Free A New Forever by Carolyn Faulkner, Alta Hensley Page B

April, who had been spanked with a considerable regularity, especially when they were first married. Elodie was sobbing and crying with each swat, and Clay didn't want to be too hard on her this first time. He was sure that, even quiet as she was, she would get herself into more trouble down the road. There would be a time to be harsher with her, he was sure.
    But for now, he gave her twenty more hard slaps as he watched each red handprint come up through the already pinkened flesh. When he had finished, she hung over his legs, and he no longer had to worry about whether or not she noticed how hard he was, because he wasn't.
    Spanking a woman was a strange thing. In some ways, he found it—aspects of it—unbearably sexy. Having a beautiful young woman over his lap, her bottom revealed and dancing beneath the crack of his hand, the cascade of hair, the enticing wiggle as she tried to get out of what she knew she had coming to her. But the inflicting pain part, that was hard, especially when you cared about the woman you were disciplining, and Clay was of a mind that if you didn't care about her, you shouldn't be touching her like that in the first place.
    But he knew that Elodie had a need. He knew she needed someone to watch out for her, for her best interests, even against herself. He knew she needed a strong but gentle hand on her bottom at all times—at least to mentally know that it was there—to remind her that she was cared for by someone.
    By him.
    He'd been surprising himself for quite some time, but now he realized he was ready to make a small move towards putting his life with April into perspective. Not behind him at all, because she would always be his love, but into the right light. April was gone. There was no bringing her back. And he knew, from the few, scant, uncomfortable talks they had had on the subject, that she wouldn't want him to try to climb into the grave with her in any way—not in grief, and not by trying to smother that grief in work. She would want him to pick up—after a reasonable amount of time to honor her—and go on and have a great life, and be happy.
    Most of all, though, she wanted him to find love again. A love like the one they had had. She'd told him so, through tears one night when they were talking about the unspeakable possibility of losing each other.
    Tears came to his eyes as Elodie lay panting and crying softly over his lap. He rested his hand—which was probably just about as sore as her bottom—on the small of her back and began to rub. Another situation where he was somewhat at a loss. He couldn't quite comfort Elodie the way he used to comfort April. He could picture the look on her face if he tried, though, and it made him crack a watery smile.
    When her breathing had pretty much returned to normal, Clay whispered huskily, "Let me help you up, sweetie."
    But she shrugged his hands off as soon as she got back onto her feet, reaching immediately down to pull up her jeans and panties, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
    She turned to leave without saying a word to him, still occasionally hiccoughing a sob. Clay reached out, caught the edge of her shirt and pulled her back. "Don't leave like this." He tried to pull her into his arms, but she stayed put as if her feet had been planted in cement, head doggedly down, arms hanging at her sides. So he came to her, opening his arms to wind them around her, but Elodie remained stiff as a board within them. Clay leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
    *****
    His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, not in a sexual way, but in a manner that offered comfort. But to Elodie it was cold comfort indeed. She didn't want to be standing in the arms of this man who had just seen her bare bottom and spanked it to within an inch of her life. She should be resisting more, she thought, instead allowing herself to melt a little against him. She should be home by now, where she could soak her butt in a bucket of ice. He'd started to