Craving Cowgirl

by Khloe Summers

  Craving Cowgirl

  A Billionaire Bucket List Novel

  Book Two

  Khloe Summers

  Chapter One

  Matteo

  She was gone, taken like the sun on a summer’s day. Ten hours had passed since I last saw her, and despite billions of dollars, there was no progression in knowledge. All we knew was that someone broke in through the upstairs window. I stood pacing in the hallway, mumbling our last conversation to myself.

  “Come lay down,” she’d begged, leaning onto my shoulders from behind. Her long blonde hair tickled my back, her breath like the sweet wine we’d finished off the night with. The day had been busy with reporters and interviews, worthy of alcohol.

  At one point a journalist said, “You don’t seem ashamed of all this. You’ve destroyed your image, ruined your parents’ legacy. Yet you seem pleased with yourself, happy to be so abnormal.” Her tone was condescending, as though two adults enjoying sex with innovation was an insult to her existence.

  Hannah took the reporter’s statements as a challenge against her sensibilities and began spraying fire. “Matteo’s parents would be proud of who he is today. Besides, I’ve tried being normal. It was the worst fourteen years of my life.”

  “You seem upset Hannah, does this have to do with your ex-husband, Daniel?” the reporter continued, pushing as though she were up for an Emmy.

  I looked over at Hannah, her eyes wide with anger. The last few months had been spent avoiding the tv and tabloids at all cost, as Daniel, her ex-husband, had sold every detail of their lives away—including fabrications that made him an easy dollar.

  I spoke up, trying to save Hannah from feeling more pain. “We’re judged either way, aren’t we? We’re judged if we sit and do everything to the mark. And we’re judged if we live wildly and curiously. So, we may as well live what we love.”

  The young reporter shifted in her chair, anxious to twist every word I’d just said, “Yes, but –”

  “No, we’re not explaining our lives to anyone. There’s no shame in what we’re doing.” With that, I reached for Hannah’s hand, and we left the interview. The reporter now forced to deal with our sudden absence.

  “We shouldn’t have left; we look like jerks!” Hannah said, her hand clammy in mine.

  I shook my head, “We did her a favor; her ratings will skyrocket. Plus, now we’ll be the sex-crazed couple that doesn’t take shit.” Hannah smiled, keeping her mouth closed, still thinking through all that was said. “It’s who we are, and I love every moment of it. You do too, right?”

  She looked down at the ground, following our feet as they stepped further and further away from the madness, then up at me. “I do… it’s just this fishbowl thing and the running. It’s growing old. I miss Tahoe.”

  If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have swiped her right up. I’d have found some secret place for us to hide. I’d have given her whatever life she needed. I’d have made sure she was safe. Instead, I made some comments about the list. “Bella, we’re in Paris. Let’s forget about all this nonsense and do what we love.”

  She indulged, turning her worry to excitement. “Oh… what do we love?”

  I bumped into her playfully, eroding the last of her stress. “We love each other.”

  She smiled, finally allowing her face to relax, “Well then, we must do what we love.”

  Chapter Two

  Hannah

  Earlier today, I was at a high-end burlesque bar in Paris. A sex club to be exact, complete with lit windmill circling on top. I’d had my apprehensions — still going on with the bucket list. I’d had them for months now, though I wondered if we’d ever be able to stop. The high had become otherworldly—transporting us to a place of euphoria only garnered by unique acts or the thrill of being caught. It was a craving we could no longer control. A craving that took us away from the world, planting us in a solid-state of bliss.

  Before entering the club, we both slid on black masquerade masks, hoping to go unrecognized in the dim light. Inside, a polished wood bar, and a stage for dancers wearing corsets, fishnet stockings and elaborate feathers in their hair. Along the walls, small tables with black cloths and empty shot glasses. Most of the people now sat at the bar or center stage.

  Matteo gripped my hand tighter. We’d exposed ourselves multiple times, but never so boldly, never in an uncontrolled environment. We followed a red velvet rope towards private rooms in the back. In the first area, a small woman laid elegantly on a long, rectangular table. She was covered in bits of pineapple and berries, each fruit casing a sensitive area of her body as others nibbled it off. We weren’t alone in masquerade, most others had covered their faces as well. I pulled Matteo into the room to get a closer look.

  Six women and four men surrounded the buffet, pecking down at her still body. I narrowed my eyes towards Matteo, inviting him to have a snack.

  “Together,” he said, with a lopsided grin.

  Asserting our way into the small crowd, we found a place at the edge of the table. One small berry still lay halved on her nipple, and I was dying to devour it. As Matteo watched, I leaned down, licking the strawberry up with one swoop—fixating on the jolt against my tongue as I lingered. Leaning up, I nodded towards Matteo, eager for him to try. He was after a swirl of honey haphazardly spilled on her collarbone. I observed as he teased her soft skin, causing her to twist gently. If only she knew who was touching her.

  “Let’s see what else there is,” he whispered, taking me by hand towards the up-lit hallway.

  I loved seeing him like this, so enthralled with sexual energy — a zombie destined to a force he couldn’t control. We continued walking down the hall, noticing many of the doors were closed. Stopping briefly, we listened to the pleasure through the walls, enjoying the sounds of a woman moaning, sighing, screaming out for relief.

  Inside the second to last door, another couple in their late twenties, fully naked. The man, of average fitness, with brown skin and tight black hair. The woman, pale and thin, her red hair pulled away from her freckled face as she licked at her partner’s cock, playfully teasing him into submission.

  Looking towards us, the man kindly offered something in French that only Matteo understood. “He said we should join, but let’s watch for a bit.” We sat on the leather couch at the side of the room, arched in each other’s arms, watching as the couple continued.

  “She’s sucking him hard!” Matteo said, sliding his large hand between my legs. The short black dress I was wearing gave easy access, but it had to go. I stood for a moment and pulled the tight fabric over my body, letting my bare breasts fall loosely one by one. Matteo watched attentively before unclothing himself.

  A bit of cigarette smoke wafted into the room as we watched the couple now piled on top of each other, taking advantage of a wedge that laid on the floor. The woman’s body was now angled up as he drove into her from above. I stood and moved towards Matteo, keeping my face towards the action—then sat on his lap, sliding him in slowly. He groaned a warm sigh of approval in my ear as I continued to grind.

  The woman stopped to watch us in pleasure, then crawled away from her wedge. Without hesitation, she began licking my clit, flicking it wildly with her tongue, sending a tight shiver down my spine. Her partner followed, thrusting her from behind, now controlling the speed of her movements. Matteo’s heat surrounded me, holding me in strength as I bounced, enjoying the combination of sensations. We were in heaven there, doing what we loved, being with each other.

  Yet, less than twenty-four hours later, the scent of fertile soil and mold permeates my skin. I should have fought Matteo to stay away from the computer, begged harder for him to come to bed. But I didn’t, and here I
am, in a wet, damp cellar. Still in Europe, I assume, though I may well have been out longer than I thought. I don’t know how long it will take for Matteo to notice I’m gone. He’s been up all hours of the night lately—consumed with things he swears he isn’t consumed with. The media and their view of him mostly, but also their view of us. An image he’d created for himself since meeting me. An image, miles from what he’d been programmed to be by his parents. He’d told me a million times he loved our list, that he couldn’t stop, and I knew that was true—we couldn’t stop. We couldn’t stop even if that meant destroying his legacy, because we loved the high too much, because we loved the freedom.

  “Are you awake?” a voice called. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman amidst the echo. Sitting silent, I wondered if I should respond to the phantom voice calling from the top of the stairs. A slight Irish accent bit at the dialect of the question, but again… the echo was distorting things.

  “I am,” I cracked, sitting against the wall with my legs tucked to my chest. I watched the stairs as only shadows revealed themselves, the echo becoming more apparent with each step-down.

  “Good, you have another video to make.”

  Chapter Three

  Matteo

  I called every expert I knew and those I didn’t—offering them whatever it took to find answers. I even called Erik. In the last month, we’d had one short phone call. A call that I’d deemed ludacris. I couldn’t put Hannah in more danger. I couldn’t mix myself in with whatever shit Erik had been mixed with. I couldn’t trust him. Though now, his information seemed pertinent. He’d been taken by these people, he said he’d escaped, he would know something. And if it was a trap, well, that only brought me closer.

  Erik had agreed to show up at 8 AM to answer questions, though he looked meek and tired like the stress had taken its toll. This was not my concern. “Where did they take her?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes with fury.

  “Sir, you have to listen, Hannah’s in serious trouble!”

  “No shit! Where’d they take her?”

  “Sir, I’m on your side. The blackmailers brought a photo of my brother and his daughter. One they had taken. They told me to do what they ask, or they would hurt them. At first, I refused, but the pictures got more and more personal, my brother on his way to work, my niece at daycare. It was sick. I didn’t know what else to do.” He paused, pushing his face into his hands. “It’s all for Pegasus’ line. They want the horses.” Erik stayed still with his head in his hands, letting out a sigh, “They will stop at nothing. They will ruin you, and all your family has built if we don’t figure out a way to stop them. They will kill Hannah.” I wanted to believe help was in his heart. Prior to the blackmails, he’d been my most trusted advisor, my friend. Though now, I questioned his motives.

  “If that’s true, then how did you escape?”

  Erik lifted his head in obvious distress. His mouth a straight line beneath his beaked nose. “They were moving me, taking me to another holding place. I’d been so calm they figured only one man needed to go. While he was driving, I swiped his gun. I shot him… I shot him, and I ran. That’s when I first started calling you. I’ve been staying at the apartment in Rome with my family ever since. I’ve had to hire personal security. I don’t know when life goes back to normal… or if it does.” Erik’s eyes were swelling, his voice shaking. He was telling the truth. I’d known him well over twenty years. There was no way he could fake this sincerity. He was as lost as I was a few short months ago, tangled in the thorns of deceit like a rabbit in a garden.

  “Where are they? Who are they?” I asked, twisting my mouth.

  “You know them, sir, they are part of Kings Ranch.”

  “Kings Ranch… they’re out of Ireland. They have the worst horses in all of racing, of course they want Pegasus’ line, but how do they think they’ll get that without calling all kinds of attention to themselves? Everyone will know they took the horses from me. My line is the fastest in the world.”

  “They’ll plan to make it look like you sold them Pegasus’ line because you want out of racing.” Erik leaned in desperate for me to hear his words. “They will kill Hannah if you don’t give them the horses. Or, they’ll make you disappear, and take them.”

  “Were they keeping you at the ranch?” I asked, pulling up the address on my phone.

  “Yes sir. They held me in the basement for a while. I believe it was the main house, or maybe beneath the stables.” I heard his words, though an email caught my attention: an unknown sender, a video clip. My stomach lurched, assuming the worst. I clicked play as I sat flatly on the couch, studying each word and movement.

  “What is it sir?” Erik asked, moving his thin frame towards me. Without answering, I watched as Hannah laid bound and tied, writhing about on cold cement. She was still wearing her short silk nightgown. Her long blonde hair loosely tied into a knot on top of her head. Her face was sullen and pale. Then, a voice, distorted by some phone app. “Watch dear Matteo, just watch.” I didn’t want to, but I feared what was coming next. Moments later, two large men entered the room. The first lifted Hannah and positioned her against the rail of the stairs, as the second began thrusting. They were mocking the movements and laughing, pulling her hair back roughly with each jolt. She screamed, her nightgown now torn in their haste. “Deliver the horses to Kings Ranch, and she’s yours. Or, we send you videos… and they only get worse from here.”

  I knew it was fake, but the terror in her eyes sent a shiver through my bones.

  “Does this look familiar?” I asked Erik as we both paced the room.

  “Yes, sir, it does. That’s the first place they had me.”

  “I’ll call to have the jet readied. We’re going to Kings Ranch.”

  Chapter Four

  Hannah

  It’s funny how your brain works, how easily you can compartmentalize when you’re in a stressful situation. How, despite having been forced to rub against some strange guy’s hard cock while he pulls your hair, I was still thinking of my bucket list. I suppose that’s insane, though that’s what happened. I thought back on all the government officials I’d judged for continuing their strange sex acts despite public backlash. Suddenly, I understood. It was all escapism.

  Closing my eyes, I begged myself to sleep. Matteo would see the video and find me. There was no doubt in my mind he would try, but I had no idea what these people were capable of. And there was no way I was letting him give up his line. The horses were more than his fortune. They were all he had left of his parents, and he’d given up so much of their vision for him already, because of me.

  My eyes became heavier and heavier with each thought until I was far away, thinking of our previous exploits. Exploits that I so desperately required. I wore a leather corset that tied in the front with thigh-high boots. There was no distinct eroticism in domination for Matteo, but he got off on the live stream and my dedication to the role. We wore black masquerade masks to hide our faces and kept our distance from the screen.

  “Call me mistress,” I stated, slapping the whip against the floor. My long blonde hair, a wild mess as static manipulated each strand.

  “Yes mistress,” Matteo answered, nude and kneeling at my side. His dick had grown hard against my ankle as I stood over him in a crotchless corset.

  “Lean up and eat my pussy,” I demanded. Keeping with the role, he leaned into me from beneath, burying his face in my swollen lips, flicking my clit with his tongue. Comments from the live stream screamed out as Matteo devoured my salty juice. I pulled back on his thick locks as he pawed at my ass, looking down at him with playful displeasure. “Stop that slave, get on the bed.”

  He retreated to the bed, suddenly acting caged by my demands, ready to break free from his submissive role, take me right then, but he stopped himself.

  “In the cuffs,” I demanded, trying not to smile. He pushed back towards the headboard and let me restrict his arms onto the edges of the bed lik
e a puppet awaiting a master. Moving between his legs, I slid my mouth onto his aching cock, then back up again, pulling back with a suction that drove him wild.

  “Please, sit on my dick sweet mistress. Please,” he begged, eager to explode. It wasn’t like him to beg for anything. Again, alerts rang out on the computer. Knowing we had a captive audience drove him wild with excitement. I looked up at him, a slight willingness in my eyes.

  “I will slave, but first you must tell me you love me,” I smiled, hiding my sweetness from the viewers.

  “I love you. You have no idea how much I love you,” he groaned, severely unhappy with the restraints. Within moments, I’d moved my curves onto his cock, though the torture ensued as he struggled against the cuffs to grip my hips and touch my skin. I had tortured him long enough. Turning towards the computer, I continued to ride, letting my long blonde hair brush his core as I moved—bouncing with a rhythm that put on a show for viewers. Matteo pulled at the cuffs as his legs tightening beneath me. Then, as though the earth had stopped spinning—I released, dizzy with euphoria as he thrust to tease my exhaustion.

  “Should I unlock you? Or leave you there for good?” I asked, sliding off his sweating body towards the computer.

  “If you leave me here much longer, I’ll have to start breaking things.”

  After logging off the livestream, I turned back and smiled, moving towards him with the key, “I think I’ll make you beg me…” Leaning down, I pushed my mouth against his lips for a long peck.

  “I’m done begging. Let me out.” He was serious now… playtime was over. Climbing on top of him, I unlocked each hand, then doubled back for a soft kiss. When I was lost like this, I could almost feel his body against me—a feeling I longed for as the reality of damp earth and cold hands startled me from my memories. One of the men from earlier was now staring down at me.

  “Suck my dick!” he demanded, unzipping his jeans. He smelled of the motor oil he wore on his hands, the black, thickly defining each hard wrinkle. “Do it! Suck my fucking dick. We both know you’re a whore!” I jumped at his booming voice, backing towards the wall.