Chapter Two
Chapter Two
At Master Michael’s confident, arrogant-sounding statement, a thrill that had nothing to do with the evening air arced down Sydney’s spine. She had begged before, but not because she had meant it, only because it had been something that made her Top happy.
But if this gorgeous cowboy could truly drive her that far out of her mind…
She’d fantasized about playing with a Dom who was in tune with her, able to read what she wanted and needed and not just what she asked for.
Her visits to the Den were getting further apart, more from restlessness than because of her schedule. When she traveled, she sometimes checked out the scene in whatever city she was visiting. She’d tried new Doms, from renowned Tops to enthusiastic newbies. And she hadn’t bared herself to the same man twice.
Like her parents before her, she was a thrill-seeker. Her first encounter with BDSM at a college party had immediately captured her interest. After that, going back to normal sex hadn’t been possible. Still, every new high had left her wondering if there was anything else, anything better.
She’d been with some extreme players, and several years ago, she’d knelt to accept a collar. But true affection had been missing between her and Lewis. Finally, things had deteriorated to the point where Gregorio had found someone to cut the silver band off her neck. She’d left the pieces in the middle of the bed and never looked back.
On the other hand, Doms who were overly solicitous, as Master Michael had surmised, bored her.
So far, he seemed different from other men. She’d thought that would be a good thing, but now, being ignored, still half dressed, uncomfortably bent over a rail and hair spilling everywhere with her bottom exposed to anyone who was outside, she wasn’t as sure.
When she’d first spotted the gorgeous rancher, she’d been intrigued. She’d only been at the party a few minutes when she’d wandered to the window. From her vantage, she’d watched him accept an energy drink. He’d nodded politely to the pretty submissive who’d fetched it for him.
Some guests, Doms and Dommes alike, ignored servers, but this cowboy seemed to have old-world manners.
Sydney had intentionally timed her walk across the patio. As she’d exaggeratedly moved her hips, hoping to catch his attention, she’d prayed she wouldn’t fall off her ridiculously high heels.
When she’d noticed Gregorio moving toward Master Michael, she’d gritted her teeth. But obviously, he hadn’t been deterred, and it had been all she could do not to pump her fist in joy.
Now, she was wondering if her enthusiasm had been misplaced. Perhaps she should have asked Gregorio about Master Michael before agreeing to play. “Can we get on with it, Sir?”
“When I’m ready.”
Damn you. Earlier, when he’d slapped her pussy, she’d nearly orgasmed. Then he’d restrained her ankles and stroked the insides of her thighs. She had been certain he’d start the action quickly. But since then, he had barely touched her, just enough to intrigue her. And now impatience was curling in her stomach.
She released her grip to stretch her fingers.
“Stay still, please.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, not because she meant it, but because it was expected. She understood his rules and she’d play by them to get some skin-on-skin satisfaction.
Startling her, he grabbed both of her ass cheeks. Then he squeezed unbelievably hard, making her gasp.
“Too much?”
God, no. “It was fine, Sir.” Once the shock receded, a warm glow settled in. No one had done that before, and damn, the surprise tantalized. She tingled, wondering what was next.
“So is there a reason you’re not holding on as you’re supposed to be?”
“Sorry, Sir.” She grabbed the bar again.
“Do you do that often?”
She frowned. “Sir?”
“Allow your mind to wander?”
“I…”
“Are you always living in the future, Sydney, rather than enjoying the moment?”
“I thought you weren’t going to psychoanalyze me, Sir.”
He laughed. The sound unnerved her, as if he knew she were trying to goad him into action.
At least fifteen more seconds dragged past before he lightly spanked her right buttock. This time, there was no heat, making her wonder if he really was worth the effort. After all, the night was young, and there were plenty of other Tops here. She could find someone else, get a few orgasms, and be home in bed before midnight.
“Relax.” He tapped a few times on her left buttock. “Enjoy it.”
Easier said than done.
He continued the light smacks, hardly varying the intensity but sometimes the location.
She exhaled in a frustrated rush.
“Give me what I want, Sydney, and I’ll make sure you get what you want.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
He didn’t respond. From her upside-down position, she saw him take a step back. “Sir?”
“To move at my speed. I’m watching your reactions, learning your body. You might be impatient, but you are getting aroused.”
Since the gentle breeze whispered on her exposed parts, cooling her, he might be right.
“I know I’m asking you to step outside your comfort zone, maybe beyond what you’ve experienced before. Would you be willing to trust me for a little while?”
Suspicion and doubt warred in her. “How long?”
“Give me five minutes. If you’re not happy after that time, I’ll give you an ass blistering you’ll never forget.”
Her ass tightened at his words. The first part of his sentence had been kind, the second part clipped. The way he used his voice made her react in a visceral way.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
He chuckled—the sound as sexy as it was diabolical. “Are your manners always this atrocious?”
His casual comment made her bristle.
“I don’t know the extent of your training, and some couples don’t follow protocols. But I’ve corrected you a couple of times already. And you’ve continued to leave Sir out of your sentences, and you are not addressing me as Master Michael. Perhaps no one’s demanded good behavior from you before, or maybe you’re intentionally trying to live up to your reputation, I don’t know. But if we continue on from here, you will comply with my requirements.”
In an underwater competition, she’d gone without breathing for almost three minutes, so surely she could get through this frustratingly long discussion. “Yes, Sir.”
He spanked her right buttock hard.
Yes. So, so much better.
“Did I get your attention?” he asked, rubbing the tender spot.
Playing his game, giving him what he demanded, she replied, “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
“That’s better.” He grabbed her ass cheeks like he had earlier and squeezed again.
She surrendered to the exquisite pain, letting her body go limp.
“Now, Sydney, we’ll enjoy some mutual satisfaction.”
“Of course, Sir.” Was that the difference between him and other Doms she’d played with? From the beginning, he hadn’t wanted it to be about either of them in particular. Some guys were just into their own kink. Others seemed so intent on making her happy that they failed miserably.
Master Michael held her around the waist and pressed his body against hers, forcing her into the fence railings. Denim scratched her skin, and his cock angled suggestively between her cheeks. He rocked his hips, and she moved with him in a primitive, universal dance.
“You’re getting hot for me, Sydney.”
Her senses were overwhelmed. “Yes, Sir.”
“I like that.” He moved back a bit to slide his fingers over her hot folds, teasing and arousing, then pressing a thumb against her anal whorl. The fact that she couldn’t close her legs made escape impossible. She wriggled, trying to coax him into giving her more.
Skillfully, he stroked her clit, making her rise onto her toes as much as the restraints allowed. “Oh, Master Michael…”
“That’s enough,” he said, pulling away entirely.
“But—”
With a sharp smack to her pussy, he cut off her protest.
The pain heightened her arousal. She was lost in a delirium of desire, desperate to come.
“You’re a very sexy woman, Sydney.” He kept his fingers against the small of her back.
Before she could reply, he spanked her repeatedly, and hard.
Needing this desperately, more than she knew, she moaned.
He fondled her pussy.
“Oh, Sir. I want to come.”
“Ask.”
“May I?”
“Soon.”
“May I please come, Sir?”
“That will more likely get you what you want.”
But instead of bringing her off, he spanked her again, rapidly, leaving no part of her buttocks unscathed.
Her fingers were now in a death-grip around the fencing, and she needed to hold on so the world wouldn’t spin out of control.
When she was sure she couldn’t take any more, he gently squeezed her clit.
She whimpered. “I… Please. I want to come.”
Again, maddeningly, he denied her.
Sydney rose as high as she could, thrusting back toward him, wordlessly asking, seeking, but her efforts only earned her a pinch on her right thigh.
“Not quite yet,” he told her.
It had been a long time since she’d been this turned on, and he was driving her out of her mind. “Don’t make me wait, Sir.”
He laughed again softly. “It will be worth it. I promise.”
Deep inside her, pressure thumped in persistent demand.
“Ready for more, Sydney?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
He slapped her left buttock, then quickly stroked between her legs. The momentary friction drove her mad. Before she could react, he smacked her right cheek then teased her again. On and on he went, relentlessly repeating the pattern, not doing any one thing long enough for her to get off.
What he did instead was set every nerve ending on fire.
As the seconds passed, her resistance receded.
“That’s it,” he said, his modulated, rich voice sounding as if it came from the farthest mountain peak. “Your butt is turning the prettiest shade of pink. Beautiful, beautiful, Sydney.”
Sydney no longer held the bars as tightly, and she didn’t struggle against the ankle cuffs. She didn’t even wriggle her body in an attempt to press her pussy against his hand when he paused there. Instead, she surrendered.
The world seemed to spin backward, and she stopped being concerned that they were out in the open. She no longer noticed her earlier discomfort. In fact, her body felt as if it were weighed down by a thousand stinging sensations.
“Even more?”
“Oh…” She was already delirious.
“We can stop now, and I can give you the orgasm you’ve earned. Or we can continue with my belt.”
Sydney shivered. He’d taken her past the limits of how long she thought she could hold off her orgasm, and the curious part of her wanted to know what else was possible. Tonight—Master Michael—was the adventure she craved. “Please,” she said. “I want more.”
“Please…” he prompted.
Frustrating man. “Please, Sir.”
“To be clear, Sydney, are you begging?”
“Yes.” How long had it been since she’d been this aroused, aware of every muscle in her legs and the throbbing sensation between her legs? “I’m begging. Tell me you’re taking off your belt, Sir,” she pleaded.
“Damn straight, I’m taking off my belt.”
Hunger crawled through her, for the taste of his leather, and for the sight of his naked body. She’d noticed the breadth of him, the long, lean length of his legs and his tight ass. She’d bet he wasn’t a ranch owner who let the hired hands do all the work—the calluses on his fingers proved it. “And your hat?”
“That might happen later,” he told her.
Later.
Earlier, he’d mentioned going to his place, but she hadn’t been convinced she’d accept an invitation. And when he’d mentioned chemistry, she hadn’t argued, even though she believed it was nothing more than a word to make insatiable romantics swoon.
She had planned to live by her personal motto—show up and hook up. She’d mingle, looking for unattached Doms, introduce herself then see if a private room was available.
At this point, however, she wanted to see where the evening might go.
Sydney moaned and writhed when he drew the belt across her shoulders. Now—longing to feel the caressing bite of his leather everywhere—she wished he’d had her remove her dress entirely.
She wiggled around, but he took a step back.
With a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t be rushed, she forced herself to settle again.
The impending orgasm loomed distantly, leaving her edgy.
She was more than ready when he landed the first two strokes across her buttocks. Her skin was already warmed from his earlier squeezes and spanks, and these new strokes seared her skin.
Although he was nowhere near her pussy, arousal returned full force.
“Thrust your ass out for me. And keep it there.”
Before he was done speaking, she presented her rear end as much as possible. Tur-tle.
“That’s it.” He laid several more strokes across her heated body, turning her inside out.
“I feel as if I’m going to come, Sir,” she told him.
“If you can, please feel free to do so.”
She tried to squeeze her legs together, needing just a little pressure, but he’d been clever in his restriction.
As he increased the intensity behind his swings, she cried out. This was exactly what she’d been seeking.
Despite her best intention of staying in one position, the force of his blows made her sway. But within moments, it was as if they’d found a rhythm that worked for both of them.
“Red is my new favorite color,” he told her. “And now to add some to the backs of your thighs.”
She’d been certain it couldn’t get any better. But it did.
He used infinitely less pressure on her legs, but the lashing was just as exquisite.
Slammed against the railing by his relentlessness, she loosened her grip and allowed herself to move freely.
She wasn’t sure how long he continued—all she knew was that she was no longer thinking about anything but the moment. Being halfway upside down combined with the Den’s mountainous elevation caused a mild oxygen deprivation, leaving her unable to speak.
For the first time in a scene, she wasn’t trying to set the pace or manipulate her Dom. She’d turned over control.
Several moments later, she registered the fact that he’d stopped.
Her heart rate increased, and she blinked, trying to clear her mind.
“You did well,” he said.
He cupped her heated pussy and squeezed.
“Sir…” The word was a moan wrapped in a breathless plea.
“Now I’ll help you to come,” he said, scraping her clit with a fingernail.
As if she were flying apart, she trembled.
Relentlessly, he persisted, inserting a finger inside her, fucking her with his hand while putting pressure on her clit. He kept it up until she was shaking, her hips jerking.
Orgasm after orgasm claimed her. And when she was convinced she had nothing left, he abraded one of the welts on her left buttock.
She arched her back, pushing away from the fencing, allowing him in deeper, and unintentionally increasing the force of his touch against her clitoris.
Reeling, she shattered once more. He’d left her breathless, overwhelmed, more satisfied than she’d been in months, if not years.
Her body was drenched in sweat, and her thoughts were scrambled as she gasped for air.
“You’re about warmed up,” he said.
Warmed up? Her knees sagged.
She was aware of him unfastening her ankles then rubbing her bare legs. Although the touch wasn’t erotic, it sent a warm shiver through her.
“Stay where you are,” he instructed.
As if I can move.
Her Dom for the night took control again, tugging her dress back into place before he effortlessly lifted her from the ground, scooping her into his arms.
She prided herself on her strength, and she’d never been a snuggler. But he’d worn her out, left her powerless to do anything other than wrap one arm around his neck and lay her cheek against his chest. She breathed in his power and strength, and the fresh mountain scent of his soap. He felt…comforting.
He snatched up the blanket and strode toward the patio.
“My shoes.”
“I’ll get them in a minute,” he said.
Near the firepit, he placed her in a chair. After wrapping the blanket around her, he promised to come right back.
She watched him return to the fence to pick up her heels and the cuffs. Her strappy sandals dangled from his index finger, and she wondered why she found the sight so sexy.
When he was close, he dropped everything in an untidy pile before signaling for a server.
With a “Thanks,” he snagged two waters from the man’s tray, then uncapped one and offered it to her. “How are you feeling?”
“I…” Hands curled around the bottle, she hesitated. Instead of taking a drink, she regarded him.
Generally she kept her thoughts and emotions to herself. Other than her friend Vanessa and a couple of college roommates, Sydney wasn’t particularly close to anyone.
Nearby, the wood crackled and hissed, the light casting intriguing shadows over him. Finally, she settled for a noncommittal answer. “You were right… You made me beg.”
He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the chair arms, and said, “That was only an appetizer, Sydney.”
They were so close, they breathed the same air. “Is that a promise?”
“Or a threat.” With a grin, he pressed one of his thumbs to her lips. “Take it any way you want.”
She shuddered.
For a wild moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. But that was too personal. Wasn’t it?
As she blinked, he lowered his hand, then used a booted foot to drag in another chair so he could sit nearby.
Already, she’d gotten so much more than she’d expected here tonight. She still had on everything except her underwear, and she’d yet to catch a glimpse of his naked body. He was right about one thing—what they’d shared had definitely whetted her appetite. Now she wanted the main course.
Although there were many other couples milling about, he’d positioned her so that she felt cocooned, as if it were just the two of them on the vast acreage.
She sipped her water and noticed Gregorio and the Den’s owner, Master Damien, looking in their direction.
Master Damien was as dashing as he was rakish. The cuffs of his long-sleeved white shirt were folded back, exposing his forearms. His hair was longer than it had been the last time she’d seen him, and she wondered how many subs, men and women alike, longed to run their fingers through it. To her knowledge, though, he played with no one. His history was an object of frequent discussion, but the man himself provided no answers.
Gregorio stood next to his boss, shoulder to shoulder. If she wasn’t mistaken, Gregorio was smiling.
A woman with incredibly long, dark hair joined them. A much, much larger man, apparently her sub, knelt next to them with his head bowed. Even while she talked with Gregorio, she kept her hand affectionately on top of her sub’s head.
The man cocked his head a little, looking up at his Domme. It could be her imagination, but the man looked peaceful in a way Sydney had never experienced.
“Mistress Catrina,” Master Michael said as if reading her thoughts. “She’s training a new submissive.”
“Training? They’re not a couple?”
“No. To my knowledge, Catrina doesn’t have permanent submissives.”
“Was your ex collared?” When he didn’t answer, she regarded him more closely. The brim of his damnable hat made his expression unreadable. She wanted to see his eyes.
“Not literally, though I’d considered it.”
Hoped to? Except for the fact his abrupt answer had closed the conversation, she’d have asked the question aloud.
Saying nothing more, he steepled his fingers and looked over the top of his hands at the fire.
“How about any other submissive you’ve been with?” she prodded.
He glanced in her direction. “It hasn’t worked out that way.”
“You’re an expert at evasive answers, Sir.”
“If—or when—it’s appropriate, Ms. Wallace, I’ll have no secrets from you.”
“Oh?”
He turned to face her. “And you’ll have none from me.”
She shivered a little, despite the fire, despite the blanket, despite the leather dress.
“So, little sub, is this good night?” he asked. “Or would you like to come home with me?”
Little sub? No one had called her that before. And truthfully, if they had, she might have run, or as forcefully as possible let them know it wasn’t acceptable. She liked a bit of adventure with her sex. But submission? That really wasn’t her thing. As an occasional part of the act, it was fine. But she wanted nothing more, and if they continued, she’d have to make sure she set him straight about that.
Still… There was something about the way he said those words—tinged with a roughened, raw huskiness—that made them palatable. They sounded like a term of endearment, and that made a forbidden response uncurl within her. “What do you have in mind?” If he was offering another ride on this extremely emotional and physical roller coaster, she was intrigued.
“I haven’t had you on your knees.” He swept his gaze down her body. “And I haven’t tormented your nipples.”
Damn. “I have very sensitive nipples, Sir.”
“Do you?” he asked, with no concern in his tone. “Then having me drag you onto your toes by them will no doubt be uncomfortable.”
Hunger slammed into her, making her shift in her seat.
“So what will it be, Sydney?” he asked again. “Would you like to continue? Or shall we say good night?”
His cock still strained against his jeans. Suddenly she was ravenous for him, wanting him inside her, filling her again and again. She had to see if the night could get even better. “I’d like to continue.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Then address me correctly.”
“Sir. I’d like to continue, Sir.”
“At the ranch? Or would you be more comfortable here?”
Staying at the Den had numerous advantages. Gregorio and Master Damien would both look out for her. But she was curious about Master Michael and how he lived.
“I’m also happy to drive to your place, if that’s best for you,” he continued.
“In Evergreen?” She shook her head. Not only did it not make sense for him to drive back toward Denver, but she didn’t invite men to her condominium. She liked her privacy and she needed the freedom to get in her vehicle and leave when she wanted. “Your house is fine.”
After he stood, she accepted the hand he extended. Effortlessly, he drew her up and held on to her for longer than she expected. A protective part of her brain urged her to pull away. But her instinctive, feminine senses recognized his strength, power, and masculinity. She couldn’t move.
“I’m happy to drive you,” he said. “Your vehicle will be fine here, but I assume you’d prefer to take your own car?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He nodded. “Just as well. I’d require you to raise your dress again, and the sight of your beautiful bare pussy would distract me.”
The things he said were an erotic thrill.
After releasing her, he folded the blanket and picked up the cuffs while she slid back into her heels.
When she’d smoothed her dress back into place, he nodded to indicate that she should precede him.
“I like watching your hips move and remembering the red marks on your cheeks.”
Earlier she’d intentionally tried to capture his interest with her walk, but now that she was aware of his scrutiny, she felt self-conscious.
“Sexy,” he said.
Master Damien detached himself from the group he’d been visiting with and met them midway across the patio.
Master Michael placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. Knowing she had no choice, she stopped.
“Thanks for your hospitality,” Master Michael said, accepting Master Damien’s extended hand.
“Always a pleasure. You’re leaving already?”
“We are.”
Raising one of his impossibly dark eyebrows, Master Damien looked at her directly. “Is everything all right, Sydney?”
This was one thing she had always appreciated about the Den. Damien and Gregorio enforced the rules and looked after the safety of all their guests. “Yes. Everything is fine, thank you.” Master Michael tightened his grip on her shoulder, and she said, “I mean yes, Sir.”
“May I have a moment with Sydney?” he asked Master Michael.
“Of course,” her temporary Dom replied. “I’ll be inside when you’re ready, Sydney.”
She watched until he had entered the house and handed the cuffs and blanket to a perfectly trained sub.
“You’ve never left with anyone,” Master Damien observed. “And Master Michael is not your usual type.”
She waited for him to say something further, but he didn’t. She marveled at his patience. Master Damien was correct—she usually scened with Doms whose reputation she knew, men who would be satisfied playing in the dungeon.
The instant attraction to Master Michael when she’d seen him talking with Gregorio had been something more visceral. She liked how tall he was, how broad, how focused and, of course, the fact that he was willing to form his own opinions about her. “He’s different,” she said finally. “Gentle’s not the right word.” She met Master Damien’s gaze and sighed. “But I can’t think of a better one. Measured, maybe. Calculated.”
He nodded. “Don’t underestimate him.”
A small shiver traced her spine. “Are you saying I shouldn’t trust him?”
“Not at all.”
“Then…”
“I’ve known Master Michael for eight years, maybe more. He plays by his own rules.”
She’d already ascertained that. During their brief encounter near the fence, he’d moved at his speed, not hers, but there was no doubt he’d given her what she needed. And a lot more than she’d anticipated. “Ah, I get it. You’re concerned for him, rather than me,” she said with a smile.
“Perhaps I am.”
“That stings.”
He inclined his head to one side. “If you need anything, feel free to call us here. I take my obligations to our members very seriously. Someone will fetch you, if necessary.”
“I appreciate your consideration.” She nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”
Master Michael was waiting for her inside the patio doors, with her purse in hand. Oddly, it didn’t detract from his masculinity.
“I took the liberty of asking for your belongings and having your car brought around.”
She accepted the small handbag. “That was considerate.”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger.
“You don’t scare me,” she said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were a deep, dark green, as unreadable as they were inviting.
“Perhaps I should.”
The pseudo-threat sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. While he kept her imprisoned, he swept a fingertip across her jawbone. “I’ll follow you,” she said, feigning a calm that had suddenly deserted her. As Master Damien had pointed out, she didn’t go home with men, and Master Michael was nothing like the other Doms she’d played with. But his complexity intrigued her. She’d known him only a short time, yet she’d already figured out he was as demanding emotionally as he was physically. The physical part excited her. The emotional one…? That she could do without.
“Shall we?” he asked, releasing his hold to rest his palm against the small of her back, guiding her through the house and back outside.
An attendant, nattily dressed as if he were a doorman at a New York City hotel—minus a shirt—wished them a good evening.
That Michael drove a new but dusty, oversize pickup truck didn’t surprise her. The jeans, cowboy hat, and worn leather boots were obviously not just for effect.
She followed him out of the secluded area where the Den was nestled, and they turned onto Highway 34, heading north. There were distant peaks, seemingly endless miles of high-mountain prairie, but very few headlights from oncoming cars. It was as if they had the world to themselves.
Rather than getting nervous, the kind of anticipation that came from the unknown raced through her. To focus herself, she set her streaming service to her favorite channel, then cranked up the volume, blasting dance music throughout the passenger compartment of her decade-old small sports utility vehicle.
She kept his taillights in sight and she appreciated that he drove a bit over the speed limit. About half an hour later, they left the tarmac behind. A large pothole in a bumpy dirt road almost jarred the wheel from her hands.
This definitely hadn’t been what she’d planned when she had shimmied into the leather dress several hours ago. In fact, out here, her attire and sandals seemed ridiculous.
They bypassed several turn-offs, and she had to drop back in order to not get blasted by the dirt spewing behind his tires.
A few minutes later, he followed a fork to the right. She was starting to wonder if it was a road to nowhere when he braked to a stop in front of a well-lit gate. It was buttressed by massive, rough-hewn wooden poles that soared at least twenty feet in the air. A beam spanned the overhead distance, and a metal sign hung from chains. A large raptor with talons extended was emblazoned on the left side, next to the words Eagle’s Bend Ranch.
With his hat still firmly in place, the lord and master of the place walked back to her vehicle. She pushed a button to lower the window.
“Welcome to my small slice of heaven.” He tipped his hat. “Follow me through the gate, then I’ll close it behind us.” He placed his hands on the door and leaned in.
Damn, he smelled good—of rugged, open space.
“Scared yet?”
“Not a chance.”
With a grin, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “That’s my girl.”
The easy familiarity took her by surprise. No one had called her anything like that. Nasty sex words, yes. Syrupy, sugary, hoping-to-get-you-to-bed words like honey and baby, yes. But something that innocuous? Definitely not. It didn’t fit her. So why the hell was she smiling back at him?
Without another word, he turned away. Her gaze was riveted on the way his jeans fit his hot rear, and she didn’t glance away until he’d climbed back into the truck then driven through the entrance.
She pulled in behind him, then the gates slid shut.
Now she was nervous. He’d effectively blocked her escape.
He stopped by her vehicle again.
“The code for the lock is M-Y-H-M,” he said. “Shorthand for my home, so it’s easy to remember.”
She exhaled. “How did you know?”
“Darlin’, you haven’t blinked in thirty seconds. You’ve already told me that not much scares you.”
Slowly, Sydney shook her head.
“But the things that scare you are debilitating.”
With determination, she shoved aside his direct hit. “There you go with the psychoanalysis again.”
“That’s just casual observation. I’ll let you know what I see when I really have the chance to study you.”
Before she could respond, he moved off. As her window slid closed, she took her foot from the brake and followed him.
As they wound their way down the dirt road, lights came on, obviously all equipped with motion sensors.
Off to the right were a number of buildings, a barn among them.
His home finally came into view, and he lowered his window to point to a place for her to park near a large pine tree.
The moment she shut off the engine, he was there to help her, something she appreciated with her sandals and the uneven dirt parking area. “This outfit isn’t exactly the best for ranch wear,” she said, closing the vehicle door.
“Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”
In the distance, she heard an occasional moo and something that sounded like the bleating of a goat. While she also lived in the mountains, it was as if she and Master Michael occupied two entirely different universes.
After cupping her elbow for support, he led her toward the house. A huge yard was also fenced, but with horizontally notched wooden rails interlaced with vertical ones. Though it was likely practical, it was also artistic.
With one hand still on her, he opened yet another gate, taking time to ensure it latched securely behind them.
“To keep Chewie out,” he said.
“Chewie?”
“Long story. She’s a Nigerian dwarf goat.”
“I thought ranches had cows.”
“I run cattle, yes,” he said. “But Chewie is more of a pet. Actually, she qualifies as a pest. She would eat all the grass and the flowers and the trees if I allowed her near the house. Well, and anything else she could find.”
“And the fence stops her?”
“It’s supposed to. I’m thinking of putting up a surveillance camera. Somehow the gate gets opened far too often. Last I checked, she had hooves rather than opposable thumbs, but I wonder…”
The sight of columbines and other wildflowers surprised her. “Are you the gardener?”
“No. That’s thanks to my sister, Melanie. They were my grandmother’s flowerbeds, and my mom continued the tradition. Mel doesn’t visit often, but she plants, I don’t know…stuff. Annuals. Perennials. Bulbs. Seeds. Bushes. Shrubs. As if I’m supposed to know the difference? The goat is hers, and the girls have a horse here, too. The ranch has a few hands who live on-site in the bunkhouse over there.” He pointed toward the distance. “Don’t worry. We’ll have our privacy. And it won’t matter how long or how hard you yell—no one will come running to save you.”
She looked up. He wasn’t smiling, and there’d been no hint of a tease in his tone, which all sent another illicit thrill rocketing through her.
After opening the front door, he ushered her inside.
The home was rustic, with exposed-beam ceilings, hardwood floors, hand-woven rugs, and oversize leather furniture. A stone fireplace dominated the living room, and wood crisscrossed in the grate, waiting to be lit. Dozens of photographs, some in black and white, crowded the mantel.
Just that detail highlighted the differences in their priorities. She had a single picture of her parents. In the small, framed snapshot, she was about a year old and asleep in the pack on her dad’s back. They’d been on a pilgrimage in Spain—if she remembered the story correctly.
Her condominium lacked the homey touches that his home had. Hers was impersonal enough to be a hotel room. Until now, she hadn’t really noticed.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She followed him into the kitchen, aware of the staccato sound of her shoes on the rustic floors. “Water is fine, thank you,” she said as she placed her purse on the counter.
He poured her a glass from a pitcher stored in the stainless-steel refrigerator.
With a smile of thanks, she accepted it and slid onto a barstool tucked beneath a poured concrete island. The kitchen looked like a designer’s dream, with gleaming pots hanging overhead. She rarely cooked, but she appreciated the gas range, double ovens, and miles of countertops.
“I think, Sydney, we should get a few things straight between us.” He moved in closer, standing on the other side of the island.
With her hands wrapped around the glass, she looked at him. He folded his arms across his chest. The brim of his hat, as always, cast him in shadows, making it difficult to read his expression.
“Your feedback, verbally as well as physically, matters to me, so I insist on open and honest communication. I want you to get off, and that’s more likely to happen if you’re interacting with me. I have no interest in just spanking you until you come.”
That sounded all right with her. She took a sip of water and squirmed in her seat. Because he demanded a response, she said, “I agree, Sir.”
“When I request something from you, I anticipate you will either let me know it’s problematic or you’ll do as you’re told.” He raised an eyebrow.
His firm tone brooked no refusal. She took another drink of water to soothe her suddenly dry throat. After releasing the glass, she said, “Yes, Sir.”
“In that case, strip and kneel. Hands behind your neck, head tipped back, chest thrust toward me. I believe I promised to torture your nipples.”