by BJ Wane
“Well, thanks for letting me know where I stand once and for all. Sit there and rot. I’m done with this.” He pivoted and stormed out of the house, never seeing Leland’s shocked face or the sympathetic dismay in Roy, Babs and Leslie’s gazes as he stomped by.
Leslie glanced toward Cory, who sat at the counter. “How could he talk that way to his son?” she questioned after hearing the argument between Kurt and his dad. He dashed out so fast she barely caught the anger tightening Kurt’s jaw that belied the despair swirling in his eyes, but it was enough to make her own heart ache for him. The need to go to him and ease his pain and show him she cared nearly overwhelmed her, forcing her to grip the counter edge to keep from chasing after him.
In that brief moment, when she realized her need to alleviate his pain overrode her desire to protect herself by keeping her distance, she tumbled the last drop into love, losing the war she’d been waging with herself since she’d taken his hand and accepted his help up from the sidewalk two months ago.
“I haven’t been able to figure him out since I started working for him.” Cory swallowed the last bite of cinnamon roll and rose. “I better get back in there and see what I can do.”
“I would go with you, but I’m too pissed right now,” Roy said, slapping his hat back on his head. “Stubborn doesn’t begin to describe that man.”
Babs blinked away the tears swimming in her eyes as Leslie started cleaning up. Twenty minutes later, as she dried her hands and glanced out the window above the sink, she spotted Cory walking back to the house from where he’d left Leland sitting inside the fenced family plot. Shoulders slumped, the older man appeared lost in dejection and her heart went out to him despite her pique over his treatment of Kurt.
“He was just as morose when Kurt lived in Houston,” Babs said as she joined her at the window. “I really thought Leland would perk up once Kurt moved back.”
Remembering the spasms of guilt Leslie had glimpsed crossing Leland’s face that Kurt missed, Leslie harbored doubts as to the reason for his behavior. “Mmmm, I think I’ll go sit with him for a while,” she murmured.
Her first year in Montana, Leslie learned how early winter arrived and how long it lasted. Changing into a sweatshirt, she strolled across the wide lawn, grateful for the sun and lack of wind as the air carried a decided nip. The iron gate to the hilltop plot creaked as she opened it, drawing Leland’s hopeful look around. His face fell when he spotted her before he smoothed out his features.
“I’d rather be alone,” he stated with a dip of his brows.
“No you wouldn’t.” Taking a seat on the quaint garden bench next to his chair, she said baldly, “You’ve just backed yourself into a corner and now don’t know how to get out of it.”
“What are you talking about, girl?” He huffed in annoyance and slid his eyes back to the ornate headstones.
“I’m sorry for your loss, but that’s no excuse to hurt your son.”
And there it was, that quick flash of guilt that stripped the color from his lined face and caused the slump of his shoulders. Only this time, he didn’t try to hide or erase his feelings.
“What I said this morning, it came out wrong and he misunderstood.”
Leslie patted his leg, surprised to feel a firmer quad muscle than she’d expected. Another revelation he needed to account for. Later though. “If you’re worried about losing him, or think you already have, why aren’t you trying harder to get him back?”
Leland shook his head. “How can I ask him to forgive me for the way I lashed out at him after Brittany’s death? Whenever I think about those times before he left, I can’t imagine how I could do such a thing, or why he’d ever forgive me. I told him I no longer held him responsible, hoping that would be enough.”
“Leland, you’ve been blinded by grief for so long, you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” She pushed to her feet. “He came back every year just so you wouldn’t have to spend the holidays alone. Upon hearing about your stroke, he dropped everything to rush to your side and then didn’t hesitate to make immediate arrangements for returning and helping you out. How can you think he wouldn’t let past hurts go in favor of having his father back?”
Pivoting, she made it to the gate before he called back to her. “You’re a good girl, Leslie, and good for my boy.”
“I just wish that was enough to keep me here,” she said, thinking of her own problems.
Halfway across the yard, she hailed one of the hands exiting the large barn and asked him if he knew where she could find Kurt.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pointed to the tack building between the stables. “He’s been in there all morning. You take care now.” With a tip of his hat, he strolled off with a swagger that always tugged at her lips.
Veering toward the outbuilding, Leslie turned her mind toward being there for Kurt with as much support and caring as he’d given her.
Chapter 12
Leslie entered the shed, the leather odor filling her nostrils the same moment her eyes found Kurt across the room. She paused, her heart stuttering, stopping then hitching into overdrive as she took in his shirtless appearance. His arm muscles flexed, his broad back glistened with a light sheen of sweat despite the cool temperature, his black hair clinging damply to his corded neck. The heat emitting from the fire burning furnace next to him paled in comparison to the hot torrent of blood through her veins. Her nipples went hard, her pussy spasmed, and when he lifted his dark head, nailing her with those midnight eyes, her buttocks clenched. But more than the realization of how badly she ached to resume their physical relationship, she yearned to erase the haunted look reflected on his face.
“Go back to the house, Leslie. I’m busy.”
Okay, he wasn’t going to make this easy. Refusing to back down from his cold reception, she wound her way slowly toward him, maneuvering around saddles draped on top of sawhorses, past the wall of hanging leads, bridles and reins, a large bin of metal horseshoes and a few pieces of equipment she did not want to know what they were used for.
His forearms and biceps rippled as he worked an oiled cloth over the seat of a saddle. “What are you doing there?”
Looking up, Kurt’s eyes flashed and his shadowed jaw tightened. God, she loved that stern, dominant stare, the one that said she was pushing her luck and gave her goosebumps. An idea formed, a risky, heart thumping thought that turned her palms as damp as her pussy.
“Working, and now wondering why you aren’t obeying me,” he bit off. “I’m busy, as you can see, and don’t have time to entertain you right now.”
Leslie fought back her own retort, recognizing his need to protect himself, and her from the anger and pain his father’s words wrought. The futility of trying to shield her heart by denying the strong physical needs he’d proven so good at satisfying was never so apparent, and she refused to back away from him again.
Lifting a hand to the buttons running from the scooped neckline of her thermal top to just below her breasts, she popped the top one free, lowering her other hand to the saddle between them. Running a finger over the smooth, warm leather, she said, “Funny, you’ve been wanting to entertain me since I got here. Tell me why you’re rubbing that nasty smelling stuff onto your saddle.” Her eyes lifted from his hands to his face as she flipped open another button.
“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. Knock it off,” he warned.
“It’s hot in here.” Opening another button, she sidled over to a rack and pointed to what looked like a branding iron. “You don’t use that on your livestock, do you?” she asked with a shudder of revulsion.
“Sometimes, depending on the animal and the need.”
She turned back to him, freeing the last button. “That seems cruel.”
“It’s not,” he retorted. Cocking his head, he regarded her with a calmer expression that ratcheted her arousal another notch, and conjured a frisson of trepidation as only a Dom’s pointed look could. “I thought you didn’t want to sleep with me.
”
“I don’t want to sleep.” Releasing the front hook of her bra, she pushed the top and loose cups to the side and palmed her left breast. Rasping her thumb over the turgid tip, she sucked in a breath as she baldly stated, “And I’ve changed my mind about stopping our physical relationship.”
Kurt’s face didn’t soften as she’d hoped, nor did those black eyes reveal pleasure at her announcement. Refusing to give up, she shoved aside her submissive voice reminding her of the repercussions of pushing a Dom too far and forged ahead, willing to risk just about anything to erase the hurt his father caused. “In fact, I’m ready to pick up where we left off right away.” Stepping over to him, she continued to play with her breast as she cupped her free hand over his rigid, denim-covered cock. “See, you are pleased with my change of heart.”
“That doesn’t mean I appreciate you interrupting me, disregarding my order to leave, or touching yourself without my permission.”
“Oh, my, I’ve really racked them up, haven’t I?” Leslie shivered with the endless possibilities of his retribution, already feeling the heat blossoming across her backside. Dropping to her knees, she gazed up at him as she unbuckled his belt and slowly lowered his zipper. “Since I’m already in trouble, I may as well go for what I want.” The hot, heavy weight of his erection fell into her hand, the pearl of moisture beaded on the smooth cockhead too tempting to resist. Ignoring the way his eyes went to black slits and the almost painful grip of his hands in her hair, she filled her mouth with his steely cock.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Kurt swore as she swirled her tongue under the plum shaped rim, teasing that sensitive spot before stroking downward, the thick, pumping veins jumping under her tongue.
Leslie relished his taste as much as his response and tight hold of her head by her hair. How had she managed to deny herself the pleasure of him? Maybe admitting how deeply her feelings ran had helped prod her toward taking this step, but she figured the biggest factor was wanting to ease his pain while storing up as many memories as possible to take with her if she was forced to leave. Either way, at this moment, here was where she wanted to be, where she needed to be.
Despite his sour mood, Kurt’s cock twitched, engorging and heating more and more with every lick of Leslie’s tongue, each nip of her teeth and the low moan erupting from her throat to vibrate against his flesh. He hadn’t wanted company right now, not while he was struggling to find a reason to continue living under the same roof as his father. The thought of returning to Houston was as appealing as holding himself back from his sub these past ten days, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave his home again.
Watching her face flush as she’d fondled herself had been Kurt’s undoing. A Dom could only hold back for so long, and no one could expect a man denied the one woman he craved above everyone else to keep himself in check when faced with such an offer. While he appreciated her support and efforts to boost his spirits, as well as the pleasure her hot mouth was delivering, his mood wouldn’t allow for her deliberate disobedience to go unaddressed.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled back from the wet suctions of her mouth, yanking on her hair as she tightened those soft lips around his cockhead and laved the seeping slit, her hands gripping his thighs. “As good as that feels, sweetheart,” he rasped, “it won’t get you a reprieve.” Pulling on his control, he stepped back and hauled her to her feet, making short work of loosening her jeans and tugging them down. “You should have left when I told you. Now your only recourse is to say red.” Spinning her around to face the propped saddle behind her, he tugged the shoulders of her top and bra down to her elbows, trapping her arms at her sides. “Bend over,” he commanded, applying pressure between her shoulders until she lay belly down on the saddle.
Leslie lifted her dangling, flushed face to say, “I won’t need my safeword,” and then looked back down at the wood floor.
The work going on around the stable yard seeped through the thin walls of the tack shed, but as Kurt swatted her upturned ass, he doubted the bare-skinned smacks reached the ears of any of his cowhands. As her soft, malleable flesh warmed under his palm, he decided he didn’t care if he was wrong. With each slap, her buttocks bounced and her breathing hitched. He delivered a string of steady spanks that covered her entire backside and then added strength to the last few aimed at her tender sit-spots. By the time he administered two more blistering blows, one in the center of each buttock, the delicate pink hue had deepened to dark crimson, her mewling whimper accompanying the uncomfortable shift of her hips.
Running his hand over the abused skin, Kurt stated, “That ends your warm-up.”
Whipping her head up and around, he almost smiled at her startled look. “Warm-up?” she squeaked.
“You didn’t think I’d let you off that lightly, did you?” He could feel her wide blue eyes tracking his movements as he stepped over to the wall and removed one of the narrow short leads. “This should do.”
“Uh, Sir, maybe we could talk about this.” Leslie’s face had paled but arousal still shone in her eyes and glistened along her slit.
“Maybe you should have thought of the consequences before defying a direct order.”
“I was only trying to…”
Kurt snapped the lead across her butt, snagging her breath. “I know what you were doing, and why. But, as much as I appreciate your intentions, only my father can mend things between us. Say your safeword or turn around and be quiet.”
“Fine.” She huffed, flipped her head back down and wiggled her ass, a gesture that both amused and aroused him.
Kurt wasn’t as put out about her reasons for ignoring his wishes as he let on. Delivering a few strikes that wrapped the thin leather across both cheeks, he admitted to the satisfaction of seeing how much his girl cared. That didn’t negate his annoyance over her refusal to leave him alone to stew in his bad mood. Still, he wasn’t an unfeeling Master, and his cock was demanding relief too long denied.
He halted at five strokes, the red, puffy lines on top of the scarlet hue covering her ass enough to appease him. “You’ve tolerated your punishment very well, sweetheart.” Cupping her puffy labia, he rubbed his palm up and down her damp seam.
Leslie groaned, pressing against his hand. She tried to move her arms and he heard her frustration as she realized the shirt still kept them pinned at her sides. “Sir, please,” she whispered, the needy ache in her voice matching the throbbing demand of his cock.
“I’ve missed hearing you beg, sweetheart.” Sliding two fingers deep inside her quivering pussy, he fished a condom out of his back pocket.
Hearing the rip of the crinkling wrapper, she turned amused eyes up to him. “You walk around your ranch with a condom in your pocket?”
“Only since bringing you here. Fuck but you’re tight, and wet.” Pulling his fingers from her grasping, slick heat, Kurt covered himself and slid inside her in one smooth stroke. “This is going to be hard and fast. Brace yourself.”
She did so without complaint, grabbing the handle under the wooden sawhorse to hold on to as he pummeled her sheath with pounding thrusts. The stand wobbled under his assault but her weight, combined with the heavy saddle, ensured it wouldn’t topple over. Just to be safe, he leaned forward, bracing his hands next to her hips, adding pressure as he used his line-dancing hip action skill to bury himself inside her over and over.
“That’s it, Leslie,” he ground out as those strong, velvet soft muscles clamped around his pistoning shaft then massaged his length with rhythmic convulsions. “Come on my cock, show me how much getting down and dirty with me in a shed turns you on.”
At the club, she wasn’t shy – few were after attending several times. But Leslie wasn’t one to take risks, and that she would brave being heard by his hands, or someone walking in on them, told him how much she cared.
Convulsing around his ramming strokes, her cries of, “Yes, yes, yes!” resonated around the room as she exploded in climax.
Kurt shook and swore as her pu
ssy kneaded his flesh until he saw stars from his own eruption, an orgasm that released enough endorphins to forget all about hurtful words. He continued to pump inside her as they both came down from the exultant highs by slow degrees, their harsh breathing echoing in the otherwise silent space.
“The next time you deprive me of your delectable body, I won’t be so forgiving.” He pulled back, helped her up and turned her to see her wide smile of satisfaction and mirth.
“If you call that spanking forgiving, I don’t think I’ll test that threat any time soon.” Leslie leaned against him, rubbing her pointed nipples against his bare chest. “I’ve missed this, too.”
Slapping her butt, he grinned. “Your fault.” Kurt adjusted her top, latched her bra after licking over each nipple and then buttoned her up. “You right your jeans while I take care of myself, and then get out of here. As it is, our ride will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Pulling up her jeans, she gave him a finger wave and sassy grin. “I liked that ride better anyway.”
“Leslie, let’s get going!”
Giving each miniature horse one last stroke down their nose, Leslie heeded the warning in Kurt’s voice and backed out of the stall. She was already attached to the pair who watched her every movement with wide, wary gazes that tugged at her heartstrings.
“Coming, coming,” she called out, rushing outside, squinting against the early afternoon sunlight.
She’d been disappointed when Leland didn’t clear the air between him and Kurt yesterday, but was too relaxed from the night she’d spent in Kurt’s bed and excited about riding the pretty mare he was leading toward her to worry about it. It was difficult enough to keep from fretting over the disruption of her life and the possibility of getting uprooted yet again. Both Agent Summers and Detective Reynolds had kept in touch and the latest news of a possible lead connecting a money trail from Glascott to a known thug with a long record offered the first sliver of hope.
