Chapter 16 #2
Sienna watched through her camera’s viewfinder as she demonstrated proper framing techniques to the other students.
But the technical aspects of photography seemed to fade away as she observed Crone through the lens.
The fluid grace of his seat in the saddle flowing seamlessly into those subtle shifts of his powerful body as he guided the horse with invisible commands, stole her breath.
When the morning light caught the silver thread of his scar, she nearly forgot to breathe.
Through her lens, she captured his essence…
strength and control wrapped in raw masculine beauty.
“Prof?” Bobby’s excited whisper broke through her reverie. “I think I got it. You know that one shot you said that’ll make my portfolio. Want to see?”
Sienna moved to Bobby’s side, aware of Crone’s eyes tracking her movement even as he guided Magic through another pass. Her breath caught when she saw the image on the camera screen.
Bobby had captured Crone in profile with the rising sun creating a golden halo around horse and rider.
Magic’s mane lifted in the morning breeze, merging with the mist rising from the meadow.
But it was Crone’s expression that held her.
That mixture of serenity and absolute command that defined him.
He was hatless in this shot with the scar along his forehead catching the light in a silver testament to survival that only enhanced his magnetism.
“It’s perfect, Bobby,” she managed in a slightly hoarse voice. “The composition, the lighting, and the emotional impact, that’s exactly what we’ve been working toward.”
“Thanks, Prof.” Bobby beamed before turning back to his subject. “Master Crone, could we get a few with Peanut now? Maybe have her running free beside Magic?”
Crone nodded as he smoothly dismounted. As he adjusted Peanut’s tack and removed her lead rope, his gaze caught Sienna’s. Her stomach flipped at the heat in his eyes. Instinct warned her he knew exactly what emotions were raging through her.
“Kay, Ines,” Sienna called, desperate for distraction, “note how Bobby’s using the natural elements. The mist, the sunrise, even the way the grass moves in the wind. They’re all supporting elements that enhance the main subject.”
“The main subject being one hot cowboy,” Kay muttered, just loud enough for Sienna to hear. “No wonder you’ve been such a mess this week, Prof.” She laughed. “Except I wouldn’t be hiding if that was chasing me.”
Sienna’s cheeks flamed but before she could respond, Crone’s voice carried across the meadow. “Sienna.” Just her name, but the command in it was unmistakable. “I need your expertise here for a moment.”
Her feet were moving before her brain could object. He stood between the horses, one hand on Magic’s bridle, the other extended toward her in silent demand.
“The students need to understand proper positioning,” he said, ensuring that his voice carried enough for the class to hear. But his eyes promised this was about far more than photography instruction.
“What kind of positioning did you have in mind, Master Crone?” Sienna tried to keep her voice professional as she approached, though her pulse quickened at his knowing smirk.
“I think,” he drawled as he caught her hand and pulled her closer, “we should show them how to capture intimate connection between subjects.” Without warning, he lifted her, settling her sideways in Magic’s saddle. The stallion stood perfectly still. “Hold his mane, just there.”
His hands slid up her thighs, adjusting her position with deliberate thoroughness. Every touch felt as if he were branding her through her jeans. When he stepped back, she had to bite her lip to hold back a protest at the loss of contact.
“Bobby,” he called, never taking his eyes off Sienna. “Get your shots. The light’s perfect on Prof’s face right now.”
The camera clicked rapidly as Crone began leading Magic in a slow circle, keeping one hand on Sienna’s leg under the pretense of ensuring her stability. Peanut and Hercules followed of their own accord, creating a dreamy carousel effect in the morning mist.
“Beautiful,” Bobby murmured. “Prof, could you look down at Master Crone like he’s the center of your world?”
Sienna almost laughed at the irony. When had he not exactly been that? Even trying to avoid him this past week, he had dominated her thoughts, her dreams, damn… her every waking moment.
“Perfect!” Bobby’s enthusiasm rang loudly over the meadow. “Now, Master Crone, could you...?”
But Crone was already moving, his hand sliding up to Sienna’s waist. In one fluid motion, he swept her from the saddle, molding her body to his with her feet dangling above the ground.
Her hands instinctively gripped his shoulders as he stared up at her.
His expression was intense and enough to steal her breath…
more than that, it had nothing to do with posing for Bobby’s shot.
“I believe,” he said softly, for her ears alone, “this is what they call a decisive moment in photography.” His grip tightened fractionally. “The moment everything changes.”
The intensity in his eyes and the warmth of his hands at her waist suddenly was too much.
Panic clawed up her throat. Before he could see the truth in her eyes, Sienna twisted away from his grip, nearly stumbling in her haste to put distance between them.
Her heart thundered against her ribs as she babbled something about being dead inside—somehow needing that validation as a reminder to herself.
Perhaps that was why the words tasted like ashes on her tongue even as she spoke them.
“Perfect timing,” Bobby said, checking his shots. “The light’s shifting anyway.”
“Next up is my shoot!” Ines practically bounced with excitement. “Master Crone, your Harley should be ready at Angel’s Heavenly Bakery and Chocolate Shoppe.”
Sienna
Rawhide Ridge
Once they reached the Ridge, Crone disappeared into Angel’s restroom with a bag Ines handed to him.
When he emerged, the transformation from cowboy to biker was complete.
Black leather pants hugged every muscle, paired with a fitted black t-shirt and a leather jacket that spoke of dangerous curves and open roads.
His dark blond hair, sun-streaked from long days outdoors, fell in tousled waves around his face, the scar above his eye even more prominent.
The reaction was immediate and hilarious.
Several Littles squeaked and ducked behind their caregivers, only to peer around them with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
One of the regular customers actually dropped her coffee cup, the liquid splashing across Angel’s pristine floor.
From somewhere in the crowd came a breathless, “Sweet baby Jesus in a leather jacket.”
Crone’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he caught sight of Little Emma, who stood frozen with a partly-eaten chocolate croissant halfway to her mouth. He winked at her, and the croissant fell forgotten to her plate as she buried her burning face in her Daddy’s jacket.
“Now you’re just being mean,” Heaven Leigh chided him, but her own cheeks were suspiciously pink as she grabbed a mop. “Stop traumatizing my customers with all”—she waved a hand at his general appearance—“that!”
“What?” Crone offered her his most innocent smile, the one that made him look like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar—if that boy happened to be sex on wheels. “Just making sure everyone gets their sugar fix for the day.”
The collective groan from the Doms present was drowned out by nervous giggles from the Littles as he strolled toward the door.
The massive black Harley Davidson that Crone had shipped from Costa Rica waited outside the shop with the morning sun glinting off chrome and custom paintwork.
A crowd had already gathered outside. Many of Rawhide Ranch’s Littles and submissives, along with curious residents and bakery regulars stood around clutching Angel’s coffee cups and pastries as they openly admired both bike and rider.
“Sweet heaven,” Heaven Leigh breathed from her doorway. “Warn a girl next time you’re planning to bring sin on wheels to my doorstep.”
Crone’s low chuckle sent visible shivers through the audience, especially the Littles who seemed torn between wanting to hide behind their caregivers or Daddies and inching closer for a better view.
His dark blond hair caught the sunlight as he swung onto the bike.
The engine’s rumble echoed off the storefronts in an almost primal sound that matched his predatory appearance.
“Got it!” Ines exclaimed with glee after several setups. “Though I think half the town will need cold showers after this.”
“Last stop, Connor’s Steakhouse,” Kay announced, pulling Sienna aside with a conspiratorial grin. “And I’ve got something special for you.”
Once they arrived at the Steakhouse, Sienna discovered that something special turned out to be a black silk dress that draped over her body like a liquid shadow.
“I don’t recall agreeing to be a model for your shoot,” she mumbled as she took the dress from Kay.
“But, Prof, you also said one has to move with the flow, find that one shot… like Bobby did. You and Master Crone are gonna be my one shot.”
Sienna couldn’t argue with that logic and with a sigh turned to change.
Standing on Connor’s balcony as the afternoon light painted the mountains gold, Sienna felt exposed in more ways than one. Crone in his tuxedo was devastating enough, but it was the tenderness in his eyes as he helped her with the complicated wrap of the dress that undid her.
“Breathtaking,” he murmured. His fingers trailed down her bare arm, igniting sparks beneath her skin. Every touch felt magnified, significant, as if her body was finally allowing itself to truly feel.
Kay directed them through a series of poses, each movement drawing them inevitably closer.
Time seemed to slow as his hand found the small of her back, guiding her into a graceful turn until she melted against his chest. At the balcony rail, his fingers threaded through hers, the simple contact sending electricity through her veins.
Then he stepped behind her, his breath warming her neck as they gazed together at the mountains bathed in sunset gold with his body a solid wall of warmth against her back.
With each touch and shared breath, something deep within Sienna began to shift and crack, like winter ice yielding to spring’s inevitable thaw.
The subtle notes of his cologne and the steady strength of his hands, slowly dismantled years of carefully constructed defenses.
Tremors stirred in her soul at the intensity of his mesmerizing gaze tracking her every movement.
“Look at each other,” Kay called out. “Forget the camera exists.”
His tender gaze enveloped Sienna as she turned within his embrace, reaching past every defense to touch her heart.
The truth she’d been fighting struck her with stunning clarity.
How had she not seen it before? Or had she seen it all along and been too afraid to acknowledge it?
Her heart had recognized him from the start during whipping therapy, scening in the Dungeon, and even those quiet moments over coffee.
All this time, while she had accepted his love, she’d been desperately trying to deny the depth of her own feelings.
The realization crashed over her like a wave.
Her heart wasn’t dead. It had been there all along, beating stronger with every moment they shared.
She hadn’t been running from his love. No, she’d been running from her own, terrified of its intensity.
Because loving him meant trusting him with not just her body, but with every broken piece of herself she tried so hard to hide.
“Crone,” she whispered, her hands trembled against the crisp fabric of his tuxedo. His heartbeat under her palms beat strong and steady, like it had for her from the first time they had met.
He drew her closer with one hand cupping her face. Understanding dawned in his eyes and she realized he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for her to find her way back to herself, back to the ability to love.
“Ah, love, you finally figured it out, haven’t you?”
A tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded, and his thumb gently brushed it away.
“I love you.” The breathy words were as terrifying as they were liberating. “God help me, I love you so much it scares me.”
His kiss tasted of reverence and tenderness, of faith rewarded and promises kept.
It spoke of endless patience and unwavering devotion, of a love that had waited quietly for her heart to heal enough to recognize its own truth.
Somewhere in the background, Kay’s camera captured the moment everything changed.
The moment Sienna finally came home to herself, and to him. The moment she gave herself the freedom to live again.