More Than I Have Words
They spent a quiet evening, Spencer worn out from the spanking and the tension that had risen between them, JC quietly reinforcing his love for her despite the harsh punishment he had delivered. He made her comfortable on the couch while he fixed a simple supper - linguini with butter and cheese and a little wine.
She wasn't hungry - a bad sign.
Settling her on his lap with her sore bottom between his open thighs, he wound a forkful of linguini and coaxed her into opening her mouth. She took the fork from him and obliging him, she ate it and another bite and then reached for the wine.
"You have to eat a little or you'll get tipsy, bambina," he teased, holding onto the wineglass.
"No, if I drink enough, I'll just fall asleep," she answered, anticipating the prospect of feeling no pain - not in her sore bottom nor in her heart.
"I don't want you to sleep before you eat a little more," JC whispered, well aware that sleeping would put everything off, nothing would be discussed or settled and Spencer might sleep but she wouldn't get the rest he wanted her to have.
It was a no-win situation.
"I'll take a bite and you take a bite, okay?" he cajoled as he took a bite of their shared dinner.
"Wine," she said, reaching for the glass.
"Just a sip, innamorata sweetheart."
He held onto the glass, concerned she'd swallow more than he wanted her to have. She wasn't much of a drinker; on an empty stomach the wine would go to her head in no time and she'd be asleep soon after.
She struggled to drink more and he removed the glass from her grasp. "Eat a little, bambina. Then you can have more wine."
"Not really hungry."
"Ice cream with Kahl˙a for dessert."
"Oh, I could eat that."
"I bet you ate all your vegetables when you were a little boy."
"I did," he smiled and handed her another forkful of linguini.
"JC, I don't want to talk. Not right now. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"
"Are you sure? You'll probably sleep better if we talk it out now."
"Will you hold me when we go to sleep?"
"Si, tomorrow," he conceded. "Now you eat. Capisca? Understand?"
He let her have the tiniest sips of wine and she nibbled a bite here and there until he agreed she had eaten enough. Dessert was more Kahl˙a and hot chocolate sauce than ice cream and he couldn't help taking pleasure watching her consume a double portion.
"That was good," she sighed leaning back against him.
"You still want to wait till tomorrow to talk to me?" he asked as he rubbed his lips against the back of her neck.
"I know what I'm feeling," she said, "but I don't have the words yet. I need the words."
She didn't have the words the next morning either. Snuggling into his arms, she had fallen asleep partly from exhaustion and partly from his embrace. Her bottom cheeks ached and now and then a sharp pain caused her to take an uneven breath or squirm in distress, but the warmth of the man holding her, his strength and the strength of his love was paramount. The palm that had seared her butt stroked it gently, his warm breath and his whispered words lulling her into slumber. She had slept soundly in spite of the pain.
"Buona mattina, bambina Good morning, baby," he murmured, kissing her awake.
"Are you going to spank me again?"
"No. Are you going to talk to me?"
"I don't know, maybe, maybe not. Will you spank me if I don't talk to you?"
"No," he whispered, pulling her onto his chest and held her gently. His hands rubbed her back as he tried to remain calm. When he woke he had expected her bottom to be a bright shade of pink, the color faded overnight. But it hadn't faded; it remained a deep fiery red and he cursed himself for spanking her so hard. He had expected the pain to fade to a dull ache but he knew that was at least a day away; she would hurt with every move she made.
He needed to get her to talk, tell him what made her stay out in a drenching rain, why she needed to be there.
"Breakfast? Shower? Tell me what you want, bambina."
"I want the pain to go away," she said softly, trying not to make any sudden movements, willing herself not to cry out, and hoping against hope that the pain would fade from her sheer will. She was certain if she tried hard enough, she could convince her aching bottom to return to normal before she moved off his chest.
"Some lotion would help, maybe kisses?"
"You'd kiss the pain away? Even though you're mad at me?"
"Not mad at you."
"Frustrated? Disappointed? What?"
"A little of both but not mad," he murmured, hugging her tighter, his lips finding her brow. "Never mad at you, piccola little one."
"I thought you were mad. You spanked me twice and the second time, it... it was a very hard spanking. You don't usually spank that hard even when you're mad... I mean, frustrated or disappointed. Why did you do that?"
"How much do you love me," he asked.
"More than I have words."
"That's my line," he smiled.
"People who love each other don't do things to worry the one they love. They take care of themselves and sometimes taking care means you can't always do what you want. Walking in a downpour is not taking care of yourself. So I spanked you."
"It was impulse."
"It just felt right at the time and I wanted to get wet. I didn't expect you home; wasn't even thinking about what would happen if you were home, just wanted to walk in the rain. It wasn't raining at all when I started out - just a drizzle. Then it came down hard and it was like throwing my hat in the air or tossing pebbles in a stream, climbing to the highest branch of a tree, smearing my face with whipped cream and licking it off. I just had an urge to get wet and I did."
"Impulsive behavior can get you in serious trouble, bambina. You have to think of the consequences of your actions. You have a history of upper respiratory problems. What would happen if you caught pneumonia?"
"No. You listen. Pneumonia is dangerous. You'd end up in the hospital where you don't want to be under any circumstances. You'd be on antibiotics that would make you nauseous and sleepy and your weight would drop and I'd be..."
"Stop! I'm not sick!" she yelled. "I'm fine. I'm going to stay fine! You are way out of line! And... and overprotective and I'm not made of glass and I don't want to have this conversation again! Stop lecturing me!"
"So if you're going to spank me again, do it! Get it over with! Get it out of your system!"
And then she burst into tears.
His own eyes filled when he saw how distraught she was and he thought she was overreacting to the spanking. And then he paused... He had also overreacted to her walk in the rain. Maybe he shouldn't have spanked her a second time. Maybe he should have... When did he start having doubts? When did a simple disagreement grow out of proportion?
He held her while she cried, soft sobs, tears that wet his neck and wrenched his heart. Rubbing his chin against the top of her head, his hands soothed her, his embrace as comforting as he could make it. He had met and subdued the enemy on the battlefield, had confronted his own demons in times of war, was at peace with his God and yet, this woman... who held his heart in the palm of her small hand... could reduce him to a mass of unmasked emotions.
Once in a while, love is too damn hard.
"I love you, bambina," he told her. "I love you beyond redemption. Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking. Let me fix it. Let me make it right for you."
She wasn't sure there was a way to fix it, to make it right. She wasn't sure why she had been so impulsive. She wondered if her hormones were in balance, wondered if there was something missing from her diet, wondered if partial insanity was a part of her genetic makeup. And she wondered why he loved her so much.
"Tell me," she said back to him.
"Tell you? That I love you? I love you."
"Because you make my life complete."
"Would it still be complete if you didn't spank me again?"
"Oh no, bambina," he chuckled, his mood changing and his heart lighter. "I have to spank you. And when I'm loving you, I really have to spank you."
"You're sure of this?"
"Very sure. And to prove it, I'll love you now."
"You're going to spank me again?" she asked, alarmed at the prospect and pulled back from his embrace.
"Not this time," he murmured and took her into the shower.
The water was warm enough to sooth her and cool enough to keep the pain at bay. His hands were gentle, tender on her sore bottom and despite her previous ire, she leaned into him to seek the comfort of his arms.
"I feel like I'm on fire," she mumbled against his chest.
"You are on fire. Your bottom is still very red."
"That's not so red. My hand is tougher than your tush, bambina."
"You're telling me!"
He chuckled in spite of himself and then he lifted her until her thighs went around his neck and his mouth found her.
The sensation stole her thoughts, her words, and any intention she might have had to stay miffed with him. His mouth plunged into her, against her, over her, kissing her between her legs as if the sweet flesh he found there was her mouth. He explored... with lips, tongue, and lightly, with teeth and kissed her as if she could kiss him back.
The feel of his mouth on her made her move her hips against him so that it became like a kiss. The spasms were building within her, passing into his mouth, down his body, shivering back up his spine, making his fingers tighten around her hips. His own needs were rampant now, a low growl that might have been a harsh purr coming from his throat as he drew the most intimate part of her deeper into his mouth. That purring growl grew more intense, swept across her skin, sang his love song, vibrated. It signaled his need and just as he lowered her body to join with his... and thrust into her, her own pleasure burst over her in a rush of warm waves. She was left gasping, eyes fluttered shut, boneless, helpless and knew no matter what transpired between them - good or bad - this man was her life, her lover, her mate.