by Nicole Snow
Cowboy's Strict Commands: Submission Burns Deep!
By Nicole Snow and Arthur Mitchell
Content copyright 2013 Nicole Snow and Arthur Mitchell. All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition.
Disclaimer: The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.
All individuals depicted in this work are adults over the age of eighteen years old.
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Description
A COWBOY'S LOVE IS TERRITORIAL!
Ashley Lambert has few friends and even less money when a stranger in her bar reaches out – literally! The handsome cowboy who grabs her by the hand wants more than just a drink.
Gabe Avery made a fortune in Dakota oil, and now he's returned to his ancestral mountain ranch. When he sees the beautiful waitress, he knows instantly that she's perfect for his dark desires. He's the only man in town who doesn't care about her tarnished reputation, and he's got an offer that could banish all her problems...
But hiring Ashley to strip for a buddy's bachelor party isn't all this Dom cowboy is after. Gabe really wants to corral her in his bed and spank her raw, and then brand her with permanent submission by putting his baby deep inside her.
And if anyone has a problem with that, this cowboy is ready to rumble...
Word count: 25,000+ novella.
An exciting Western erotic romance collaboration by Nicole Snow and Arthur Mitchell!
I: Driving a Desperate Bargain
The first time, I walked right by him, a great mountain of a man staring into his beer at the corner table.
It was a busy night. No surprise for a Friday.
The Silver Quarter Saloon hopped from Thursday evening until Sunday twilight. And that meant a whole heap of hard work me – harder still because I actually needed to land the best tips charm could buy.
“Ashley, Ashley, Ashley! Is your arm burning yet, or are you just pointing at your favorite quarter?” My co-worker in crime Izzy smiled at me from the edge of the bar.
I rolled my eyes and lowered my arm. She'd caught me stretching toward the silver lined wall, and she wasn't wrong about my wrist acting up again. Carrying big trays and glasses for hours would do that.
Just my luck. Twenty-two and I'm on my way to meeting arthritis thirty years early.
“Just working out the kinks, Izz. It's like the whole town's turned out.” I stopped, inhaled the smokey air, and really got my wits for the first time.
The bar was filled to capacity, and probably a little more. Neat dressed men in tall cowboy hats laughed boisterously around the bar. And the laughter sprawled on, out to the barroom's walls, where men cursed, chattered, and laughed beneath the low lights.
“Oh, it's more than that. The Renfros brought all their cousins in from out of state. Says they needed a good time before leaving for Idaho tomorrow to look at some old family property.”
As if on cue, Jack Renfro wandered up with an older man. The gray haired gentleman slapped his hand on the counter next to me. The loud metallic noise rang so hard my heart nearly crashed into my brain.
“You ladies seen Adams?”
“He's at the other end of the bar, sir,” I curled my lips, hoping I hadn't embarrassed myself.
My reputation with the locals hadn't been great since my Senior year at Marigold High. Last thing I needed was outsiders thinking I was a scared, fickle little girl. Although maybe that would've been preferable to destitute slut.
“Alright, I'll go find him.” He began to turn, but paused and looked back at me. Behind me, Izzy giggled. “Hey, Jack, show 'em what we brought.”
Jack Renfro smiled at me uneasily and slid his hand beneath the old man's. I already knew what he was going to hold up.
A worn silver quarter from the 1920s gleamed in his hand. The pale relief of Lady Liberty looked completely naked, her clothes stripped away with time. On the opposite side, the bald eagle in flight really was...well, a bald eagle.
“Very nice. You're the seventh donor today!” Izzy trotted past me and plucked it out of his hand.
I shook my head as she led them away toward Mister Adams, wondering how she kept up her uncanny enthusiasm for the same thing that happened every day, every week, and sometimes every hour.
I rested my hand on the corner near the register and stared at the walls. The Silver Quarter Saloon was somewhere between local drinking hole and dusty Montana tourist attraction.
Its claim to fame? Quarters, quarters, quarters – and sometimes a few silver dollars to break up the monotony – as far as the eye could see. Everybody in a thousand miles with an old silver coin wanted to leave their mark.
We slid the coins onto wooden plaques with little labels for the donors. Sometimes, friends and family came in decades later, and we used laser pointers to find their old coin on the wall.
Last year, the place had surpassed over a hundred thousand dollars worth of old coins plastered to holders on the walls, the ceilings, and even underneath the bar's glass counter top.
Jesus. Just one tenth of that silver would do amazing things for my life, I mused, staring through the smoke and shadows at the endless rows of coins.
Too bad guys are more likely to donate to a faceless bar than a human being. And too bad they wouldn't donate to you, even if they were nice humanitarians. Hell, you wouldn't donate to you.
I pushed the self-hate away, bitterly hoping I could get a half-priced shot of something near close. A group of middle aged men at one of my tables was waving me over again, and off I went.
The night dragged. My heels and calves ached, adding their pangs to my shoulders and wrists by midnight.
Even so, I wasn't looking forward to closing time in a couple hours. Leaving work meant going home, back to the dilapidated family farm where I'd spend the rest of my life – if I was lucky – with nobody but Pa's ghost and a few underfed horses for comfort.
The tips weren't as good as I thought. When the crowds thinned out, I found Izzy on her break, just outside the main entrance taking long drags on a cigarette.
“Hell of a night for autumn. Look at those stars.”
I followed her voice upward. The milky pearls in the sky filled my eyes, and I devoured the distant twinkling lights.
Like silver confetti in the darkness, I thought. Celebrating a thousand lives. But never mine.
The stars shined a thousand times brighter than all the quarters in the bar. And they were far, so far from all the dreams and worries of this place...
I couldn't help it. I started to tear up.
Izzy caught me with a firm hand on the shoulder, just as she did every other weekend. Too bad every other weekend was turning into several times a week.
Things weren't getting any better. I lived it, and everybody else saw it – or maybe just my only friend in the world.
“Don't sweat it, Ash. I told you I know a guy who can't unload all his hay. He'll practically give it away once we get in touch. You'll have plenty, at least until the end of autumn...”
“And then what? Those horses – my horses – are going to starve this winter if things don't pick up. I just can't...do this anymore.” The last words snorted out
my mouth, hot flames lapping at the chill air.
“Hang in there,” she said suddenly, tightening her grip. I looked into Izzy's eyes, knowing she really meant, Get a grip!
“I know you haven't seen it yet. You're younger than me.” She always reminded me that she had a good decade on me, as if it was supposed to cure my woes. “These things have a way of working themselves out. You don't know what tomorrow's gonna bring.”
“Actually, I do.” I fought the urge to ask for a cigarette, but quitting was the one thing I'd managed to stick to and be proud of the last couple years. “It's going to bring me another back breaking night here. More crude jokes behind my back. Hoping my paycheck hits my account and leaves me enough to switch on the heat...”
“Oh, Ash. One day, people are gonna forget all about the past and leave you be. All it takes is showing them how wrong they are. Well, that and a little muscle.” Izzy smiled like a shark, reached her curled fingers up to her face, and kissed her knuckles.
I shuddered, but returned a weak, closed lip smile. She hadn't really clawed anyone's eyes out. But she had gotten the rude remarks at work to stop by leaning on Mister Adams' ear.
For some reason, my boss respected me. He gave me a job interview when no one else in town would. Of course, nobody in town was dumb enough to criticize the old bar owner to his face. They feared the man who held control over the best – hell, sometimes the only – bar in town.
Mister Adams taught everyone an important lesson when he tossed out the first group of guys who jeered me with their catcalls and tried to stuff crumpled dollars down my blouse.
I only wished the protection extended to the grocery store, the post office, Joe's Feed and Supply store...
“I better get going again. Thanks for the pep talk, Izzy. I hope you're right.”
“Anytime.” She patted me on the back one last time as I sailed past her.
Okay, you can do this. It's only another two hours...
Time was on my side after all. The crowds began to thin more than usual for a Friday night. Even the regulars turned in, probably made drowsy earlier than usual by the creeping cold and lengthening darkness.
Past midnight, the lights went down. The music on the jukebox stopped, and the scant conversations in the bar turned into nonsense whispers. The atmosphere felt like a walking dream.
I was walking in a trance on auto-pilot when I walked past the corner table again. The big dark outline of a man had been there all night, but he hadn't asked me for anything since I'd taken over Beth's tables.
I never expected a powerful hand to shoot out and wrap its muscular fingers around my wrist.
My heels clicked loudly as I bolted into the air a couple inches and came back down, dropping my tray in the process. Thank God it was empty.
“Shot of bourbon, please. I could really go for a night cap,” he said, pulling me a little closer and loosening his hold.
“Sir! I'll get you your drink, but I don't appreciate being handled like this.”
His hand lingered a couple seconds longer, and finally fell away. He looked up, turning the wide gray hat perched on his head, and I finally saw beneath the wide rim.
“Gabe Avery?” My tray almost hit the floor again. I'd expected a much older, more rugged man – probably some outsider accustomed to bad manners with waitresses – certainly not a familiar face I hadn't seen in...what? Four or five years?
“Glad you remember me.” His lips formed a sly smile, strong and centered in a handsome face that had grown a little older, rougher, and definitely more experienced.
“When the hell did you get into town? I thought I would've heard. You were always something for people to buzz about.” I furrowed my brow and stared at him.
God, he looked good. Marigold High's star hockey player hadn't ever looked bad, but he'd left a year before I was about to go into high school myself, a lean eighteen year old who'd returned as a big, hard man.
My mind whirled as I struggled to remember all the details. Gabe and I hadn't interacted much, though he'd worked for Pa on the farm during his last summer.
The times when we had money to hire help seemed like a whole lifetime ago. Pa's cancer had drained everything before he went, plunging me into poverty and loneliness.
“I've been laying low for a few weeks. Let's just say working in the oil fields out East with Uncle Steven turned out real well for me. Last thing I wanna do is blow in here and blind the town...but how about that drink?” He winked.
My knees went a little numb. I smiled, nodded, and ran toward the bar to punch in his order.
“Thanks. This'll be it for me tonight,” he said as I passed the short glass into his hands. “Hey, wait.”
I froze, hoping I could just slip away with a smile. No luck. I had no choice but to turn around and face him again.
I certainly didn't mind talking to him, but my inner loser screamed loudly.
It didn't care if Gabe seemed perfectly happy to see me. It didn't stop to think whether or not he knew about my days as Marigold High's Star Slut either...
“The walls in here get thin pretty late,” he said.
I shot him an odd look. I leaned forward, wondering if I'd heard him right.
“I heard everything you said to your friend. I sympathize with your hard times, Ashley.” He took in a deep breath, gradually bringing his face closer to mine.
“I remember you perfectly. You were skinny, young, not totally ripe back when I worked on your Pa's farm. I heard about his passing. This life's not fair.” He paused, sipping his liquor slowly. “I also heard about the things you did in between farm girl and waitress. I know, and I want to help.”
My heart clattered against my ribs. I tensed my jaw, holding in the hot confusion bursting in my head like a mountain shower.
“It's none of your business.” It took all my nerves to don my best poker face and leave the damned part out of my sentence. “My problems aren't yours, Gabe. I don't need anybody's help.”
“That's not what I heard you say out there. Your best asset is right in front of you, and you don't even know it. You're so damned beautiful.” He shook his head, and I watched his hat's shadow thinning and lengthening beneath his brim.
“At least hear me out.” His tone made it sound more like a demand. “It'll be a one time thing, and I can pay you good money. More than you'll make here in a month.”
Damn! I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for you to crawl inside my head and hold out a golden carrot...
I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable. When his mouth opened and he whispered the words, I expected the worst.
“There aren't a lot of strippers around here, Ashley. Not pretty ones, anyway. You remember my cousin? Jesse Colton? Well, his bachelor party's tomorrow, and I've been fooling around the last few days when I should've been hitting the pavement finding a nice girl a few town's over.”
He paused. Tiny hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I swallowed hard.
“You want to make some money to set you right for winter? I'll even do everything I can to help you find something better than this place if you go through with it. I hear what the guys say around your back, you know. But they all want you, even when they're lying through their teeth about what a slut you are. It's just to keep their girlfriends from getting jealous...”
“Enough,” I grunted, teeth practically chattering as I peeled away from him. My hand had been touching his, and I marveled that he didn't make another mad dash to lock me in place, to force me to do his bidding.
“Find some other girl for your friend to fuck around with. I have to work tomorrow anyway. It was a one time thing...three guys in three weeks. One of them just had to be the Mayor's son. I don't know what you've seen or heard since you came back, but I'm not like that anymore.”
“Your body doesn't lie,” he said, staring straight into my eyes. “Just think about it. Let me know by noon tomorrow.”
I watched, eyes restless, as he took out a slim piece of pap
er and a pen. He scrawled his name and number on it, then pushed it into my rigid fingers.
“I promise I won't let things get out of hand if you decide to do this. And if you help me out, I can be very generous.”
I snorted, turned smartly, and stomped away. Before I knew it, the night flickered by. Mister Adams told me to lock up, and I was all alone.
There wasn't even a shoulder to cry on. Izzy left before I did, a little before Gabe's crazy offer.
As I wiped off the bar, staring sullenly through the fogged glass at the old silver coins, I heard his words echo through my head over and over again.
It was the only time my stupid reputation had done something positive. But, of course, it wasn't what I was looking for.
On the drive home, I ground my teeth together, window rolled down and pumping the music as loud as I could get away with.
Temptation gnawed at me. A part of me I'd tried to hide, break, and banish forever flared. Muscles deep inside me writhed, hungry and desperate for the first time since I'd slept with those guys in high school.
Yep, I'd kept myself chaste ever since, like a wishful second virginity. I lived alone and swore off men, desperate not to bring more shame on Pa's house – especially as sick as he was before the end.
As I pulled into my dusty drive, I pounded the wheel. I wanted to curse Alan Winkman's name for the millionth time, that prissy little shit who'd spread the rumors about me.
We did it twice. But two times was enough to drag my name through the mud, especially when the rumors went like lightning through the small network of envious boys surrounding the Mayor's son.
Mostly, I just wanted to curse Gabe. Not just for being a bold, handsome bastard wild enough to make the proposal he did.
I wanted to damn him for re-igniting those urges. Something about exposing my body to a bunch of hard cowboys was very appealing, and doubly so if it meant Gabe would be there too, grim faced and caressing me with his eyes...
