Corner Time on the Oregon Trail #WidowWagon #Spanking Romance #Erotic Romance #Cowboys #Westerns #Oregon Trail 11

I’ve been away forever, but I’m doing WIP it up Wednesday again!  This is an excerpt from my upcoming book, affectionately called Angus and Clara.  Clara is in time out—in a tent on the Oregon Trail.

She had been sent to stand quietly in the corner, facing the seam in the tent, it was as close to a corner as they could find on the Oregon Trail.  When he’d whispered to her that they “needed to have a discussion” and told her to stand in the corner waiting, her eyes had widened, her throat working to swallow. “But why?  What did I do?” 
“Corner. Now.”  Angus had pointed toward their little tent, watching her dash in that direction. He never viewed himself as someone who would be cruel, and he wasn’t, but he knew the anticipation of a spanking excited her, sending her pussy to throbbing, the pulsing muscles working up her natural essence, coating her to excess.  By the time he’d make it to the tent and slide his fingers through the seam of those puffy lips, she’d be slick and ready, he’d pull away from her warm, moist quim,  her spicy sent filling the air.  And while she watched with a little fear and trepidation in her eyes, he’d insert his sticky fingers into his mouth tasting her sweetness, sucking loudly as that pink blush rose from her neck to her cheekbones. 
Yes, the benefits of corner time were not to be denied.  Clara always responded sexually to it, in spite of her nerves being on edge. He’d give her another couple minutes before he rescued her. 
He walked around the site, checking on the women, making sure they were settling in for the night. As wagon master for the Widow Wagon, he’d taken on the responsibility of making sure the women were safe and delivered to their new husbands.  As a widow himself, he knew the loneliness and heartache of losing a spouse, and he also knew the joy in finding someone who fit you like a glove.  He went to the wagon to be sure the Nelly and Rose were sleeping, Clara’s girls were sweet and well behaved, he’d grown to love them while on this journey West.   He then saluted Sam, his assistant and cook while on this trip.  Sam currently rested nearby the women with his rifle, keeping watch for any danger during the night. 
Except for the occasional cricket, a distant wolf howling or the pop of dry wood in the fire, his spurs were the only sound this quiet night.  Not a cloud in the sky tonight, and out on the plains like this, the stars were out by the millions.  He swore when his life settled and he had a house for his family in Missouri, he’d take time to sleep out under the stars in memory of the days on the trail.  He’d never grow tired of lying under the stars. 
He pulled back the flap on the tent, the amber glow waving as the candlelight danced from the breeze flowing in.  She stood obediently in the corner—naked—just as he required.  He didn’t need to say it anymore, she knew what he liked and what was expected. He loved that his hands could span her small waist that led to her beautiful, broad hips.  Her plump, white buttocks were firm, but had just enough softness that they wobbled when spanked them.  He loved squeezing and grabbing that ass, pulling her hips up to his hard cock.  He’d never tire of this woman—ever.

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