by Reece Butler
A flick of his hand and his towel dropped. For the first time she saw the length of him, from head to cock to toes. She was a physician. She’d seen countless naked men, some of them very attractive. She’d never felt anything. Yet one look at Eric and her pussy spasmed. She curled her toes into the thick carpet to keep them from inching toward him.
“What are you doing?” she managed to demand. Her voice squeaked.
“Can’t you tell?”
Eric brushed his knuckles over her breast, catching her nipple between them. He squeezed. Her knees buckled. She reached out blindly, grabbing his forearm to stay upright. He wrapped his other hand around her, stepping forward to pull her close. His hot cock pressed against her belly. If she rose on her toes and spread her legs as he lifted her, he would slide right in. A first, for her.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured. He brushed his lips over her temple. “Did I give you what you needed yesterday, baby girl?”
He crooned the words as he drew his fingers over her back. He used just the right touch, neither so hard he pulled her toward him, nor so soft it tickled. He rested his chin on her head. Another first. She nodded, unwilling to speak and break the spell.
His fingers stopped caressing her. “I’m waiting to hear you say, Yes, Sir.”
She pulled back, but his grip was too strong. She pressed her lips together. Fantasy was one thing. After escaping the old hospitals with their networks of ancient doctors who thought women should be under the thumb of a male doctor, she resisted saying such words.
But if she wanted three weeks of orgasms, which she did with every fiber of her being, she had to play his games. What was a few words said to keep him thinking he could tell her what to do, in return for ecstasy?
“Yes, Sir.”
“You want more of the same tonight?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
He released her. She stepped back and turned away, not wanting him to see her roll her eyes at his condescending words. The sound of a slap hit her ears right before a sharp sting erupted on her bottom cheek.
“Hey!” She covered the hot spot with her hand and glared up at him. The brute merely raised an eyebrow, as if it was all her fault.
“That’s one,” he said calmly. “Lose the attitude or I’ll give you the other four before we leave.”
The sting had faded, leaving something…different. Something that connected with her firm breasts, erect nipples, and damp thighs. One corner of his lip curled up knowingly.
“If I ran my finger between your legs it would come out wet.” He spoke quietly, daring her to answer in the negative. “Because you want me to command you. Accept it, and we’ll get along well.”
A brisk nod, and he turned away. She waited, unwilling to move until he was gone. He silently gathered jeans, undershorts, socks, and a shirt, and left the room. Not once did he pay any attention to her. Only after he closed the door behind him did she exhale.
“That hurt, dang it!”
She backed up against the mirrored closet door. Her bottom was white as usual, except where the red imprint of a large hand marked one side.
There was no reason whatsoever for her pussy to clench at the sight.
“Traitor,” she muttered as she quickly dressed.
* * * *
Eric closed the bedroom door carefully behind him. He strode confidently down the hall to the room he’d had as a child. He closed the door behind him, tossed his clothes on the single bed, and groaned.
Nikki was a goddess. A Valkyrie, or whatever the Vikings called their tall, blonde female warriors. He didn’t know if that was her heritage, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her under him, riding him, bent over in front of him—anywhere as long as his cock was buried in her delicious body.
Now that he knew what was under her clothes, how the hell was he going to keep his hands off her until tonight? When she dropped that towel, he knew it was a challenge. That’s why he responded the same.
He hadn’t forgotten pleasuring that lush body, one with enough curves to keep both he and Matt happy. Thank God he’d stocked up on condoms in Miami. Nobody in town needed to know how many they went through. At least three before morning. No, before they slept.
But first they had to get through supper with her sister, as well as Lance and Simon. And the entire Adams clan. He put on his undershorts and stepped into his jeans. For the sake of his cock he wore his Levi 501s with the button fly. Maybe by tonight the indentations on his cock from the sharp zipper would be gone.
He could suggest Nikki kiss it better.
His cock jumped in agreement. He had to think of jumping in an icy spring in order to get the buttons closed. He looked down at the result. Everyone over the age of sixteen would know exactly what was going on in his head. Both of them.
Simon and Lance had been his friends forever. So had Keith and Donny. But would they take exception to his plans for Marci’s sister? If he thought he could get away with it, he’d wear his farrier’s apron the whole damn time. His cock wouldn’t show behind the thick leather. It would look strange if he wore it to the supper table, though. Maybe he could let his shirt hang over?
“To hell with it!”
He slipped on his shirt and started buttoning at the bottom.
He was used to being the black sheep. As long as he could remember, he was the odd man out. Maybe that’s why he and Lance got along so well as kids even though there was two years between them. Eric had never seen, or even heard of, Lance’s mother saying one good thing about him. He’d avoided the MacDougal ranch when she was there, though Mr. MacDougal hadn’t been bad when alone. He felt a touch of shame that he wasn’t content when, compared to the way Lance was treated, he had a charmed life.
But Lance had made his own way, refusing to let anyone control his life. He’d done the same, both of them flying the nest as soon as possible. Lance moved home when his older brother was killed in Vietnam and Simon quit college to take over the ranch. Eric drifted in and out, never quite accepted or forgotten.
Matt didn’t ask for much, so Eric would do his damnedest to make Nikki eager for his return. That meant giving her more pleasure than she’d ever known. That lingerie drawer of hers suggested she was a sensual woman even if she hid it from the world. She wouldn’t be hiding it after tonight. He’d have her wear those bras, garter belts, and stockings.
But no panties.
He sat on the bed to put on his socks. Bending over was painful. The situation wouldn’t change until he gave her a couple or orgasms and then buried himself deep inside her.
Don’t think of that, idiot!
He stood and stomped into his boots. So what if his buddies could tell that he had plans for the woman? As long as he took care of Nikki first, second, and last, they’d be cheering him on. By tomorrow morning his cock would be so worn out that it wouldn’t be able to lift a feather. And Doctor Nikki would be walking bowlegged with a smile as wide as Tanner’s Ford Valley.
She’d better be off work tomorrow because she wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.
He’d start the seduction process immediately. She had a load of bravado, but her breathy gasps when he touched her suggested she didn’t have much practical experience. He’d noticed that yesterday. He wasn’t surprised. She’d have had to do a lot of studying to get where she was. That left little time or energy for socializing.
He’d spend the next few hours getting her used to his hands touching her. When they got home he’d show her what his hands, fingers, tongue, and cock could do. Once she caught his lure she’d learn to do whatever he wanted, whenever, and however. He’d make allowances for her work. After all, the town needed her.
While she was at the clinic he’d stop by Peters’ Garage. Kenny usually had a few jobs that needed doing for folks who couldn’t pay him to service their vehicles. Kenny was still single, so Eric would warn him away from Nikki. Not that there was much chance of Kenny going after Nikki, now when Susie was stil
l the love of his life. Would Susie ever smarten up and come home to him? Most people in town thought he should forget her, but when Kenny wanted something, he was as stubborn as an old mule.
Eric’s stomach gurgled. Kenny always kept a stash of frozen cookies and squares in his freezer at the garage. The old ladies he helped regularly supplied him with baking and preserves. He’d had to convince them he made his own supper and didn’t need another tuna-fish-and-macaroni casserole. But baking was always appreciated by bachelors.
At the last minute Eric stuffed her thong into his pocket. If she got too cantankerous he would pull out a flash of red as a warning. No one else need know what it was, but she’d understand. He was the one in control, though he’d let her have her illusions for now.
He opened the door and listened for sounds from the master bedroom. His bedroom. The place where he expected to spend a lot of time. The door opened and Nikki stepped out. The sight of her hit him like a bomb.
It was the boots that got him first. Black, shiny boots with high, fuck-me heels. Did the woman have a clue what that did to a man? Her black skirt swirled around her knees. Her snug top, a green the color of spring, made his tongue dang near drag on the ground.
Did she have anything on under that skirt? Maybe he’d have her play with herself on the drive home. That would get her motor started. To hell with what Max said. Eric would be driving home.
“Are you ready?” Nikki demanded. “I want to see my sister.”
She stuck her fists on her hips and glowered at him. It made those perfect breasts stand out.
“Baby girl, I’ve been ready since you strutted into that jail.”
Chapter Nineteen
Eric slumped against the passenger door while Nikki drove to the MacDougal ranch. She didn’t believe he was asleep. She was sure it was an act so he didn’t have to watch her drive his precious truck. Or maybe he slumped so he couldn’t be seen. Not that it would make any difference. Everyone knew who owned every vehicle within fifty miles. Seeing her drive the pickup belonging to Eric would match the two of them together even if he wasn’t in sight.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. After the way Matt danced with her, and then driving Eric’s truck, she was going to be labeled as property of the Frost brothers no matter what she did, or didn’t, do. If they gave her no-strings great sex, then so be it.
She turned into the lane, relieved that Aggie and her gang hadn’t arrived. She needed to talk to her sister alone. There was humble pie on the menu, and Nikki would have to eat the whole thing.
The pickup’s wheels rattled as she drove over the cattle grid. Eric sat up, fully awake as expected.
“I’m surprised you didn’t demand to drive,” she said.
“Max would pull my license.”
“How would he know?”
Eric pointed to the two men stepping down from the porch. Simon, still with his leg in a walking cast, had red hair and light skin while Lance had brown skin and black hair. Marci’s new husbands were twins, though Simon carried the Highland Scot genes and Lance proudly displayed those of his great-grandmother’s Bannock tribe.
Most people in Climax could trace their ancestors back to the 1870s, and beyond. She didn’t even know the name of her father, or Marci’s. Mom had kept the information from them. She said the bums had run off when they learned she was expecting, and had no right to leave their names behind.
She opened the door and stepped out. A high-pitched squeal made the twins whip around. Marci came barreling out the kitchen door, barefoot. Her long hair was unbound, the way her men liked it, trailing behind like a black cape. She leaped off the porch. Lance caught her in midflight.
“You’re going to get a red ass for that trick,” he said as he held her struggling body. “Think of the baby.”
Marci glowered and fought to get down. He set her on her feet but gave her a swat on her butt cheek to send her on her way. She half turned and sent him a pout before giving Nikki a wide smile.
“Please tell him for the thousandth time that I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool,” begged Marci. “I’m pregnant, not sick.”
The MacDougal brothers were forty, ten years older than Marci. Everyone told Nikki her little sister was the best thing that ever happened to them. Nikki thought the opposite was true. She hadn’t seen Marci’s eyes shine like that since the day before she married Ted the Creep. Thankfully, what was left of him had been buried. She’d wanted his ashes to go into a landfill or sewer, but Marci refused.
“Marci’s not sick,” Nikki dutifully repeated, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference to the fathers-to-be. She hugged her younger sister, whose head barely reached her shoulders.
“Come on in for some herbal tea,” said Marci.
With her back to the three men, Marci gave an exaggerated wink. Nikki had a good idea about what had happened since Marci left her wedding, but her little sister would want to tell her anyway. Nikki had some news of her own.
“So, you’re barefoot, pregnant, and heading back to the kitchen,” said Nikki. “You happy about it?”
“Deliriously,” replied Marci. “Except when Lance and Simon go all macho on me.”
“Dump that attitude or you’ll be standing up all day tomorrow,” warned Lance.
Marci waited until she and Nikki passed the MacDougals before turning around and sticking her tongue out. She obviously hadn’t seen Eric climb out of the truck. He motioned to her husbands about what he’d seen.
“That’s fifteen,” said Simon cheerfully.
Marci stomped inside, growling and muttering, but Nikki could tell she was more eager than afraid. Marci had said, again and again, that Simon and Lance would never let anyone harm her, even themselves. They’d spank her, but she was often a brat and wanted it.
Marci’s first husband had been cold and controlling. He’d done his best to crush the few sparks of life Marci had shown at eighteen. It was different this time around. Now thirty, Marci had developed a backbone and the confidence to use it.
“You’re playing with fire,” warned Nikki as they stepped inside the kitchen. Immediately the delicious aroma of pot roast swirled around her. She inhaled in delight. “Mmm, that smells so good. I’ve missed your cooking.”
“You could learn, you know.” Marci pointed to the ancient black-and-silver stove which dominated the north wall. “If I could cook in that tiny apartment of yours, as well as on this piece of history, so can you.”
Nikki held back the news that she wasn’t living there anymore. She looked at the row of pies cooling on the side counter. “I see you’ve learned how to work that stove without burning your pastry.”
Marci laughed. “I’ve singed quite a few desserts, but Simon and Lance don’t mind. They just eat around the burned bits and tell me to keep trying.”
She just managed to bite back a comment about whether Marci got spanked for it. “So!” she said brightly, “how’s married life this time around?”
It took fifteen minutes before Marci finished enthusing about her much-improved life. By then they each had a mug of chamomile tea in front of them. Nikki had added three heaping spoonfuls of honey gathered on the ranch, but it still tasted vile.
She sat back in the chair, enjoying the fit. They were designed for large men, as most of the Valley men were six feet or more. Marci perched on a smaller chair that had rungs for her to hook her heels on. For once, Nikki could put her feet on the floor without her knees getting jammed into her chin. She hadn’t had a chance to find out if Eric’s furniture was made in the generous proportions. If not, she would find some chairs like this.
“So, what happened after we left the wedding?” demanded Marci. “You promised to dance with Matt, and I know you keep your promises. So, what happened?”
“Matt was very sweet when—”
“Sweet?” Marci shook her head. “Matt’s a nice man, but you don’t want sweet, sister dear. You want someone like his brother, Eric. I was hoping you two would
hook up at the wedding. Eric wouldn’t seduce you, he’d order you to get your butt in that bed, or else. And you would love it!”
“Is that what they say to you?”
“Lance does,” replied Marci impishly. “Simon’s more of a sensuous lover. I expect Matt’s like Simon, and Eric like Lance. I hope it was a slow dance?”
Nikki flashed back to that night. Matt had locked eyes with her from across the room. His look, demanding and arousing, had held her in place. After ignoring and avoiding her for weeks, he was staking a claim. Her pulse jumped, just as it had that night. It thudded in her chest at a hundred beats a minute. Her respiration rate matched.
“Nikki Meshevski!” crowed Marci. “Your ears are the color of strawberries!”
She slapped her hands over them. They burned hotter than her mug of tea. If she grew her hair long, would it hide the burning tips?
“Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him back? And what happened after? Did he—”
“May I finish what I was saying?” demanded Nikki. Marci sat back in her chair, smug as a cat. She nodded regally.
“Matt seemed so sweet when he asked me to dance. I got the impression it had taken him all evening to get up his nerve. But when I nodded, his expression changed. Any hesitation was gone. He put both hands on my waist and pulled me against him.”
“And how did that feel?”
Nikki chewed her bottom lip. Her nipples, already hard, pushed against her bra.
“His chest felt so warm and inviting, yet hard and muscular. I tried to pull back, to put some space between us, but I couldn’t move. He looked down at me with those big brown eyes and, very distinctly, said ‘no.’”
“And?” Marci almost squirmed in her chair from eagerness.
“At first I froze at the sense of command he exuded. Then I remembered that I don’t take orders from men in social situations. I pushed back even harder.”
“I bet you challenging him like that got his dander up.” Marci snickered. “Was something else of his up as well?”
