Bridled: Bitter Creek Doms #1 (2 page)

Quinn folds his arms across that
insanely firm chest—I can see the deep definition between his
pectorals where the top couple of shirt buttons are open, and it’s
making me want to lick and run my cheek against his sun-browned
skin. He focuses thoughtfully on my face. “Can you prove he’s
vandalizing your property? Are there witnesses? He’s actually
trespassing?”

Without a conscious thought on my
part, the hand on my hip flies up so I’m waving my finger in
Quinn’s face. “Just me and my mother, but we don’t count. And don’t
tell me to sue him. I’ve already done that. He’s had to pay for his
lawyer and my lawyer and fixing the broken irrigation line twice
already, and he probably took it out of the leftover change in his
pocket.”

Blakely doesn’t shy away from me as I
raise my voice or poke at him. In a voice obviously intended to
calm me, he insists, “Mel, you can’t just go on the man’s land
and—”

“
He can do whatever he
wants, but I can’t go on his land? Fine, I’ll shoot him from a
distance the next time I see him or his thugs within twenty feet of
this ranch!”

This declaration finally gets Zach to
stiffen up and pay attention. Holding up one hand to caution me, he
warns, “Don’t even joke about that. We have to take death threats
seriously.”

My anger has so thoroughly infused my
system, narrowing my vision, that I pay no attention as Quinn
snatches the shovel out of my hand and throws it to one side. “I’m
not joking, and I’m not threatening,” I rail at the blond deputy.
“I’m making you a promise.”

“
Christ, Mel. You’re even
more of a spitfire than I remember,” I hear Quinn say. “Too much
for your own good.”

I have only a second for this to begin
to register, to realize he might remember more about me than I
thought, before I see Zach’s hand reaching behind him. Garwood
produces a pair of handcuffs and starts toward me.

“
Oh, hell, no.” Without
thinking, I slap his hand away.

He obviously wasn’t expecting this, as
he only had the cuffs looped over his fingers. When I hit his hand,
the cuffs sail over a low pen fence about four feet away and land
in the mud. For a second, all three of us stand there in silence,
watching the shiny metal rings sinking into the soupy muck. Zach
looks utterly stunned and maybe a little chagrinned.

My mouth is open as I search for
something to say, some kind of half-ass apology that will keep me
from getting arrested without making me swallow every ounce of
pride. My stomach is fluttering like crazy, and all that anger has
turned to fear, pushing bile up the back of my throat.

“
Now, come on, wait,” I
plead as Quinn reaches toward the small of his back for his cuffs.
At least, I hope he’s going for his handcuffs and not his
gun.

The sound of tires on
gravel interrupts my immanent arrest.
Now
Peterson shows up.

“
Goddammit,” Zach mutters
under his breath and nods toward the shiny black truck rolling to a
stop a few feet behind the four-by-four. “Head that idiot off,” he
tells Quinn before turning back to me. “I’ll keep the firebrand
here from killing him.”

“
You want my cuffs?” Quinn
offers.

“
Nah, I’ll improvise,” Zach
says, before he grips me hard by the elbow and drags me into the
barn.

I blurt half-curses and try to explain
how all this started, how I just wanted to fix the irrigation pipe
again where Peterson keeps cracking it a few feet beyond my fence
into his property, how it’s all about the fact that my mother won’t
sell the ranch to him even though she and I both have to work
overtime at our jobs to keep up with the expenses. This place was
my dad’s dream, though, and where I grew up.

“
We shouldn’t have to give
in to Peterson,” I insist as Zach takes me by both arms and spins
me around to face him. “I have to protect this place.” Accusingly,
I add, “No one else will.”

I gasp as Zach shoves me back against
one of the empty stalls and leans in close. His 6’2” puts him about
a foot taller than I am, but the difference seems greater up close.
Whatever soap or deodorant he uses smells of woods and earthy
spices and a hint of citrus, catching me off guard and making me
salivate.

His face is only a couple of inches
from mine as he scolds me, “You know, it feels like crap having to
arrest the victim of a crime. Don’t make us do that. Hold that
tongue before I suggest something else for you to do with
it.”

The commanding tone and blatant
flirtation leave me literally gaping, my cunt abruptly aching and
throbbing.

A trace of a smile softens his face
and eyes again. “That’s better, isn’t—?” Before Zach can finish his
sentence, loud voices rise to vie with one another in the driveway.
Frowning, Garwood snatches up a length of thin rope from a hook on
a post between stalls.

“
Hey, what are you…?” I
mumble as the lust clears from my head and I realize the deputy is
tying my wrists together. The coarse fiber bites into my skin,
itching immediately. I want to jerk away, struggle. For the life of
me, I don’t understand why my nipples harden to sharp, tingling
points and my knees weaken. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll stay
here if you tell me to.”

“
Oh, no,” Zach says with a
chuckle. “I wasn’t born yesterday, little girl. I know trouble when
I see her.” He tosses one end of the rope over a vertical beam
along the front of the horse stalls and hoists my arms over my
head, high enough that my heels just barely come up off the ground.
The forced stretch feels good on my tensed back, but that’s beside
the point.

“
Normally, I buy a girl
dinner before we get to this stage, but I’ll make an exception for
you,” he mutters low against my ear as he secures the rope beyond
my reach. Then, before I can react, before I can call him half the
names I want to or tell him how incredibly inappropriate it is to
flirt in this situation or wrap my legs around his hips and
embarrass myself begging him to stay, he strides out to backup
Quinn.

And there I wait, not quite up on
tip-toes. If I relax into the restraint instead of stiffening my
shoulders, I can just barely get my heels flat on the hay-strewn
ground. I lean my head back and study the intricate knots Zach made
around both my wrists, like nothing I’ve ever seen. There’s a
delicate pattern to the knots that surprises me, considering how
quickly he secured me. It makes me think of the dirty Japanese
bondage photos I once found in a boyfriend’s apartment. Jerking
against the intricate loops makes them tighten, which makes me want
to struggle more, until I’m panting from effort and tiny beads of
sweat are tickling their way down the side of my face.

It’s only now I feel how wet my inner
thighs are, and it’s not sweat. Recalling the sigh of Zach’s breath
on my neck and the sound of his low voice—like whiskey, stinging at
first and then warm going down—has me pressing my knees tight
together. My struggling has made my shorts ride up, cutting into
the crevice of my curvy ass and up between the lips of my sex,
rubbing against me in all the right places. I can’t help shifting
my hips and crossing one thigh in front of the other, squeezing and
squirming, trying to put just a little more pressure on my hungry
little clit. The naughty thought of making myself come before Zach
gets back to let me loose blossoms in the back of my mind with
pronounced shame…but also with a perverse thrill wriggling around
in the pit of my stomach, in the depths of my pussy.

Outside the barn, a flurry
of irritated male voices rise. I stop fussing to hold my breath and
listen, and I can’t help smiling. Quinn and Zach are both giving
Peterson what-for over trying to skirt the edges of the law to
intimidate two women out of their land. Only then does Peterson’s
booming voice crack and settle down to a more reasonable,
accommodating volume and tone. I find myself warming toward Zach
and Quinn, just like my school days. Just once, it’s nice not to
feel like I’m fighting all alone, or like I have to do everything
myself, without anyone else to rely on. Maybe Peterson doesn’t
own
all
the
deputies around here.

I’m still smiling to myself when Zach
saunters back into the barn, his movements bristling with strength
softened by casual self-possession. Part of me can’t help wondering
what he’s like when he’s pushed, when he’s angry or driven to the
extremes of passion. How much of that strength in reserve comes
out, and what does he do with it?

Swallowing hard, I glance away as he
approaches, like the look in my eyes might give away my thoughts.
But I can’t help gazing up into his face as he presses near and
reaches around for the end of the rope holding me
captive.

“
Not going to swing any
shovels at me if I untie you, are you, trouble?” he asks just as
his eyes meet mine. Whatever he sees in my face makes him pause,
tilt his head just so, study me hard. When I turn my face to avoid
his scrutiny, Zach hooks his fingers under my chin and makes me
look at him. Immediately, instinctively, my lips part to release a
brief, shuddering sigh.

That smirk Zach wears actually fades
for a few moments, flooding me with panic and embarrassment I can
feel glowing just under the surface of my skin from my cheeks all
the way down my throat and chest. The long, slightly rough fingers
of his free hand graze the strange knots at my wrists. Zach brings
his face to mine, so near that I’m sure he’s about to kiss me. The
possibility leaves me breathless.

“
My but what big eyes you
have,” he mutters, his lips almost brushing the corner of my
upturned, trembling mouth. “Pupils dilated. It is the lighting in
here, or does someone actually
like
being tied up?”

I should pull my face away. I should
deny Zach’s suggestion vehemently. When I do neither, his hand
leaves my chin and grazes my cleavage and the tensed plane of my
flat stomach before blatantly, possessively cupping my mound
through my shorts. Without thinking, I raise up on tip-toes to part
my thighs.

“
That’s a good girl,” he
purrs before his warm tongue delves into my mouth in the same
instant two of his fingers tug aside the crotch of my shorts and
panties and push up deep into my wet cunt. Feeling how slick I am,
Zach pulls his lips from mine too quickly. “Fuck, little girl,
you’re ready for it, aren’t you?”

My eyes roll back in my head. “Oh my
god. What are you doing?” My head lolls to one side, my feverish
cheek resting against one arm, as I add, “What am I
doing?”

Nipping at my jaw, Zach pauses every
few bites, every few penetrating strokes of his fingers, to growl,
“Looks like I’m doing whatever I want to you, trouble. And you’re
going to be doing all the things you want me to make you do. Look
at me.”

I do, from under heavy eyelids and
veiling eyelashes, through the glamour of lust and need.

“
Spread your legs more and
say “please, sir” and I’ll rub that sweet little clit for
you.”

Again he leaves me stunned and gaping,
but no more so than my own reaction. I bend one knee, balancing on
the ball of one foot, opening myself wide for Zach. “Please,
sir.”

The deputy works the slightly
calloused pad of one thumb back and forth over my aching nub, two
fingers still pumping my tight hole, as his lips open mine again. I
take his tongue eagerly, sucking it deep into my mouth and drawing
a groan from Zach. He bites and tugs gently on my lips with his
teeth, swirls his tongue along mine and tickles the inside of my
cheeks—generally owns, fucks, possesses my mouth. My hips can’t
stay still, squirming and humping urgently against his
hand.

Distant footsteps just don’t penetrate
my foggy thoughts enough for me to worry about them, until Quinn’s
voice cuts through the low din of all the moaning and panting Zach
and I are doing.

“
Zach?” There’s a heartbeat
of hesitation before the scuff of boot heels on dirt comes up on us
hard and fast. “Zach, what the hell are you doing?”

Only now does the blond deputy draw
his mouth from mine, to gaze down at me for a few seconds more
before finally looking over his broad shoulder toward his partner.
“What she wants,” he assures Quinn, who is staring at us
wide-eyed.

With Zach’s thumb mercilessly
strumming my clit, it takes all my concentration to focus on Quinn.
Sensations from that night with my high school crush rush back on
me, the warmth of his breath against my temple and cheek, his hard
abs pressed to my bare stomach, his fingers buried deep inside me
where Zach’s are now.

I don’t know if I want to cry over how
much I’ve missed Quinn, over how mortified I am to have him find me
acting so wantonly with his partner, or if I want to beg him to
touch me again the way he did that night. But I definitely don’t
what Zach to stop rubbing my clit, unless it’s to suck it or fuck
me raw. Almost a year without a boyfriend has apparently taken its
toll on my self-control.

“
Quinn,” Zach says
pointedly, though I’m uncertain what exactly he’s trying to urge
the younger man to do. “Like those nights off base in Japan. You
know you want to.” Garwood turns back to pin me with his stare
again as he adds, “How many times have we talked about how much
we’ve wanted her since she got back in town?”