Big Sky (14 page)

Veronica’s attention snapped back to the naked, erect man in front of her, so strong and muscled and tan, with sun-bleached streaks of blond in his longish hair. Then she remembered he was waiting for some sign of consent.

“Really? Y-you wouldn’t just t-take me?” She wasn’t sure she believed the nice-guy act. Maybe he was setting her up for punishment.

Would Luke be angry if she refused his friend?

Robert shrugged. “Luke just pays me, and we’re friends, but he doesn’t own me. I want you though. I
really
want you.” He stroked her side, then his fingers drifted down her hip and between her legs.

Neither her mouth nor her body protested when he slid one finger—and then two—inside her, pumping in a slow, easy rhythm. His mouth found the side of her throat and he kissed her softly there.

He whispered in her ear. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going for it.”

She didn’t stop him. But she didn’t come, either. Nor had she been as wet as she’d been with Luke.

When Will’s turn came, he didn’t ask, he just took like he had the right to her because Luke had granted it. She came bucking uncontrollably against him. The same pattern followed with Jake. Though Jake was gentle, making her come against his fingers before he ever penetrated her with anything else, he hadn’t asked for permission.

Her eyes went to Luke to find a dark, satisfied smile on his face. Did he know Robert was the only one she hadn’t come with? Did Robert know? Was he offended? Was she going to be punished for it?

A look passed between Robert and Luke that she couldn’t decipher and didn’t know if she wanted to. A manipulation had happened, and Luke had proved his point.

The guys ignored her now, drinking and talking amongst themselves as if she were no longer there as the fire died down.

Veronica’s arms and legs were sore from being tied up so long. Luke took a warm, wet wash cloth and washed her, then he untied her. When he was finally finished, her arms went around his neck, too tired and weak to grip very hard, and he helped her back into the house, leaving the others behind.

Neither of them spoke as they went up the stairs. Veronica’s head was too full. Even if Robert and Luke had orchestrated it as some sort of fucked-up object lesson, it still troubled her. The men who had taken without waiting for an invitation had made her come. The one who’d shown consideration and asked permission, hadn’t.

Her lack of protest after the option had been granted with Robert, had been a tacit consent, but it had amounted to pity sex. The kind she’d had with every
is this where you want me to touch you?
man she’d been with in the city. She hadn’t said no to any of the others, including Luke. Perhaps that was a kind of tacit consent as well, but if she’d said no, even if she’d cried and panicked, she couldn’t be sure if any of them would have stopped.

No, that was wrong. When she’d had a breakdown in her bedroom the other night over the forced masturbation, he’d stopped and rocked her and comforted her. He’d thought she was Trish at the time, but still, she could reach him. His love for Trish reigned him in. His former lover was now Veronica’s guardian angel.

When they arrived at the top of the stairs, she turned toward her room, needing to fall back into a blank sleep so her mind wouldn’t be so busy and troubled.

“Veronica.”

Her hand was on the doorknob when he said her name.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Come. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

She shouldn’t have felt a thrill at being invited into his room like it was dinner at the White House, but she couldn’t help it. Her body was eager to please him and didn’t care what her mind thought about any of it. Being invited into his bed to sleep meant he was pleased with her, and as much as part of her cringed and resisted, another part was his.

Chapter Seven

Luke showered while Veronica made breakfast. She was startled when Robert came in the back door. He didn’t appear to have a hangover—a seasoned drinker.

She blushed and turned back to the frying pan. “I didn’t make enough for you. It’s your day off. I t-thought it would only be me and Luke today.”

Luke came downstairs then, wrapped in a towel. He arched a brow.

“I don’t like the plan,” Robert said, aiming his words at the boss. “I don’t want to be the good cop. I want her to come for me.”

Veronica’s breath caught in her throat.

“Let her have breakfast first.”

Her hand shook as she put the food on plates and took them to the table. When she went to get the milk from the refrigerator, Robert eyed the glass jug, and a lascivious smirk lit his face. He hadn’t forgotten the previous night’s conversation. When she glanced over at Luke, his face betrayed nothing. She could still hope he’d forgotten the milking idea and that Robert wouldn’t bring it up. It was too degrading to contemplate. Somehow worse than the branding, even.

“Eat, Ronnie,” Luke said.

It was hard to concentrate on her food with Robert leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to finish so he could have the thing he’d probably lost sleep over, the thing he’d probably jerked off in the shower over. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to be aroused over the idea. There was something so wrong with her. She ate more slowly to prolong her unmolested time.

When her plate was clean, Luke said: “Go to the playroom. Take your clothes off, and be in the position for punishment.”

Her eyes widened. “B-but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Do what I asked. We’ll be up in a minute.”

Veronica bit her tongue to keep from arguing with him and took her dishes to the sink while the men discussed ranch stuff that was far outside her expertise. They were still engrossed in their discussion when she ascended the stairs to the playroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and the men came in. Luke sat on the leather couch, his legs sprawled open in a casual sort of way. Every time he sat like that, she wanted to crawl over to him and perch between his legs, waiting for permission to give him pleasure. She tried to shake that image out of her head and the arousal it brought with it. Robert stood over her, the tension coiled tightly inside him.

“She’s all yours. Do whatever you like with her,” Luke said from across the room.

She tensed when the edge of a riding crop stroked gently across her bare bottom, followed by a sharp snap against her skin that drew a grunt from her.

“I’m not pleased with you,” Robert said.

She wanted to appeal to Luke. Surely he was the only one who had to be pleased with her. After all, it was his initial on her hip. But since he’d given permission, it seemed Robert’s displeasure was his by proxy.

“If you didn’t want to fuck me, you should have said no. Why allow it to happen and not give me your pleasure? You gave it to the others. You withheld with me. Why?”

She remained quiet, unsure if the question was rhetorical and even less sure she could manage a response that wouldn’t just piss him off more.

“Answer him, Ronnie. You need to say it out loud. We both want to hear it.” Luke leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.

“I couldn’t come,” she said, her eyes shut.

Robert circled her, allowing the crop to trail along her exposed flesh as he went. She shuddered each time it moved to a sensitive spot: between her legs, over her ass, across the brand. “At least I got to be there when you were marked.”

Any hesitation the ranch hand might have felt over helping brand her had dissipated completely to leave behind the horny lech who’d go as far as Luke would allow.

“Tell me why you couldn’t come, darlin’.” His voice was low and soothing as if he were trying to calm a spooked mare. But that voice didn’t fool her, she knew the freak that lay behind it.

She was silent for several seconds until the crop came down hard against her ass.

“You better tell him,” Luke said. “He’ll switch to the cane if you don’t. Have you ever been caned, sweetheart?”

She shook her head against the carpet, holding back tears. “No, Sir.”

“I’m told it’s extremely painful. The kind of pain that takes your breath away and makes you want to die until it passes. It would be much easier if you answered the question.”

The crop came down again—harder than the first time—causing her to cry out and grip the edge of the rug. “P-please don’t.”

“Answer! Why couldn’t you come?” Robert asked again. His voice had gone scarier.

“You didn’t make me.”

“Is it the only way you can come? If we make you?”

She cringed at his tone, fearful he’d hit her again. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Roll onto your back.”

Veronica rolled over, her eyes still shut. On her knees with her forehead on the carpet, she’d been able to stay in a space inside herself, in the room but not totally there. On her back, with no way to shield her facial expressions or hide her tears, she felt more exposed before them.

She shivered as the crop gently caressed her face, her neck, down between her breasts, then between her legs.

“Open your eyes, slut.”

When she hesitated, the crop came down over her most private area. She shrieked and her eyes shot open.

“That’s better. Now come for me.”

It was the scene in the bedroom with Luke a few nights ago all over again. Except this time, both of them watched her. She wasn’t sure what it was about this that was harder than anything else she’d endured since she’d come to the ranch.

She turned to Luke, her lower lip trembling. “P-please, Sir...”

“Why are you appealing to me? He’s the one with the crop in his hand.”

“But your brand is on my hip. You’re the one who owns me. You can stop him.”

Luke smirked. “You say it at the most convenient moments.” He stood and crossed to the black toy box then turned the dial on the combination and opened it.

“Stand,” Luke said, as he rummaged through the box.

She struggled to her feet and when he’d found the items he was looking for, he led her to the metal pole that looked like a stripper pole but sturdier and larger. He pressed her back against it and wrapped ropes around her torso, tying them securely around her so she couldn’t get away, but leaving her hands free.

Next he took a long, dark strip of cloth and blindfolded her. “I think you know what’s going to happen, Ronnie. You’re going to masturbate for us, or you’re going to be in a lot of pain. Do you want that?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“The choice between pleasure and pain shouldn’t be such a hard choice, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He pressed a ball gag into her mouth and secured the offending straps around her head. Being blindfolded had been almost a blessing, but being unable to plead with them was a special kind of hell. What if she was really hurt? What if she couldn’t beg for mercy? She believed Luke would come to her aid if things went too far... if she could communicate with him. She heard his footsteps move back across the floor and the sound of leather creaking as he sat, no doubt watching her with smug satisfaction.

“Finger yourself like a good slut,” Robert said, his voice hard and demanding. Gentle Robert was long gone.

Veronica whimpered around the gag, and the crop came down across her thighs causing her to jerk in her bonds. She was surrounded by and immersed in a melting pot of sensations. The soft cloth over her eyes, the wetness of her tears and between her legs, the burning warmth of her skin where the crop had fallen, the scratchy ropes, the cold, hard pole pressed against her back.

“I can switch to the cane if you need more motivation.”

“I think she needs a taste of it before she can know why she wants to avoid it,” Luke said.

Footsteps receded. The toy box opened then shut with an angry snap.

Veronica tensed. She tried to beg, but words wouldn’t form around the small rubber ball in her mouth. There was no way beyond her pathetic, muffled mewls to elicit pity or mercy.

A sharp slice went through the air next to her ear. She would have hit the ground in a panic if not for the ropes holding her in place against the pole. A moment later when the cane sliced the air again, it connected with her upper thigh.

Her breath left her for a minute, taking her ability to scream with it, but the tears came harder, slipping past the barrier of the blindfold. She didn’t have to be asked again. Her hand went between her thighs, rubbing herself as if her life might depend on it—she wasn’t sure with the cane in the mix. She spread her legs and pressed harder against the pole as she worked her clit.

“Use your other hand, too. I want those fingers in your cunt. I want you to feel how wet you are. I want to hear it.”

Robert had moved closer as he spoke. She didn’t hesitate at the new demand. She didn’t care anymore how it looked or that they were watching her. She finger-fucked herself, moaning around the gag while she feverishly rubbed her clit with the fingers of her other hand. Her hips moved, bucking against her own ministrations.

“That’s it,” Robert said. She could practically hear the smirk.