Chapter 37
TALLY
I dared my ex-husband to up his outlaw game, so he’s holding up a diner to get me wet.
And it’s working.
Rust gives me an almost imperceptible wink and it’s rainy season in my panties while my nipples attempt to poke holes in my T-shirt.
This crazy stunt is why he parked around back where nobody could see the truck—or him. He made me go ahead so he could change into his robber attire and put on the mask.
Rust juts his chin at me. “You, the pretty redhead. Be a good girl and git.” He gestures the shotgun at the ground beside him.
I almost turn into a puddle. This isn’t fair.
He can’t bring out the infamous ‘git.’ That’s every Southern woman’s weakness. And then in combination with a growled ‘good girl’?
Signed, sealed, delivered—I’m his.
Goodbye, brain. Hello, slut mode.
The others must think I’m terrified when my knees knock as I get up, but it ain’t fear coursing through me. It’s primal arousal.
This is sick. Sicker than the cornfield or the arson at the state fair. This time, we’re getting a bunch of strangers involved, but I can’t deny how turned on I am.
When I reach Rust, the familiar scent of his pine and woodsmoke soap fills my nose. If I had any doubts, this smell would confirm his identity.
He takes my chin between his forefinger and thumb, angling my face up.
“Are you gonna do as I say or am I gonna have to introduce you to my angry little friend here?” He presses the shotgun barrel against my ribs and leans in close to whisper. “Consider this your punishment for the game you played on the Ferris wheel.”
My breath hitches.
“Your safeword still goes, Trouble. But if you don’t wanna use it, you better make these nice folks think you’re my innocent victim. Sell it.”
A rush of adrenaline makes the hairs on my arms stand. I know he won’t shoot me, but I want to pretend I don’t. I want to imagine he’s a masked stranger robbing this diner, unpredictable and dangerous.
I choose to surrender myself to the fantasy he offers.
But in this fantasy, one wrong word, one wrong move could cost me everything. Resisting could end my life. I have no choice but to obey. Having that decision taken from me is the most free I’ve ever felt.
My head bobs. “I promise I’ll behave, sir.”
Rust reaches into his pocket and takes out two old plastic bags, shoving them into my hands.
“Now listen up!” he shouts at the other customers.
“For the next magic trick, this pretty lady is gonna be my assistant. We’ll walk around the room together and all y’all are gonna drop your phones in one bag, your wallets in the other.
If anybody wants to play the hero, I’ll show you what your guts look like spattered across the floor. ”
Rust’s threats are met with a wave of demure nods. He has the room under total control.
That stark duality between the sweet, respectful man I know and the ruthless, dominant outlaw is sexy as fuck. Add in the fact that he still asked for my consent in this? We’re talking volcanic levels of hotness.
Pussy explosion.
At this point, a single brush of his finger over my clit would probably have me orgasming on the spot.
Rust’s palm meets my shoulder in a light shove. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, Red?”
Huh, I like that new pet name. Red. Really makes it feel like he’s a perfect, dangerous stranger.
“Your cheeks are all pink. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were havin’ naughty thoughts in public. Anything you wanna share with the class?” he presses.
Bastard. I swear he read my dirty fantasies like they’re written on my forehead.
“I–uh, sorry, sir. No sir,” I say quickly.
“Then stop daydreaming and do as you’re told.”
Rust is right behind me with the shotgun while I approach the closest customer.
Panic mirrors in the guy’s eyes as he reaches slowly into the pocket of his khakis. He pulls out his phone and his wallet, putting them in the bags.
“Hands behind your head again!” Rust barks. The man obeys instantly. “Now go to that corner by the counter and while you’re there, turn off that damn radio!”
The man stumbles as he gets up. He shuffles to the corner and fumbles with the radio until he finds the off switch. Oppressive silence comes over the diner like a storm cloud.
Person by person, we collect wallets and phones. Rust herds the customers like sheep into the same corner. I’m the last to put my things in the bags.
“Give me the loot,” Rust orders.
I hold the bags out to him. He grabs them, but the moment I let go, he lets go, too. Wallets and phones scatter over the floor. My pulse stutters as I read the truth in his smoldering gaze.
He made me drop the bags on purpose.
His hand flies to my throat. “Look what you’ve done, you clumsy little slut. You’re lucky I’m a patient man or I’d put you across my lap and tan your hide right here in front of these fine folks.”
“I-I’m sorry!” I wheeze as heat gathers between my legs.
“Hey, let her go!” the guy in the khakis yells.
Rust raises his shotgun and fires. I flinch at the bang. Screams echo through the diner as debris rains down from the ceiling.
“One more word and the next shot hits your face, buddy,” Rust snarls and the man shrinks. Then his burning stare turns to me. “Fix your mess, Red. Get on your knees.”
He grabs a fistful of my curls and forces me to the floor, on all fours. Humiliation and desire run thickly through my veins. The mix makes me dizzy. Irrational. My skin feels too tight and tingles rush up my spine.
But I obey.
I struggle to pick up the wallets and phones, shoving them into the bags. When I’m done, I try to stand, but he keeps me down, his massive hand across the back of my head.
“Show me how sorry you are!” Rust barks.
“I’m really sorry that—”
“I don’t want a lame fuckin’ apology. I said show me!” He shoves my face toward the ground until the tip of my nose hits his boot. “Kiss it.”
He wants me to do what?!
Embarrassment lights up my cheeks as I inhale the scent of the brown leather. It doesn’t smell bad. Kind of earthy and maybe a little sweet.
Did he already plan this madness in the morning when he took extra time to clean his boots?
“Do it, Red. Kiss my boot or die.”
My core blazes. I shouldn’t be into this, but I’m soaking through my panties and my pussy aches with need. If he let me, I’d hump his leg like an animal.
I swallow thickly before I press my lips to the middle of his cowboy boot. A gasp comes from the hostages and a bolt of lust splits my center. Them watching my humiliation only turns me on more.
“Atta girl,” Rust drawls, leaning back against the counter. “Now lick my boot properly. Make it shine.”
My eyes widen. “But—”
He tuts. “Same choice as before, Red. Obedience or death.”
Something presses on the top of my head, holding me down, but it’s not his hand. It’s the leather sole of his other boot.
I sob at the conflicting feelings in my chest.
A kiss was one thing, to use my tongue is different. That’s gross. Disgusting. Everything in me recoils at the thought of dragging my tongue over the worn leather, but I can’t stem the wave of lust rolling through me.
How can licking my ex-husband’s cowboy boots in front of perfect strangers drive me this wild?