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Crystal Morrison, a free-spirited aspiring novelist is on an adventure. Just graduated from college, she is traveling through the country on a working holiday. Finding herself in Whitefish, Montana, she is captivated by its stunning lake and majestic mountains.
Never having lived through a white winter she decides it's the perfect place to hang her hat until spring, but when she meets a ruggedly handsome rancher by the name of Clay Parker, her stay in the picturesque town suddenly takes an erotic and exciting twist.
Clay finds the spunky city girl quite the handful, and after several weeks he shows the young woman that certain lines cannot be crossed. To her shock he pulls her over his knee and delivers a quick, stinging spanking, but after he kisses her fervently then marches from her house, she discovers he has left her with more than a hot bottom.
His astonishing attention has stirred something inside her, something that will not let her sleep, and though it's late she calls him to apologize for her bad behavior. He invites her to his lakeside cottage, and though she has refused his invitation in the past, she accepts, and the following morning, filled with anticipation, she sets off to meet him.
Waiting in his cottage, Clay becomes concerned. A storm has rolled in, the rain is torrential, and she's late, very late. The bell finally chimes, but when he opens the door he is astonished to see her completely drenched. She has arrived with a startling surprise, a surprise that bonds them. Their exploration into the world of dark sexual thrills begins, and their passionate love deepens.
But trouble is brewing.
Clay, the oldest of three brothers, is a member of the Parker clan, a family that spans three generations. His Cattle Baron father is none too pleased that his brilliant son has taken up with a city girl who knows nothing of ranch life, and fears she might lure him away to the bright lights and glamorous world from which she comes.
Can Crystal and Clay, an unlikely couple, find true love? As the first snow of the season begins to fall, will her dream of a white winter become a romantic reality, or will Clay's powerful father try to put a stop to their passion? Is it the hand of fate that brought them together, or is another mystical force playing a part in the blossoming of their unique romance?
Crystal stared after Clay as he strode from the room. She heard the front door open and close, then his truck start up and roll out of her driveway. Her backside was stinging, her heart was thumping, and she found herself unable to move. She had been going out with him since arriving in the picturesque town of Whitefish, Montana, a couple of months before, and while he had lightly slapped her bottom during sex, and would often land a playful swat, he had never yanked her over his knee, raised her skirt, pulled down her pretty skimpy panties, and blasted his hard hand on her butt.
The spanking had been quick and sharp, over in less than a minute, then he’d stood her up, fisted her hair, kissed her like Rhett Butler had kissed Scarlet O’Hara, and with three final words, ‘think about it,’ he had marched from the room and out of her house.
“I don’t have to think about it. I know exactly why you did that, but damn, I still can’t believe it,” she mumbled, and finally able to move, she sat back down, albeit gingerly.
Had she been testing him? Had she wanted to see how much he would take? But why? She really liked Clay. Liked? No! She was crazy about him, though the three magic words had never been spoken by either of them.
There was a bowl of striped peppermints on the coffee table. It was her habit, taking a handful of the popular restaurant sweets and dropping them into the silver candy dish when she arrived home. Slowly reaching for one she unwrapped it, tossed the plastic aside, and popped it in her mouth. As it began to dissolve she felt herself begin to settle down, and leaning back on the couch, very aware of her hot, stinging behind, she thought back to their evening.
It had started with a debate over a movie choice. There were two movie theaters in Whitefish, one was showing a stereotypical jungle action film; five guys chasing a Columbian drug lord in the middle of nowhere, encounter a crazy murderer on the run. The other, her choice, was a British comedy starring some of England’s funniest and best-loved actors. They had compromised. They’d see both, and toss a coin to choose which one would come first, but Crystal had insisted on going to his action/adventure/thriller.
Then the inevitable happened.
Standing in line at the ticket counter she could feel her resentment start to take hold. She hated violence and men running around in army fatigues shooting off machine guns. During the film she was restless, and had left twice on a pretend visit to the ladies room. By the time they exited the theater she was grumpy.
Her behavior had been inevitable because that was her pattern, and she had no idea why. She would agree to do things that she didn’t want to do, then pout.
The last time it had happened had been the previous weekend when he had picked her up for dinner. He had asked her on the phone if she would like to try out the new, hip steak house. She’d been hoping for pizza, but had acquiesced. Though she’d tried to pretend everything was fine he had seen right through her, and when he’d brought her home he’d confronted her.
“Crystal, I’m not gonna tell you about this again,” he’d said at her front door.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“Nope. Not tonight. You need to figure out why you do this. If you don’t like somethin’, you’ve gotta tell me. What’s the worst that can happen?”
He’d fixed her with his light brown eyes that turned into dark chocolate when he was upset, and pushed his hand through his wonderfully thick brown hair.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she’d said meekly.
“Don’t be sorry, just speak up. Trust me, darlin’, this is gettin’ old. I’ll call you in the mornin’ before I head out to the feed store with my brother, then I’m gonna be real busy the rest of the day.”
“Won’t you please come in and stay tonight?”
“Nope,” he’d said shaking his head. “Maybe givin’ you a time out will help you think this through. Maybe these kinda mind games fly in San Francisco, but I’m just simple country boy. It doesn’t work for me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she’d mumbled, feeling her face flush hot from his scolding.
“It’s gettin’ old, and it’s gotta stop, along with the other things we’ve talked about!”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he’d frowned.
“I guess I do.” Almost always late and making up white lies to explain it away.
They’d met for lunch a couple of days later and he’d been happy to see her, then dinner the next night. It had been an amazing evening. They had eaten at her favorite Italian restaurant, shared astonishingly delicious lasagna, and finished off a bottle of cabernet. Back at her place they’d tumbled into her bed and he torn her shirt off, literally, then devoured her breasts and pummeled her pussy until she was wailing her way through an almighty orgasm.
“I’m nuts about you, Crystal,” he’d purred holding her against him.
“This is worth our little fights,” she’d sighed. “The way you take me after we have them, oh, my gosh, it just sends me over the moon.”
“We don’t have to fight for me to ravage you,” he’d chuckled. “Just ask me and I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she’d giggled.
That had been only three days before, and yet she had once again agreed to something she didn’t want to do, then copped an attitude afterwards. This time though, he had shocked her by yanking her over his knee and spanking her!
“This is one for the books,” she muttered, rising from the couch and rubbing her backside.
Walking into her bedroom she stood before the mirror, and turning around she lifted her skirt and dropped her panties to stare at her bright pink skin, and as she gazed at her spanked behind something unexpected happened. A warm chill rippled down her spine, and she felt a compulsion to drop her fingers against her hungry sex. Pulling off her skirt and underwear as she moved across to her bed, she flopped down, closed her eyes, and let her fingers fall against her clit. Clay’s image immediately materialized in her mind’s eye. He was naked, and his broad chest with its wisps of curly black hair, his ripped washboard stomach, and his muscled arms, were as clear as if he was standing right next to her.
“God, Clay, you turn me on so much,” she breathed as her fingers began to urgently rub.
He was towering over her, bigger than life, but as the scene began to play itself out, it was his full moist lips that loomed closer. The lips that kissed her so lovingly, that glided over hers with a warmth and passion she’d never felt before. The lips that drew her nipples into his mouth and gently sucked before ardently devouring her breasts and making her moan with divine pleasure. Her moment was brewing, and her thoughts flashed back to their last moments together.
The alacrity with which he’d yanked her over his lap and spanked her had been stunning. When he’d lifted her skirt and lowered her panties she had kicked and squealed, but he’d continued unfazed, slapping her bare bottom with gusto. Then he’d abruptly stood her up, clutched her hair, and holding her tightly, his lips had crushed hers as he had fervently, almost angrily, kissed her.
Suddenly the fierce explosion shuddered through her body. As her thighs tensed and her back arched, her cries of release reverberated through her room until the last spasm waned and her hand fell still. Rolling on to her side she grabbed a pillow. Residual tingles were still cascading through her limbs and she let out a heavy sigh.
“I don’t want to lose you, Clay,” she murmured, the heat building in the back of her throat. “I don’t know why I do the things I do. I’m sorry, I wish I did.”
Closing her eyes she rested for a while, then slipping off her mattress she started to ready herself for bed. The clock read 10:27 p.m. She decided she’d watch television for a while then try to get some sleep, but the room felt empty without him, and she knew when she slipped back between the sheets it would be cold without his warm body to cuddle.
He would stay over several nights a week, and though he’d often invited her to stay his cottage on the lake she’d always declined. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see where he lived, she did, and it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. The reason was a simple one. She was uncomfortable in a man’s home. It was an issue she’d always had. She had no such feelings at dinner parties, but alone in with a man in his house, an awkwardness would fall over her, and she wouldn’t know where to look or sit, or what to do. It was embarrassing, and over the years she had found it easier to make up excuses and say no.
Ambling into her kitchen she pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator, and grabbing a glass from the dish rack she poured in enough for a few mouthfuls to help her sleep. Her backside was still scratchy, and shaking her head, wondering what it was she was finding so tantalizing, she carried the glass into her bedroom. Settling in bed she turned on the TV but there wasn’t much on offer, so she tuned into a channel that aired old movies from the 1940’s and 1950’s. She found the clothes elegant and interesting, and the way the people talked highly amusing. As she sipped her drink and watched the black and white screen she finally began to relax. She’d find a way to make amends, and she was determined to change her ways.
Yawning loudly, she was about to turn off the set when the couple on the screen fell into an argument. She’d hadn’t been following the story closely so she didn’t know what they were fighting about, but the woman slapped the man, and the man grabbed her by her wrists and wrestled her across the room to his couch. Crystal started laughing. The woman in question was talking in a very affected way, and the man seemed to be having trouble keeping hold of her, which was ludicrous, but then, much to Crystal’s shock, he sat down and jerked the woman over his lap.
Turning up the volume she watched and listened intently. The man scolded as he spanked, reprimanding the woman as she kicked up a fuss, then to Crystal’s surprise the man did exactly what Clay had done. He brought the woman to her feet, grabbed her hair and kissed her.
“Holy crap, is this where he got the idea?” she muttered, her eyes fixed on the screen.
�The man then picked up the woman, carried her into the bedroom, and closing he door with a bang the words, THE END, fell across the screen.
“Phooey,” Crystal muttered as she turned off the set. “I wish my night had ended that way.”
The scene had stirred her, and she looked across at her cell phone on the nightstand wondering if she should call to tell him how sorry she was. It was late, but surrendering to the temptation she picked it up and hit his name.
“Hey, Crystal, what’s up? Can’t you sleep?”
“No, not really,” she said quietly. “I didn’t wake you up, I hope. I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you.”
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “What’s on your mind?”
“I did what you said. I thought about things. I’m really sorry. I’ll try to do better, I promise.”
“You’ve said that before,” he sighed.
“I know, and I know I keep you waiting more often than not, and I know I’m not always open about things, and I-“
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he said cutting her off. “I’m at Bill’s Tavern so I can’t talk. Tomorrow’s Sunday and I’m not workin’. Why don’t you come on out to my cottage. We can have a real long talk, see if we can’t figure this out.”
“Your cottage?” she repeated.
“Yep. It’s about time, don’t ya think?”
“Uh, yes, I guess it is.”
“Get here in time for lunch. I’ll barbecue us up some hamburgers. We can spend the day together.”
“Can you make it chicken burgers instead?”
“Sure. I’ll text you the address. Your navigator will bring you right to my door. You’ll love it here. You’ll see, and if you don’t-“
“I will,” she interrupted. “I will love it. Is elevenish okay?”
“Yep, sounds great,” then lowering his voice, he asked, “how’s your butt?”
The question took her by surprise and she felt her face flush red.
“It’s, uh, fine, a bit sore.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll check it out for myself.”
Closing her eyes she thought about how she would feel as he inspected his handiwork, and a fresh wave of wet warmth flowed between her legs.
“Uh, I guess,” she managed, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and ending the call she slid down between the sheets.
“Holy crap,” she breathed. “Why do I suddenly feel like something major is about to happen?”