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Authors: Alta Hensley
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hoohas!" Rebecca took another drink, taking in the insanity that she had somehow missed this important female hygiene memo. "So…" She paused for a moment, trying to figure it all out. "So, you just shave the whole thing?"
Neely continued to laugh and nodded. "Yes, or you could wax it. Haven't you heard of the Brazilian?"
"Yes, but I can't imagine having the hair ripped off my pussy lips with hot wax!" As if the Gods were against her, Caine walked outside right as Rebecca said the words, 'pussy lips'.
"I'm going to run to the store. Can I get you ladies anything while I'm out?" he asked, acting as if he hadn't heard her, but revealing his discomfort by not making eye contact.
Neely just laughed and shook her head as Rebecca said, "No, we are fine."
Rebecca's face was on fire as Caine retreated back inside.
Taking a calming breath to control her laughter, Neely asked, "Do you at least trim that patch of yours? Or do you have this bushy patch of weeds?" She squealed with laughter at her own question. "When Andrew went down on you, could he floss his teeth?" And the laughter continued.
Rebecca crossed her arms in a fake pout. "Funny. My bush isn't out of control or anything. I shave… sometimes."
"Do you use those little grooming scissors, at least?"
"Scissors? No. I don't have any scissors. Oh God, this is classic. I've had the wrong bush for almost two decades."
"Well, I guess you know what you're doing tonight," Neely said, as she swallowed the last of her drink.
"Yes, I do. It's time to say goodbye to the 90s."
Chapter Eight
Sawyer sat in his studio, grateful that he'd only had one client and they had been an easy one. His head just wasn't in the game, and hadn't been for several days. Rebecca consumed his thoughts. The spanking was one thing, and a huge thing at that. But it was more. There was something about that skinny, freckled-faced, redhead that mastered his thoughts. She wasn't his usual type at all. Sure, she had—or would eventually have—a full back tattoo, but he usually dated women who were covered in ink and piercings. His women were harder, edgier, and a hell of a lot more wild. They also were open for all sexual kinks, whereas he had a pretty good feeling that his little Rebecca was as straight as an arrow when it came to sex. But there was something about her. Something that made him want to see her again.
And the spanking! She hadn't resisted; in fact, she'd pretty much asked for him to give her one. His palm itched at the memory as he smiled, thinking of her cute St. Patrick's Day panties. It was tiny little things like that which had him melting for this girl. She was different, a tad quirky, strong and independent, yet reminded him of a broken bird at times. Everything she did was a contradiction, and he loved not knowing what to expect when it came to her.
He grabbed a magazine that some of his tattoos were being showcased in and started flipping through. Anything to get his mind off this girl. It was crazy. He barely knew her. They had only spent, what, several hours together? Eighteen, to be exact. Maybe he was just in desperate need of getting laid.
It had been a long time since he'd been with anyone, and even longer since he'd even considered a relationship. Hooking up with some tattoo groupie would be easy enough, and he'd sure as hell taken advantage of that fact in the past. He was a hot-blooded man, after all. But if he was being honest with himself, he was growing tired of it. And after all the Domestic Discipline talk with Rebecca, he had a new desire for it. He couldn't really have DD without commitment, and he knew that. Some hot, BDSM, naughty girl spankings, sure, but not true DD. And he wanted it. But was Rebecca the girl? Allowing her panty-clad ass to be spanked out of curiosity more than anything else was a far cry from agreeing to a DD lifestyle—very different.
"What's up your ass?" Amos asked, snapping him out of his daydreaming. His brother sat across from
Neely continued to laugh and nodded. "Yes, or you could wax it. Haven't you heard of the Brazilian?"
"Yes, but I can't imagine having the hair ripped off my pussy lips with hot wax!" As if the Gods were against her, Caine walked outside right as Rebecca said the words, 'pussy lips'.
"I'm going to run to the store. Can I get you ladies anything while I'm out?" he asked, acting as if he hadn't heard her, but revealing his discomfort by not making eye contact.
Neely just laughed and shook her head as Rebecca said, "No, we are fine."
Rebecca's face was on fire as Caine retreated back inside.
Taking a calming breath to control her laughter, Neely asked, "Do you at least trim that patch of yours? Or do you have this bushy patch of weeds?" She squealed with laughter at her own question. "When Andrew went down on you, could he floss his teeth?" And the laughter continued.
Rebecca crossed her arms in a fake pout. "Funny. My bush isn't out of control or anything. I shave… sometimes."
"Do you use those little grooming scissors, at least?"
"Scissors? No. I don't have any scissors. Oh God, this is classic. I've had the wrong bush for almost two decades."
"Well, I guess you know what you're doing tonight," Neely said, as she swallowed the last of her drink.
"Yes, I do. It's time to say goodbye to the 90s."
Chapter Eight
Sawyer sat in his studio, grateful that he'd only had one client and they had been an easy one. His head just wasn't in the game, and hadn't been for several days. Rebecca consumed his thoughts. The spanking was one thing, and a huge thing at that. But it was more. There was something about that skinny, freckled-faced, redhead that mastered his thoughts. She wasn't his usual type at all. Sure, she had—or would eventually have—a full back tattoo, but he usually dated women who were covered in ink and piercings. His women were harder, edgier, and a hell of a lot more wild. They also were open for all sexual kinks, whereas he had a pretty good feeling that his little Rebecca was as straight as an arrow when it came to sex. But there was something about her. Something that made him want to see her again.
And the spanking! She hadn't resisted; in fact, she'd pretty much asked for him to give her one. His palm itched at the memory as he smiled, thinking of her cute St. Patrick's Day panties. It was tiny little things like that which had him melting for this girl. She was different, a tad quirky, strong and independent, yet reminded him of a broken bird at times. Everything she did was a contradiction, and he loved not knowing what to expect when it came to her.
He grabbed a magazine that some of his tattoos were being showcased in and started flipping through. Anything to get his mind off this girl. It was crazy. He barely knew her. They had only spent, what, several hours together? Eighteen, to be exact. Maybe he was just in desperate need of getting laid.
It had been a long time since he'd been with anyone, and even longer since he'd even considered a relationship. Hooking up with some tattoo groupie would be easy enough, and he'd sure as hell taken advantage of that fact in the past. He was a hot-blooded man, after all. But if he was being honest with himself, he was growing tired of it. And after all the Domestic Discipline talk with Rebecca, he had a new desire for it. He couldn't really have DD without commitment, and he knew that. Some hot, BDSM, naughty girl spankings, sure, but not true DD. And he wanted it. But was Rebecca the girl? Allowing her panty-clad ass to be spanked out of curiosity more than anything else was a far cry from agreeing to a DD lifestyle—very different.
"What's up your ass?" Amos asked, snapping him out of his daydreaming. His brother sat across from
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