“Do not come, hellion.”
“What?” she gasped. “Are you nuts?”
“Do not come. Not until I give you permission.”
“Yeah…whatever,” she panted. The walls of her pussy spasmed, tightening around his cock—she enjoyed his Domination no matter what she said.
Her strong spirit had drawn him from the start. She would not give her submission easily, which made the challenge of mastering her even more thrilling. This feisty woman could handle his Dominance. She would not crumble and break.
Each time his crown thumped against her cervix she gave a blissful moan, her hips thrusting to meet him in a primal dance of give and take. Trailing his fingers over her ribs, he cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples. The small bite of pain turned the hellion more vocal and aggressive, her ass slamming back to take the driving force of his thrusts, begging for more.
So good. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His balls were drawn up close to his body, contracting sharply each time his sac slapped her clit, sending shock waves outward through his body. They were both hanging on the edge.
Releasing one of her breasts, he moved lower, feeling the quivering in her tummy. Her clit was erect, standing out from its hood, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat. Spreading his fingers so the bundle of nerves rested between the first two, he ordered, “Come,” and squeezed. “Come now, hellion.”
Every muscle in her body tensed, gathering energy for the coming implosion. He thrust once, twice…
She came apart in his arms, screaming and convulsing, flying higher and higher, taking him along for the ride. Brock shuddered as the climax that began in his groin blasted through him from head to toe. He kept pistoning his hips, her sustained orgasm keeping him hard as her strong muscles milked his cock, pulling every last drop of cum from his balls.
Long after he’d removed the restraints and they’d collapsed in a sweaty heap, his hand cupped her pussy, awed by the aftershocks rippling along her clit. Holding Tink close, he drifted to sleep with a sense of peace and rightness beyond his wildest dreams.
* * * * *
Jerking awake with startled apprehension, Tink slid from beneath a heavy arm. In full fight-or-flight mode she searched out her clothes, dressing on the fly as she raced to escape the bunkhouse before the cowboys woke. She was not up to facing an awkward morning-after scene.
Time to get out of Dodge.
Once the door closed behind her with a soft snick, she took a deep breath. The sun hadn’t crested the horizon, yet she felt as if bright sunlight shone down on her, highlighting her shameful behavior of the night before.
Jesus, what have I done?
In typical Tink fashion, if she was going to do something she had to do it big. And getting fucked by three cowboys—at the same time—that was small potatoes compared to what happened later.
She must have lost her mind. Letting him tie her up, push her around, spank and whip her ass. And getting off on it all. After sinking so low, there was no way she could look him in the eye again. Her best option now was to cut her losses and run.
The weight of her father’s disapproving glare pushed her lower and she shuddered at the sharp bite of his harsh words echoing in her mind.
“Pathetic, Prunella. Utterly pathetic, weak and useless. Not even strong enough to bear your name, having to adopt a stupid cartoon character pseudonym. I will never believe you came from my seed. You are even more wretched than your miserable bitch of a mother. Crying…over what, a ridiculous servant. I did you a favor by getting rid of that nanny. She made you soft—treating you like some precious little princess. Ha! Not under my roof.”
Shaking off the disturbing memories, Tink squared her shoulders, held her head high and calmly walked across the ranch yard. Going in the front door, she went straight to her room and scrubbed her skin raw under a scorching-hot shower. Back in her own clothes with her purse tucked under her arm, she headed down to the kitchen where she hoped to find the two things essential to her survival—a cup of coffee and a ride into town.
Already hard at work, Millie greeted her with a bright smile. “Coffee mugs are in the cabinet above the pot. Help yourself. Biscuits and gravy are ready and there’s some fresh fruit on the table.”
She filled a mug, adding a liberal dose of cream and sugar. After taking the first tentative sip she let out a deep sigh of appreciation.
“That first sip is always the best!”
Turning at the sound of Steph’s voice, she stepped over to the long table. “Oh, good. I was hoping someone else would be awake. Would you mind giving me a ride over to the mechanic’s?”
The petite brunette gave her a long, knowing look before nodding in agreement. “Sure. I’m headed in to the grocery store anyway but I can wait while you eat breakfast first.”
“No need to wait. I’m not much of a breakfast person and I’d rather get an early start.”
Millie turned and shook a spatula at her. “You’re not going to hang around long enough to say goodbye?”
“I really have to get going. Would you extend my thanks to Cord and Savannah for their hospitality?”
The plump cook harrumphed then busied herself wrapping a couple of biscuits and bacon into a paper towel. She pulled Tink into a brief hug then handed over the bundle. “You won’t leave my kitchen starving.”
Tink smiled, wishing she’d had the chance to get to know the sassy woman, but she had to get out of there fast. “Thanks, Millie.”
Steph grabbed a set of keys then practically rushed her out the door and into a Jeep Wrangler. Tink held her breath as they sped down the ranch drive, kicking up a thick trail of dust in their wake.
When they finally turned on to the main road, she shifted to face the other woman. She had to address the aggression rolling off Steph in waves. “I get the feeling you don’t like me very much and are glad to see me go.”
Steph sighed and raked her fingers through her beautiful wavy brown hair. “Sorry, it’s not you.”
“Ah,” she said as understanding dawned. “Which one of the cowboys is it then?”
Piercing blue eyes briefly lasered in on her. “Why would you presume one of the ranch hands has something to do with my foul mood?” Like a smile that failed to reach the eyes, the hurt shadowing Steph’s blue gaze contradicted her words.
Tink remained silent and waited her out. It didn’t take long before Steph huffed, “Riley, okay. Happy now? And don’t bother trying to lie and tell me you didn’t spend the night in the bunkhouse. I saw you sneaking across the yard this morning.”
“First of all, I wasn’t sneaking. And second of all, you can stop hating me. Yes, Riley is sweet and more than a little flirty, but he’s not for me.” Not wanting to crush the other woman’s feelings, she kept the fact that she’d been intimate with all three cowboys to herself.
“Oh…that’s unusual. Most women really go for Riley. He’s so smart, funny and easy to be around.”
Wow, did Steph ever have it bad. “He’s a great guy even if he isn’t my type.”
Steph crewed on her bottom lip for a few minutes before speaking again. “So why are you hauling ass?”
“I really do have to get back to work. And I couldn’t handle being around that bossy know-it-all any longer.”
Steph snorted and giggled, which cut through the tension and allowed Tink to relax. “Brock can be rather bossy. He’s also the calm in any storm and everyone tends to turn to him for direction whenever Cord isn’t around.”
“Yeah, well the last thing I need is some man trying to run my life for me. No thanks.”
They reached the shop and Tink pointed out her small sedan sitting off to the side.
“That’s strange. If they were working on your car it would be in one of the bays or out back. Jake doesn’t move the cars over here until they’re finished.”
“Is that so? Well, at least I’m good to go then.” The big jerk had lied about her car? For what purpose? Other than when they’d been having sex, the t
wo of them could barely stand to be around each other. She’d thought Brock was different. Too bad he turned out to be a typical man who’d lie to get laid.
Unfortunately the long, solitary drive left her with way too much time on her hands and nothing to do but think. Thoughts of the mind-blowing experience of having three cocks fuck her at once had her squirming on the car seat and turning off the car’s heater.
Far more devastating though, had been waking up tied to Brock’s bed with him acting all dark and commanding. She never would have imagined something like that getting her so hot and bothered. The spanking and the crop, Jesus. He’d made her burn. And she would never admit it out loud, but when he’d claimed her body it twisted her emotions, oddly making her feel safe and cherished.
She sure hoped living at the ranch and the new business worked out for Kate, but Tink wouldn’t be able to help her. For her own peace of mind and the protection of her heart, she had to stay far away from Tex.
* * * * *
A cold front had moved in to Montana overnight. Since he had yet to add winter blankets to his bed, Brock woke up shivering and alone. The soft feminine scent lingering on his sheets had him foolishly clinging to hope. Maybe she’d decided to let him sleep and he’d find his hellion at the main house, sitting at the big table sipping a cup of coffee and laughing with Van, Steph and Tamara.
He dressed quickly and headed out, feeling his chest tighten as a plume of dust rose behind Steph’s Wrangler as it rocketed down the ranch road. Stepping through the back door into the warm kitchen, the delicious scents of coffee and biscuits had his stomach grumbling. But spying the empty table made his hunger suddenly vanish.
“Mornin’, handsome,” Millie greeted, handing him a cup of coffee in exchange for a kiss on her cheek. They repeated the same ritual every morning.
“It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”
Her comment made him laugh. At least she hadn’t waited until he’d taken a sip or he might’ve spewed coffee everywhere.
“Millie, you’re like a breath of fresh air. How come some smart stud hasn’t roped you yet?”
She gave a derisive snort. “Show me to a smart stud and I’ll have ’em hogtied long before the buzzer sounds.”
He glanced pointedly around the empty kitchen. “Am I the last one up?”
“Lord, child. You know Riley won’t get out of bed until someone tosses him out of it. The only ones up earlier than you this mornin’ were Steph and Tink. The two of them shot out of here for town just a few minutes ago.”
His heart crashed down into the pit of his stomach.
In the harsh light of the morning after, the frightened sub turned tail and ran. He’d seen it happen hundreds of times before and should have been prepared for Tink to do the same. But the hellion was strong, giving him hope she would accept the darker side of his nature.
Instead she’d put him right back at square one. He now had to rebuild the cage, subdue the beast and chain his ass to the wall. Only Brock had the bad feeling that small taste of freedom would make the task insurmountable.
While it pissed him off, Tink’s leaving was probably the best thing for both of them. Dominating her had felt too right and frankly, that scared the hell out of him. Over time the beast would have ridden him harder, demanding more from the hellion, pushing her to the breaking point.
Seeing that indomitable spirit shattered would kill him. He wouldn’t survive facing what he had done to Lily a second time.
Lily was never cut out to be a sub. Like the flower she was named for, the woman was too fragile. She only did what she thought would please me. She didn’t have a secure sense of self or strength of will, unlike Tink who has a steel backbone.
Yeah, he’d like to believe that little voice in his head but he wasn’t willing to take the risk. Watching Tink lose her spark, that bawdy lust for life, would be like watching the solar fires get snuffed out.
A dash of relief filled him and Brock knew it was better this way. A clean break would save them both a whole lot of pain. With Tink off in Denver, he’d never have to see her again.
Rubbing the heel of his palm over the ache in his chest, he hoped it wouldn’t take long for his heart to accept the loss.
Chapter Six
“So are the rumors true? Is Riseman Designs really on the verge of going under? Come on, Tink. Give me the four-one-one.”
Rubbing at her aching temples, Tink sighed. Dammit. She didn’t want to tell Kate her job was about to end. It would only revive the argument that she move to Montana and work with her friend. But the Shooting Star ranch was the last place on earth she wanted to be. Of course, Kate would find out soon enough through the rumor mill anyway.
“I don’t see the company opening back up after the holidays. Not that Dickhead Riseman will give his indentured slaves any time off for something as frivolous as Christmas anyway.”
As predicted, Kate started right in. “That’s perfect. You can move out here by New Year’s. Jesse finished the house and it’s huge, plenty of room for all of us. Or if you prefer, Van said there will always be a room for you in her house.”
Yeah, perfect for Kate. Hell if Tink wanted to be the third wheel invading the new couple’s home. Her reluctance certainly had nothing to do with a particular bossy cowboy who lived and worked on the ranch. Ha!
Over the past month, Tink had come to terms with the events of her one wild night at the ranch. She’d done her homework on Dominance and submission, even frequented the chat rooms on Jesse’s D/s community website, Mastering Life, where she’d gotten quite the education. This had led to her visiting a few local clubs to observe, which created a whole new set of problems.
Dominance and submission, erotic punishments, the voyeuristic and exhibitionism aspects—it all turned her on. She wanted more. A lot more. Tink craved exploring this titillating new world and being an observer was no longer enough. She wanted to play. There was no shortage of available Doms to choose from, but that’s where her problems became insurmountable. She’d discovered that she didn’t want to play with any of the Doms she’d met. There was only one Dom she wanted—the one she’d run from.
Brock. Just thinking about him had hot jolts of adrenaline surging through her body. He was the biggest problem of all. When it came to sex they saw eye-to-eye, however, outside the bedroom they barely had a civil word for each other.
“Tink?” Kate’s frustrated voice pulled her back to the conversation. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”
“Yeah, I hear you. And as I’ve told you every time we’ve had this discussion, ranch life isn’t for me. I’m a city girl through and through.”
“Damn it, Tink,” Kate grumbled. “Why can’t you give it a try? That’s all I’m asking. Give it two weeks, if you hate it you can leave and I’ll never bring it up again.”
“Never?” Tink sensed a trap. There had to be a catch.
“Never, as long as you actually give it a chance.”
“I’ll think about it.” For all of about a second before once again saying no.
“Good. Now, about Thanksgiving.”
Yet another subject she didn’t want to discuss…again. Tink stifled a groan.
“I’m not taking no as an answer. Your most valid argument was that it’s too long of a drive to make alone. I agree, so I’ve already booked you on a flight—”
“Kate!” Her protest fell on deaf ears.
“A nonrefundable flight. All the information is in your email. It’s only a week and you are coming so just get used to the idea.”
“What happened to you? Are Jesse’s Dominant tendencies rubbing off on you or something? Sheesh!”
“No, but I know you for the stubborn bitch that you are.”
“Gee thanks, friend.”
“You’re welcome. I know the only way to get you here is by leaving you no say in the matter.”
“A nonrefundable ticket doesn’t affect me in any way, shape or form. You’re
the one who will be out a couple hundred bucks.”
“That’s why I have an ace up my sleeve.”
“Ha, yeah right. And what would that be?”
“I need you here to help me pick out a wedding dress. We’re having a small engagement party on Thanksgiving Eve. As my maid of honor, you need to be there. In fact, you’re going to be making a lot of trips to the ranch over the next month.”
This time she wasn’t able to suppress her groan. “You set a date? When?”
“The ceremony will be on New Year’s Eve. If you go ahead and quit and move out here now it will make everything a lot easier for all of us.”
Aw, crap. Kate had her backed into a corner. “I don’t like you anymore.”
“Is that a yes?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“To moving—hell no. To being your maid of honor, of course it’s a yes. I’ll do my best to make it out there as often as necessary, but I can’t promise—”
Kate’s delighted squeal cut her off. After a tedious discussion of fabrics, colors, flowers and cakes, Tink hung up the phone feeling exhausted. One thought kept echoing around in her mind. In a few short days she’d be spending an entire week at the one place she’d vowed not to return, with the man who’d become a fire in her blood.
She saw no way of escaping the disaster headed straight for her faster than a runaway freight train.
A partial stay of execution landed in her lap Friday evening just before leaving work when Tink was called to DH’s office.
“Cancel any plans you have for the holiday,” Dickhead Riseman bellowed the second Tink walked through the door.
“Why should I?”
“We have a potential new client who’s worth millions.” Desperation flashed in the jerk’s beady eyes. “They’re demanding a presentation of at least three unique designs before Thanksgiving. The meeting is set for Wednesday afternoon at two.”
“Sorry, I’m on a plane outta here tomorrow morning.”
Brock's Hellion Page 9
