by Robin Gideon
Ecstasy in the Old West 2
As the Cowboy Commands
Because of her brother’s illness, Helen Miller is forced into an engagement with a corrupt banker she doesn’t love, a man with hidden motives that have nothing to do with love. She doesn’t expect to experience true happiness in her life, much less unbridled passion. But when a mob of ruffians attack her one night, she’s rescued by Jared Parker, a mysterious man dressed all in black, whose expertise with a gun is matched only by his skill at sensuality.
Though he’s a gun-for-hire, Jared’s gorgeous looks and dangerous virility ignite in Helen a passionate side to herself that she never knew existed. Jared has ridden into town at the behest of Helen’s fiancé, but when he realizes what his employer is and what he expects to be done, he rebels. Can Helen free herself from a despicable fiancé and find true happiness in the arms of a gunman?
Note: This book was previously published with another publisher and has been extensively revised and expanded.
Genre: Historical, Western/Cowboys
Length: 62,950 words
AS THE COWBOY COMMANDS
Ecstasy in the Old West 2
Robin Gideon
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
AS THE COWBOY COMMANDS
Copyright © 2013 by Robin Gideon
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-697-3
First E-book Publication: March 2013
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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DEDICATION
This one’s for Keith.
AS THE COWBOY COMMANDS
Ecstasy in the Old West 2
ROBIN GIDEON
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
Whitetail Creek, Dakota Territory
Helen Miller glanced at the oversized clock on the bank wall over the teller’s head and sighed with exhaustion. Five forty-five. It had been a long day at the bank, and she was ready to go home. All she had were fifteen more minutes, and then she could relax. And leave.
“Helen, can I see you in my office?”
With a pen still in her hand, she looked up from the ledger on her angled desk and into the light-brown eyes of Gregg Neilson. He was her employer. For the past year, he had also been her fiancé.
“Pardon?” Helen said, even though she had quite clearly heard what had been asked of her.
Gregg smiled indulgently and, as he put his hands on his hips, slid his charcoal-gray suit coat back with his forearms. It was a common posture for him, one he assumed gave him an authoritative bearing, though he never quite realized that it also made his slowly but steadily growing belly more pronounced.
“I’d like to see you in my office in five minutes.”
He spoke the words softly, but Helen knew he had issued a command that she could not disobey. She nodded, giving her silent acquiescence to his authority. It wasn’t enough for Gregg. He just stood there, looking at her coolly, with just a hint of condescension in his eyes to let her and the other bank clerks know beyond doubt that he was in charge of their livelihood. At the bank, his word was unquestioned law.
Several weighty, silent seconds ticked by. Helen felt an embarrassed blush rise in her cheeks. She didn’t look around, but she could sense the eyes of her coworkers spying on her, all of them aware her off-work relationship with Gregg, each one wondering whether she would humbly bow to his authority, or if she would finally stand up to him.
“Yes,” she heard herself say, the single word coming out wooden, emotionless. Gregg continued to merely stare straight into her eyes, and after several more embarrassing seconds, she added, “Yes…sir.”
The right side of Gregg’s mouth pulled up in the most subtle of smiles. It was as much of an outward sign of victory as he allowed himself. He looked around, making sure that every one of his clerical staff at the First Bank & Trust of Whitetail Creek had witnessed how he had commanded both respect and submission to his dominant authority—even from his fiancée. Everyone knew that if he could treat her like worthless chattel, then surely he could crush the rest of them beneath his boots without thinking twice about it.
He turned on his heel and walked past the heavy oak door with his name prominently painted on it, along with his impressive-sounding title of “Executive Vice President.”
Gregg Neilson could have privately spit on Helen and caused her less pain than the public humiliation.
At the desk just to her right sat Marcus Olson. He was twenty-one, frightfully thin, emotionally intense, and Helen’s best friend at the bank. Marcus was also, by his own admission, the world’s busiest busybody.
From the corner of his mouth, Marcus whispered, “I’ll bet he wants to get fresh with you again.”
Helen groaned. This was not the conversation she wanted to have with Marcus.
“Don’t say that. Don’t tease me about Gregg.” She spoke the words softly, each syllable h
inting at inner pain that the high-spirited Marcus just didn’t seem to understand. “Gregg’s not…not everything you imagine.”
“He’s worth a fortune, and he adores you,” Marcus shot back, keeping his voice low, a grin on his lips as she looked at his best friend. “I don’t care about what he’s not. What he is is rich enough to keep you in comfort and style for the rest of your life. All you have to do is walk down the aisle with him, say ‘I do’ when the preacher tells you to, and after that your life is a cakewalk. There isn’t anything that you won’t be able to afford.”
Helen sighed again. If only it were all just as easy as that!
“And once you marry him,” Marcus continued, warming to a subject that had fascinated him since the beginning of Helen’s engagement, “then you can guarantee that your brother will get the best doctoring in the world.”
Tersely, Helen said, “Don’t remind me about my obligations to my brother. That’s almost all I ever think about.”
“He’s got tuberculosis. That sanitarium in Denver has got to be costing you every red cent you make here at the bank. Why not just get over your marriage jitters and make it official with Gregg? I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help out the invalid kid brother of his wife.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Nastily, Marcus—who was always aware of the cost of things—commented, “Or maybe you’re just a ninny? If Gregg had wanted a financial arrangement with me, I wouldn’t have let a week pass before I was on my knees. Is it what happens in bed that you’re all afraid of?”
“Marcus…please…I’m asking you nicely…please don’t press me on this.”
“Fine. If that’s what you really want. But I’m your best friend, and a best friend is supposed to put some sense into his best friend’s head if she doesn’t have it there on her own.” He looked heavenward, as though perhaps celestial powers might be necessary to get Helen to agree to Marcus’s way of thinking. In a more gentle voice, he added, “I’m only trying to see that you don’t mess up the chance of a lifetime. The minute Gregg puts that ring on your finger, all your worries are over. There’s nothing that you’ll want that you can’t have.”
Nothing…except happiness, Helen thought, though she kept this unpleasant truth to herself. She understood that Marcus only wanted the best for her, and for that Helen was grateful. But sometimes she wished that her dear friend wasn’t so obsessed with what he perceived as an inseparable link between money and love.
“You had better go,” Marcus warned. “You know how he gets whenever you don’t hurry when he calls for you.”
Marcus’s words, though spoken with the best of intentions, lacerated Helen’s pride. Yes, she was all too aware of how angry Gregg got whenever she didn’t genuflect and grovel for him. But unlike Marcus, Helen didn’t believe that living in a fancy mansion and having money to burn were the only things that a person lived for.
Helen set her pen down on the horizontal holder at the top of her desk, closed the lid to her inkwell, then eased off her chair. The bank had five employees, and Helen could sense them all looking at her out of the corners of their eyes.
Marcus whispered, “Remember to smile. He likes it when you smile.”
Helen went to Gregg’s office, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress at the tops of her thighs that had been created by sitting at her desk all day. If Gregg didn’t like something about her appearance, he didn’t hesitate to let her know of his disappointment.
Her stride unconsciously faltered just a moment before she stepped through the threshold. She stopped in the doorway. Gregg was sitting behind his enormous, mahogany desk, leaning back in the oversized, leather swivel chair that he’d had specially shipped to the bank from Italy.
“Hello, Helen,” he said, a half smile touching his lips. “Come in and close the door.”
“I’d rather it remain open.” She saw anger flash in his eyes at her refusal. To mitigate his fury, she turned the onus on herself by saying, “For appearances. You don’t need gossipy tongues talking about you. Not with the wonderful reputation the Neilsons have in Whitetail Creek. Remember your political ambitions.”
He pushed himself heavily out of his chair and walked around his desk. Taking Helen by the elbow, he half pushed her to the far corner of the office, where they couldn’t be seen by the tellers and accountants in the main area of the office.
“Gregg, please…”
“Shhh!”
“There are people just outside the office.”
Gregg chuckled softly, lustfully. “That’s part of the fun of it.” At five foot seven, he was five inches taller than Helen, which wasn’t really enough to tower over her, though he was muscular enough to be physically intimidating. He put the middle knuckle of a curled forefinger to Helen’s chin, forcing her face to tilt upward. “Now give me a kiss.”
Helen squirmed when Gregg’s lips pressed tightly against her own. She wasn’t surprised when he immediately tried to force his tongue between her lips. He always did that whenever she allowed him to kiss her, even though she had expressed her displeasure in the act. She clenched her teeth and shivered when the tip of Gregg’s tongue forced its way between her lips.
When Helen forcibly turned her face away, Gregg kissed the silky flesh of her throat. As he did this, his arms went around her, both hands going low to cup her buns, fondling her bottom through a gray, cotton skirt and white, cotton bloomers.
“Gregg, please, I don’t want to do this…”
The banker brought his tongue up the side of Helen’s throat until he reached her ear. There, he caught her earlobe between his teeth and bit her hard enough to cause pain.
“Ouch!”
“Shhh!” Gregg shushed. “You’re the one that’ll draw the attention from the idiots out there.” His fingers kneaded Helen’s generously curved backside. When she reached behind herself to push his hands away, the move caused her heavy, rounded breasts to press against Gregg’s chest. The sensation of firm, plump breasts rubbing against him prompted a groan of pleasure to rumble out of his chest. “Helen, stop squirming. I only want to talk to you.”
Helen put her hands on Gregg’s velvet waistcoat. She tried to push him away, but he had maneuvered her into the corner, and though she was not a small woman, she could not push Gregg so much as a single step backward.
With suspicion in her eyes, she whispered, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Our wedding. I want to set a date.”
“I…I can’t do that. Not just yet.”
“Yes, you can.” Gregg’s right hand eased around Helen’s hip, his palm gliding boldly over her feminine curves until he held a hand-filling breast through blouse and camisole. “My God, look at these big things!”
“Gregg, I don’t like being referred to as a ‘thing.’”
Helen inhaled sharply when he squeezed her breasts, clumsy fingers searching for nipples through layers of clothing. Despite the annoyance in her tone, she wasn’t trying to push his hand away.
“You’ve got to keep these,” Gregg continued, leaning into his fiancée now, using both hands on her breasts. “Keep these, but lose some of this before the wedding.” His put his hand to Helen’s stomach and pinched hard enough to make her flinch in pain. He chuckled. “Promise me you’ll do that.”
With a sweeping move, Helen slapped Gregg’s hands from her body. With her back to the wall, she looked up into his eyes and said flatly, “Look, once we’re married, it’ll be different.”
“We don’t have to wait.”
Through clenched teeth, Helen replied, “Yes, we do.”
“So you say. But you and I both know there can be exceptions to your rules.”
Helen closed her eyes. Yes, she was painfully aware that she had made exceptions. A year earlier she had lost her virginity to Gregg. He had been so insistent and his words so seductive that, despite her protests and better judgment, her willpower crumbled under Gregg’s ardor. And there had been another moment o
f weakness when she’d given in to Gregg’s lust. While her first sexual encounter held elements of romance to it, the second time had been a tawdry experience for Helen, and she had insisted to Gregg that it could never happen again. It had happened right there in the office, with the door closed and her coworkers at their work desks within the bank. Gregg had bent Helen over his desk, raised her skirt, and lowered her knickers, and took his satisfaction from her. It had been a harsh encounter, short-lived but fever pitched, and when it was over Helen had felt cheapened, violated.
“I told you to never mention that to me again.”
Gregg smiled as he took Helen by the wrist. “Agreed. I shouldn’t have brought it up. But there’s something else that’s up.” He placed her hand over the hard lump in his tailored trousers. Helen closed her eyes and turned her face away. “Give your special man some pleasure once more,” Gregg whispered. “Come on, you know what I like.” His voice deepened, the tone becoming harsher, more demanding. “Helen, I’m a virile man, and a rich one. If I can’t find the satisfaction I need from you, then maybe I should start looking for someone more…compatible”—he drawled the four syllables out slowly, accusingly—“to my desires.”
Helen squeezed his erection through his trousers. He had taught her how to touch him, how to stroke him until he achieved satisfaction. It was, Helen had decided over the past year of their engagement, the least of many possible evils. She still didn’t like doing it, but it wasn’t as defiling as being bent over his desk with her knickers down to her ankles. And it couldn’t be as bad as getting down on her knees to use her mouth on him, which Gregg had once asked her to do. Helen had vociferously refused to grant him that sexual request, now or in the future.
