by Tia Siren
He used to say, “Fuck alarm clocks. I wanna wake up with a woman’s lips on my pecker!”
Hell, I’d said the same thing myself many times. Wesley just shook his head at me, but he knew I was right. A good blow job beat an alarm clock any day of the week.
Sometimes the woman the old man was fucking would be an actual girlfriend or some socialite that he’d met at a charity event or a business meeting. The old man was a good-looking son of a bitch in his prime and always had money to burn. It was a combination a lot of women found hard to resist.
But most of the time, the women I heard moaning on the other side of that bedroom door were just good old-fashioned Texas road whores, the kind of gal that could fuck an entire bunkhouse full of cowboys and suck the leather off their saddles. That was the kind of women they were, and that was how the old man treated them and every other woman he screwed.
“All women like to be treated like whores,” he’d say. “You gotta talk dirty to them. Tell them what to do and how to do it. You also gotta tell them how they make you feel. If a woman thinks she’s got your dick so hard it’s gonna pop like a weasel, it’s a complement to her. She made your dick hard. Now you’re gonna take that hard dick and do things to her that are gonna make wax shoot out of her ears. Women love that shit, boy. Trust your old man on this one.”
I not only trusted him, but in this regard, I tried to be just like him. I’d never met a woman who’d had a problem with it.
Until today.
* * *
I took a quick shower and dressed in black jeans, snakeskin boots, and a fitted black polo shirt that had the Big Sky logo on the left side of my chest. I strapped a gold Rolex Submariner around my wrist and stood checking my reflection in the mirror over the dresser.
I saw myself, but I was thinking about her. That face, those eyes, those lips, the aroma of that sweet pussy filling the tiny massage room like the sweetest incense on earth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could still smell her. My tongue went across my lips. I could taste the tang of her on the tip of my tongue.
Never—NEVER—had a woman gotten me so hard without so much as touching me. I had to have her. I had to have…shit…what the fuck was her name?
Wesley tapped on the bedroom door and stuck his head in. “Hey, you ready to go to the employee orientation?”
“I am,” I said brightly.
“You’re sure in a good mood,” Wesley said, leaning against the doorway and cutting his eyes at me. “Good massage?”
“It was a very good massage,” I said, leaning into the mirror and brushing back the hair from my forehead with my fingertips.
Wesley grinned at me. “Did you have a happy ending?”
I chuckled. “Let’s just say that I had a very promising ending.”
His grin became a confused look. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means we need to go,” I said, tapping a fingernail to the Rolex. “Can’t keep our employees waiting, now can we?”
“I guess not,” he said as I brushed past him to head down the hall.
Good old Wesley. I loved it when he didn’t have a clue what was going on with me.
Come to think of it, I didn’t have a clue what was going on with me either.
I just knew that I couldn’t wait to see her again.
Whatever her name was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Miranda
The Big Sky employee orientation was set for three o’clock in the lodge’s grand dining room. The entire staff that would be working for the next month, keeping guests happy and the place running, were on hand. There were probably fifty or sixty people there, seated at circular tables that held six chairs each. I checked my watch. It was two minutes till three.
I leaned over to Wanda Jean, who was seated to my right, and whispered. “What’s about to happen?”
She whispered back. “Max, the general manager, will greet everybody, talk about hospitality and customer service, read off a few rules, and then tell you all the things that will get you fired. That sort of thing.”
“I heard someone say that the owner was here,” I said, craning my neck to look around the room. I didn’t see anyone who looked like a billionaire. Not that I’d know what a billionaire even looked like.
“I heard that, too,” she said, her eyes going dreamy. “Conner Blackstone himself. He’s like this cowboy god; handsome, sexy, supposedly hung like a horse. What I wouldn’t give to have him drill my well this weekend.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked with a grin.
“Darlin’, I would let Conner Blackstone drill for oil in me any time he wants,” she said with an evil smile. “And he can deep drill in any hole he wants.”
“You’re awful,” I said.
“And you’re a tight ass,” she said. She nodded at the front of the room. “Okay, here we go.”
The general manager stood at a podium at the front of the room and introduced himself. He welcomed everyone and then said, “Before we get started with the actual orientation, we have a very special guest with us today. He is the man responsible for all of us being here. Please, give a warm welcome to CEO of Blackstone Enterprises and the owner of Big Sky Ranch & Spa, Mr. Conner Blackstone.”
As everyone stood and clapped, a door behind the podium opened and in walked a tall man with broad shoulders and dark features, dressed in tight black jeans and a tight polo shirt that hugged his muscular frame.
He strutted to the microphone and held up his hands to quiet the crowd. He let his eyes go around the room for a minute as everyone sat down, and then his eyes settled on me. The instant our eyes met, I knew I was probably going to be fired.
The dusty cowboy with the big cock and obnoxious attitude, the one who had wiggled his cock in the air and told me to tug it, suck it, or fuck it, was Conner fucking Blackstone, owner of Big Sky Ranch.
I literally felt myself melting in the chair, in more ways than one.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Conner
When I spotted her sitting there in the crowd at the back of the room, my balls literally did a little happy dance in my pants.
I had not scared her off with my alpha male bullshit after all. That was good. She was a strong one who could give as good as she got. I liked that in a woman. I hated girls who wilted when you talked dirty to them or tensed up when you commanded them to suck your cock. I liked girls who could take it and dish it back out.
I liked being in charge, but I also liked it when a girl took control and bossed me around a bit. I loved it when a girl ordered me to lick her pussy or shove my big, fat cock into her cunt. That shit was like poetry to my ears. And I was pretty much game for anything that didn’t result in a trip to the ER. And I do mean anything.
I had a strong feeling that my alpha-ness would stoke a fire in this girl if she would just give me the chance to prove it to her. I saw the way she was looking at my cock. She was licking her lips. And I could smell her pussy juicing from a foot away.
Maybe she was the play-hard-to-get type. Maybe she wanted a gentleman like Wesley, who believed in the old school “wine and dine” method.
Fine. Whatever I had to do to get my big cock inside her sweet pussy, I’d do it, even if I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.
If I had to walk over hot coals just to stick my tongue in her cooch and a finger up her ass, it would be a small price to pay for that conquest.
She would be my bitch and I would be her stud before the weekend was through, no matter the cost.
I stood there behind the podium, smiling at them, not because I was happy to be there, but because I had a boner in my pants with her name on it.
Whatever her name was.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Miranda
I held my breath the entire time Conner Blackstone was speaking to the room full of his employees. I kept waiting for him to call me out and slut shame me right there in front of everyone, even though I’d done nothing slutty or shameful…other than the thoughts I’d been having
about him since our encounter in the massage room just an hour before.
Every time I closed my eyes I could picture that big thing standing at attention like a wooden soldier, bouncing at me, its big round head seemingly ready to burst. I felt the seat beneath me getting warm and realized that I was soaking my panties again. Damn this guy! What was with his ability to turn on my water works without even touching me?
I heard him say, “Thank you again for all your hard work. Here’s to another successful season at Big Sky!”
Everyone shot to their feet and gave him a big round of applause. I was one of the last to stand and the last to sit down. I didn’t realize I was still standing and clapping, watching Conner exit through the door he’d come in just a few minutes before, until Wanda Jean tugged on my sleeve.
“I told you,” she said, whispering excitedly in my ear. “Is he a fucking god or what?”
I just nodded slowly and mumbled, “Uh huh.”
Everyone turned their attention back to the general manager, who was now talking over a PowerPoint presentation that listed all the ways we could be helpful to guests and increase our tips.
I should have been paying attention, but all I could think about was Conner Blackstone and his magnificent cock. I wondered if I would ever have the chance to be alone with them—I mean him—again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Miranda
Thankfully, the remainder of Monday was uneventful. Wanda Jean and I managed to stay awake through the entire employee orientation, and then we showered and changed and attended the employee dinner that evening.
It was basically just a big cookout so all the employees could mingle and get to know one another before the lodge officially opened the next day.
I’d never seen so much food in my life. Tons of barbecue, fresh-cut steaks, burgers, hot dogs, roasted pig, racks of lamb—you name it, it was there. I ate like it was my last meal. It was rare that I got this kind of free food, so I took full advantage of it by eating till I was ready to pop.
A dozen guys hit on Wanda Jean, but they left me alone. Wanda Jean said it was because I put out a vibe like a rattlesnake lying on a hot rock. Men were afraid to get too close out of fear that I might bite their heads off. She was right. I didn’t feel much like socializing, at least not with any of the men who tried to chat with me. My mind was set on Conner Blackstone, and he was nowhere in sight.
I went back to the bunkhouse before nine and was dead asleep by ten, with visions of Conner Blackstone and his magnificent cock dancing in my head.
I drifted into a dream. Conner was lying on the massage table with his hands behind his head and his thick cock jutting out of his dark pubic hair like the mast of a great ship. I was standing next to the table with my hands covered in warm oil. He looked at me with his beautiful, dark eyes. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. I knew what he wanted. I knew what to do, even though in real life I had never done it before.
I moved in close and wrapped my oily fingers around his cock and slowly began to rub the oil into the veiny shaft. His cock was so long that I could take it in both my hands and slide them up and down from base to tip.
Conner moaned as I worked the oil into his balls and around the head of his cock. The head was like a large mushroom that grew darker and rounder as my hands pumped the blood into it. The slit oozed clear juice that dripped across my fingers. Without hesitation, I leaned down and lapped it up with the tip of my tongue, and then I swirled my tongue around the head like I was licking an ice cream cone.
“Suck it, you beautiful bitch,” I heard him moan. “Suck my big, hard cock.”
I did as he commanded. I pumped the shaft slowly with both hands and pressed a kiss to the tip. I slowly spread my lips and let the entire head slide into my mouth. I slathered my tongue beneath the head and Conner moaned.
“Yes, that’s it,” he sighed. “Take my big cock in to that gorgeous mouth of yours. Take all of it. Suck my cock good and hard.”
I closed my eyes and let his cock slide into my mouth an inch at a time. My lips were tight around the shaft. The oil tasted sweet, like rose wine. I took him in until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I didn’t gag. I just kept going. I took in the full length of his cock until my nose was brushing his thick pubic hair. I let him slide out of my mouth, and then I took him in again, over and over, until his cock literally throbbed in my throat.
“Make me come, baby,” Conner moaned. “Pump my big cock until I come like a fucking volcano.”
I gripped his cock tightly in my right hand and started pumping the shaft while my left hand played with his balls. I slid my middle finger beneath his balls and across his taint, and then with one quick movement I slid my entire finger up his asshole. The second I did, his entire body tensed and he lifted his ass off the table with my finger clenched inside him.
I pumped him faster until the head seemed to blossom and the slit quivered. Suddenly, white, milky cum shot from his cock like a geyser, sending ropes of it a foot into the air for what seemed like minutes. It overflowed from his cock and covered my hands. I worked my finger in and out of his asshole, and each time I did, he came a little more.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Conner’s body went limp and he let go a long, satisfied sigh. I was still holding his cock in my hand, covered with his cum.
“Clean me off with your mouth,” he commanded, smiling down at me. “Lick that cum off my cock like it’s ice cream.”
I didn’t speak. Nor did I hesitate.
I simply leaned down and, with my lips and tongue, licked his cock clean.
When I woke up the next morning, I thought I’d wet the bed.
The sheets beneath my ass were soaked.
Then I realized that it wasn’t pee.
It was the juice that had flowed from me while I’d been dreaming.
My pussy was still dripping with it.
I had orgasmed multiple times in my sleep.
I glanced over at Wanda Jean, who was still snoring softly in her bed next to mine. I lay back and sighed.
What a wonderful way to start the day.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Miranda
To my chagrin, I didn’t see Conner Blackstone all day Tuesday or Tuesday night. It was probably for the best, because I was booked solid with clients from ten in the morning until eight that night. By the time I left the spa my hands were cramping and my back felt like it was going to break.
I didn’t know which was more tiring: a full day hoofing tables at Red Lobster or standing at a massage table and rubbing the kinks out of rich tourists’ backs.
There was certainly no comparison between the two in regard to the amount of money I made. On a good day at Red Lobster I might have made a hundred bucks.
On my way out of the spa that night, Carla told me I had made three hundred bucks just in tips. That was on top of my base pay, which was a hundred bucks for the day.
Four hundred dollars in one day. Sometimes I didn’t make four hundred dollars in a week. Wow! That certainly made the pain my body was feeling much easier to bare.
* * *
When I got to the spa on Wednesday morning, Carla told me that I had been booked for private massages at the chateau for the entire afternoon.
“You need to head up to the chateau at one and stay until you’re dismissed,” she said. “Be ready. It could be a long day, but the tips will be amazing.”
“Chateau?” I asked, giving her a confusing look. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand.”
“That’s Mr. Blackstone’s private residence on the hill,” she said with a thumb in the air. “He has personal guests coming today and wants to offer them all massages. He said he wanted you and only you.” She gave me a suspicious look. “Any idea why he’d do that?”
I had an idea, all right, but I was hesitant to share it with Carla. I just gave her a shrug and tried to look clueless. I knew it was all a ruse. There were no personal guests coming. This was Conner Blackstone’s way of gettin
g me alone so he could try his bullshit alpha male crap on me again.
I wondered exactly what he was up to.
And I wondered if, this time, it just might work.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Conner
“You can’t be serious!” Wesley said as he stood in the bedroom door, watching me tug on the dingy pair of cowboy boots I’d found in my closet. They were working cowboy boots, not dress boots like the pair of two-thousand-dollar elephant skins he was wearing. They were old and scuffed and dirty. I used to wear them when the old man and I came here for roundups before he died.
“We were supposed to head back to Dallas today to meet with your brother’s lawyer,” Wesley said. “I told you, this is not going to go away.”
“You handle it,” I said with a shrug. “You’re my lawyer.”
“But he’s your brother!” Wesley said. “The kid is going to be there with his aunt, Conner. They expect you to be there to meet him.”
“He is not my brother!” I screamed at him. “I’ve already told you: Pay the little bastard off and get him out of my life! I don’t want anything to do with him. What don’t you understand?”
Wesley looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. I ignored him and put on a denim shirt and tucked it into the ratty jeans. I put on a belt that had a huge silver buckle and then stood looking at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. All I needed was a hat and I’d look like a real cowboy. Yee-fucking-haw!
I heard Wesley sigh, and from the corner of my eye I saw him lean against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.
He said, “Throwing money at this kid is not going to make him go away, Con. For Christ’s sake, he’s your brother. DNA tests don’t lie. He is the only family you have now. How can you not acknowledge that? How can you not want him in your life?”