Big Bad Cowboy: A Billionaire and a Virgin Romance

by Tia Siren

Nobody looked at Conner Blackstone like that.

  That was how my old man had looked at me most of the time.

  I’d taken it from him, but I wasn’t going to take it from this bitch, no matter how beautiful I thought she was.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Miranda

  I stood there with my mouth hanging open and my oily hands in the air, staring at that huge thing protruding into the air like a power pole on a Texas highway.

  It was nearly a foot long, thick and veiny, with a bulbous, crimson head that looked like it was going to just pop open at any minute and spray the air with his seed.

  I didn’t know whether to scream or run away or wrap my fingers around it so it wouldn’t get away until I could scream for help. I didn’t do any of those things. I just stood there like a dog watching a ceiling fan while he lay on the table somehow making the thing bounce around without even touching it.

  Then he started talking shit to me, like I was some cheap whore he’d paid to do his bidding. Some of his comments were just downright vile, and others were a little funny. Then they just got ugly.

  I shook myself back to reality and picked up a towel to clean the oil from my hands. Once that was done, I draped the towel over his thing and opened the door in case I had to run.

  He sat up and started ranting, yelling about didn’t I know who he was and who did I think I was and how I should be honored to suck his dick. Really? Honored? I didn’t think so, cowboy. If this was his first rodeo, he was about to be trampled by the bull, because Miranda Carson did not play those kinds of games.

  I folded my arms over my chest and gave him the stony look I gave the twins whenever they did something bad.

  “Has that move ever worked for you?” I asked calmly. “I mean really, tug me, suck me, fuck me? You sound like one of those terrible porno movies I caught my brother watching online.”

  He stopped ranting and pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the table. He was gawking at me like I was speaking a foreign language. It was if his brain was resetting.

  “Well?”

  He blinked at me. “Well what?”

  “I asked if that move has ever worked for you. Have you ever whipped that thing out like that and invited a girl to tug and suck and fuck and she jumped to it?” I smirked at him. “Because if that worked, cowboy, you need to go find that poor girl and try it on her again, because that shit does not fly with me.”

  He stared at me for a moment, and then the anger seemed to ebb from his handsome face and he gave me an embarrassed smile.

  “Maybe I misread the signals,” he said quietly.

  “I wasn’t giving you any signals,” I said, knowing that probably wasn’t entirely true. I may not have been giving him signals, but I’d been signaling like crazy to myself. The fact that I was standing there with the crotch of my cotton pants as wet as a sea sponge was proof of that.

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just gave me a nod and said, “You’re right. I apologize.”

  His unexpected apology caught me a little off guard. He looked truly sorry, and he was so damn good looking it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

  A little bell sounded in the hallway, signaling that someone had just come through the lobby doors. I could hear multiple voices coming from the other end of the hall. It sounded like Carla was back and had other people with her.

  I said, “Apology accepted, but I think you need to reel that thing in and get dressed before my manager comes back here and sees you…it…”

  He covered his crotch with the towel and gave me the apologetic smile once more for good measure. I put my hand on the doorframe and started to leave but then turned back to say, “I won’t say anything that would get you tossed out of the lodge. Just charge the massage to your room and we’ll be square.”

  He gave me a grateful look. “Thanks. I will.”

  “And just to make yourself feel better,” I said, “make sure you leave me a generous tip. You nearly scared me to death with that thing.”

  He said, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”

  He smiled at me and all was forgiven.

  CHAPTER TWELVE: Conner

  I didn’t mention the disastrous massage to Wesley. He would have gotten a kick out of the famous Conner Blackstone getting shot down by the lowly masseuse with a hot-tempered Texas drawl.

  I’d given Wesley more than enough ammunition to use against me over the years with my cocky, arrogant behavior with women. I didn’t see the need to add to his stockpile with this one.

  Wesley used to ask me why I shot my mouth off like I did when I was having sex with a woman—or trying to have sex with her.

  We’d known each other all our lives. There were no secrets between Wesley and me.

  He’d heard me through the walls on more than one occasion and had been in the room with me and the girls a time or two for a good old-fashioned Texas gangbang. He says my alpha male bullshit is almost comical, that I sound like a character out of a porno movie. And I reckon he’s right, but I could never just close my eyes and fuck a woman like Wesley does. Jesus, what would be the fun in that?

  Sometimes I did sound ridiculous, I guess, though I’d never had a woman complain after the fact. To the contrary, I had never had sex with a woman who didn’t want to do it again and again and again, so I guess my alpha attitude works with women, or at least some women. It didn’t do me much good in that massage room this afternoon.

  I must admit, sometimes I wondered where the alpha attitude came from. I mean, it was not a switch that I just turned on and off. When my dick got hard, it just seemed to come out of me. I figured it was engrained in my DNA because my old man was the same way. Maybe that was where I got it. Maybe that apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Or maybe it never even let go of the branch.

  My old man had been married four times, but he’d probably fucked four thousand women over the course of his long, debauched life.

  I could remember being a little boy, crouched down in the hallway outside his bedroom door late at night, listening to him fuck a different woman every night.

  Most of them were Texas road whores he’d picked up at some bar or off a street corner earlier in the night. Some were “escorts” that he kept on call just to come in and fuck him before he went to sleep and to wake him up in the morning with a blow job.

  He used to say, “Fuck alarm clocks. I wanna wake up with a woman’s lips on my pecker!”

  Hell, I’d said the same thing myself many times. Wesley just shook his head at me, but he knew I was right. A good blow job beat an alarm clock any day of the week.

  Sometimes the woman the old man was fucking would be an actual girlfriend or some socialite that he’d met at a charity event or a business meeting. The old man was a good-looking son of a bitch in his prime and always had money to burn. It was a combination a lot of women found hard to resist.

  But most of the time, the women I heard moaning on the other side of that bedroom door were just good old-fashioned Texas road whores, the kind of gal that could fuck an entire bunkhouse full of cowboys and suck the leather off their saddles. That was the kind of women they were, and that was how the old man treated them and every other woman he screwed.

  “All women like to be treated like whores,” he’d say. “You gotta talk dirty to them. Tell them what to do and how to do it. You also gotta tell them how they make you feel. If a woman thinks she’s got your dick so hard it’s gonna pop like a weasel, it’s a complement to her. She made your dick hard. Now you’re gonna take that hard dick and do things to her that are gonna make wax shoot out of her ears. Women love that shit, boy. Trust your old man on this one.”

  I not only trusted him, but in this regard, I tried to be just like him. I’d never met a woman who’d had a problem with it.

  Until today.

  * * *

  I took a quick shower and dressed in black jeans, snakeskin boots, and a fitted black polo shirt that had the Big Sky logo on the left side of my chest
. I strapped a gold Rolex Submariner around my wrist and stood checking my reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

  I saw myself, but I was thinking about her. That face, those eyes, those lips, the aroma of that sweet pussy filling the tiny massage room like the sweetest incense on earth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could still smell her. My tongue went across my lips. I could taste the tang of her on the tip of my tongue.

  Never—NEVER—had a woman gotten me so hard without so much as touching me. I had to have her. I had to have…shit…what the fuck was her name?

  Wesley tapped on the bedroom door and stuck his head in. “Hey, you ready to go to the employee orientation?”

  “I am,” I said brightly.

  “You’re sure in a good mood,” Wesley said, leaning against the doorway and cutting his eyes at me. “Good massage?”

  “It was a very good massage,” I said, leaning into the mirror and brushing back the hair from my forehead with my fingertips.

  Wesley grinned at me. “Did you have a happy ending?”

  I chuckled. “Let’s just say that I had a very promising ending.”

  His grin became a confused look. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means we need to go,” I said, tapping a fingernail to the Rolex. “Can’t keep our employees waiting, now can we?”

  “I guess not,” he said as I brushed past him to head down the hall.

  Good old Wesley. I loved it when he didn’t have a clue what was going on with me.

  Come to think of it, I didn’t have a clue what was going on with me either.

  I just knew that I couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Whatever her name was.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Miranda

  The Big Sky employee orientation was set for three o’clock in the lodge’s grand dining room. The entire staff that would be working for the next month, keeping guests happy and the place running, were on hand. There were probably fifty or sixty people there, seated at circular tables that held six chairs each. I checked my watch. It was two minutes till three.

  I leaned over to Wanda Jean, who was seated to my right, and whispered. “What’s about to happen?”

  She whispered back. “Max, the general manager, will greet everybody, talk about hospitality and customer service, read off a few rules, and then tell you all the things that will get you fired. That sort of thing.”

  “I heard someone say that the owner was here,” I said, craning my neck to look around the room. I didn’t see anyone who looked like a billionaire. Not that I’d know what a billionaire even looked like.

  “I heard that, too,” she said, her eyes going dreamy. “Conner Blackstone himself. He’s like this cowboy god; handsome, sexy, supposedly hung like a horse. What I wouldn’t give to have him drill my well this weekend.”

  “What does that even mean?” I asked with a grin.

  “Darlin’, I would let Conner Blackstone drill for oil in me any time he wants,” she said with an evil smile. “And he can deep drill in any hole he wants.”

  “You’re awful,” I said.

  “And you’re a tight ass,” she said. She nodded at the front of the room. “Okay, here we go.”

  The general manager stood at a podium at the front of the room and introduced himself. He welcomed everyone and then said, “Before we get started with the actual orientation, we have a very special guest with us today. He is the man responsible for all of us being here. Please, give a warm welcome to CEO of Blackstone Enterprises and the owner of Big Sky Ranch & Spa, Mr. Conner Blackstone.”

  As everyone stood and clapped, a door behind the podium opened and in walked a tall man with broad shoulders and dark features, dressed in tight black jeans and a tight polo shirt that hugged his muscular frame.

  He strutted to the microphone and held up his hands to quiet the crowd. He let his eyes go around the room for a minute as everyone sat down, and then his eyes settled on me. The instant our eyes met, I knew I was probably going to be fired.

  The dusty cowboy with the big cock and obnoxious attitude, the one who had wiggled his cock in the air and told me to tug it, suck it, or fuck it, was Conner fucking Blackstone, owner of Big Sky Ranch.

  I literally felt myself melting in the chair, in more ways than one.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Conner

  When I spotted her sitting there in the crowd at the back of the room, my balls literally did a little happy dance in my pants.

  I had not scared her off with my alpha male bullshit after all. That was good. She was a strong one who could give as good as she got. I liked that in a woman. I hated girls who wilted when you talked dirty to them or tensed up when you commanded them to suck your cock. I liked girls who could take it and dish it back out.

  I liked being in charge, but I also liked it when a girl took control and bossed me around a bit. I loved it when a girl ordered me to lick her pussy or shove my big, fat cock into her cunt. That shit was like poetry to my ears. And I was pretty much game for anything that didn’t result in a trip to the ER. And I do mean anything.

  I had a strong feeling that my alpha-ness would stoke a fire in this girl if she would just give me the chance to prove it to her. I saw the way she was looking at my cock. She was licking her lips. And I could smell her pussy juicing from a foot away.

  Maybe she was the play-hard-to-get type. Maybe she wanted a gentleman like Wesley, who believed in the old school “wine and dine” method.

  Fine. Whatever I had to do to get my big cock inside her sweet pussy, I’d do it, even if I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

  If I had to walk over hot coals just to stick my tongue in her cooch and a finger up her ass, it would be a small price to pay for that conquest.

  She would be my bitch and I would be her stud before the weekend was through, no matter the cost.

  I stood there behind the podium, smiling at them, not because I was happy to be there, but because I had a boner in my pants with her name on it.

  Whatever her name was.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Miranda

  I held my breath the entire time Conner Blackstone was speaking to the room full of his employees. I kept waiting for him to call me out and slut shame me right there in front of everyone, even though I’d done nothing slutty or shameful…other than the thoughts I’d been having about him since our encounter in the massage room just an hour before.

  Every time I closed my eyes I could picture that big thing standing at attention like a wooden soldier, bouncing at me, its big round head seemingly ready to burst. I felt the seat beneath me getting warm and realized that I was soaking my panties again. Damn this guy! What was with his ability to turn on my water works without even touching me?

  I heard him say, “Thank you again for all your hard work. Here’s to another successful season at Big Sky!”

  Everyone shot to their feet and gave him a big round of applause. I was one of the last to stand and the last to sit down. I didn’t realize I was still standing and clapping, watching Conner exit through the door he’d come in just a few minutes before, until Wanda Jean tugged on my sleeve.

  “I told you,” she said, whispering excitedly in my ear. “Is he a fucking god or what?”

  I just nodded slowly and mumbled, “Uh huh.”

  Everyone turned their attention back to the general manager, who was now talking over a PowerPoint presentation that listed all the ways we could be helpful to guests and increase our tips.

  I should have been paying attention, but all I could think about was Conner Blackstone and his magnificent cock. I wondered if I would ever have the chance to be alone with them—I mean him—again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Miranda

  Thankfully, the remainder of Monday was uneventful. Wanda Jean and I managed to stay awake through the entire employee orientation, and then we showered and changed and attended the employee dinner that evening.

  It was basically just a big cookout so all the employees could mingle and get to
know one another before the lodge officially opened the next day.

  I’d never seen so much food in my life. Tons of barbecue, fresh-cut steaks, burgers, hot dogs, roasted pig, racks of lamb—you name it, it was there. I ate like it was my last meal. It was rare that I got this kind of free food, so I took full advantage of it by eating till I was ready to pop.

  A dozen guys hit on Wanda Jean, but they left me alone. Wanda Jean said it was because I put out a vibe like a rattlesnake lying on a hot rock. Men were afraid to get too close out of fear that I might bite their heads off. She was right. I didn’t feel much like socializing, at least not with any of the men who tried to chat with me. My mind was set on Conner Blackstone, and he was nowhere in sight.

  I went back to the bunkhouse before nine and was dead asleep by ten, with visions of Conner Blackstone and his magnificent cock dancing in my head.

  I drifted into a dream. Conner was lying on the massage table with his hands behind his head and his thick cock jutting out of his dark pubic hair like the mast of a great ship. I was standing next to the table with my hands covered in warm oil. He looked at me with his beautiful, dark eyes. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. I knew what he wanted. I knew what to do, even though in real life I had never done it before.

  I moved in close and wrapped my oily fingers around his cock and slowly began to rub the oil into the veiny shaft. His cock was so long that I could take it in both my hands and slide them up and down from base to tip.

  Conner moaned as I worked the oil into his balls and around the head of his cock. The head was like a large mushroom that grew darker and rounder as my hands pumped the blood into it. The slit oozed clear juice that dripped across my fingers. Without hesitation, I leaned down and lapped it up with the tip of my tongue, and then I swirled my tongue around the head like I was licking an ice cream cone.

  “Suck it, you beautiful bitch,” I heard him moan. “Suck my big, hard cock.”

  I did as he commanded. I pumped the shaft slowly with both hands and pressed a kiss to the tip. I slowly spread my lips and let the entire head slide into my mouth. I slathered my tongue beneath the head and Conner moaned.