Read Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories Online
Authors: Sierra Cartwright,Annabel Joseph,Cari Silverwood,Natasha Knight,Sue Lyndon,Emily Tilton,Cara Bristol,Renee Rose,Alta Hensley,Trent Evans,Ashe Barker,Katherine Deane,Korey Mae Johnson,Kallista Dane
Tags: #romance, #spanking romance, #bdsm romance, #erotic romance, #sierra cartwright, #annabel joseph, #cari silverwood, #sue lyndon, #natasha knight, #trent evans, #cara bristol, #ashe barker, #emily tilton, #katherine deane, #Kallista Dane, #alta hensley, #korey mae johnson, #renee rose, #holiday romance, #Valentine's Day
Her words were like a punch to the gut. “Of course she’s staying. It isn’t an option. Where would she go? Back to that shack in the woods?”
“Rem...”
“I don’t have time to discuss this now.”
“If she insists on going back to her pa?”
Rem walked to the door and opened it, the chill of the air going straight to his bones. “Then we can’t stop her. She ain’t our kin, and she ain’t our concern if she walks out the door. Not much we can do.” What more could he say? He hoped to God she wouldn’t go back to that bastard, but he couldn’t stop her. Hell, he only met the girl last night. What she did was no concern of his, yet the rising temper in his inner core told a different story. Birdie Bluebell did not belong back with her pa. He didn’t know much more than that, but he knew her pain and abuse would continue. But what could he do?
He patted his ma’s shoulder. “Tell her she’s welcome. Ain’t much we can do beyond that.” He then turned and headed to the ice.
*****
B
irdie flinched when her lip made contact with the blanket, fully waking her from her slumber. She had never slept so hard in her life, not waking once—even being in another man’s bed in a strange house. The smell of coffee and eggs cooking made her stomach grumble, surprising since she ate more food last night than in an entire week combined. She quickly got up and made the bed, paying close attention to tuck and smooth every inch of the blanket to ensure perfection.
Padding her bare feet against the cold wood floor, she cracked the door open and peeked out, smiling when she found Anna Mae in the middle of dishing up breakfast.
“Perfect timing, girl. Go on around back and do your business, and then come sit down to eat.”
Birdie quickly did as she asked, wondering why she hadn’t seen Rem in the room. When she returned to the kitchen, Anna Mae was already sitting down, motioning for her to do the same.
“This smells delicious,” Birdie complimented as she sat down across from her. Her plate of eggs and biscuits were waiting for her, along with a steaming cup of coffee. “Where is Rem?”
“He went to work, but should be home shortly. I swear that boy lives and breathes by the ice. His pa was a hard worker, but nothing compared to my willful son.”
“I hope he slept well. I feel something awful about taking his bed.” She paused and almost moaned when she bit into the biscuit, and the buttermilk delight took over all senses. “Oh, Anna Mae! These biscuits!”
“Go on and eat as much as you please. We have plenty.” Anna Mae brought her coffee to her lips and sipped while she studied Birdie. “How are you feeling today? You got feeling in your toes?”
Birdie nodded in response as she continued to shovel the food in her mouth. She wiggled her toes just to be sure and was pleased that she could feel all ten digits.
Anna Mae studied Birdie’s every move. Birdie couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious, but she just continued to eat. How she could still be hungry after last night’s meal amazed her, but the flavors danced across her tongue, beckoning her mouth for more. “That dress looks good on you. I think you should keep it.”
“Oh no! I could never do that. I’ve never had anything so nice—”
“Hush now. The dress is yours, and I won’t hear another word about it.” She didn’t say anything else, finishing her own breakfast before speaking again. “Rem and I spoke of your situation this morning.”
Birdie pushed back her finished plate and fiddled with her fingers. Something about Anna Mae’s tone made her nervous. “I ain’t going to be a burden no longer. If there is anything you need help with around the homestead before I go, I will do it all.”
“I don’t want you doing a thing. You were my guest last night. I won’t have you questioning my hospitality.” Even though the words were stern, the soft curve of Anna Mae’s lips exuded a gentle warmth from the older lady.
“All right then,” Birdie said as she stood and grabbed her plate to assist in cleaning up. “I best be going. Pa is going to wake up with one helluva headache, and he’s going to need me.”
Anna Mae slammed her fist on the table, causing Birdie to almost drop her plate. “Girl, you put that plate down and sit.”
Birdie did as she asked, not even hesitating. She didn’t know Anna Mae well, but she knew her enough to know she could be an ornery old lady if she wanted to be.
“I don’t think you should be returning to your pa anytime soon.”
“Oh, but I have to.” Panic started setting in. “If I don’t get there before he wakes up...”
“He’s a mean son of a bitch, and I think you need to stay away from him.”
“But he’s my pa.”
“He ain’t no Pa. He’s just a man that has done you wrong. You don’t deserve it.”
Birdie shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the ground. “I can’t just leave him like my ma did. What would happen to him?”
“How often does he beat you?”
“He doesn’t beat me, just corrects.”
The actual answer to Anna Mae’s question was whenever he drank, which was pretty much every day. Just some beatings were worse than others. A lucky night would be a quick slap to the face. An unlucky night? Well, let’s just say that Birdie may have faced death square in the eye a time or two.
“And if you expect me to believe that, then you are a fool. Nothing wrong with correction, but beating a woman ain’t right. And if I remember, he beat you from the time you came out of your mama’s belly.”
Birdie swallowed the lump in her throat and swiped at the loose tear that escaped her eye. “We all have our demons. Mine being my pa.”
Anna Mae let out a loud sigh. “Birdie girl, you need to grow some wings. There are times that a woman has to make some decisions in life. She has to think of herself. You going back to your pa is thinking about him and no one else.”
“But it’s my home. He’s all I have.”
“Well that’s just it. That’s what Rem and I were talking about. We were thinking you could stay here as long as you want—”
“Oh no! I could never,” Birdie interrupted, standing up and rushing toward the door. “I really need to go.”
“Wait! At least take a pair of shoes of mine. I don’t want you losing one of those toes after all the work we did last night to save them.” Anna Mae got up and walked to her room, returning shortly with a pair of faded black boots in her hands.
Birdie studied the boots and then looked into the eyes of the kind-hearted woman. Attempting to walk out the door without the boots on would be futile, this much she knew. “All right. But I want to pay you back for them. I will do odd jobs or anything you like. And even if you say no, I will find the money somewhere.”
Anna Mae responded by holding out the boots. “Put them on. They may be too big, but they will keep your feet protected.”
Birdie grabbed them and walked over to the chair and started unlacing them. Noticing they had no holes and still had a solid sole, Birdie realized she was putting on the nicest pair of shoes she had ever worn.
“Thank you. Your and Rem’s kindness will never be forgotten.”
“I want you to know that my door is always open. No more shelter in the woods, ya hear? If I get wind that you camp in that forest another night, I’ll sic Rem on your hide. Clear?”
Birdie nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Saying the words, she knew it was a promise she would most likely have to break. This was just the way her life was. She had come to terms with that a long time ago.
“And, Birdie,” she said as Birdie slowly opened the front door. “Don’t give no man the power to break your soul. Not even your pa.”
Birdie offered a weak smile. “Please tell Rem thank you for me. I won’t ever forget your kindness.”
Chapter Four
––––––––
“B
irdie! Girl, is that you?” The booming voice echoed off the bark of the pine trees, reverberating in the isolated woods of the Bluebell homestead.
“Yes, Pa. I’m here,” Birdie called as she ran into the shack they called home. Breathless from running the whole way home, but also from being afraid that he may have been looking for her all morning and was spittin’ mad. “I was just trying to do some morning hunting.”
“I don’t like you going out there. There’s Injuns that will scalp ya,” he slurred. “It happened to your Uncle Isaac. They show no mercy.” He groaned as he got off the ground where he must have passed out the night before and stumbled his way to an almost empty bottle of booze. Smiling at the discovery that a few drops still remained, he quickly downed the brown firewater. He collapsed in an old chair that appeared to wobble beneath his weight. And since her pa was a skinny man, the fact that the chair looked as if it might collapse was pretty telling of its condition. “And you know,” he added as he tossed the empty bottle to the ground, joining the others that scattered along the one room shack they called home. “You’re still alive for several minutes once they scalp you. Just long enough to know that you no longer have the top of your head, staring in the eyes of the Injun as he screams out his war cry.”
Birdie just nodded, careful not to get him going on one of his rants, and went about picking up the discarded bottles. It was best to stay out of his way when he was like this. He wasn’t quite drunk, but he wasn’t sober either.
“Where did you get that dress? And those boots? You stealing?”
Her heart stopped. If he found out that she stayed with the Langstons, all hell would break loose. “No, sir. I found the dress.” She picked up some more trash to steady her nerves and come up with an answer that wouldn’t have him beating her to death. “Mama must have left them. I found them in an old box out back.”
No surprise that he didn’t ask her about her busted lip or black eye. He never apologized, nor cared how he treated her. It was their way of life. He—and she—didn’t know any different.
Birdie’s answer must have been good enough, because her pa stood and made his way over to a pile of blankets in the corner of the room. There was an old ragged curtain hanging that could offer some privacy, but he didn’t bother to pull it around where he slept. Too much effort for a man who didn’t care. “I’m getting some shut eye. Tonight your Uncle Abe is coming. He’s bringing Jeremiah.”
Hearing of an ‘uncle’ coming was never news. It happened more nights than not. And these evenings always turned into a full drunken night, which usually left Birdie running off and hiding somewhere. Only rule of Jedson’s was to bring plenty of booze and something to eat, and these ‘uncles’ had a place to stay. Birdie hated most of them. But she liked Abe’s son, Jeremiah. He was a little older than her, and had always been nice. They were only children then, but she could tell Jeremiah was different somehow.
When Abe and her pa began drinking and swearing, Jeremiah always took her by the hand and led her deep into the woods. He never tried anything and was nothing but a gentleman. Birdie didn’t have friends, but if she did, Jeremiah was the closest it came to having one. She hadn’t seen him or his father in several years, and hearing they were visiting actually made Birdie a little happy. She just hoped Jeremiah hadn’t turned into a drunk like his pa.
“I will try to find some food for supper then,” Birdie said, wanting desperately to leave the room that often felt like a jail cell.
“No need. It so happens that Jeremiah has done good. Word is that he found gold in them mines in Virginia City. He’s even got a claim somewhere along the Feather River. Uncle Abe gots himself a boy with money now.” He collapsed on the blankets and kicked off his boots. “They don’t be needing our charity. But you best be nice. That Jeremiah could be our ticket. Go on and chop some firewood. I need to sleep.”
Birdie let out the breath she had been holding. She didn’t have to be told more than once to leave that God-forsaken, dark, spider-infested, mud-caked hole that unfortunately was their house. At least outside, Birdie could breathe fresh air and feel some sense of normalcy.
Chopping wood was much easier now that she had some food in her belly. Lifting the ax didn’t feel as if it took every last ounce of strength. And having Anna Mae’s old boots on, sure did help with her traction. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her time with the Langstons. They were good people, far too good for a Bluebell, but they had welcomed her with open arms and did right by her. She wouldn’t forget that, and made an internal vow to do the same for them.
The day passed quickly with Birdie completing what chores were possible to do around the homestead. They didn’t have any livestock and no garden to tend, so other than the chopping of wood and basic tidying up, she had a fairly easy load compared to most. But regardless, her body ached when she finally stacked the last piece of wood up against the wall of the house.
“Well lookee here! Is that little girl Bluebell?” The deep voice, followed by a whistle, caused her to jump. She turned to see ‘Uncle’ Abe and a much older Jeremiah emerging from the woods.
She waved and plastered the fakest smile she could muster. Even though she didn’t have anything against either one of them, the sight of them carrying a large burlap sack slung over both of their shoulders, let her know that a night of drinking was about to commence. Glancing at the clear sky, at least gave her a small sense of relief—she wouldn’t be out in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm again.
She ran to the door and cracked it open, but not wanting to go inside. “Pa! Uncle Abe and Jeremiah are here.” Pa didn’t like being woken up, but he wouldn’t want to be surprised either. It was a lose lose situation for Birdie, so staying outside, out of harm’s way, was her best option.
She turned to find Uncle Abe and Jeremiah building a fire in the fire pit that sat a few feet away from the front door, like they had done many times before. Their ease and comfort helped settle Birdie’s nerves. None of the visitors entered the shack—not that Birdie blamed them—but rather sat around a roaring fire drinking and telling tales into the late evening. Even though her pa was meaner than the devil to her, he could charm the pants off anyone when he wanted to. Something about her pa kept the visitors flowing.
“Come over here and give your Uncle Abe a kiss.” Abe reached out his arms with a big toothless grin.