Bite the Bullet

by Desiree Holt

  The lariat was coiled and loose in his hand as he urged the buckskin this way and that with his knees and a light touch of the rein. A straw cowboy hat was pulled low over a face set in concentration. Montana couldn’t stop herself from walking over and leaning on the top rail, watching with fascination.

  She was used to Clint in his well-tailored clothes at Rawhide and the neat jeans and shirts he wore outside the club. She’d never seen him in this environment before. Didn’t even know how comfortable he was with it.

  This was a hot, sweaty cowboy, a side of him she’d never seen. The muscles in his thighs bunched as he communicated signals to the horse, his very fine ass sitting the saddle as if he’d been born in it. It made her cunt pulse with need.

  In only a few moments, Clint and Reece had each roped a calf, leaped from the saddle and wrestled it to the ground.

  One of the hands watching from the other side let out a yell.

  “It’s a tie. Seven seconds.”

  “You guys ought to compete in the rodeo next year,”

  someone else hollered.

  “No,” Reece answered, releasing the rope from his calf.

  “I’m just trying to improve my timing when it comes to cutting the calves out of the herd.” He looked at Clint. “But you could enter, cowboy.”

  Clint swung out of the saddle, released his calf, and recoiled the lariat. “After you, my friend.”

  Reece spotted Montana along with Alex and Liz and waved them over. “Glad you got here in time for the demonstration,”

  he joked.

  “I might have you come over and teach my hands a thing or two,” Alex joked.

  The conversation buzzed around Montana’s head as Clint walked toward her. The breeze swept his scent across her nostrils—leather, horseflesh, sweat. And male. Oh, yeah. All male.

  “Hey.” His voice was low, his eyes hot beneath the brim of his hat.

  “Hey, yourself. You have many hidden talents.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’d better believe it. Listen. I need a quick shower then I’m good to go.” He looked down for a moment, then back up. “I’m…glad you came tonight.”

  “Me, too,” she answered in a soft tone.

  She could tell he wanted to touch her but waited for a signal from her. Casually she reached out a hand and stroked his tan, sweat-streaked arm.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  They had cocktails and dinner on the huge patio at the back of the Halliday ranch house, a peaceful setting with the sun hanging in the sky for a long time, a soft breeze blowing, and cattle grazing in the pastures. Montana actually found herself relaxing and having fun in the easy give and take of conversation.

  If not for the intense looks Clint Chavez tossed her way every now and then, the evening would have been perfect.

  She wondered if anyone else caught the tendrils of heat simmering between them or the invisible lightning snapping in the air. She made sure to sit as far from him as possible when they were having drinks and on the opposite side of the table when they ate.

  But the sexual awareness was still there. Oh, yeah. It was very hard to miss it. At least for her.

  They sat outside with ice cold beer after dinner, watching the last of the sunset. But when the sky darkened and the first stars began to shine like tiny crystals, she pushed herself out of her chair.

  “I hate to be the party pooper,” she said, “but tomorrow will come very early for me. I’ve got as cow ready to calve and two young bulls to cut from the herd to begin training.”

  She looked at the Wrights. “I feel terrible dragging you away so early. I really should have driven myself.”

  “I’ll drive you.” Clint’s gaze was so intense it practically burned a hole through her. The invisible danger sign on his forehead was flashing bright red.

  “I…oh…that is, maybe I could just borrow one of the ranch trucks here?” She glanced at Reece.

  Before Reece could answer, Clint was already on his feet.

  “I need to get going anyway. No reason to borrow a truck.”

  He was beside her in a moment, his fingers gentle but firm on her arm. “I’m happy to drive you. No problem.”

  Flustered, she looked at the four people still seated. She could have sworn each of them was having trouble concealing a grin, but maybe it was just her imagination. Self-consciously, she smiled. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

  She looked at Reece and Katie. “Everything was delicious, and I really enjoyed myself.”

  “We’ll do it again,” Katie assured her.

  Then she turned to the Wrights. “And thanks to you for picking me up. That was kind of you.”

  “A pleasure,” Alex assured her.

  “I’ll call you during the week,” Liz said. “I’d love to come by and take a look at what you’re doing. And maybe you could spend a day at the Lucky L.”

  “That would be great.”

  And it really would. Friends. She hadn’t had any real female friends for longer than she could remember. On the rodeo circuit, there was usually either the buckle bunnies or the competitors. Not too many of the wives traveled, and the ones who did were a tight knit circle she hadn’t quite been able to break into.

  “Thanks,” Clint said, nodding at everyone. Then he gently tugged her in the direction of the parking area.

  The SUV he drove was a big one, but when they were both buckled into the front seat, Montana suddenly felt as if there wasn’t enough space. As if all the air had been sucked out and replaced with such intense sexual heat she was afraid she’d burn alive. She gave him the simple directions to find the MS Ranch, but then her brain seemed to blank.

  Desperately she scrabbled in for something to say. Anything.

  But it was Clint who broke the conversational impasse.

  “How are you settling in at the ranch? Reece tells me you’re really busy there.”

  Ah. Good. Safe territory.

  “Yes. It’s breeding time so were busy drawing semen straws and implanting the cows.” A flush crept up her cheeks.

  Should she be talking about breeding and semen with this man? “Um…and we’re just beginning the training program for the young bulls.” There. That was a safe topic.

  “Sounds interesting. I’ve read about it, the mechanical riders and all.” He glanced sideways at her. “I’d like to come and visit sometime. That is, if you let strangers take the tour.”

  “All the time. That’s one of the ways we get new clients.”

  Silence again.

  Talk, Montana. Think of something.

  Again it was Clint who broke the silence. “I hope you’ve been satisfied with the facilities at Rawhide.”

  “Yes. Thank you. It’s a top notch club.”

  Rawhide. Not a safe topic there.

  But then they were turning into the driveway to the MS

  and pulling up in front of the house.

  Thank him and get out of the truck.

  And then she heard herself say, as if someone else was forming the words, “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee or a drink?”

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. Despite all those smoldering glances, there’s some reason this man hasn’t made a move. Don’t embarrass yourself.

  “Yes. Thanks.” He sounded as surprised at accepting as she had at inviting.

  Montana unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door, and slid out. “Well, then. Come on.”

  He was right behind her when she unlocked the door and followed her through the large great room into the kitchen.

  “Pretty plain.” She waved her hand at the surroundings. “I haven’t really done much to it since I moved in.”

  “Actually, it looks very comfortable.”

  She tried to see it through his eyes. The polished but scarred wood floors. The comfortable leather and oak furniture, now sporting the silly scatter pillows she’d picked up to add color. The framed rodeo prints she’d hung on the wall. After all, that had been a big
part of her life for so long, the reason she’d bought this ranch, and she couldn’t just wipe it from her existence.

  When she didn’t hear his boot heels behind her she turned, caught him studying one of the prints. This one a bull that’d just bucked off his rider.

  “I remember now,” he said. “Your ex-husband is on the rodeo circuit.”

  “Yes.”

  He raised his eyebrows at the clipped tone of the word, but she could tell he got the message that the subject was off limits.

  She kept walking, heading into the kitchen. Again her eyes swept the room. Everything clean and polished. The only room where she’d spent a lot of money when she moved in.

  But she had a passion for cooking, something she’d rarely been able to do during her marriage. So this room was her first big investment besides the animal stock.

  Granite counter tops with a built-in chopping block. Top of the line brushed stainless appliances. A big wagon wheel fixture that threw light into every corner of the room.

  “You like to cook,” he observed.

  “Mmmhmm. It relaxes me.”

  When she turned around, Clint was only inches from her, heat flashing in his eyes.

  She took a step back. Then two. “Excuse me for just a minute. I’ve got to call the barn. As I said earlier, we’ve got a cow ready to drop a calf any minute.” She picked up the phone that connected directly with the breeding barn and punched in two numbers. Faron, who’d taken the night shift because the cow’s time was close, picked up at once and gave her an update.

  “Everything going okay?” Clint asked when she replaced the received.

  “Yes. Just fine. My foreman’s down there, and he’ll call me if anything happens.” She wiped her palms on her jeans.

  “Coffee? Or would you rather have a drink?”

  Get it together, girl.

  “Actually, I think we should talk about what’s happening between us.” He ran his fingers through his thick hair then shoved his hands in his pockets. Exhaling slowly, he began to pace. “This probably isn’t a very good idea, you know. Us.”

  He pointed at her then at himself. “I mean, I should have my head examined for even being here, but…”

  “But you accepted my invitation to come in here tonight all the same.”

  “I did. Yes.”

  She leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her breasts. “What’s this all about, Clint? You’re right. There’s something going on here, but whenever I’ve been at the club, you’ve made it pretty plain you were keeping your distance.”

  She paused. “I’m just getting back into the scene after a long absence. I dumped a man after ten years who had trouble telling the truth, and I don’t intend to hook up with another one. So why did you behave so charmingly at dinner? Why did you offer to drive me home? Exactly what in the hell is going on?”

  He stopped pacing and looked hard at her. “I’m not doing this well, am I?”

  “Doing what?” When he didn’t answer, she turned to the sink, poured herself a glass of water, and drank it slowly.

  With her back still to him, she said softly, “Trying to find a way to tell me you’re a natural submissive?”

  When she turned back to look at him, he had a look of shock on his face.

  “What? You didn’t think my radar would pick it up? I’ve been a Domme for so long my instincts are practically infallible.” She cocked her head, studying him. “No one at the club knows, do they? It’s the little secret you keep behind that cool facade.”

  “Reece knows. And Katie.” He blew out a breath. “But I never mix my sex life with my business life.”

  “Yet here you are in my house. In my kitchen. And unless I’m really out of tune, you didn’t drive me home for coffee or a drink.”

  “Listen.” He rubbed his face. “Could I have that coffee, after all? I think it might make it easier to talk.”

  She hesitated for a moment then nodded. “Of course.”

  Montana busied herself with the coffee maker, filters, grinding beans. Filling the reservoir. Why was she so nervous? She never let her nerves get the best of her. That’s why she’d done well around rodeos. And why she was settling comfortably in a business that required nerves of steel.

  But Clint Chavez made her edgy in a way no other man ever had.

  The kitchen was filled with silence while the coffee brewed.

  She was hyperaware of the elephant occupying the space with them, the explosive chemistry that went beyond just a physical reaction.

  Finally, she filled two mugs, carried them to the table, and she and Clint sat facing each other. She wished she knew what kind of armor he had himself wrapped up in. It almost seemed as if admitting his nature to her somehow diminished his masculinity, but surely that wasn’t it. Clint Chavez was probably the most masculine man she’d ever met. Including Dusty.

  Run with it, Montana.

  “All right. Tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m all ears.”

  He took a healthy swallow of the coffee.

  “I argued with myself about this all day. I almost called the Hallidays and told them I couldn’t make it. But maybe I wanted to see if all that electricity that keeps passing between us is only in my imagination.”

  Careful, careful. “Electricity?”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “You feel it, too. I know you do. You’re the one who brought up the chemistry. You won’t deny that this is a little more than instant physical attraction because I don’t think you’re a liar, Montana Steele.”

  “No. I’m not. A liar.” The words came out as a whisper.

  What was she getting herself into here?

  Nothing more than you expected when you invited him into your home. You knew where this was heading.

  “I’m probably out of my mind to do this,” he went on, “but here I am. And I’m taking a big step. I really want to make that clear.”

  “Very clear.” Her voice was steady.

  “But sometimes…” His gaze drifted, his eyes focusing on a spot beyond her head “Sometimes you do something you hope doesn’t turn out to be stupid.”

  She studied him for a long moment that stretched out in elastic silence. All right. He was acknowledging in an oblique way his desire for her as a Domme, even though he made it plain he was fighting it. But if that was the situation, then that’s what she’d give him. And he could surrender to it…or walk away. She was tired of this dance they’d been doing.

  There was quicksand beneath her feet, too. However, he was taking a chance. She would, too.

  Immediately, she switched into Domme mode, determined to take charge of this once and for all. Maybe get it out of both of their systems.

  “Take off your shirt, Clint. I want to see your chest.”

  His eyes narrowed. He set down his mug carefully but made no move other than that.

  “Now,” she snapped. Let’s see if you can fight this.

  Montana clenched her thighs, already feeling the flutters in her pussy and the first gush of liquid at the possibilities that stretched out before her.

  His eyes still locked with her, Clint slowly unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the back of the chair.

  Her pulse beat jittered as she took in the broad expanse of tan chest with its thick matte of black hair and the wide nipples peeking out from its covering. He sat perfectly still, waiting for her next command, no visible sign of reaction except the pulse beating rapidly at the hollow of his throat and the tight sweep of his jaw.

  Clint ran his tongue over his lower lip and swallowed hard as if about to push himself over an invisible line.

  “Does my Mistress like what she sees?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

  Montana had to bite her lip to hide a smile. One step forward. He was accepting her role, at least for tonight.

  “Yes. You please me a great deal.” She lifted her mug and sipped from it, watching him carefully.

  She had so many questions she
wanted to ask. When did he first discover he was a sexual submissive? Who had trained him? How many Mistresses had he served? Did he serve one now? What did he do when he wasn’t at Rawhide?

  “You should drink your coffee,” she said. “Before it gets cold. I like to watch the play of muscle in your throat when you swallow.”

  Obediently, he picked up the mug and took another large swallow. He had obviously shaved before coming to dinner tonight. His skin showed no stubble but a darkening that said, without the late shave, a shadow of beard would have formed.

  Unable to help herself, she rose from the table and went to stand beside him.

  “Push your chair back,” she demanded.

  Obediently, he used his booted feet to shove back from the table, giving her free access to him.

  Her hand reached out, almost as if it had a mind of its own, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the column of his neck. Idly, they trailed over his shoulder and down to his chest.

  “Put the mug down and link your fingers behind your head.

  Keep them there.”

  Wordlessly, he did as she said. Interestingly, he kept his eyes on her face, not lowering them as subs usually did unless permitted to do otherwise. So. A little bit of resistance to absolute control. That’s what she kept sensing. Seeing in his distant gaze. Heat sizzled through her veins as she thought about pushing him past that. Getting him to cede ultimate control to her. Breaking whatever it was she could see lurking in his eyes.

  She brushed her fingers through the soft, springy curls on his chest, finding his hard male nipples. Taking one between two fingers, she pinched. Not hard, just enough to elicit a reaction.

  “I have a pair of nipple clamps that would fit these just perfectly.” Her own nipples tingled at the thought of it.

  “Would you like me to do that? You could wear them while we have another cup of coffee.”

  She waited for his answer, knowing what he said would determine just how much he wanted to push through whatever had been holding him back.

  “Well?” she prompted. “Have your other Mistresses clamped them? For their pleasure as well as yours?”

  Again his tongue traveled over his lower lip, leaving just a think sheen of moisture.

  I want to take that lip and suck it into my mouth.