by Lauren Smith
“What are you doing out here, honey?” Fenn teased as he brushed his golden hair out of his eyes. He opened the driver’s side door and the truck creaked as he climbed in.
“I’m coming with you.” She danced around the front of the truck and flung open the passenger side door.
“Oh no. You’re staying here. You’ve been enough trouble today.”
“I’m coming.” She threw herself into the seat, but then jumped up as something squished beneath her bottom. Reaching underneath herself she retrieved what she’d sat on. A cowboy hat. A nearly flattened one.
Fenn’s eyes widened and then narrowed as he noticed the crushed hat. She hastily tried to fix the squished part of the hat, but it wouldn’t pop back up the way it was supposed to.
“Damn it, woman! You ruined my hat!” He leaned over and snatched the thing out of her hands.
“I’m sorry. Was it your favorite?” The hat was old and worn, probably something he wore a lot. Genuine regret weighed heavily inside her. At the furious expression on his face, she cowered back in her seat.
“Favorite?” he growled. “No. It was my only hat.”
His only hat? She almost laughed. The idea of Fenn Lockwood living so…frugally…was a wild thought. There were heaps of money at his fingertips. His right to a part of his father and brother’s business would make him a billionaire overnight. Then again, knowing Fenn as she was learning to, she considered it likely he’d snub any fortune he might have a right to.
“I’ll buy you another one,” she promised.
“I don’t want another one. I want this one.” He glowered.
“But if it’s ruined…”
“Buying something new isn’t always the answer. That’s what you people don’t understand.”
“‘You people’? Fenn, you are one of my people. We were born in the same city, the same hospital.” She pointed out.
He ignored her comment. “You can’t just buy everything. It doesn’t solve anything.” His hands smoothed over the hat, the touch almost wistful. Had this hat meant something? Had someone he’d cared about given it to him? Her stomach churned a little at the thought. She didn’t like to think that she’d hurt him somehow by sitting on a hat.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure I can fix it.” She had no clue how she would do that, but when she reached for it, he almost snarled and drew back.
“I’ll take that as a no…” She sat back and folded her hands in her lap.
The scathing look she got from him made her burst out in a nervous laugh.
“What?” he demanded.
“Nothing. You’re just funny when you get grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy,” he countered.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not—this is ridiculous.” He smacked his hands against the steering wheel. “Get out of my truck.”
She shook her head and turned to reach for her seat belt. “Jim told me to go with you, so I am. I’m his guest. It’s only polite.” She was just about to finish buckling in when Fenn caught her hips and tugged her close to him across the truck’s bench seat.
“Don’t make me paddle that little ass of yours. Now do as I say and get out.”
His gruff warning sparked a sharp stab of arousal in her womb, and she clamped her thighs together as a heavy throb started between her legs. Damn the man! He knew just what to say to turn her on, and he didn’t even seem to notice she was practically melting at the thought. Hayden licked her lips, an impish need to push him, like she had the many doms back at the Gilded Cuff. What were his limits? How far would he take his threats? She had to know.
Chapter 7
I’m not leaving,” she whispered, then swallowed hard against his penetrating stare. It was as though he could see right through her, to everything she ever sought to hide from the world, even from herself. It was all laid bare and open for him. She would have been less vulnerable in that moment if she had been naked and tied to a bed.
The clash of wills ended abruptly when he shifted to the center of the truck’s bench seat and pulled her face-down over his lap, exposing her jean-clad bottom to his hand. The first smack made her squeak, then the successive slaps, were as sharp and shocking as the first. These were nothing like the light sensual slaps she’d had a few times in the club. She tried counting in her head, but soon was unable to.
There was only the edge of pain, enough to remind her she was alive, alive and at the mercy of a man strong enough to take her in hand. She couldn’t move, couldn’t struggle, only accept what he gave her. It was strangely freeing, the way she thought only of Fenn and the way he held her immobilized. Even the sting of the blows didn’t scare her, didn’t truly harm her.
When he stopped, she realized dimly that she was crying, but not from pain. Something inside of her, a knotted piece of tension, had been unleashed and destroyed. She was empty, devoid of stress and anxiety. There was only blissful contentment. It was almost as though she’d reached some level of subspace, that hard-to-reach place in a submissive’s mind where they are set free by an experience and fully let go of control and any fear. God, it felt good to just experience everything and not think. A little sigh escaped her lips as she studied the worn leather seat of the truck just inches from the tip of her nose. Her fingers, which had dug into Fenn’s jeans, now uncurled and stroked the leather. Breaths came in and out and she didn’t think, only felt the world around her.
Fenn helped her up, then resituated her so she sat on his thighs. He cradled her in his arms, kissing her cheek. He nuzzled her and murmured soft gentle nonsense in her ear that made her feel oddly warm deep inside. It hurt to sit on his lap, but it felt amazing to feel the wind sliding through the open truck window and across her face, where the fresh tracks left by her tears cooled. She was hot all over, her body quaking like a new foal attempting to stand. She wasn’t a masochist and didn’t usually need pain to release her emotions, but today she had needed it and he’d given it to her.
“Honey, are you okay?” His deep voice was a distant rumble, one that brought comfort. The pain had been good, not bad. He hadn’t beat her, hadn’t broken or abused her. Instead, he’d loosened that knot of anxiety inside her she hadn’t realized was there. It had festered there like vines strangling her heart as they grew and twisted, without anything strong enough to sever them. Now that that knot was gone, she could breathe for what felt like the first time in years. He’d given her what she’d craved for so long, a way to release her anxieties and feel free again. She’d been safe while he was in control, pushing her to her limits of what she’d needed from him. She’d trusted him.
Hayden cupped one of his hands in hers and kissed the back of his knuckles. “Yes. I’m fine. I wanted you to do it.” She was still in a daze. She really had reached subspace—the beautiful state of mind where a sub truly surrendered and the pleasure/pain swept through them. They didn’t think about anything else except the cathartic release of their pent up emotions. She had never trusted another man enough to let her reach this euphoric state.
“Did I hurt you?” He cupped her chin and lifted her face, forcing her eyes to meet his.
“It hurt, but in a good way.” She should have been embarrassed at how easy it was to speak with him. The intimacy of what they’d just done had broken her barriers more than sex with other men ever had.
“I don’t know what came over me. I’ve spanked a few girls in my day, but this was something else.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lip and she bit it, letting her subtle sassiness shine through.
“Honey, you just like to push a man’s buttons.” Fenn groaned as she flicked her tongue over his finger. She could taste the salt of her own tears on his skin from when he’d stroked them away from her face a few moments earlier. A tiny shiver rippled through her.
“Promise me you’ll tell me if I ever truly hurt you. I mean it. I’m not an abusive man, and would never want to harm you.”
Hayden sighed and leaned her head back against his sh
oulder. “You’re not that kind of man. If you really hurt me, I would have castrated you.”
“Bit of a spitfire, aren’t you?” Fenn fisted his hand in her hair. “I don’t want that fire to go out.”
“We could use a safe word,” she suggested.
“‘Safe word’?” His brow creased as he contemplated the phrase.
“Yes. If I say it, you know to stop or to slow down.”
“Very well. What word?” He rubbed a hand down her back, the soothing touch making her melt.
“Pineapple,” she replied instantly.
“Pineapple?” His chest rumbled with laughter. “You don’t like pineapple?”
She grinned. “I love it, actually, but it’s just an easy word to remember in the middle of…er…passion.”
“Pineapple it is. I suppose this means that I have to let you come into town, huh?” he asked.
“Oh yeah. You owe me, cowboy.” She stroked a fingertip along the leather belt he wore and paused when she hit the belt buckle. It was a shiny piece with a bull etched into it. Probably a buckle he’d won riding some devil like Tabasco.
“Maybe I do.” He shifted her in his arms so that he had the perfect angle to kiss her. She tilted her head back. When he noticed her willingness, he grinned playfully, but the fire just barely banked in his eyes made her own body respond like tinder lit by a shower of sparks just as he dipped his head toward hers. He kissed her like a man savoring a rich glass of wine, or a favorite dish of food. He lingered on her lips, explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue and threaded his fingers through her hair.
“You’re addictive, too addictive,” he whispered in her ear.
A trembling need stole through her, stealing her control, and secret parts of her body tingled in excitement.
“Right back at you,” she laughed breathlessly. “We really shouldn’t—”
He silenced her with another kiss, this one more desperate and harder than the last, as though he had to prove to her that he was the one in control, he was the dominant one, like a wolf nipping his mate on the throat during mating, reminding her she wasn’t to deny him. The thought sent wicked spirals of sexual hunger through her. She craved that dominance, that sweet sense of being under his enchanting thrall.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” He murmured against her lips. “The things I…” He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down for an instant, the little zing of pain going straight to her clit, making her arch her back.
“What things?” she demanded, dying to know what he wanted to do to her.
Another kiss followed—one that was raw, hard-edged, almost bruising. “I’d use my belt to tie you up, and spend hours exploring every inch of you, playing with you until you were begging me for release, honey. I’d eat you up, again and again, and you’d never get enough, not while I’m inside of you.”
He stroked her thigh, rubbing and caressing her until she was wet and wriggling as she tried to control herself. It didn’t work. When she wound her arms around his neck, he suddenly broke the contact of their mouths. A whimper of protest escaped her. How dare he deny her the pleasure he’d just promised, the raw carnality that would be utterly life-changing? A man couldn’t just back out of a promise like that.
“Sorry, honey. If we keep this up, I’m going to pin you down right here in the truck. Let’s go to town.” He set her back on her side of the seat and started the truck’s engine while she buckled up. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice how badly her hands shook or how flushed she still was after that all-consuming kiss.
Once they were heading down the road, Hayden reached over and flicked the radio knob on. Classic rock boomed through the speakers. She blinked, startled at Fenn’s choice in music. When she glanced over at him, he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. The song was “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A song about a man working toward a sense of peace after finishing something hard he had to do. It happened to be one of Emery’s favorites, too. She nibbled her bottom lip, then decided to take a chance. Maybe talking about Emery would help Fenn decide to come back to Long Island.
“You know, this is your brother’s favorite song. Your dad used to play it for you and Emery when you were kids.”
Fenn’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t cut her off or silence her.
“Don’t you want to know anything about him?”
“No.”
“Fenn, please.” She touched his arm. “Just ask me one thing. I want you to know something about him. You deserve to know about him. He wants to know all about you.”
Please, please ask me something.
Fenn stared straight ahead, his gaze distant, but he finally spoke.
“Do…do they still mourn the loss of their son?” His voice was a little rough.
His question fractured her heart enough that she swore she heard it shatter, but she was relieved he was talking.
“They have always mourned you. They built a special place for you in the family cemetery. Emery visits it almost once a week. It’s a beautiful spot. It has these willows around it and it’s so peaceful.” Was she an idiot? Why had she said that? Way to go, Hayden, scare him off with talk of death.
A telltale tic worked in Fenn’s jaw and her stomach churned. Had she gone too far? Messed things up before she’d even gotten through to him?
“Do you have any idea what it’s going to be like when Emery is able to tell your parents about you?” Her throat tightened but she struggled to continue. “They love you, more than you can imagine. To find out their firstborn son isn’t dead? It’s going to bring them out of the darkness they’ve been in for twenty-five years. Can you even imagine that?”
She didn’t expect him to respond and when he did it surprised her.
“It would be like waking up from a nightmare.”
Was that how he pictured his life? A nightmare that he hadn’t yet woken up from, one where he had never known the love of his family. Instead he’d been hurt, taken from his home and raised by a stranger, one who hadn’t really been a father to him. He had struggled every day of his new life.
Hayden reached over and touched his forearm again and the muscles beneath his skin jumped, but then the rigidity that rolled off him in an almost tangible waves finally released.
“So Emery likes Kansas, huh?” he asked, a little smile curving his lips.
“Yeah. He also doesn’t like crusts on his sandwiches. His favorite beer is Boulevard Wheat—Oh, and he likes to spank women, too.”
The truck fishtailed on the road, creating a vast cloud of dust behind them as the tires swerved across the ground.
Hayden flashed him a Cheshire cat grin.
He cocked a brow at her in challenge.
“I’m just saying you guys have a lot in common. I wonder if it’s a twin thing.”
“It’s not a twin thing. I like what I like, and that happens to be tying a woman down to my bed to pleasure her over and over again until she can’t walk. I like it rough.” He winked at her.
“You ought to join a BDSM club or something.”
“How do you know what a BDSM club is?” he demanded.
“I’m a member of one back home. A submissive, of course,” she added. It wasn’t something she would normally broadcast, but now she wanted to tell Fenn and see how he would react to it. If he was a natural dom, he might respond to her declaration of being a submissive. She could hope.
He burst out laughing. “You’re a submissive? Like hell, that mouth of yours is way too brazen.”
“Hey!” She punched his shoulder, but without any real force.
“Well, it’s true. No wonder I couldn’t resist spanking you.”
Hayden blushed. What would it feel like if he spanked her during sex, like really spanked her? Oh God. Her thighs clenched as a flood of wet heat pooled there. She couldn’t get the image out of her head—her bare bottom lifted up, his hand striking her skin, heating
it up until she was begging to be fucked hard…She hastily looked out the window, hoping he couldn’t see how red her face was. He’d know exactly what she was thinking about.
They turned onto a main road and left the ranch lands and scattered woods behind them. The landscape beneath the distant mountains seemed to unfold and reveal a pocket of civilization. The town of Walnut Springs was well off the beaten path for most travelers, but it was a popular destination for skiers and summer vacationers. While the residents lived as a small, close-knit community, they seemed well used to strangers. Hayden had been more than surprised to see a number of luxury condominiums and homes on the outskirts of the town as they drove in.
It was only eight in the morning, but Walnut Springs was alive with pedestrians and vehicular traffic. No doubt some of this was the remnants of the crowd from the rodeo last night, out and about doing some last-minute touring.
“We’re stopping here for breakfast. I know a great diner. You’ll love it.”
“Sounds good.” Her stomach gave a low gurgle of agreement and she rubbed it out of habit. She’d had to abandon the plate of pancakes and toast Callie had given her when Jim had told her to go with Fenn.
Fenn pulled his truck into the last remaining empty space in front of the diner. Hayden had barely gotten herself unbuckled before he was there opening the door for her. He leaned against the open frame and offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. A little electric pulse jumped beneath her skin at the contact.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” his low rumbling reply only added to her awareness of him.
As they entered the diner and took a booth by the window, a middle-aged woman with full curves and silver threading through her dark hair strolled over, handing Hayden a laminated menu and flashing a warm smile at Fenn.
“We were all wondering when you’d roll in this morning. Bad ride last night, hon. Best to just shrug it off. Breakfast for you and your girl is on the house this morning.”
Hayden’s lips parted. Did everyone know about the accident last night? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. The locals had probably been at the stadium or heard about it from others.
