The Cowboy (Montana Men Book 2)

by Vanessa Vale

  I'd thought I'd wanted complacency and submissiveness - a wife who would do my bidding, rear our children and tend to my every need. I had no doubt Emily would be a nurturing mother and was certainly tending to my every carnal need. But I hadn't expected a curious woman, eager to ask questions of me and debate my reasoning on everything. And yet she was submissive. Not meek, but still bowing to my control, most especially in the bedroom.

  I playfully tugged at one of the curls that fanned over her pillow, ready to see a bit more of that submissiveness. She stirred and swatted at my hand in her sleep. Pushing on her shoulder, I rolled her onto her back and wedged one of my legs between hers. I felt the wetness at the apex of hers coat my thigh. Lowering my head, I nibbled at her neck, awaking her slowly.

  "You are worried there is not a role for you here," I murmured when she turned her sleepy gaze to me.

  She took a moment to come fully awake as I paid attention to the spot behind her ear. I knew the moment she was fully alert when she felt my thick cock pressing against her hip.

  "I...what?" she said, her voice sleepy.

  "You want a part to play in your life here."

  Her dark eyes met mine."Yes," she replied. "I feel as if I am just your whore."

  I nibbled along her jaw. "I like that you said you're my whore, but I don't think that word is apt. You are my wife who is voracious, sensuous, erotic and most certainly pleasing. You respond to my touch. You respond to my cock." I nudged her as evidence and she sighed. "You are not really my whore, you know. You are my wife."

  I saw her swallow, and look up at the ceiling. "Yes, but I can't cook. I can't do anything a proper wife can. I have something in my bottom."

  I raised an eyebrow.

  "Ass," she replied in correction.

  Taking her chin in hand, I turned her face so she looked at me. I didn't let go, didn't let her look away. "Nothing proper should happen between a man and wife in bed. You please me, Emily. That's what a proper wife does. What that entails is between us, and us alone. I put the dildo in your ass. I'll put plugs in as well as my cock - especially my cock. You do not need to concern yourself as to whether it is appropriate or not. You should only be concerned as to whether it pleases me."

  When she didn't look convinced, I pressed on.

  "There's one job that you can fulfill, and only you. Not Mrs. Perrin, not anyone else."

  "Oh?"

  I nodded, looked down at her lips. I needed to kiss her, but not yet. I nudged her legs apart as I lowered my hand to slip my finger into her pussy, circling it around. "Feel that?"

  Her eyes slipped shut when I filled her and her mouth parted in a breathy exhale.

  "That's my seed filling you. I have little doubt, although time will most assuredly tell, that my seed will take root. By the sheer amount of it that's filling you and the amount of times I take you a day, you've certainly ensured ample opportunity to make a baby."

  At my words, her eyes flew open and she stared at me in surprise. Slipping my hand from between her legs, I slipped my wet finger up her torso to circle around one breast, leaving a slick coating of seed and arousal in its wake.

  "No doubt these delectable breasts will become full and your nipples will enlarge and I'll have to suckle from them along with our child."

  She arched her back into my light touch.

  Shifting so that I rested between her thighs, I adjusted myself so my cock tucked into the cleft of her pussy. As I spoke, I worked my cock in, inch by inch. "So you see, you have the most important job of all. Conceiving my child."

  She smiled shyly now, her cheeks a warm pink. "It does not seem to take much effort on my part to lure you in."

  I grinned as I grabbed a pillow and worked it beneath her hips, lifting her up so that I filled her from a new and very sensitive angle.

  "You are so tight with your ass filled. You're crammed full, aren't you?"

  She cried out her pleasure as I no doubt nudged some new spot deep within. I wasn't going to last long. Just watching her breasts sway as I thrust into her, the way she bit her lip as she moaned her pleasure - the way she let me take her with such abandon - had me close to orgasm.

  "You are not to come, Emily."

  Her eyes met mine in confusion and I didn't stop moving.

  "Remember you are to be punished today? This is it. I am going to fuck you, but you are not to come."

  "But--"

  I was close, my balls tightening, my hips moving of their own accord now. "No, Emily. No coming. You must know how frustrated I was when I couldn't find you, how on edge I was. You. Will. Not. Come."

  I did, however, right then, filling her once again with my copious seed. There was no way I could have held back, tight as she was with her ass full. Once I recovered my breath, I pulled out. With her hips elevated, only a small bit of seed slipped free, the remainder filling her up. Reaching for the bedside table, I grabbed a plug this time, larger than the one filling her, as well as ointment, greased the wooden object thoroughly and lined it up with her back entrance. Elevated as she was, it was easily accessible.

  "This is the next size up, Emily." With my free hand, I pulled the dildo free, and placed it on the quilt beside her.

  "Wyatt, what are you doing?"

  "You need to have your ass trained, Emily. You were a good girl and took the small size all night, but the only way you'll be able to take my cock is if you take gradually larger and larger plugs. As you said, you wanted me to do it for you." As I spoke, I pushed and slowly nudged the bigger object so it began stretching her open. Slowly, I worked it into her. It took minutes of coaxing to get her ring of muscle to give up the fight, even though she'd been filled all night, and I watched the object slip in a fraction of an inch. From there, with it being slick as it was, it only took some working and gentle fucking to get it fully seated. By that time, Emily was panting, her skin damp and flushed.

  I rose from the bed. "Don't move."

  I went to the dresser and pulled out a short length of rope. Returning to the bed, I knelt beside her, my cock near her face. The idea of her sucking me off had me hardening once again. "Put your hands on the headboard, please."

  She looked at the rope, then at me. "Wyatt, what are you going to do?"

  "Tie you up, of course."

  "But why?" I took her proffered wrists and gently, yet securely, tied her to the headboard. Satisfied that the rope was tight enough to prevent escape without chafing her wrists or cutting of circulation, I went to get dressed.. As I did so, I watched as she tested her restraints, and my cock grew even more. I could see the wide handle of the dildo, her red pussy lips, still open from my fucking, glistening with her arousal and my seed. Her nipples were tight buds and her eyes were filled with a mixture of unrequited desire and anger. Standing, I tugged up my pants.

  "You seem to disappear on me, so this will ensure you are where I expect you to be." I put on my shirt, doing up the buttons, then tucking it in. "Besides, I want to ensure that plug stays in place. Curious as you are, I can't wonder whether you will take it out."

  Moving to the side of the bed, I leaned down and gave her a kiss, looked at her dark gaze and smiled. "I want to fuck your ass, Emily and you need to be trained." I repeated this same sentence again so she understood without question.

  "It's so big!" She tried to squirm.

  "Keep it deep within, Emily. If it comes out, you will be spanked, sore ass or not."

  She sputtered. "For how long?"

  "I will be back in one hour."

  "An hour? You can't leave me like this! What if something happens?"

  "Mrs. Perrin is downstairs and will come to your rescue."

  There was no way Emily would call Mrs. Perrin for assistance. She might think herself a whore, but she most assuredly was too modest to have the older woman find her in such a predicament.

  "I can't let her see me like this! She can't know you've left me this way."

  "What? She can’t know that you're my wife and it is my
job to train you to meet my needs? That you're doing your job and making us a baby?"

  "Well, no!" she sputtered.

  "I think the way you screamed last night has her convinced."

  "Oh my God. Wyatt!" She struggled against her restraints, humiliation and embarrassment making her desperate.

  I kissed her again, silencing her panicked chatter, soothing her.

  "One hour, Emily, then I will be back." I put a finger over her lips. "If you are a good girl, then I will make you come."

  Heat flared in her eyes, subduing her anger. I was leaving her on the brink of orgasm and with a plug in her ass. She most assuredly wouldn't be able to touch herself.

  "But Mrs. Perrin," she continued, shifting her hips, then stifled a moan when her body clamped down on the plug.

  I held up a hand to end this conversation. She would argue for hours - or at least until she had her way - unless I cut her off. "We will talk about how you please me again and again until I relieve you of these silly notions. For now, remember this. I want you like this." I glanced down between her open legs. "I want that plug in your ass. I want my seed to fill you up. I want your belly swollen with our child. I want you tied to my bed knowing while I'm doing my chores that you are right here waiting for me. All you have to do is accept it."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EMILY

  He tied me up! I yanked against the rope that held my wrists securely, but there was no give, no way to escape. The binding wasn't tight, but I'd never been tied up before. And I wasn't just tied up. I was naked, with my lower half propped up on a pillow and a dildo filling my ass. Some of Wyatt's seed dripped out of me and I felt the wetness between my thighs and on the pillowcase.

  Inwardly, I seethed. I was his wife and he couldn't treat me this way! I'd argued with him about it, but there was nothing I could do but wait. I couldn't call Mrs. Perrin. The very idea of her discovering me this way had me groaning in mortification. Knowing Wyatt's words had been accurate - that she'd most likely heard me coming the night before - made my eyes burn with unshed tears. What would the woman think? There was no question she'd think me a whore. God, I could never escape it.

  Even now, tied up, I was aroused. Wyatt had wound me up like a top, and then left me. I should have lost all desire for him with this denial type of punishment. I should have lost any last heat of pleasure when he filled my ass with the plug and left it. And when he tied my hands, I should never wanted to see him again.

  My body's reaction was just the opposite. I had been unfulfilled and the lack of orgasm had me hanging from the precipice of need. My climax was just out of reach. With my ass full, the need was even more intense. I clamped down on the wooden object again and again, setting off little flares of pleasure, and it had me panting. Shifting my hips, I hoped I could rub against the pillow, against something – anything - to help the ache, but there was no reprieve. Having my hands trapped as they were kept me from finishing myself. There was nothing I could do.

  There was nothing I could do. With those words, I relaxed, settled in to my situation. I was at Wyatt's whim. I was under his control. My body was under his control. My pleasure was his.

  As I stared at the plaster ceiling, the white walls, felt the summer breeze over my naked body, I let go. I let my arousal simmer, just beneath the surface, waiting, and savored how I felt. Lazy, soft, swollen, sensitive, relaxed, tingly. This delayed gratification was a pleasure in itself and I would never have felt it if Wyatt hadn't forced it upon me.

  I must have dozed, for I stirred when the bed dipped. Looking up at my husband through lowered lashes, I watched him as he looked over my body. He reached up and undid my hands, then rubbed my wrists, my arms, my shoulders, getting the blood flowing again.

  "Wyatt, I--"

  "Shh," he murmured.

  I wanted to tell him I was sorry, to tell him many things, but he wouldn't let me. His hands slipped over me gently, almost reverently. His touch moved over my breasts, my belly, my legs, and finally my pussy, leaving a trail of tingling goose bumps in his wake. Fingers slipped into me, the heat of his touch scorching me. I bit my lip to stifle my cries. I felt his other hand work the plug from my ass, sliding it back and forth before pulling it completely free. With it gone, I felt empty, but the sensitivity in the tissues stretched by the plug only pushed me to the very brink. Wyatt knew that my punishment would bring me pleasure. I just had to trust him with it. Once again, I let go. A sigh escaped, my back arched, my eyes fell shut.

  "Soon, Emily, soon I'll claim you everywhere. You took the dildo so well. You took your punishment so well. It's time for you to come."

  He moved his fingers in magical ways, and since I had been aroused for so long, I came almost immediately, falling off that precipice and flying free. Soaring. I couldn't move my hips upon the pillow, working myself on his fingers, but there was no need. Wyatt took care of me.

  ***

  I couldn't meet Mrs. Perrin's eyes as she set out the noon meal, nor later when she returned to do the dishes. I felt my face flush as I remembered the sounds she must have heard the night before. I hadn't been quiet; in fact, I'd screamed to raise the roof. I'd also called out Wyatt's name a time or two quite loudly, and the bed most certainly had hit the wall toward the end. By looking at Wyatt, all handsome and self-assured, he didn't seem bothered that the housekeeper knew very intimate details about him. It was only me that was embarrassed.

  "When you're ready, we'll head into town, get you anything you might need," Wyatt told me as he grabbed his hat from the hook by the door, running his fingers around the brim. Those same fingers plied their magic on me only a little while ago, I thought. "Clothes or other items you couldn't bring with you."

  I eyed him with surprise. It was the middle of the day and he ran a busy ranch. A cowboy's life was never done. "Don't you have work to do?"

  He shrugged. "Yes, but I think the men can get by without me for a few hours. Mrs. Perrin, make a list of anything you need and I'll get it filled."

  "All right." Mrs. Perrin went into the study and left Wyatt and me alone in the kitchen, the big table between us.

  "You're going to have to look at her sometime," Wyatt murmured, tilting his head toward the hallway, his voice low so it wouldn't carry.

  "Doesn't it bother you that she knows?" I whispered.

  Wyatt shrugged again, so at ease with himself. He was so handsome. It awed me every time I looked at him. His dark hair, tamed early this morning, fell over his forehead. His white shirt stretched taut over his shoulders.

  "I can only imagine what she thinks of me." I ran my hands down the front of my dress.

  "She'll think you are a happy wife who’s pleasing her husband." This time he waggled his eyebrows at me and I flushed for a completely different reason. He came around the table to pull me into his arms. "Does it truly matter what she thinks?"

  He held me at the curve in my lower back and the back of my head, as my cheek pressed against his warm chest. I could hear the steady beat of his heart and smell his distinct scent. I was comforted by his hold, yet unable to release the feelings I kept inside. Feelings of inadequacy. It did matter what Mrs. Perrin thought of me, but it mattered what Wyatt thought more. I worried that he would change his mind about me, that I would do something, act a certain way, say something that would give him pause when considering me a suitable wife. When I didn't answer, he continued. "I can practically hear you thinking." I felt more than heard him chuckle. "I think the only time you give your mind a rest is when I'm deep inside you."

  It amazed me how he knew me after such a short time. Wyatt was able to extinguish every thought from my head when he was taking me vigorously as he liked.

  "I...I'll get my hat," I replied, ducking out of the conversation like a coward. As I pushed against his hold, he released me, letting me escape.

  An hour later, Wyatt pulled the wagon up in front of the Mercantile, and helped me down. He introduced me to Mr. Townsend and handed over Mrs. Perrin's list. The s
torekeeper pointed us in the direction of women's readymade dresses and bolts of fabric for making more. Wyatt had never needed to purchase such items before now, and he was patient, yet looked uncomfortable standing beside me as I perused the selection. He ran his hand over the back of his neck in a gesture I was coming to recognize one he used in times of either anger, frustration or discomfort.

  "Your marriage is the talk of the town," Mr. Townsend mentioned from across the room.

  Wyatt turned in the man's direction, pleased to take up the conversation. "I can imagine," he replied. For someone wanting his attentions redirected, he was being quite obtuse.

  I smiled to myself as I placed a soft yellow dress over my arm. Wyatt had told me to pick out whatever I needed, and a few serviceable dresses appropriate for the ranch were the highest priority. But I could sew, and I wanted to prove to Wyatt that I was good at something. Well, good at something besides pleasing him in bed.

  "I'd have thought you would have met her at the stage directly, being as she travelled so far and all," Mr. Townsend added. He carried a sack of flour from a stack in the corner and placed it on the long counter.

  "Of course I met Emily at the stage." Wyatt sounded offended. He left me to walk over to the counter. "It was the afternoon stage. McCallister almost lost a passenger in his haste to move on."

  Mr. Townsend, older than Wyatt, smiled in understanding. "That man's going to run over someone one of these days." He looked to the list, then turned to get the wooden scoop for the sugar. "Strange, though. Word is that your bride spent the night at Mrs. Atkins' place."