by Kelly Dawson
The last thing nineteen-year-old Jeannie Cooper wants is to be a prim and proper lady, so when her older brothers try to send her off to finishing school she runs away from the family ranch to keep them from putting her on the train to Boston. She plans to hide out on the prairie and return in a few days, but things go horribly wrong when she stumbles upon the infamous Mullins gang.
Danny Coulter is a hardened gunslinger with more than enough enemies already, but when he sees a beautiful young woman held captive by outlaws his conscience forces him into action. Rescuing Jeannie turns out to be only the beginning of his troubles, however. Her sass and defiance quickly test the limits of his patience as he endeavors to get her home safely, and before long he is left with little choice but to take her over his knee for a sound spanking.
Though Danny's firm-handed discipline leaves her bottom sore and her cheeks blushing, Jeannie is nonetheless excited when her brothers offer him a job at the ranch. Soon he is courting her in earnest, and after a local busybody witnesses him giving Jeannie the first bare-bottom spanking of her life, Danny proposes marriage to avoid a scandal. But with the Mullins gang out for revenge, will his quick draw be enough to protect his woman?
Genre: Historical RomancePurchase link(s): Amazon ARe B&N
Content/Theme(s): Cowboys, Spanking, D/s, Western
Release Date: October 7, 2016
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Excerpt & More
Jeannie reached out to support him, her fingers closing around the firm muscles of his upper arm. “Sit down before you fall down,” she commanded. “Let me have a look at you.”
“I’m fine. Get my horse.”
“You’re not fine! You’re bleeding! You’ve been shot!” Jeannie protested, but Danny held up a hand to silence her, glaring at her in response.
“I said I’m fine. I’ve been shot before.”
“Let me have a look at you, then I’ll get your horse. Hold still.” Pushing his coat out of the way, Jeannie slid it back off his shoulder and pulled his shirt out of his pants in one swift motion, before he could object. The warm blood seeped through her fingers making it impossible for her to see. But she didn’t need to see; he flinched when her fingers brushed the edge of his wound. The bullet was lodged right there in his side, snug against his ribs. He was lucky; if she could get him to a doctor in time, he’d probably survive. She looked up at him and their eyes locked. For the briefest moment she saw the pain in his eyes, but he pushed it away quickly and gritted his teeth determinedly.
“I’m fine,” he repeated, his voice almost a snarl. “It’s just a graze.”
Her fingers were sticky with his blood as she pulled her own shirt out of her pants and tore at the hem with her teeth, frowning in frustration when the cloth wouldn’t rip. “I need bandages. Where’s your knife?”
His hands were trembling as he pulled his knife from the pocket of his vest, and she noticed the whiteness of his knuckles. Already, he’d lost a lot of blood. “In my saddle bags, a shirt,” he gasped. “Use that. Don’t tear up your own.” He wobbled slightly on his feet, but she left him standing there as she approached the gelding. Surprisingly, the grey was still there; he hadn’t been spooked by the crack of the rifle. Maybe he was used to gunshots. The horse wasn’t hobbled, and although he flared his nostrils, smelling the blood on her hands, he didn’t shy away as she drew near.
The spare shirt was easy to find and after pulling it free of the saddlebag, she hobbled the gelding. The last thing she needed was for the horse to take off, she’d never get Danny out of here without him. He snorted at the unfamiliar touch, but co-operated as she attached the hobbles around his fetlocks, leaving him to graze on the sparse prairie grass.
Danny’s clothing was covered in blood. His face, normally brown from a life lived outdoors, under the sun, was a deathly white, and his body shook as she ran her fingers over his torso.
“I need you to take your shirt off, Danny,” she told him gently. “I need to see what I’m doing. There’s too much blood.” He didn’t fight her as she removed first his coat, then his shirt, the blood slimy on her fingers, making the buttons difficult to undo. But she finally managed, and as she slid the shirt off his shoulders her breath caught in her throat. Danny was well-built, that was for sure. Even through all the blood, his muscles were visible. His bare chest and shoulders looked huge with no fabric covering them, and as she slid her fingers along his stomach, his muscles rippled beneath her touch. She trailed her fingers upwards, the light smattering of dark hair coarse beneath her fingertips. Moving across his chest, her fingers brushed over his nipple, feeling it harden at her touch. She heard him suck in a breath as her hand hovered there, resting on his chest in the lightest caress. He was one fine specimen of manhood.
She couldn’t get enough air; it felt too thick to breathe. An ache started low, down there, between her legs, and her breasts felt tight. What was wrong with her? Why was she having such feelings over a wounded man?
She slid her fingers down his side, feeling the hard ridges of abdominal muscles and ribs as her touch trailed lower and lower, stopping just above where the bullet had entered his body. She felt him flinch as her fingers probed gently around the wound. It looked nasty.
Shaking her head to clear it, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead of her, then took Danny’s knife and ripped his spare shirt up into strips.
Danny didn’t speak as she worked, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. She’d been attracted to his smouldering gaze the first moment she’d seen him, but she’d had no idea he would look this good without a shirt. She was ashamed of her reaction. Danny was bleeding half to death from a gunshot wound and she was ogling his body? She deserved to be spanked! She clenched her buttocks in anticipation of the spanking she thought she should get, and the chafing of her rough pants against her still-tender bottom reminded her of the very thorough one she’d had at Danny’s hand not long before. She inhaled more of the thick air. It had felt so good to be in his arms as he comforted her after he’d spanked her. The cuddle he’d given her had almost made the punishment worth it. He’d held her so tenderly. She could still feel the stubble on his face tickling her as he’d rested his chin lightly on her head. Being in his arms had felt so nice, so right. But this … these thoughts she was having, they were shameful!
Danny’s pants hung sexily off his lean hips, and the blood trickled down inside them. They would have to come off, in order for her to clean him properly and yet … she couldn’t. She wouldn’t think of him removing his pants in order to wash away the blood. She couldn’t let herself think about what he would look like standing at the riverbank in only his long underwear. The blood could stay there. It would have to.
She reached for his gun, to remove it from the holster, so she could wipe it clean, then she froze as she remembered exactly what Danny was. He was a gunfighter. A killer. Entirely the wrong type of man to be lusting after. Danny didn’t wear a gun just for protection, as she and her brothers sometimes did; his guns were a part of him. They defined him. Without his guns, Danny Coulter, the fastest gun in the west, would be nothing.
“Leave it.” His command was hoarse, there was pain in his voice, but there was no denying the dominant manner in which it was said. “You bandage me up, I’ll clean my gun. Nobody touches my guns.”
“It won’t take long to clean it.”
“I said leave it.” His fingers took hold of her chin then, and he tilted her face up to look at him. “You know what will happen if you disobey me.” His threat rumbled in her ear, sending waves of electricity through her. Yes, she knew exactly what would happen. Her buttocks clenched again, involuntarily, at the thought, and she held her breath. The air was too thick to breathe again. She could feel her face flushing as the waves of electricity surging through her reached that aching juncture between her thighs.
“You’re hurt,” she pointed out.
He smiled in spite of the pain, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he looked down at her. “Not too hurt to spank a naughty girl who disobeys.” As if to prove his point, he drew back his hand and smacked her bottom, reigniting the burn.
Her eyes widened in shock as she reached back to rub out the sting. Hurt or not, his hard hand was still strong. She felt a spasm right in her very core at his touch. His dominance turned her insides to mush.
The hand that had smacked her returned to her chin and he tilted her face sideways slightly so he could whisper huskily in her ear. “So leave my guns alone.”
“Yes sir,” she breathed.
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of the West
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