Rod of Correction_ Taken and Tamed

Chapter I



“You, my dear, are a brat.”

She gave him a thoroughly unrepentant grin, then reached for and downed the second of the two shots he had just poured – after raising it to him in a mock salute – having already surreptitiously drunk his seconds ago when he’d turned to put the bottle down on the table behind him.

“You’re only just noticing that fact? How long have you known me?” she asked, not slurring her words in the least. He was right, of course, but she was in no hurry to admit it. She had always been a brat, as the only daughter of doting parents who gave her anything she’d wanted without demanding anything – including obedience – in return. She had been a well heeled – literally and figuratively – young woman who had had the best education that money could buy and was now devouring her way through the corporate world, having achieved the position of CEO of her own company at an inordinately young age and.

The man across from her wasn’t thinking in the least about her background. He was busy being impressed – if also somewhat annoyed – by her capacity. She had matched him nearly shot for shot all evening, and he was at least twice her size. He was wondering where she’d put it all as he covertly studied her trim figure.

She appeared all but unaffected by the quantity of alcohol she had consumed - to say nothing of the quality, he frowned, glancing at the nearly empty, third or fourth bottle from the luxury Jose Cuervo 1800 Coleccion – he’d lost count somewhere earlier in the evening.

But then, they’d had a lot of help in that pursuit; their friends had slowly deserted them over the course of the evening, drifting back to their own homes – luckily not far from here – until only the two of them remained, facing each other across the big oak gaming table in his den.

“No, I noticed that the night we met, believe me.”

Her grin only widened at his wry tone, knowing they were both recalling a time when she’d first realized he was a hair’s breadth away from taking her over his knee – right in the middle of a Peter Luger Steakhouse, if need be. He knew that, exactly, was going to happen eventually between them, restaurant or not – and it made absolutely no never-mind to him. He was perfectly happy with the idea of tanning her fanny in public, if need be.

And with her, the need always seemed to be. In fact, he was of a mind that being spanked in public might help embarrass her into behaving better, although, he’d reconsidered that idea as he’d gotten to know her. It was more likely to get her wet than anything else.

He leaned back in his chair, idly shuffling the deck of cards they’d been using all night and watching her – wanting her, too, but that went without saying. Watching her was wanting her, and vice-versa. With Sunny, he found himself in an unusual position – fighting the needs of his own body, which he normally had well under control.

Right now, however, his cock wanted nothing more than to succeed in convincing him to throw her onto the table, strip off whatever panties she was wearing under that bewitching, barely-there lace skirt, if any, to thrust himself inside her, taking her without a thought for her pleasure in the least. But he wasn’t – never had been – a selfish lover.

Demanding, yes. Unusual, definitely - but never selfish.

Something about her told him that she’d be right there with him, regardless, along for whatever gut twisting, sweaty, toe curling ride he decided to give her. The woman sitting in front of him needed – wanted – to be taken, in the basest, rawest sense of the word, and he was just the man to do exactly that. Hell, he’d been waiting long enough for just the right time . . . just the right place . . . He recognized that patience was a virtue, but it was also a damned pain in the ass.

“Yet you’ve done nothing about it,” she whined softly, as if issuing a soft challenge.

He barely had her next shot poured before it was gone, set back in its exact spot with a loud, in your face thunk.

Ignoring her empty glass and her taunt for the moment, he drained his own then leaned forward, cards in hand.

“What do you say we raise the stakes a bit?”

Owl eyed, she considered him for a long moment, then asked, “What did you have in mind, exactly?”

“One hand of five card draw.”

Sassily, “And?”

It was the first time he’d allowed himself to smile since they’d been alone, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Winner takes all.”

Her huge mound of change was hastily pushed into the middle of the table until she looked up at him and sighed almost petulantly, “But what are you gonna bet?”