by Delta James
“It wasn’t like that and you know it,” grumbled Hoss, wondering now why he’d come into the restaurant in the first place.
Even sitting down, Hoss’ size was impressive and imposing. He’d been a tall, beefy teenager. The man staring back at the sheriff was still tall, but all that beef had been molded into chiseled slabs of muscle and sinew. This was a powerful, dangerous man. Several people in his nearby vicinity shifted uncomfortably. There had been a time Steve Sanders had made people feel insecure and self-conscious. Those days were long past.
“You know, Ellie,” called Hoss. “I think I lost my appetite. Suddenly, there’s a stench I can’t quite place.”
Hoss stood and pushed past the sheriff; the ranchers and lawmen whistled and catcalled, making Steve blush and whirl around.
“You watch how you talk to me, Hoss. I’m the sheriff now and I can demand to see your ID.”
“You can also huff and puff and threaten to blow my house down, but neither threat is much more than that. My wandering in here is precisely none of your business unless I choose to make it so, which I don’t,” he said in an icy tone.
Steve took a step toward him. Before he could do much more than that, Jerry, the diner’s owner, stepped between them.
“That’s enough, Steve. Hoss has a right to be anywhere he wants, and that includes my place. He can do whatever he wants until and unless he’s broken the law. You can go run a warrant check on him, but I’d suggest you wait until you actually have something on him before you hassle him again. He flattened you once and I daresay he can do it again.”
Hoss tipped his Stetson to the waitress, handed her a ten-dollar bill, and headed out the door. The big man just kept walking toward his vintage truck. He smiled. Truly few things had changed; he took some comfort in that.
As he started past the fence that marked the border of his ranch, he smiled. When news had reached him that his father was gravely ill, Hoss had left the private mercenary firm that he’d worked at for more than a decade and returned home. The two had gradually repaired their relationship and by the time he passed, Hoss was genuinely sorry that he was gone.
His former employer had asked him to reconsider and sign up for another tour of duty, but he’d vowed to return the Rocking B to its former glory.
Although at one time, it had been one of the prime beef producers in the country, the market for beef had taken a nosedive. Hoss had done his research and realized there was still a healthy market for Wagyu beef, but knew that establishing a breeding program that could be certified would take time.
In the interim, one of his oldest friends had known a great deal about thoroughbred racehorses. Hoss had been able to buy out the breeding stock of a small, well-respected, but failing farm in Kentucky. While the land had gone to developers, the broodmares had been transported to Texas. Hoss had been able to begin producing young stock that he could sell at a tidy profit.
For the most part, he slept well these days. No longer was there a high-powered rifle within easy reach or an automatic handgun under the pillow. These days his dreams were filled not with the memories of the horrors he had lived through, but rather a recurring fantasy of having met up again with Remi Caulder after his first tour of duty. They were both adults and she would find herself draped over his knee getting spanked for having stood him up.
They would have run into each other at a bar and gone back to her place. She would have been a bit shy and would have tried to apologize for standing him up. He would have grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her over his lap.
One huge, beefy hand pinned her in place while the other had rucked up her tight leather mini-skirt and yanked her lacy panties down to reveal her very shapely ivory bottom. He intended to see it didn’t remain that color for long.
Raising his hand, he brought it down, connecting with her ass in a satisfying manner. She screeched and called him names, but Hoss enjoyed giving her what he suspected was her first taste of some old-fashioned discipline. Over and over he spanked her generous globes, quickly infusing them with color. He liked the way her butt cheeks were firm, but still had a nice give and bounce to them. Her skin was cool and soft to the touch, but as he spanked, its surface temperature increased as more color stained her flesh. He wondered what it would feel like to have her on her back with those lovely heated orbs cupped in his hands as he drove into her wet heat repeatedly.
“Let me go! You bastard!” she wailed.
“That’s no way for a good girl to talk.”
Hoss chuckled and continued to inflict a considerable amount of pain across her backside. Silence, except for the sound of his hand spanking her ass, enveloped the room. His cock grew stiff as he held Remi over his lap and inflicted some well-earned discipline before he gave her asshole a good finger fucking.
His rough use of that virginal passage caused her to yowl and try to get away. He ensured that her squirming did little to stop him. After that he planned to sink balls-deep into what he was sure was a soaking pussy. His cock got harder and harder as she began to cry, the orders turning to pleas for him to stop.
“You think you can behave yourself and apologize to me?” he asked.
“Yes, please stop.”
The sound of submission to his authority was evident in her voice. He patted her now reddened globes with affection and a kind of acceptance of her surrender. Hoss pulled her off his lap and allowed her to pull her panties up and straighten her skirt.
In the beginning, the dream always ended with a sort of fade-to-black scenario. After that, they attended the prom and had a wonderful time that resulted in the happily ever after he’d always wanted. As he became older and more hardened, the dream started as before, but then instead of fading to black, his imagination conjured up a much more visceral fantasy. It had come to include having Remi stripped naked before him quivering in fear and need.
Once he’d allowed her up, he would dry her eyes and then order her to strip.
He sat back and watched while she removed all her outer clothing, including her thigh-high stockings, hesitating at removing her bra and skimpy lace panties.
“I said naked, Remi.”
An almost virginal blush crept all over her body infusing it with a pale pink hue. In his fantasies, she was fairly inexperienced. The sight of her made his already stiff cock even harder, bordering on painful.
“Morgan,” he liked how she called him by his real name, “I never meant to do that...”
“I’m glad to hear it; you’re about to make up for that. I told you to strip... that means all of your clothes. Take off the bra and panties. Good girls do as they’re told; naughty girls get their fannies spanked some more before they get their bottom hole finger fucked and then get stripped naked for their man to see them as God intended—ripe and ready for the taking.”
Remi quickly obeyed before standing shyly in front of him. He imagined her large tits to be pale ivory with darker-hued areola and large, erect nipples just begging to be suckled and pinched. Her figure showed a small waist that flared out into hips that cradled a man when he had her on her back or offered him a good handhold when she was on her knees in front of him.
“Come stand between my legs and take my shirt off.”
When she obeyed him, he reached up and took both of her breasts in his hands, squeezing them and hearing her moan. Leaning forward, he latched onto one of her pebbled peaks and began to suckle while kneading the other breast and pinching and tugging on its nipple. Remi moaned softly, enjoying his less than gentle caress, and cradled his head in order to encourage him.
Hoss’ hand stole between her legs, stroking the fine, curly hair that covered her sex. She was reticent and tried to pull away; he tugged on her clit to prevent her from doing so and evoked a more aroused response. Hoss played and rubbed the nubbin at the apex of her sex, causing her to sigh and part her legs.
Emboldened by her response, his fingers moved deeper between her thighs to find her engorged labia and dripping pussy. R
emi welcomed his touch and when he penetrated her dripping slit, she cried out and came, drenching his fingers with her honey.
Removing them, he brought them up to his mouth and released her nipple, inserting his fingers between his lips to suck, all the while holding her gaze. She lowered her eyes and pressed herself against him as he stood. He folded her in his arms, stealing his hands down her back and grasping her butt cheeks to bring her into more direct contact with the hard bulge contained within his jeans.
“It’s time you made it up to me for standing me up. Unbutton my fly, Remi.”
“Morgan?”
He raised and lowered his hand with a harsh strike to her already tender globes, making her wince.
“Looking back, I should have taught you to mind me back then and should have had you that night. But you’re going to make it up to me now. Bend over the arm of the couch.”
“Morgan,” she started to protest.
Slapping her ass with even more sting, he took her roughly by the arm and dragged her over to the side of the couch, tossed her over the arm, and pinned her in place while he stepped behind her. Spreading her legs, he guided his cock up to the entrance of her sheath and then surged forward, completely engulfing himself in her warmth, groaning as he did so.
Remi whined softly from the contact his groin made with her punished ass.
Smiling, he said, “That’s what happens to naughty girls who get their bottoms spanked and then their pussies fucked.”
He thrust into her, enjoying the way her inner walls shook and quivered as he tried to wrap his head around the intense pleasure he was taking from her. As her breathing sped up, the noises from their mutual rush to climax increased. He needed to feel his cum gushing inside her, filling her up.
Remi began to pant as she neared the edge of completion. Giving one brutal thrust, he sent her careening over that edge, screaming in ecstasy, her pussy spasming as it clamped down hard on his cock. She writhed in his hold as he spilled himself, her cunt greedily milking his cock as he savored her response.
The orgasm seemed to last for eternity until she was begging for it to end. The tremors continued throughout her body as he continued to move, drawing little mini-orgasms from her as she cried softly in complete and abject submission while he finished.
Hoss would uncouple from her, watching as his cock withdrew, glistening with their comingled juices. He could see the excess of his creamy essence dribbling from her gaping, well-fucked pussy onto the inside of her thighs. He liked the idea of the remainder drying on her sex and in the short hair covering it.
The fantasy always ended with him picking her up, tossing her ravaged body over his shoulder, and taking her to her bed before spending the rest of the night rutting, only to leave her the next morning as gutted and destroyed as when she had left him.
Chapter Three
Remi woke the next morning, squinting at the light streaming through her window and wishing she had come back to the hotel room she shared with Becca earlier than she had. The two had stayed out with the boys far later than was wise, having far too many liquid refreshments. It was a two-bedroom suite that they had originally shared with the other two female contestants. As the other girls had been eliminated, she and Becca had opted to each take a room for themselves. Remi grabbed a quick shower and tried to shake off the sexy dreams from the night before.
Remi closed her eyes and let the strong stream of hot water cascade down over her naked body. Emerging from the shower, she dried off and walked into the kitchenette to make a cup of espresso. She glanced at the clock and almost spit out the hot brew. If they didn’t hustle, they were going to be late. Glancing in the fridge, she realized they still had two pieces of quiche left. She popped both into the microwave and then went to wake Becca.
“Hey, sleepyhead! Better get your butt in gear. The car will be here in half an hour.”
Remi threw open the curtains and the bright sun burst into the room as though it had been waiting to do so for hours... which it had. She looked over to the bed and made note that Becca was there. Remi slapped her rump through the covers, which had been pulled up over Becca’s head. She had teased Becca about the way she liked to make a fort of the bed coverings and burying herself there to sleep.
“Come on! I’ve got quiche warming and I’ll start your shower and make you a cappuccino, but you need to get moving.”
Remi went into the attached bath and quickly adjusted the shower before heading back into the main part of the suite to eat her breakfast and get dressed. When she came out, she could hear the shower in Becca’s bathroom still running.
Going back to her room, she said in an exasperated tone, “Seriously, Becca, get your ass in gear!”
Remi reached down, grabbed the top of the covers and stripped them back. Suddenly, she understood why every maid in every movie about a murder in a hotel screamed when she found the body.
Becca lay on her side, curled in a fetal ball. She was dressed in her favorite ice blue pajamas with princesses all over them. Her hands were bound as if in prayer and then the rope went down to tie her feet together. There was duct tape over her mouth, and Becca’s eyes were open and had a lifeless stare. But what was the most horrific was the clear dry-cleaning bag duct-taped around her neck.
Remi stepped forward to check for a pulse. But before she could get a real feel, she noted the body was ice cold and stiff as a board. Backing away, Remi turned off the shower, exited Becca’s room, and unsure who to contact in the police department, called the hotel’s concierge.
“Good morning! Concierge; how may we help?”
“This is Remi Caulder with Bistro Wars—the television show?”
“Oh, yes, Chef Caulder. We’re so delighted to have you all here. My wife and I have been watching and you’re doing so well. We’re hoping you’ll win. Well, anyone but that awful Julian. Is he really as bad as they show him on television?”
“Pretty much,” Remi said, trying to steady her voice. “I’m afraid that my roommate has been murdered.”
“Murdered? How can you be sure?”
“She’s tied up, there’s a plastic bag duct-taped over her head and the body is stiff and...” Remi felt her control slipping. “Cold. She seems so cold.” She sank down on the window seat. “I pulled the covers back to wake her and...”
“Are you sitting down, Chef Caulder? You don’t sound too good. I have a manager on her way up; she can let herself in. We’ve contacted the police and they’ve dispatched their people. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until Nancy gets up there and then I’ll call our liaison with the show. Do you...”
“Wait, I think that’s your manager. I have the night lock on.”
Remi went to the door and cracked it open. An ID tag came through the opening.
“Chef Caulder? I’m Nancy Simpson. I’m one of the managers here at the hotel. Can I come in?”
“Sure, let me get the lock off.”
A very efficient woman in a smart, but conservative suit and a stylish bob stepped in.
“First, are you all right? I brought the head of security with me. Can I let him in? I thought he could go in the other room and you and I can stay out here in the sitting room.”
“That’s fine. You don’t need to sit and hold my hand. I’ll be fine. She’s in the room on the right. I’m just...”
Nancy patted her hand as she let the security chief in and motioned to Becca’s bedroom.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, but I’ll just come and sit with you. I’m not sure I could be anywhere near as calm as you if I’d found her. You two seem to get along... did you know her well?”
“As well as you can know anyone in a couple of months. She was a good chef. What I can’t figure out is how it happened, and I just slept through it,” said Remi, the realization that the killer had been in their room starting to suffocate her.
Nancy placed her hand gently between Remi’s shoulders and pressed lightly forward. “Let’s get your head a bi
t lower and see if we can’t get you breathing easier.”
Remi clasped her hand, grateful for her kind steadfastness. She was beginning to feel a bit better when there was a sharp knock, shattering her outward sense of calm.
The door opened, and two men in suits followed by a small team of what she assumed to be forensic people entered the suite. The head of hotel security stepped out of Becca’s room and motioned to the police. All but one of what Remi assumed to be detectives went to join him. The remaining suit approached her and Nancy.
“Miss Caulder...”
“That’s Chef Caulder,” interrupted Nancy.
“Remi is fine.”
The detective gave her a weak smile. “That’ll work. I’m Detective Adam Mitchell. Are you comfortable sitting here? We’re going to need the hotel to get you another room...”
“Already working on it,” piped up Nancy.
The detective, who looked world-wearied, continued, “If you’d like to go someplace else to talk, we can do that.”
“What about the show? I know the hotel said they were going to call them, but I...”
As if on cue, Vera Rasmussen, one of the show’s producers, burst through the door.
“Oh, my gawd! Remi, honey, are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.
“I’m fine, Vera. Well, not fine, but I’ll be okay. I just can’t believe someone murdered Becca. If the other room is ready, I’d like to get my things and get down there... is that all right, Detective Mitchell?”
“That’s fine. Why don’t we go down to talk and let them bring you your things?”
“The hotel can take care of that,” offered Nancy.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” said Remi, standing.
Nancy stood as well. Both Nancy and Vera reached for her arm. Remi avoided both by heading out the door with Detective Mitchell hot on her heels. The hotel manager and show producer tried to get through the door at the same time and almost got stuck. Seeing them, Remi tucked her head to hide the inappropriate grin.
