Espino, Stacey - Hogtying the Cowgirl [Ride 'em Hard 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (9 page)

He was waiting for her in the big country kitchen, similar to hers at home, but less lived-in. Her momma had their place all homey with plenty of country charm, and it always smelled like apple pie or beef stew. This place was in a disheveled state, cold and impersonal. There were boxes stacked in the hallway making it difficult to pass by. A box of Raisin Bran on the kitchen counter beside a washed bowl, spoon, and glass were the only evidence someone lived in the house. She even felt a little bit sorry for the cowboy. The home screamed loneliness, something she was accustomed to even when surrounded by family. While everyone saw a veneer and witnessed an act, the real her was locked up alone on the inside. That girl cried out for acceptance, for love, but didn’t dare ask for it. Putting real feelings out there would always lead to something negative, from her experience. The only one who’d seen a piece of her was Landon, and he was MIA.

“This is a big house to be living all alone in,” she said as she strolled around. Angel did a mental tally of the work that needed to be done. The place needed a fresh coat of paint. The baseboards were partially restored, but the project must have been abandoned some time ago, leaving layers of old paint on most sections. When walking up to the house, she noted the stair rail needed securing and the roof tiles would need replacing within the next year or two. The harsh
Alberta
winters did a number on the old ranch houses every season. Angel knew all about working with her hands. As the only girl on a busy cattle ranch, she was put to work alongside the boys.

She knew Landon was hurting for money. If she asked Clay to hire him to do odd jobs around his house, the arrangement could benefit everyone. But she knew Landon’s pride would never allow him to work for the man responsible for driving his parents’ business into the ground.

Where Angel saw Clay as her enemy for outbidding her on the stallion, Landon had tenfold reasons to dislike him.

“It was the only property available when I decided on this town to expand my operation.”

“Is it too late to change your mind and move on out of here?”

He leaned against the counter, a scowl marring his features. “Do you think it’s that easy? You don’t like me so I just uproot everything and move on to the next town?” Clay shook his head as if dealing with a foolish child. He was older than her, but not that much older that he could patronize her. “I’ve invested a small fortune on this project, and it seems just about everyone, including your beloved brothers, are supportive.”

“Well, they don’t know you like I do.” Angel knew she was pushing his buttons, but for some reason it was different with Clay. She enjoyed trying to rile him, test his boundaries. He was too cool and collected for his own good.

“You know I still haven’t discussed your rudeness with my secretary, and now you’re starting with me again.” He pushed away from the counter and sauntered over to her. She backed up against the refrigerator and held her breath. Clay was a big man, and when he lacked a smirk or nonchalant expression, he was intimidating. He’d be an excellent businessman, and apparently was—just a stern look from him was enough to make her lose her bravado. “I don’t know the lay of the land yet or where half my belongings are packed. But I do know where to find a length of pig string.”

What was that supposed to mean? Did he plan to bring her out here, tie her up, and have his way with her body? If so, why didn’t the fact shock or repulse her? Why did her Levi’s begin to chafe around her genitals as if the friction was suddenly obscene?

Chapter Nine

It was time to teach the firecracker a lesson she’d never forget. And high time he had some release. He had to watch her have her cherry popped by the disappearing cowboy, close to joining in himself. Then they were interrupted, leaving him painfully pent up. His hand just didn’t cut it when he had a vision of Angel locked in his head. Just thinking of her luscious curves got him hard within seconds. It certainly didn’t make for an easy day of work.

He stepped out of the room for a minute to retrieve the loop of pig string. As he casually walked back to the kitchen, he untangled the length and tested the strength with sharp tugs. Angel was watching his every move, probably doubting Clay was even capable of going through with his threats. Well, she didn’t know him very well. He’d done things that would shock her to the core, but all his partners had been willing. This cowgirl would fight him every step of the way, even if she wanted more. So he had to decipher her moods, her mannerisms, everything that could help him garner her true emotion, rather than whatever act she chose to use.

When he was right in front of Angel, he reached in his back pocket and slipped out his folding utility knife. It was a family heirloom, the handle made of ivory with his family name carved and burned into the stone. His father had given it to him when he turned eighteen, but he’d never expected to lose his old man only a few short years later, along with his mother. Clay wondered if he’d ever have a son of his own to pass down his legacy and the fine tool he held.

A car accident had left Clay and his one sister alone in the world, their parents snatched away by a teenage driver out street racing the back roads. He’d taken the new responsibility for his younger sister seriously, working like a dog to support his sibling both emotionally and financially. Winning along the rodeo circuit got them on their feet. Then he used some of his wins to start his own small business. It grew significantly over the next decade, until now, when he was opening his largest distribution center yet.

Kayla preferred city life and already felt claustrophobic in the sleepy town. But God knew he’d never allow her to move far away. He wouldn’t feel right if his little sister was beyond arm’s length, too far for him to help her if she needed it in a hurry.

“What do you plan on doing with that? Why am I even here?”

“Give me your hands,” he said, holding out one of his own.

“No.”

He spun her around with ease and brought her arms behind her like a cop to a criminal. “There. Was that so bad, darlin’?” He secured her wrists behind her back with the twine and held her against the refrigerator.

“You must be crazy.”

There was no fear in her voice, only goading. She liked being bossed around, craved it. Angel was the classic submissive who wore her big-girl pants to looked all puffed up. She needed a firm hand to keep her in line, teach her manners and discipline.

“Now we’re going to have a little fun while I teach you how to behave. If you’re a good girl, you’ll be rewarded. If you’re bad, you’ll get spanked just like last time.”

Just recalling her beautiful, rounded ass over his knee was enough to make his dick swell even larger.

“Let me go,” she said with little conviction. “Landon’s my boyfriend now.”

He chuckled. “Is he? Then where is this young lad who’s so devoted to you, Angel. If I remember correctly, he’s avoiding you like the plague.”

“Is not!” She wriggled her arms. He’d hit a soft spot in her armor plating. The little princess was afraid of rejection.

“I’m older than your lover boy, baby-doll. I know how to treat a woman.”

“By tying me up?”

He directed her to walk in front of him as he held her secured arm. “Up the stairs,” he said, his voice carrying the dominance he intended. He couldn’t take any sass from Angel, or she’d never stop running her mouth. She needed some tough love and hard fucking. He prodded open his bedroom door with his boot and closed it once they were inside. The room was mostly bare like the rest of the house—a bunch of garbage bags filled with clothes, boxes, and general disarray. His bed was king-sized with a heavy patchwork quilt for the chilly nights.

She looked so young with her flawless skin, flowing blonde hair, and lush lips. He had no business falling for a twenty-two-year-old woman, but it wasn’t always easy to control what his heart desired. Perhaps it was the nurturer in him, wanting to teach and protect her. Or the dominant streak in him craving to control her, make her his. Whatever it was, he was about to test all his theories.

Clay approached her and unbuttoned her jeans and then drew down the zipper. She wore blue panties today. “You have strong hips,” he said as he tugged the denim down her lower body. She didn’t fight him but also didn’t say a word. “They’ll be good for holding on to when I fuck you.” He hid his smile, so she wouldn’t know he was trying to rile her.

He gave her a little shove, and she toppled sideways onto the bed. After tugging off her boots and jeans, he eased her up into a sitting position. “If I cut you loose, will you behave while I get your shirt off?”

“No, I’ll never behave for you.”

“Good. That’s good, darlin’.” He had plans for Angel which included an old-fashioned hogtying if necessary. Clay drew out his knife and sliced through her binds. “Arms up.” She held her arms firmly to her sides like a stubborn child. He wrestled her for a minute, easily overpowering her. When he’d tugged the material off over her head, he used his palm to push her back onto the mattress. She was just wearing a little white sports bra and the blue bikini panties. The sight of her laying there, the vision of innocence was enough to make any young cowboy fall in love. Or a thirty-four-year-old one like him.

* * * *

Angel’s entire body tingled, butterfly wings fluttering in her womb. She loved Clay’s take-charge personality, his strength, his experience. He had a dominant vibe to him, and when he glared at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling, her pussy got even wetter. Now she was soaked through, probably enough to darken her panties. But she was too proud to admit to wanting him to keep going, to make her do things that would make other girls blush. Of course, resisting was half the fun. She loved fighting him so he’d fight back. It turned her on when he dominated, ordered, and took what he wanted whether she verbally agreed or not.

If Angel didn’t want to be here, she had no doubt she’d get out in one piece. Her brothers had taught her some wicked self-defense moves, and despite Clay’s large size, she’d be able to break free long enough to get out of the house. But Angel didn’t want to go anywhere. She still remembered the hungry look in Clay’s eyes when he watched Landon fucking her, taking her virginity. When his rough hand held her breast, she could barely contain the wanton energy building up inside her. If her brothers hadn’t heard Clay’s truck pull up, she had no doubt that she’d have ridden both cowboys that night.

She knew she was supposed to hate Clay and everything he stood for. Landon would probably feel betrayed that she slept with the enemy. But where was he now? Maybe Clay was right and he’d only sought her for the sex. It was difficult to believe with their history, but she also had no experience with the complexities of relationships.

“You can pretend to hate me, baby-doll, but your wet, little pussy tells me differently.” He grabbed the edge of her panties and tugged them down her legs, leaving a burning streak behind. She gasped, feeling so exposed on his big bed with him looking down on her. Angel held her knees tightly together, anticipation making her clit throb.

“Whatever.”

“Still with the smart mouth?” In a flash, he rolled her to her stomach and then smacked her bare ass so hard she yelped. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She twisted back around and watched as he stripped off his shirt and loosened his belt. The clang of metal against metal was the most erotic sound she’d ever heard. “That’s a prize buckle,” she said. She remembered Landon mentioning something about Clay riding in the circuit.

“That’s right. I’ve paid my dues. Life hasn’t always been easy, but it seems I’m being blessed as of late.” He pulled the leather belt clean out of the loops and wound it around his hand like a bronc rider getting ready for the gates to open. “I don’t regret any of my experiences, good or bad.”

It was so hard to hate Clay, which was probably why she did. He had to be too good to be true. “Were you a good rider?” It eased her nerves to talk, but she knew she was only stalling the inevitable.

“The best. But you’ll find that out soon enough.” He slapped the end of the belt into his other palm while staring at her intently. She swallowed hard. Her daddy had given her the belt only a couple times when she was younger, but her brothers knew it well. She could only remember the pain and humiliation, but now Clay was bringing it back in a whole new light. Her body shivered, anxious to feel the sharp crack of leather on her ass. She’d always handled pain well, not a delicate flower like some other country girls. And this kind of pain, like Clay’s spanks, managed to arouse her more than sweet words ever could.

“Have you decided to sell me back my horse?”

He ignored her. “Open your legs.”

“What! I will not.” She pulled up her legs toward her chest, knees tightly together.

“Open them, or you’ll feel my belt.” He stood tall, waiting.