The Cowboy (Montana Men Book 2)

by Vanessa Vale

She shook her head from side to side in answer. A frown formed on her face as her hand moved the dildo in and out faster and faster. What a beautiful sight she was. My cock hardened to the point of pain watching her. I was ready to take her again.

  She cried out, not in pleasure but in frustration. My wife couldn't make herself come. She was aroused, needy and desperate and she didn't know why she couldn't reach completion. But I knew.

  "What's the matter, baby?" I leaned in so that my words were whispered in her ear.

  "I can't--" Licking her lips, she tried again. "Something's wrong. I can't come!"

  Taking a hold of her wrist that was fucking the dildo into her with an abundance of vigor, I stilled her motions. With that, her eyes flew open in surprise and she cried out. "Please, Mr. Blake. I need it!"

  "Of course you do, baby. This dildo won't work anymore. You need something bigger, like my cock. You need its big head to stretch you wide. You need the length to bump your womb each time I shift my hips. You need it thick to cram you full."

  Emily moaned at the description.

  "You came all over my cock, Emily. Do you want it again?"

  Nodding her head, her eyes met mine. The lids were lowered, her look blurry and desperate. "Yes! Oh yes!" she cried.

  "Such a good girl," I murmured, shifting over her. I nudged her legs wide with my knee, settled into place. "Take my cock in your hand and put it in." I was making her accept my cock, to take what only I could give her. I wasn't forcing her. This was her choice.

  Shifting so that I was between her spread knees, Emily took my turgid cock in her tiny palm, gripping and sliding some of the pre-cum that dripped from the tip over the length. I gritted my teeth as she aligned our bodies and lifted her hips, the wide head parting her folds and stretching her open. I pushed deep in one stroke. Her body so wet and ready for me. I watched as her eyes slid shut and her head tilted back.

  "Wrap your legs around my waist."

  She did as I bid, and then I let my need take over, filling her again and again, this time a little slower, with a little clearer head, watching her closely for what made her gasp, taking note of what made her shift her hips up, what made her cry out my name. Since I'd come so recently, I was able to fuck her to not one or two orgasms, but three, all from my cock hitting pleasure spots deep inside her. She was sweating and panting, alternating between screaming herself hoarse and making little moaning noises, all but delirious in the new pleasures I wrought from her body. Her clit I avoided. I wanted to teach her about her body and the ways I could make it respond to me, but not just yet. At that moment, I just wanted to show her that she was mine.

  ***

  I awoke, as usual, with the sun. Emily slept on, her body wrapped around mine, her head resting on my shoulder. I felt her soft breasts pressing against my chest, felt her pussy against my thigh with her one leg tossed over mine. She was warm and so soft. Her scent, feminine and lush, mixing with the tang of sex, filled the air.

  My cock, usually erect upon awakening, now had a source besides my hand for relief. Shifting, I changed our positions so that Emily was on her back as I loomed over her. She stirred, her eyes fluttering, then shooting open in surprise. Her body relaxed once she remembered where she was, who she was with.

  "Good morning, wife." I bumped my cock against her thigh, prodding her to full wakefulness. "It is time for your morning fuck."

  "Mr. Blake, I--"

  "You may call me Wyatt," I replied, cutting off her words. "I admit, I acted from surprise and anger at being caught unawares last night."

  She pouted and met my gaze, her dark eyes soft from sleep. "I am sorry, Mr. Blake, I mean Wyatt." Her voice was breathy. "I did not intend to deceive you."

  "And that is why your ass was spanked. Your maidenhead was mine to take. Remember, I do not stand for lies and deceit."

  She swallowed, then replied, "Yes, Wyatt. But I did not fake my...enthusiasm, or that I am a whore."

  I ignored her statement for the moment. Shifting off her, I said, "Up on your knees, grab hold of the bars of the headboard."

  She frowned, yet complied. Turning to face the head of the bed, she took hold of the upper rail, glancing over her shoulder at me. "You will spank me again?"

  I moved to kneel behind her, my chest rubbing against her back. Taking her hair, I slipped it over one shoulder to expose the long column of her neck. "Spank? No."

  Lowering my head, I kissed and nibbled at the warm skin, her head falling back onto my shoulder with a sigh as my mouth explored her. "I want you enthusiastic, ecstatic even, from what we do together. That makes you my wife. If that also makes you my whore, then so be it." Lifting my hand, I cupped her breasts, gently tugged on her nipples. "But you are mine. Say it, Emily."

  She moaned, then replied. "I'm yours."

  Pulling her hips back, I dipped my fingers into her swollen folds, then slid them into her tight sheath. "So wet, baby. You're slick with my seed. I filled you up last night and I'm going to fill you up again right now."

  "Wait, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice breathy and soft, surprised at being taken from behind.

  "Fucking my wife."

  As my fingers brushed over a very sensitive spot deep within, she cried out. Yes!"

  "Such a good girl. So eager," I murmured, as I fucked her with my fingers. When her hips began to shift and her cries turned to begging, I aligned my cock with her pussy and thrust deep in one stroke.

  "Wyatt!"

  Grabbing her hips, I fucked her, hard and deep, until we both shattered from the pleasure.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EMILY

  All the pleasure Wyatt had brought me in bed less than an hour earlier was gone. He was a master at working my body, quickly learning and availing himself of every secret spot that made me hot for him. Made me scream for him. Made me come for him.

  Yet that was forgotten as I stood in his kitchen staring at a behemoth oven and not knowing how to even bank the fire to heat it. Fortunately, Wyatt had stoked it, fed it fresh wood, so that it was hot and ready to use. I'd watched the brothel's cook tend to the mysterious giant and marveled at how she could produce such delicious fare, however I'd never once been taught how to use one. If Aunt Trina had truly groomed me to be a bride, she'd certainly forgotten an important feature of a wife of the West.

  I didn't know how to cook.

  Fresh eggs sat in a small wooden basket on the table, and I'd searched the larder and found flour that somehow turned into biscuits. It couldn't be hard to do. Just eggs and flour with some lard, if my memory served. Donning an apron I found on a peg by the door, I set to work, messily pulling together ingredients and forming them into shapeless clumps of dough on a tray, then sliding it into the oven.

  Wiping my hands on a clean cloth, I eyed the coffee pot. I knew it was only grounds and water and heated, so I found the beans and the grinder, cranked the handle and poured the grounds into the pot, adding water, then setting it to boil. I smiled to myself. That wasn't too difficult! Knowing I had time for the biscuits to cook, I removed the apron and went upstairs to tend to my hair. I hadn't had an opportunity to brush it out nor pin it up in my haste to have a meal for Wyatt.

  As I was putting the pins in, I heard Wyatt's shouts from downstairs, his steps and heavy and harried. "Emily!"

  Quickly shoving the last pin into place, I dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to be greeted with a black cloud of smoke and a fuming husband. The back door stood open, letting the fresh air in. The sounds of bubbling and hissing had Wyatt striding to the stove to grab a cloth and pull the coffee pot off the heat.

  Wyatt turned to me when I coughed in the thick smoke. He grabbed my arm and pulled me outside onto the porch. A pan lay a few feet from the porch on the ground, little black shapes that should have been fluffy biscuits burnt on, as if Wyatt had thrown the whole thing out.

  "What the hell is going on? I come out of the barn and see black smoke pouring out the kitchen door." His eyes flared wi
th anger, their usual whiskey brown color almost black. His jaw was clamped tight and a little vein throbbed at his temple. He didn't look like the man who'd fucked me senseless only a short time ago. His virile body was hidden beneath a pair of tan trousers and a blue shirt, yet he was breathing heavily and anger radiated off him like heat from the kitchen stove.

  Oh dear. My honest attempt at cooking had led to disaster. I was in trouble. Wiping my damp palms on my dress, I couldn't meet his eye. Swallowing down tears that were lodged in my throat, I replied, "I...I can't cook."

  He sighed. "That is more than obvious. You could have told me that before practically burning the house down."

  "Wyatt, I...I have not deceived you. Truly I haven't. I...I did not know cooking would be expected of me. I didn't even know I was to be a bride until a few days before the journey. It's not as if I could learn the skill on the way."

  "True. You could have just told me you lacked the skill. You lied by omission. Besides, putting yourself in danger is not allowed. I ran to the house thinking you had been hurt and the place burning down around you. I think you will come to find I am most protective of what is mine."

  A tear slipped down my cheek and I wiped at it furiously. "I'm sorry, Wyatt," I murmured.

  "Yes, I'm sure you are. This isn't a small infraction. This is life or death. You need to learn your lesson."

  "I've learned my lesson. I promise you, I will not touch that stove again."

  He gave a small nod, and made a small sound in his throat in reply.

  "I'm sure you won't, but you must be punished."

  I knew what was to come and I bit my lip. I turned to head inside.

  "Emily, what are you doing?"

  I glanced over my shoulder at him, his body in shadow from the strong morning sun behind him. "You're going to spank me, aren't you?"

  One dark brow went up. "Yes. You'll get your spanking here on the porch though."

  "Outside? People may see!"

  "It's possible." He shrugged. "It is dependent on how much noise you make. Over to the railing."

  I couldn't move, worried that someone on the ranch might witness my punishment. A public humiliation was clearly Wyatt's punishment for such a dangerous act.

  "Now, Emily," his voice boomed.

  I jumped, then quickly walked the few steps to the rail.

  "Bend over, lift up your dress so it rests on your back, then grab hold of the bar."

  Doing as he bid, I fumbled with my long dress, shimmying and shifting to get it right, and then gripped the white wood. The morning air on my exposed skin raised goose flesh. I looked down upon the tray of burnt biscuits, a vivid reminder of my mistake.

  "You are to get into this position when you are being punished like a bad girl, but also to present yourself to be fucked like a good girl. You haven't forgotten how I took you earlier, have you?"

  Blood thickened in my veins at the memory of him taking me from behind. "No, Wyatt."

  "Good, then I was doing it right." I felt the fabric of his pants against the back of my legs as his hand reached around and undid the ties on my drawers. I looked off to the stable and barn in the distance, hoping no one was about.

  "No drawers, Emily. Your pussy – my pussy - needs to be ready and accessible at all times."

  The soft fabric slipped down my legs to catch at my ankles.

  "All the time?" I asked.

  "All the time," he repeated. "I have a wife who can't cook but fucks like a whore." His hands caressed over the globes of my bottom as he spoke. "This hair," he dipped his fingers in between. "This hair must go. I will shave you when your punishment is complete."

  "Why?" Shave me? Why on earth would he want that?

  "You question me now?" he asked. "The fact that I want your pussy bare is reason enough."

  "I know I'm not what you expected," I replied dejectedly, another tear sliding down my cheek to drip onto the porch. I couldn't do anything to his satisfaction. Except perhaps fuck. Even then, I seemed to question his every action.

  Spank. One strike of Wyatt's palm had me jolting in surprise.

  "No, you're not what I expected, but exactly what I wanted."

  When I started to rise up and face him, he placed a palm on my lower back, pinning me to the rail. "Wyatt - "

  "I don't care if you can't cook. I'll hire a cook if I have to. I do care if you do something dangerous. I do care if you threaten your own life by almost burning the house down. I do care that you didn't tell me." With each sentence he spanked my bottom, a different place each time. I knew the skin there was turning red, as it stung and made me bite my lip from crying out. I remembered his words; no one was watching my punishment now, but it would be my doing if they heard my cries and came to investigate.

  "I like how you respond to my fucking. It's as if you were made just for me." His fingers slipped down and through over my folds.

  "Wyatt!" I cried out, half in surprise of his actions and half in fear of it being witnessed.

  "I love the feel of my seed in you. I can see it thick and white coating you. Like that, do you? You like it when I fill you with my fingers?"

  "Yes!" I couldn't help my exclamation. The transition from punishment to pleasure was overwhelming. He ruled my body and I could do nothing but obey. I even wiggled my hips, pushing back so he went deeper.

  Spank. He struck my bottom several times in rapid succession all the while his fingers plunged in again and again.

  "So greedy. Your pussy's gripping me. Maybe you like being spanked. I will have to think on that. In the meantime, do you need my cock again, baby? It's only been an hour but do you need to be fucked?"

  Pushing up on my palms, I looked at Wyatt over my shoulder. I could see the hard outline of his cock pressing against the placket of his pants. "Please," I begged. It seemed with this man I didn't mind reducing myself to be so desperate.

  "You will take the remainder of your spanking, then I will fuck you."

  I didn't know how long the punishment lasted. His palm came in contact with every part of my bottom, even the tops of my thighs, ensuring that sitting down would be a most painful experience for at least the remainder of the day. My hands gripped the railing so firmly my knuckles were white. I breathed through the spanking, trying my best not to cry out, but a few more forceful strikes had me doing just that. Each time I made sure no one was about.

  Once he stopped, I relaxed my tense muscles as I tried to catch my breath.

  "You're sopping wet, Emily," Wyatt said, his voice rough, his breathing ragged as well. "It's not just from my seed. You do like being spanked."

  "No." I cleared my throat. I had to deny it, even though the stinging pain had morphed into heat. "No, I don't like it."

  "Your body doesn’t lie." The palm he'd spanked me with cupped my pussy. He slid it back and forth and moved it down over my inner thigh. "Feel that? So wet."

  The feel of his warm palm against my aroused flesh had me hissing out my breath, but I couldn't reply. There was no arguing with him, or the evidence my body provided. I started to rise.

  "Don't move, Emily." His palm pressed down on my lower back once again. Tilting my head, I watched as he pulled his cock from his pants and shifted to stand directly behind me. He didn't wait, didn't offer any other kind of foreplay, just slid into me in one long stroke. It was just like before, but this time I couldn't deny my body's need, even though it had been just a brief time since he’d last taken me. I felt the proof of it cooling on my leg. And to imagine, last night I'd questioned fucking in the daytime, and now, here we were, with Wyatt mounting me like a stallion from the stable. Outside.

  Wyatt talked to me as he filled me, his words dark, carnal and illicit.

  "Did you like that dildo, Emily?"

  "Not...not as much as you." My palms pressed into the rail so I could meet his every stroke.

  "I have a whole number of toys to use on you. I had a different hole in mind for that dildo, but it served its purpose last night."
/>   I couldn't think too deeply on what he was saying as his cock was bumping and nudging at the places already so sensitive from when he'd filled me earlier. I was so wet from the combination of my own arousal and his earlier seed, that the sound filled the air. For a different hole?

  "I'm going to come, Emily. You make me come so hard."

  Those words, his sharing how out of control I made him, had me joining him. I felt his cock swell and nudge even deeper as I screamed my release and milked him dry, anyone witnessing our joining suddenly irrelevant.

  ***

  "Anyone can come in, Wyatt," I said, glancing toward the back door. Wyatt had led me to the sturdy kitchen table, and had me lie down upon it as he went to retrieve his shaving supplies.

  When he placed the mug and razor beside me, he answered. "Yes, that's certainly true. Then they'd see how pleased I am with my wife. They will see how attentive a husband I am. They will see the seed dripping from you and know that you have been a good girl and pleased me well."

  His motions were no nonsense as he pushed my knees back so my feet rested on the edge of the table, and worked my dress up once again to my waist before pulled my hips toward the edge.

  Picking up the lathered brush, he coated the hair on my pussy with the cool soap. "Why are you doing this?" I asked.

  His eyes were focused on his task. "I want to be able to taste you without this hair in my way. I want you slick and smooth. I want to be able to see your pretty pussy." He looked at me and grinned, then picked up the straight razor. "Hold still now."

  I barely breathed, afraid he'd nick me. Staring at the ceiling, I felt his hands on me there, the smooth strokes of the razor, his fingers running over my most intimate flesh. As he finished, he wiped the area with a clean cloth.

  "Ah, such a pretty sight. Now I can see your pretty pussy. Are you sore?" he asked. "Your lips here are all red and swollen."

  "That's because you fucked me just a few minutes ago."

  He grinned wickedly in a way only a well satisfied male could. "Yes, I know. My seed is still dripping from you."

  I blushed. I couldn't help it. Now I was modest? Just the mention of him seeing his seed, knowing he'd taken me not once, not twice, but three times had me embarrassed.