Annie, My Girl
Part Four
by sarAdora

Insisting that she wouldn't be taken for granted, Anne refused to see Jake unless it was on her terms. Reluctantly, he agreed. He knew he could be more forceful with her but he wanted more than a one-night stand. He'd go along with her for now.

She finally consented to dinner with him but only if he promised to take her home if she wanted to leave early.

"Fine," he agreed. "Wear something sexy; I'll pick you up at 7:30 and lock that damn cat in a closet."

Anne laughed. It was nice to be in control.

Ah well... ignorance is bliss.

He was punctual and she opened the door with Attila in her arms. The cat hissed and spit; Anne laughed and he glared.

"Love me, love my cat," she smiled, still thinking she was in control.

"I will," he agreed too readily and grabbed the cat by the back of its neck and lobbed it toward the couch. Before Anne could protest, he grabbed her and with one arm, held her tight to his chest while his mouth devoured hers and his other hand delivered a firm smack to her beautifully clad bottom cheeks.

"Go change," he told her when he let her go. "I want you to wear a dress."

"What wrong with what I'm wearing?" she snapped, rubbing her butt. "These are silk cocktail pajamas. They're the rage... they're..."

"They're not what I want to see you in while we're in public. Go change." He leaned against her door with his arms folded across his chest.

"Then I guess we're not going out," she hissed. "You can leave any time," she added and turned her back on him.

Not her best move...

"I'm happy to help you change," he murmured, catching her around the waist and pulling her back against his chest. "I'd be happy to warm your bottom, too. Will that help you change your clothes?"

"You damn sure better keep your hands to yourself. I need a fu.. fu.. jerk like you like I need a... a..."

"Annie, sweetheart. You're a slow learner," he grinned as his hand clapped off her bottom cheeks again, "but you *are* learning. Go change into something sexier," he murmured, ignoring her shriek of indignation. "I want to wine and dine you, charm you, spank you till you beg for more, and love you baby."

"You...! You...!"

"Me... Me..." he laughed, rubbing her butt. "Go," he urged. "I'll wait right here unless..." he winked, "you need my assistance."

She was speechless and stared at him. Then, in a huff, fled to the safety of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

He did a slow count... reaching "7" before her shoes hit the door. "That's my girl," he grinned and headed toward the redheaded termagant.

"Annie, I'm waiting," he said softly as he stood at her bedroom door.

"When hell freezes!" she grumbled.

"Hell froze," Jake chuckled as he snapped the doorknob loose. "Come to Papa, baby," he coaxed, reaching for her.

"You better not spank me!" she shouted as she backed away from him.

"Would you rather I use my belt?" he grinned as he grabbed her, upending her and delivered several firm swats to her silk pajama clad bottom.

"So help me, Jake Taylor!" Anne sputtered when she could speak.

"Shhh, sweetheart. I want to love you. Let me love you," he murmured, gathering her close to his chest. "So sweet, so soft, so spankable."

"You... you!"

"Me... me!" he grinned, covering her mouth with his, silencing her protests. When his hand cupped her lush bottom and fitted her body to his rising need, she melted into him.

In a matter of moments, they were sprawled on her bed, their clothes draped and dropped where they fell, limbs entwined and his thrusts taking her places she hadn't been. In the aftermath of their joining, she realized he had been extraordinarily gentle with her, his mouth and his hands continuing the soft caresses that made lovemaking extra special.

Later she would recall that they fit perfectly together, that it had felt better than good, that she had behaved like a starved hussy and that he had laughed at her need. She also remembered that he had given her everything she wanted that passion filled night and that he had also taken everything she offered.

Jake had expected the lovemaking to be good; he hadn't expected it to be nirvana and when it was, he looked at her long and hard. A small door opened in his heart. He wanted more of the redheaded termagant. He wanted to court her, pamper her, spoil her, spank the dickens out of her if necessary, and make love to her until the cows came home.

They saw each other often - dining, dancing, theatre, and quite a few picnics in the park. They fought like crazed Tasmanian Devils, every argument ending with her across his lap, his large hand the only implement necessary for getting to the "bottom" of each discussion. Then he'd turn her onto her back, part her thighs and love her until his face was covered in her passion. Later, he would fill her and revel in her sensuality.

She was horribly embarrassed that every time he took his shirt off, her brain went out to lunch but she wanted him. She tested him constantly - with her sassy mouth, ill chosen words, and blatant sexuality. He chuckled at a lot of what she said and did but didn't coddle her - and he didn't feel a need to placate her hot temper even in public. He would ignore her rants but gently and firmly escort her to a more private place. Then he upended her, delivering enough swats to get his point across. He didn't demand apologies or promises - simply spanked her until he was certain she regretted her actions or words.

He didn't give in to her every whim but quietly supported her when she needed to lean, his lap and his embrace a sanctuary she craved. He was unlike any other man she had known and she blossomed with him by her side. He remained faithful to himself and to her, which often caused her bottom to remain rosy for days. In the aftermath of any chastisement, he held her close, murmured endearments and carefully laid the foundation for a more serious relationship.

He loved her with a need that surpassed explanation and made demands on her time, her presence in his life an unexpected necessity. When he proposed and she rejected him... he knew she was afraid to make the commitment and forced her hand.

"Are you going to marry me?" he asked for the 10th or 20th or 1000th time as they lounged in his apartment.


"Yes, you are," he decided and took her into the bathroom where he ignored her shrieks and curses and wiggling, kicking body and handcuffed her to the shower rod. With quiet precision, he systematically stripped her and then stood back to admire her naked form.

Anne was stunned; her mouth opened and she stared at him.

Jake laughed, delivered a firm swat to her rounded globes and then hugged her. "You're a true redhead, Annie, my girl," he grinned, one hand stroking her need with experienced fingers.

When she arched into his hand, he left her... hanging there, breathing heavily, her thighs sticky, toes barely touching the floor.

"You miserable, insufferable, son-of-a...!"

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he leaned on it, grinning as he listened to her. "A true redhead," he chuckled.

"I hate you!" she shouted.

"Will you marry me?" he shouted back, still chuckling.

"You can go to hell and fu... fu... Yes! I'll marry you, you sorry son-of-a... and I swear I'll make your life miserable, too!"

"I'll spank you if you do," he told her matter-of-factly as he came back to her.

"I hate you!" she said softly, tears in her dark green eyes.

"Do you love me as much as I love you?" he asked simply as he pulled her to his chest.

"More than I'll ever say," she told him as he released her and held her tight.

"We're going to have beautiful children, Annie, my girl."

And they did.

~ End ~

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