Submitting to the Cattleman (Cowboy Doms Book 6) Read online

  “You… you could, maybe take away the… the pain another way.” She pressed one pale hand against his denim-covered cock with a deep inhale, dropping her eyes to his lap.

  Kurt clenched his jaw and gripped her delicate wrist, determined not to take advantage of her inebriated state. “You would be sorry come morning and a clearer head.” He tried to remove her hand, but she was stronger than her slender frame indicated. Not wanting to use force, he left her hand there for now and prayed for restraint.

  “But not tonight, and that’s all I care about right now.” She squeezed his erection and whispered that damnable word again, this time with an aching catch in her voice that shredded his good intentions. “Please.”

  Leslie blamed the lucky members of The Barn and their recent commitments to their Doms for her uncharacteristic behavior and the lonely desperation plaguing her tonight. This man, Kurt, a virtual stranger, reminded her of those Masters she had trusted with her body, if not her secrets. His large body crowded her on the sofa, his intent looks, take charge manner and gentle hands stirred her arousal, making her pussy throb for more than her vibrator. With her head still in the fuzzy zone, the only coherent thought coming through clear enough to fully comprehend was the quiet emptiness of her apartment that was indicative of all that was missing in her life. If he left, she would have to face that reality yet again, and why do that tonight when tomorrow would come soon enough?

  The thick bulge under her hand drew a ripple of longing, an ache for forgetfulness for a short time. The frozen peas had numbed her cheek and she dropped the bag to reach behind his neck and try to pull his head down to meet her lips.

  “Son-of-a-bitch, girl, your hand is like ice.” Kurt gripped her wrist and tugged her hand down and the other one away from his groin.

  Shackling both wrists in one large hand, he held her hands down between them. Leslie’s heart pounded and her mouth went dry. This is where any sane woman would become alarmed, but she’d lost her sanity three and a half years ago when she testified against two spoiled, drugged-up teens and their father’s threats ended her life as she’d known it. For her, that controlling hold meant she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to make decisions or worry about doing or saying the wrong thing.

  “What’s my name?”

  A test of her cognizance, but an easy one. “Kurt. Now will you stay?” The tension in her shoulders eased as he nodded, and she didn’t let the reluctance on his face bother her.

  “Yes, against my better judgment. I hope to God you don’t make me regret this tomorrow.”

  This time it was he who cupped her nape, only she didn’t resist as he pulled her up and covered her mouth with his. With his other hand still holding her wrists as he tightened his hold on her neck, she was left with no choice but to open for his slow exploration and to revel in his mastery. A deep-throated moan slipped from her mouth into his as he stroked her tongue, teeth and gums, his lips moving on hers in a constant, sensuous glide. By the time he eased back, they were both breathing heavy and his eyes had softened with a warmth that curled her bare toes.

  “You could tempt a saint with that mouth, sweetheart, and I’m no saint.” In a smooth move, Kurt brought her hands above her head as he pushed her back onto the couch.

  Leslie’s breath stalled as he unbuttoned the row of tiny buttons that ran from the scooped neckline to her waist, his eyes on her face as he spread the fabric open and flicked the front catch of her bra.

  “Do you still want this?” he asked, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb back and forth across the nipple.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Leslie arched up into his hand, heat spiraling down to her pussy as he plucked at the distended bud with tight pinches. And then he snagged her breath by sending his hat sailing to the floor and dipping his inky black head to her breast.

  At the first touch of his lips wrapping around her nipple, she bucked under him; the first strong suction and she mewled, a pitiful sound of need.

  “Like that, do you?” he murmured above the throbbing tip before rasping over it with his tongue.

  Biting her lip, Leslie watched him shift to her other straining breast then slammed her eyes shut against the searing pleasure of his hot mouth. Thank God he didn’t demand an answer. She doubted she could form a coherent thought as he lavished much-needed attention on her nipples, moving back and forth to suckle, nip and lick until he’d turned both peaks into reddened, up-thrust, pulsing aches.

  Breathing heavy, she gazed at his flushed, rugged face as he inched downward, those obsidian eyes on her as he once again asked, “Do you still want to continue?”

  She clenched her hands in his grip and narrowed her eyes. “If you stop now, I can’t be responsible for what I might do.” And that wasn’t an idle threat. Whether it was this man she craved with such fiery intensity or her self-imposed celibacy that was responsible for her heightened arousal, she didn’t know, or care. All she wanted was the sweet oblivion of release to take her away from reality for a while.

  “Good enough.” Kurt released her hands, rucked up her dress with one hand while fishing a condom from his pocket with the other.

  “Let me,” she insisted when he took too long in lowering his zipper over his impressive cock. Wrapping a hand around his hot length, she shuddered at the feel of throbbing veins against her palm and the sight of a few pearly drops seeping from his slit. He was thick and long, and she couldn’t wait for the burn of his possession.

  “Keep that up and this will be over before I get inside you,” he growled as she slowly rolled the latex down his rigid cock and then scraped her nails over his large sac. Shoving her hand aside, he ripped off her panties and settled between her splayed legs, one hand slipping between their bodies.

  Leslie cried out with his deep fingered thrust, lifting up against his pumping hand. “Yes!”

  “I guess I don’t have to ask again since you’re being quite clear. Deep breath, Leslie.”

  She inhaled, gripping his arms as he surged inside her, stretching un-used muscles and abrading long-neglected nerve endings in one fell swoop. He pulled back and she shook her head, wrapping her legs around his hips. “No, please, don’t… just keep going,” she begged.

  “You’re tight. I don’t want to hurt you.” Ignoring her plea, he retreated and then worked himself back inside her snug sheath much slower. She dug her nails into his biceps and he swore, grabbed her hands and returned them over her head. “Grip the armrest and don’t let go until I say. Got it?”

  The dark commanding tone of his rough voice tugged at her nipples, prompted her sheath to gush with anticipation. This was what she craved, someone to take her over, giving her no choice but to comply or end it. The past didn’t exist and she didn’t have to think about tomorrow. Only now mattered.

  “Answer me, Leslie,” he insisted with a shallow jab.

  She nodded, her head bumping his chin. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good enough.”

  Kurt pulled back and then set up a steady rhythm that robbed her of breath and coherent thought. She arched like a bow under his pistoning hips, her pussy clamping around his steely erection, the spasming muscles too slippery to hold him inside her. Her breathing grew ragged as he went deeper, pounded harder between her gripping thighs. Just as the small contractions heralding an orgasm started, he sat back on his knees, grasped her buttocks and lifted her pelvis for even deeper penetration. His face was as hard as his pummeling invasion, those coal black eyes in constant motion, sliding from her face down to their connected bodies and then back up to her face.

  Leslie blushed, something she rarely did anymore after becoming a regular member at the club. In this position, everything was right there, open and on display for both of them to see. In between his jackhammer thrusts and her face, her perspiration shiny breasts jiggled, the reddened tips puckered into tight, up thrusting pinpoints. His focused attention, not only between her legs where her denuded folds clung to his glistening, pumping cock but als
o checking on her expressions, made it easy to fantasize he cared for her, in some way. Her pussy quivered around his cock, and heat blurred her vision as she fisted her hands above her to keep from reaching for him.

  Kurt admired her control and saw more evidence of a submissive streak in the way she held back. “Now, Leslie,” he ground out, sinking balls deep inside her slick pussy, unable to hold back any longer. Her damp muscles squeezed and massaged his thick girth as she climaxed on a gasp, the friction incredibly hot as she bathed him with her creamy release. Letting go with his own orgasm, he groaned at the hot pleasure sweeping up from his balls to spew into the latex, his head stuck in a euphoric fog for several moments before he came down from the high with slower dips inside her snug, quaking body.

  “Jesus, girl, you could scorch a man alive.” Kurt kissed her soft lips, fast and hard and then lifted off her. The sated pleasure softening her blue eyes changed to the same desolate expression from earlier. She made no move to cover herself as he stood next to the couch, gazing down at the carnal picture she presented with her dress scrunched around her waist, breasts pink from his rough face and her bare labia still swollen and wet. “If you want me to stay, you have to say so.”

  “I want you to stay,” she breathed softly without a second of hesitation.

  He was afraid she would say that. Well, he’d already taken several risky chances tonight, why not add another? At least he managed to cover his ass when he flicked his phone to record as he’d fished out the condom. A verbal recording proving she was a willing participant would come in handy if tomorrow she woke with lying regrets.

  Bending down, those vivid eyes widened in surprise as he lifted her over his shoulder. Her very attractive ass perched so close to his face was too tempting to resist. Swatting one round globe, Kurt turned toward the darkened hall. “Let’s take this party to your bedroom then.”

  Chapter 2

  Kurt awoke just as the sun was rising, a soft, warm body wrapped around him. How long had it been since he’d spent the entire night in a woman’s bed? Too damn long, he mused as he found himself reluctant to disentangle his limbs from Leslie’s. Too bad that pesky word, responsibilities, intruded with the break of dawn. She didn’t stir as he slid out of her bed, which was good. Mornings after could be a bitch, more so if you didn’t even know the person’s last name, or anything else about her.

  Grabbing his clothes off the floor, he saw more of her room in the gray light shining through the shades of the one window than he had last night. Just like in the kitchen and living area of the small apartment, the lack of personal items, such as knickknacks and pictures, was noticeable. He’d never known any woman who didn’t enjoy displaying collectibles, photos or sprucing up their place with other decorative items that revealed facets of their personality, of who they were.

  He took one more look at Leslie lying on her stomach, one hand curled by her face on the pillow, the plump softness of one smooshed breast visible above the sheet covering her from the waist down. He wondered what heartache she’d been trying to forget last night, figuring his odd reluctance to leave stemmed more from lingering curiosity than anything else. They’d fucked twice more after coming to her bedroom, and she’d embraced his every command with a cock-hardening lack of hesitation. She’d said little except ‘please’, and that one word whispered with that slight catch in her voice had gotten to him every time.

  The carpeted floor muffled his footsteps as Kurt left the room to dress and leave. Making sure the door was locked after stepping out, he strode to his truck. He hoped the stable where he’d left Atlas, his American Quarter horse, was open this early. By the time he hitched the trailer, grabbed a quick breakfast and made the thirty-minute drive to the Wilcox Ranch, it would be mid-morning. Maybe he should have called the house last night and let someone know he wouldn’t arrive until today, then again, if his father hadn’t driven him away with his accusations eight years ago, he never would have left.

  Ninety minutes later, Kurt spotted the ten-foot high iron gates to his family’s two-hundred-thousand-acre ranch looming ahead and a heart-wrenching spasm robbed him of breath. Eight years was a long time to deprive himself of the home he loved. He’d been content, if not ecstatic with the life he’d made for himself managing their oil interests in Texas. But the Lone Star State wasn’t Montana and living in a Houston high-rise apartment in the country’s fourth largest city was a far cry from growing up in the least populated state on acreage that sprawled as far as the eye could see. After the last blow-up with his father, he’d had enough and caved to the bitter regret and anger that had defined their relationship for far too long and moved away. Even now, as he pulled his truck over and soaked up the view of miles and miles of open prairie interrupted in the distance by isolated island ranges he’d longed to set eyes on every morning again, the resentment his father’s accusations conjured up still burned a hole in his gut.

  God, he’d missed spending his days on this land, his nights in his family home. Not the constant, belittling and guilt-inducing words hurled by his father, but the wide-open spaces dotted with the best prime cattle in the industry all blanketed by a cloudless, clear blue sky; of riding the herd for hours or seeing to the Thoroughbreds; of joking with the hands and falling into bed every night exhausted from the physical activity and a day outdoors. Making the annual, obligatory trip back for the holidays every year had done little to soothe the ache of separating himself from his home. Sitting in an office all day with a view of downtown Houston just couldn’t compare, even if he had enjoyed the new challenge managing their oil interests offered him.

  Despite employing over fifty ranch hands, from where Kurt sat, the land appeared isolated. If he looked hard enough, he could spot a few cowpokes among the herds or glimpse one of their prized horses galloping across the wildflower-strewn pasture.

  An impatient thump resounded from the horse trailer, Atlas’ way of letting him know the stallion was ready to get out of there. Kurt’s mouth curled in a humorless grin. Leland Wilcox wouldn’t welcome the quarter horse in the stable allotted for his valuable equines, but that was too damn bad. He refused to leave his beloved steed behind and wanted him housed in one of the roomier stalls.

  Another kick against the metal back end of the trailer was accompanied by a high-pitched neigh of irritation. “Okay, big guy, I get it.” Shifting the gear back into drive, he pulled forward and turned toward the slowly opening gates, waving to employees who noted his arrival. As one of the wealthiest landowners in the state, his father had never spared any expense to protect what had come down to him from his father, and his grandfather before that. Too bad Leland’s money couldn’t protect his daughter from herself or his wife from cancer.

  May as well not go down that road until I have to. He was sure Leland wouldn’t let a simple thing like a stroke keep him from reminding Kurt it had been his responsibility to keep his sister, Brittany from self-destructing. When he’d gotten the call three months ago from their manager, Roy Jacobs, informing him of Leland’s stroke, he’d flown to Billings and stayed a week round the clock at St. Vincent’s Healthcare, ensuring his father was getting the best care despite his usual surly attitude. Before returning to Houston, he’d gotten Leland to promise to give rehab his best shot and offered to run the ranch while he was recovering. He’d always known where his responsibility lay, even if he’d turned his back on it these past years. Coming back home wasn’t the hardship though. Dealing with Leland would be.

  It took five minutes to drive from the gates to the sprawling Spanish style ranch house he’d grown up in. Pulling in front, he got out and inhaled a deep breath of the fresh, early morning air, catching a whiff of livestock mingling with the sweeter scents of wheat and hay from the fields. They would harvest the summer crops soon, if they hadn’t already begun. He wasn’t surprised to hear the front door open or Babs’ excited squeal of welcome as she came rushing down the porch steps to throw her soft, round arms around him.

  Laughin
g, Kurt hugged her back. “Missed me, did you?”

  Leaning back, the older woman gazed at him fondly even as she smacked his arm. “Darn right. I hear you’re back to stay. Please tell me that’s true.”

  Roy’s wife and their housekeeper for the past thirty years, Babs was the employee he’d missed seeing every day the most. The couple lived in one of the cabins they provided for a few employees and had raised their two children on the ranch, both of whom now lived in the smaller, nearby town of Willow Springs with their own families.

  “That’s true. Someone has to take over for the old man.” He grew serious as he looked toward the house. “Has he been difficult?”

  “No more than usual, less than I thought he would be when he returned from the hospital. He’s actually been on pretty good behavior ever since you told him you were coming in this week. Although,” she scolded, “we were expecting you yesterday.”

  “Yeah, sorry for the delay. Something came up.” More like someone, he mused, thinking of Leslie, and how tempting she looked in her bed as he’d left. At least he’d had the chance to see her blue eyes glaze with passion and then glow with stunned pleasure before leaving. Now he wouldn’t have that haunted gaze shadowing their pretty color plaguing his conscience. “Let me get Atlas turned out to pasture and I’ll be in. Tell him I’m here, would you?”

  “Oh, he already knows. He’s been watching out the window. Dr. Hoffstetter will be here at eleven and Mr. Wilcox wanted you here by then.”

  “That’s Willow Springs new physician? He makes house calls?” Kurt cast Babs a skeptical look. “Is Dad sure this guy is on the up and up?”

  “See, you do care.” Babs’ eyes turned watery before she blinked the moisture away. “Yes, he comes with some impressive credentials, including five years as the lead trauma surgeon at Denver Health. He and your father have a love/hate relationship.” Her lips quirked, as if she knew what he would say to that.