by Myla Jackson
When she suddenly stiffened, he knew he had her where he wanted her.
His cock couldn’t get any harder and he could wait no longer.
“Get back,” he ordered his brothers.
Mark and Luke jumped back as Jackson climbed between Audrey’s legs, lifted her hips and plunged into her.
“Faster,” she screamed.
Jackson popped her leg with the crop. “Faster what?”
“Faster, Master!” she shouted.
He rode her faster.
“Harder.”
He tapped her nipple.
“Harder, Master. Pleeease!”
The bedframe groaned and creaked as Jackson thrust into Audrey, again and again, his balls hitting her skin making a clapping sound between the grunts and heavy breathing.
Audrey grasped the ropes binding her wrists, pulling hard to leverage her hips upward to meet him thrust for thrust.
Every muscle in Jackson’s body tensed, every nerve exploding in a firestorm of orgasm, shooting him over the precipice into an abyss so wonderful, he never wanted to return. He rammed in and out, his cock hot with friction.
At the crest of his climax, he called out, “Audrey!” his eyes squeezing shut with the power of his release.
It took several minutes for his mind to reengage, and when it did, an eerie silence had settled over the room.
Mark and Luke stood back, their eyes wide.
Jackson’s gaze shot to Audrey, and it finally struck him what he’d done.
Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes, dampening the fabric of the black mask. Her voice no more than a whisper, Audrey said, “Crackerjack.”
Mark and Luke moved forward, working to loosen the ropes at her wrists.
Jackson slid out of her and off the end of the bed, his fingers fumbling with the bindings at her ankles.
He didn’t look up until she was completely free. Red marks on her wrists and ankles served as a reminder of their journey.
Audrey rolled to the side, dragging the sheet with her.
“Audrey.” Jackson reached to pull her into his arms.
She sidestepped him and ran from the bedroom.
Luke shook his head. “I had no idea.”
Jackson went after her.
Mark slammed an arm across his chest before he could leave the bedroom. “Let her go.”
Jackson shoved at Mark. “I can’t.”
“She said the word. You have to.”
Jackson’s footsteps faltered. He’d promised he would stop everything if she said her safe word. He balanced back and forth on the balls of his bare feet and then shot forward. He couldn’t let her go like this.
Before he could catch up with her, she’d left, the blonde wig and the black mask lying in the dirt.
An engine roared behind the house and her bright red pickup barreled around the corner, kicking up gravel.
“Audrey!” Jackson ran toward the truck.
She swerved around him and gunned the accelerator, rocketing down the driveway, away from the Gray Wolf Ranch and out of Jackson’s life.
Audrey swiped at the tears flowing down her face. She couldn’t seem to make them stop. They came in waves, gushing out with her sobs, blinding her to the road ahead. She couldn’t slow the vehicle. Not until she got far enough away Jackson couldn’t find her.
Assuming he would even come after her.
What an idiot she’d been to think she could fool Jackson. How long had he known? Why hadn’t he called her bluff before they’d gone so far? Had he been using her? Just like Randy had used her?
Deep down, she knew Jackson’s treatment of her hadn’t been anything like Randy’s, but still. He’d known who she was, known she was hiding. Why hadn’t he told her? Why?
Audrey turned onto a deserted road and pulled behind a broad oak tree, hoping any passerby on the main highway would miss her and keep going. Even before she shifted into park, the sobs rose in earnest, the tears flowing like rivers.
She should never have taken the job to dance for the Gray Wolf brothers. Hell, she should never have fucked Jackson in the storeroom. If she’d remained committed to her battery-powered toys, she wouldn’t be faced with this mess, this drama. Now what should she do?
When the storm abated, Audrey scrubbed her face with the napkins she kept in her console. Any makeup she’d applied prior to performing for the brothers was long gone, leaving only red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes staring back at her in the visor mirror.
Hell, it couldn’t be helped. Who cared anyway?
She pulled back out on the road and headed for Temptation. She could lock herself in her house and refuse to come out for days. As she blew past the turn-off to the Ugly Stick, she shook her head.
No. She had a business to run. So, she’d taken a step on the wild side, exploring her sexual fantasies of multiple partners. She’d broken the promise she’d made to herself when she’d left Randy to never let a man dominate her again. Although, Jackson’s domination hadn’t been anything like what Randy had inflicted on her. Randy had been verbally, mentally and physically abusive.
Jackson had been ready to call it off. And he’d proven it when she’d cried out her safe word, backing away immediately, untying her and letting her go.
Then why was she so disappointed that he hadn’t come after her?
Randy always came after her, dragging her back, sometimes by the hair, sometimes after a thorough beating that often left her with bruises and on occasion a broken rib.
No, her ex-boyfriend wasn’t made of the same stuff as Jackson Gray Wolf. Jackson was a man who kept his promises and didn’t abuse women.
And he’d known it was her all along.
As she pulled into the driveway of her cottage on the outskirts of Temptation, she leaned her forehead on her steering wheel, too tired to move, too emotionally exhausted to care.
The cell phone she’d left in the cup holder buzzed, jerking Audrey out of her pity party.
Her heart flipped over and she grabbed for the phone. Was it Jackson? Was he calling to apologize to her? Did he want her back? Despite her vow to never talk to the man again, she glanced down at the device, hope dying as the screen lit up.
The caller ID was the Ugly Stick Saloon.
Audrey almost threw the phone out the window but thought better of it. Charli wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.
With a sigh, Audrey hit the talk button. “Yeah?”
A roaring sound blasted in Audrey’s ear, then Charli shouted, “Hate to bother you so late, but I have a minor crisis here.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t hear you, Audrey. If you can hear me, I need you here ASAP.”
“Can’t—” Before she could get Charli to answer, the woman ended the call.
“Damn!” Audrey realized for the first time that she was still naked, her skin sticking to the leather of the seat. For the hundredth time since she’d purchased the cottage, she counted her blessings for the distance between her and her nearest neighbor. If she was careful, she’d get inside before they saw her naked white body streaking by. She thanked her lucky stars the cops hadn’t seen her and pulled her over. Indecent exposure charges would hit the sheriff’s blotter the next day and her antics would spread like wildfire.
Other than getting the front door key stuck in the lock, she made it inside, none the worse for the exposure.
Throwing on her clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, she raced back outside, jumped into her truck and hit the road toward the county line where the Ugly Stick Saloon stood. Her hands shook and she would burst into tears if anyone even looked at her cross-eyed. She was in no shape to deal with anything else tonight.
“Charli,” she muttered. “This better be good.”
Chapter Nine
Audrey had a good lead on Jackson by the time he dressed and climbed into his pickup truck. Mark and Luke jumped in as he pulled out of the yard.
“You’re not going without us.” Luke slid into the middle s
Jackson’s hands clenched. “I can handle this on my own.”
“We got you into this,” Mark said. “We can damn sure help you out.”
Running his hand through his hair, Jackson stared at the road ahead. “I don’t know how.”
Mark chuckled. “Who’dve thunk. Our little dancer Kiki was none other than Audrey.” He slapped his knee and laughed.
“It’s not funny.” Jackson glared at Mark. “At least not to her.”
Luke grinned. “She put on a damned good show. I’d buy tickets to that any day.”
Jackson groaned. “This is all my fault.”
Mark and Luke stared across at him.
“How?” Luke asked. “We hired her.”
“I took advantage of her, knowing Kiki was Audrey.”
“How long have you known it was her?”
“I think I knew from the beginning that she was familiar, but it wasn’t until I found her red boot under my bed the morning after my birthday party.”
“Well, damn.” Mark smacked his palm to his forehead. “I never put the red boots and Audrey together. But you’re right. Audrey always wore those go-to-hell red boots. I should have seen it.”
“Well, I did and I went after her knowing it was her.” A knot of lead settled in the pit of Jackson’s stomach.
“Nice of you to clue us in, brother.” Luke crossed his arms over his chest, giving Jackson a disapproving frown.
Mark leaned forward. “Why didn’t you say anything tonight?”
“I figured there was a reason she wanted to pretend to be someone else. Maybe some jerk ex-boyfriend took advantage of her…sexual appetites. Maybe this was her weird way of being in control when she let a man be in control.”
Luke snorted. “Female thinkin’. I’ll never understand it.”
“I think our brother missed his calling.” Mark nudged Luke in the chest. “Instead of wrangling cattle, he shoulda been a shrink.”
“Or a sex doctor.” Luke ran a hand through his hair. “Gotta say, I didn’t know you had all that whips and ropes stuff in you. I always thought you were on the straight and narrow.”
Jackson frowned. “What happens on the ranch—”
“We know,” Luke said. “What happens on the ranch…”
“Stays on the ranch,” Luke and Mark said in unison.
“But wow, what a woman.” Luke smiled. “I’ve never met one who wanted to be shared.”
Jackson’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “You’d be surprised by some women’s fantasies.”
“And you would know about women’s fantasies…how?” Mark laughed. “You barely date.”
Jackson frowned. “I read the articles in magazines.”
“Is that what you do when you hog the bathroom for hours on end?” Luke chuckled.
“Are you looking for her truck?” Jackson demanded.
“Lookin’.” Luke craned his neck. “I think she got away.”
As he neared the county line, Jackson had to agree with Luke. He hadn’t seen her truck and probably wouldn’t.
Mark tapped his knuckles on the window beside him. “Head for the Ugly Stick. She might be there.”
Jackson cut to the right, the back end of the truck sliding sideways as he took the turn toward the saloon faster than he should have. Tucked back in a copse of trees, the security lights in the parking lot of the Ugly Stick Saloon were the only illumination in the darkness of the Texas night.
Clouds must have rolled in, blocking out the stars and the moonlight, making the Ugly Stick a little pocket of light.
Women exited the saloon, some staggering, most still whooping it up from the strip show the Ugly Stick provided to the ladies one night a month.
Jackson grabbed the red boot from behind his seat and pushed past the crowd lingering in the parking lot saying their goodbyes or arguing over who would drive. As he muscled his way up to the door, women paused as if sniffing the air, their eyes widening when they spotted the three men.
One reached out and touched him, running her hands across his chest. “Oh, baby, I missed this one. Which costume did you wear?” She leaned into him, her breath reeking of alcohol.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. Excuse me.” He gently removed her hand from his chest and ducked around her.
Another woman blocked his path, dangling a dollar bill in her fingers. “Yeah, baby, let me.” She shoved the bill down the front of his jeans, fondling his package before Jackson could jerk her hand free.
Mark and Luke caught up with him, grins splitting their faces in two.
Mark staggered backward when a woman flung her arms around his neck and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his face, missing his lips and sliding down his chin. He chuckled and steadied her on her feet, sending her after her designated driver. “Damn. I’ve never seen so many horny women.”
“Did you see that?” Luke was staring after a woman. “She pinched my ass.”
“You’re lucky that’s all she pinched.” Jackson tightened his belt and pushed through the entryway.
The women inside were no easier on them. As soon as Jackson cleared the doorway, a woman grabbed his T-shirt, stretching it so far he had to duck out of it to get away from her. When she jerked off his shirt, the boot flew across the room. Jackson dove for it.
He might as well have started a riot. Once the other women saw his naked chest, every female in the establishment screamed and crowded in on the three men, ripping shirts, grabbing for pant legs and belt buckles.
Trapped on his knees in the melee, Jackson could do nothing. He couldn’t hit them—they were women. One woman reached around him and unbuckled his belt, another unzipped his jeans and several had hold of his boots, tugging them off with surprising strength. Jackson held tightly to his jeans with one hand and to the red boot with the other. But he wasn’t strong enough to ward off a dozen women pulling at his jeans like a tug-of-war rope.
Off they came, half a dozen women falling over like dominoes.
Jackson leaped to his socked feet and tried to make a dash for the bar.
“Oh lucky day! He’s not even wearing a G-string!”
Women screamed and charged after him, hands groping, spinning him around so that they too could see his goddamn dick. He tried to be nice, tried not to hurt anyone, but he was getting fuckin’ tired of being treated like a prize bull at a cattle auction—poked and prodded like fresh meat.
He caught a glimpse of Mark and Luke. Damned if his brothers weren’t enjoying all the attention.
Mark spun his T-shirt over his head and let it fly.
Luke stood flexing his muscles for a crowd of women of all ages, each vying for a chance to get close enough to run their hands across his dark skin.
Jackson just wanted to get to Audrey. He spotted Charli in the distance climbing onto the bar.
“Hey, ladies, calm down.” She put her fingers to her lips and whistled, loud enough to pierce Jackson’s eardrums. “These men aren’t part of the show.”
The crowd quieted for a moment until one woman shouted, “They are now. Finders keepers!”
The frenzy recommenced. No amount of ear-splitting whistles would stop the rabid, horny women from clawing, kissing, pinching and grabbing the men.
Jackson’s heart hammered as he struggled one agonizing step at a time, inching his way through the throng toward the bar. His ass hurt from all the pinching, and some women even pinched his dick.
Animals!
Once he reached the relative safety of the bar, he hauled himself up on the wooden platform, dragging in deep gulps of air.
As soon as he straightened, the noise level skyrocketed.
“Oh, baby, he’s gonna dance!”
“Crank up the music.”
“Dang, he’s hung like a horse!”
“I want me some of that.”
Mark reached the bar about the time the music started, Luke seconds after.
They too had been stripped of boots, hats, shirts and belts. Unlike their big brother, they still wore their jeans.
Mark laughed up at Jackson. “You got balls, bro.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jackson scanned the crowd. “Do you see my jeans anywhere?”
“No.” Mark hauled himself up on the bar, but hands grabbed his legs and he was forced to sit instead of stand. More hands grasped his jeans and pulled. He held on to the edge of the bar to keep from falling off. He fought valiantly, but his jeans lost the war and were flung high above the crowd.
Luke shook his head, backing against the bar. “No way.” He waved his hands in front of the ladies. “I’m keeping my jeans.” With his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, he fought to maintain his hold. Then his legs were ripped out from under him. Luke made a grab for the bar, barely catching the edge before his legs were dragged out behind him, forcing him to levitate above the concrete floor. The jeans slipped off, and he too scrambled to stand out of reach of pinching fingers groping his privates.
Jackson would have laughed out loud, but he was too busy holding off the hordes, bracing the red boot in front of him over his shriveling cock.
The music came on, the sound rising enough to be heard over the screams. Women stopped grabbing and started clapping in time, and soon a chant raised the roof. “Dance! Dance! Dance!”
Charli had disappeared into the back room, reemerging as the chanting began.
“Did you call the sheriff?” Jackson shouted over the noise.
Charli grinned and pointed to her ears, mouthing the words, Can’t hear you. Before Jackson could ask again, even Charli was clapping her hands and chanting, her gaze raking over Jackson’s, Mark’s and Luke’s bodies, pausing at the most vulnerable spots.
Jackson groaned. He couldn’t get off the bar or his privates would be so violated he might never sire children. All he could do was wait out the storm and hope the women got bored and left soon.
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