I ever really felt the lack."

"Well, it's not good that you were poor, but it is good that you didn't really know you were poor."

"Yeah, I have a great family, but none of us have any money. But we love—and actually like—each other, although we're scattered to the winds and can only get together on Zoom or Facetime, which we do pretty often. I'd rather have that than the Kardashian millions anytime."

"You are not alone in that. I didn't get into police work for the money, 'cause the base salary of a rookie patrolman—when I started, anyway—is something obscene, like twenty thousand a year. I joined because I wanted to help people."

Under his sometimes gruff exterior, he really was just the quintessential nice guy.

Kurt waited on her hand and foot the entire evening, not even allowing her to help him clean up after they'd eaten the wonderful meal he'd cooked. He'd glared at her until she sat back down in her lounge chair.

"More Diet Sprite?" he asked, displaying his exemplary waitering skills by stacking all of their dishes and making it back into the kitchen without dropping a one.

"Good job!" she complimented—too soon—because the next sound she heard was a crash of at least one of those piles of dishes. "I hear the sound of a job opening up—"

She heard his low chuckle at that.

"Anything I can do?"

"You keep your cute little tush in that chair, Ava Marie."

"Nope. That would be a little too spot on, wouldn't it? What with 'Ave Maria' and all that?"

"Well, you never know." He had decided to try to guess her middle name and was batting a thousand so far—but then, his guesses were things like Hortense and Beulah, which had made her laugh, and that was more than enough of a reason to keep doing it, as far as he was concerned.

***

Even though she'd declined his offer of an alcoholic drink, Ava didn't have a tense bone in her body. It was the perfect warm evening, and she could hear the horses whickering at each other in the distance as they made their way to the barn to be fed. He reappeared and took his spot next to her, moving his lounge chair close enough to her that he could hold her hand.

"This is such a gorgeous spot. Did you—" She stopped herself from completing that question.

"No," he said, looking at her. "I don't want you walking on eggshells around me. I haven't talked with anyone about my wife and daughter since it happened, but I'd like to start with you. So, what were you just going to ask me?"

"Whether you or Maureen found this place?"

"She did," he explained, telling her about how she'd been looking at places since before they'd gotten married, and they'd scrimped and saved to buy it.

"It's a wonderful house, too, Kurt."

"She absolutely loved it, and so did I." She could see that it wasn't easy for him, but then he added, "When she finally got pregnant, we made the bedroom across from ours into a nursery."

Ava squeezed his hand, and they sat there in a companionable silence for a little while, until Kurt jumped up, asking, "Dessert?"

She indulged, because he convinced her by saying they'd share, but she ate most of the cheesecake he confessed to having bought. "Yeah, baking is not my thing."

It was damned good anyway.

"Anything I can get you?" he asked before he came back out from putting the dessert dishes away.

The dishwasher was humming away, and she would bet the kitchen was as close to sparkling clean as he could get it in such a short time.

"No, thanks."

And when he reappeared, he had the presents in his hand, which he put in her lap.

"Kurt, you—"

"Don't say I shouldn't have, because I already did, and you just have to lump it because I won't take them back," he informed her smugly as he sipped his drink and watched her unwrap them.

The first was an easel case that had a beautiful picture of April on it that she remembered Teara had had done at one of those Olan Mills outlets. "How'd you find this?"

"Well, you friended me on Facebook, and I found the pictures there."

"You have ulterior motives with that one," she teased, while blushing furiously.

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed all too readily in a deep, goose bump inducing rumble.

She wondered if the second one was going to be some kind of lingerie, since she was spending the night, although the box wasn't really right for that. But it wasn't.

Instead, it was an absolutely gorgeous antique mahogany hairbrush. "This is beautiful! Thank you!"

She had no idea that it was going to serve a dual purpose, and he was in no rush to inform her of that fact, either. She'd figure that out when he told her to fetch it for him in the middle of a spanking, at some point down the road. "You're very welcome, on both counts, honey," was all he said.

The evening was the most stress free she could ever remember having in her life, she would swear. He didn't let her do anything but sit there and be waited on.

She could get used to this!

Eventually, when the sun went down, it got a little chilly, and he stood, putting his hand out to her, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she put hers into his without the slightest of hesitations. And when she got to him, he lifted her up into his arms, and carried her down to his bedroom to set her down in much the same spot as she'd stood the first time they were together.

Only this time, he didn't spend any time formally undressing her. Instead, he brought that occasional chair from the corner to near where she was standing, sat down in it himself, then pulled her over his lap.

Ava had been aiming for sitting on his lap, but he easily arranged her in the manner he intended without her really noticing until it was too late.

"Wait—no! You're not supposed to spank me!"

His warm chuckle insinuated itself into the most delicate parts of her that she wished it wouldn't.

"I most definitely am," he disagreed, "especially since you are frequently showing evidence of being severely reluctant to do as you're told."

"I do not!"

She sounded downright insulted, and he had to coach himself not to smile.

"Yes, you are."

"I do not!"

This time he actually chuckled. "Whose opinion about that do you think is the one that counts, angel, considering the position that you're in?" Kurt asked, laying his hand across her cheeks. She was wearing a pretty sundress and not much else, and that very intimate knowledge was driving him insane.

"Mine!"

That got her a hefty swat—probably the hardest he'd given her to that point. It was much more like a real smack, rather than the little ones he'd given her that first time. And it felt like a real one, too!

"Ow! That hurt!"

"Excellent! Perhaps you'll remember this the next time you try to stall your way out of something you've been told to do." He wanted to begin spanking her then, but then remembered something else he wanted to do first.

Kurt found the hem of her skirt, folding it back until it was around her waist. She wasn't wearing nylons this time. She didn't need them, anyway. Her legs were nicely tanned. But she was wearing panties—the same kind he'd seen on Facetime.

"I would have worn something prettier," she felt the need to explain, "but I really don't have anything else that you haven't already seen."

"That's all right, baby," he soothed. "And you are not to go buy yourself lingerie on my account, either," he cautioned as he relieved her of what little protection they offered her against his hand. "Are you listening to me, Ava?"

"Yes, Sir," she said with great reluctance.

"That's much better."

She'd whimpered, when he pulled her panties down her legs and off, but actually squealed a little when he used his hand on an inner thigh to make her part them for him.

There was just something so terribly intimate about being over a man's lap and having to put oneself on display for him—she didn't think she'd ever stop blushing! And he had her in such a position that she had to balance the front half of herself on her hands, such that she couldn't reach back to cover herself.

***

Kurt laid an arm across her back to keep her in place—in case she got it into her head to try to wiggle off his lap—and used his other hand to explore that very interesting cleft of hers. It immediately felt quite warm, but it took him until his fingers could easily have claimed her before he felt any of her honey on them, which he immediately wanted to bring to her clit, but he valiantly resisted that urge.

He was very curious to find out if a real spanking would get her as hot as the play one he'd given her last time.

But even then, he wasn't going to give her a true punishment spanking. This was going to be what he considered to be a punishment spanking light, which would be somewhere in between the two.

Having determined that she was aroused but not highly so, he adjusted her position a bit, making certain that her bottom was well presented, then he brought his hand down again, at least as hard as he had just a few minutes ago.

Ava gave another highly satisfying, "Ow!"

And she continued to do so every time his flesh connected with hers. Of course, that wasn't the only thing she said.

"That hurts!"

"Stop!"

"No—Kurt—stop!"

That earned her five smacks that he told her didn't count towards the actual punishment because she'd called him Kurt.

"What am I supposed to call you?" she practically yelled in desperation.

Five more crisp smacks landed in the exact same place.

***

Damn, those stung! Think, woman, think! Before he gives you another five!

"Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir!"

"Very good. See that you remember that."

"Yessir!"

"I expect you to obey me when I tell you to do something, not when you decide you want to, Ava…" he scolded.

She was horrified to realize that she could feel her own cream beginning to gush out of her at his words and stern tone.

"… but as soon as I tell you. Am I getting through to you?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Sir, you are!" she promised, kicking her legs, not that it did her any good. She was much too short, and her legs were just hanging out in the air, doing her absolutely no good. Until she realized—somewhat accidentally—that she could kick them up and hit his hand, often knocking his hand off track, so that he missed a swat!

He had gone to alternating slaps in the same spot on each cheek, and she kicked up twice in a row—getting his hand as it descended on either side and considering it a victory.

That was until he sought to convince her that was definitely not what it was, but rather a very unfortunate calculation on her part as he swung her off his right thigh and maneuvered her so that she was only over his left thigh, her bottom lying quite handily between them. Then he laid his right thigh over the backs of both of hers.

"No. More. Kicking. Up. Ava." Each word was accompanied by the hardest smack so far.

"No. Stop, please!" she yelled desperately.

He ignored her pleas entirely and continued to spank her, but each swat was much less forceful, which would have been nice at the beginning, but by now her bottom was quite sore and just slightly swollen, and any kind of touch hurt.

As soon as he stopped, Kurt rearranged her again, so that she was over both of his legs and hers were well spread. His fingers found her again, and they were wet before he got anywhere near her entrance.

"Oh, Ava, you definitely love to be spanked, don't you?"

It wasn't really a question—certainly not one she was going to answer.

His middle finger moved to claim her clit, rubbing it incessantly as his other hand began to rub her tender backside. The two movements—and diametrically opposed sensations—worked in concert with each other, and within less than two minutes, she was right there.

"Oh—Sir—oh—my—God!"

Suddenly, just as those sensations began to coil most tightly within her body, she found herself on her knees between his legs, and he was opening his jeans.

She hadn't really gotten a good look at him the last time, and when she did, Ava wasn't in the least surprised that she had been a bit sore for the next few days, not that she'd mentioned it to him. It was a good sore.

Was that like his "good scared"? she wondered.

Without him having to say a word, she brought her mouth to him.

This, too, was fraught with bad memories. Jeff was very aggressive with her when she gave him a blowjob, and she often choked to the point of gagging when he forced himself down her throat.

But Ava didn't want to ruin his pleasure, so she didn't mention it—and he spent almost the entire time she had him in her mouth, which was really a very short time, with the arms of the chair in a death grip.

"Holy crap, that feels sooo good!" he breathed as she took him down to the balls with her very first effort, leaving a hand there, and using her other hand to glide over him as an extension of her mouth because she knew he was too big for her to be comfortable taking all of him too many times in a row.

She kept as much suction on him as she could and was free with her tongue, while she rolled his balls gently with her other hand.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you are amazing!"

That was the exact opposite of what she was used to hearing, and she loved every sound, every moan, every indication—big and small—that she was giving him pleasure. It was a bit of a power trip to hold a man like him in the palm of her hand—quite literally—and she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Eventually, he did reach out and put his hands in her hair.

Ava went stark still.

"Okay?" he asked. "Don't like that?"

"No, it's okay."

She was utterly amazed when he moved her mouth off of him entirely and sat her back, holding her chin in his fingers. "Don't tell me it's all right if it's not, Ava."

"No, it's fine," she said, not looking at him.

***

He didn't know how, but he knew that she was hiding something from him. Kurt took her hands in his, tone calm and quiet. "You can tell me the truth, honey. I'm not angry now, and I won't be angry once you tell me, either. I promise."

Her eyes filled with tears, and as she spoke, her words got softer and softer. "He was very controlling when I did this for him."

Kurt didn't have to be told what that meant. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said, leaning closer to him. "You didn't know."

"We don't have to do this—" He made as if to get up.

"No! Please! I want to."

He looked at her, trying to judge whether she was just saying that because it was what she thought he wanted to hear, or if she meant it.

"Really. Please, Sir. Let me?"

The genuine plea in her "please, Sir" meant it was all over for him. Even if he thought he shouldn't, he had to.

He could only hope she really meant it.

And his hard on hadn't softened in the least. He could cut glass with that thing, as she eagerly took him between her warm, wet lips, sucking him in like that stubborn strand of spaghetti.

"Do you want me to come in your mouth?" he asked, almost immediately, and much more quickly than she thought he would.

Jeff would never, ever have asked.

She nodded, and a second later, it was all over but the cleaning up.

He lay right where he was, chest heaving, still moaning and arching himself into her mouth, even though he had begun to soften, and then he collapsed into the chair, panting, sweat popping out on his brow, and looking wonderfully spent.

He had been spending the evening trying to get her to relax, but she'd just achieved that state for him.

Ava went to sit back on her heels and wait for him to recover, but he opened his eyes and caught hers. "Give me a minute to see if I'm still alive, and then I'll return the favor."

His eyes were only slits, but he could see her pleased look, and he knew it was attributable to his comment about whether or not he was alive.

"You, my dear, are a marvel."

There was that sweet blush he would never get tired of seeing.

But this time, he wasn't as good as his word.

"You have wiped me out, I'm afraid, angel. And I'm sorry. I know you're primed and ready."

"Kurt!" she smacked the part of him that was nearest to her, which was his hand.

"I just need to catch a little shut eye before I make you scream in my arms," He gave her a considering look. "And I bet that, with the baby and work and everything, you could use a little, yourself."

She'd have a hard time arguing with that, really. Since Teara had died, she couldn't remember a day when she hadn't fallen into bed in utter and complete exhaustion.

"Come on, Ava Lee, let's go cuddle in bed."

"Nice try," she commented about his latest guess.

And no one—not any man she'd ever been with—had ever suggested to her that they should go cuddle in bed.