Over the Barrel by Breanna Hayse Read Free Book Online Page B

ground along with the additional petticoats.
    She continued: "Ever since I moved
in with Aunt Imelda, the word 'proper' was something I learned to curse
at.   Being proper takes away your
joy.   I want joy in my life.   I want to know what it's like to feel a
man next to me, and I want that man to be you."
    She stood before him in a white,
sleeveless chemise that fell to her knees.   Her tiny breasts, tipped with pebbled nipples, strained against the thin
cotton.   They heaved up and down as
she breathed deeply—partially due to her inebriation and partially from
excitement.   She reached under the
thin material to untie her drawers when Sloan stopped her.
    "That is enough, Miss Farbor.   That is the drink talking, not you.   The only thing you are succeeding in
doing is making me want to spank that backside of yours until it glows like the
sun.   Believe me, I would be the
only one enjoying it, too.   Get
dressed.   Quickly.   I will be back in a bit."   He stood quickly and hastened in the
direction of the stream.
    Blair followed him with her eyes, lost in
confusion.   She looked down at the
ground at the puddle of material around her feet and felt her face flush with
heat.   She reached down to gather
the clothing and felt her world spin around her.   The last thing she remembered was
placing her face on the cold, rocky ground, and the sound of crickets chirping
in her ears.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Blair moaned as something wet dabbed at
her face, and she painfully cracked open her eyes.   Barely able to focus, she tried to sit
up, only to collapse back onto the ground where Sloan had folded some clothing
to make her a pillow.
    "Am I dead?   Please say yes," she groaned,
lifting her hands to shield her eyes from the bright morning sunlight.   "The world is spinning around.   Sloan!   I need you to tell it to stop."
    "I'm sorry, Squirrel.   I can't make that happen.   Here's some coffee.   Drink up."   He helped her to a sitting position
against the large bolder.
    "Thank you."   She wrinkled her nose at the wry
taste.   "This tastes like
mud."
    "Trail coffee isn't meant for
flavor."
    "That is obvious.   Maybe we should rub this on our skin to
keep away the insects."
    "I'm glad to see you have not lost
your sense of humor.   Drink
more.   It will help your head."
    "I was serious."   She smacked at a fly and then clutched
her head.   "Dear God, what
happened last night?"
    "Your experiment with whiskey
backfired on you.   How are you
feeling?"
    "Like I ate a cactus and all the
prickles got stuck in my head."
    "I bet you are glad I took that
bottle from you when I had the chance.   Whiskey is a man's poison and has no business touching a ladies
lips."
    "I am begging you.   No lectures.   Please.   And no spankings!"
    "Here is water.   Keep drinking.   I'll save the lecture for later.   The only reason you aren't getting
paddled is because it was your first experience, and you asked if you could try
it.   I figure the whiskey could
teach you a better lesson than my palm could right now."
    "You should have stopped me
sooner.   When is this going to get
better?"
    "I have some willow bark
brewing.   That'll help a bit.   In the meanwhile, you just gotta walk it
off and keep drinking water."
    "I think I'm going to be ill,"
Blair moaned.
    "Go to the bushes.   Watch for snakes," Sloan said,
unsympathetically.
    "I need your help.   Please?" Blair pleaded
miserably.   With a sigh, Sloan
helped her to her feet and led her to a thicket.   As she emptied her stomach, he brought
back his hat filled with cold water from the stream.
    "Wash your face.   Do you remember anything that
happened?" Sloan placed a cool, wet piece of cloth on the back of her
neck.
    Blair splashed water onto her face.   "Not really.   We were talking about … oh, Mother in
Heaven."   Blair paled, looking
down and realizing that she was only dressed in her undergarments.   "I'm begging you.   Please tell me that I did