Spurred To Submission

by Desiree Holt

  Worn jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows outlined the typically lean, muscled body of a seasoned wrangler. His face was too rough to be called handsome but it had a masculine beauty that shouted pure sex. Thick brown hair hung just below his familiar Stetson to the edge of his collar and his ocean blue eyes danced with humor.

  Like her, Hondo was one of the wranglers at The Lucky L Cutting Horse Ranch, already in place when she hired on a year ago. From the first time she saw him in action she admired the ease with which he handled the horses, whether they were boarders-in-training or those still waiting to be schooled. Watching his muscles flex and his hands work the reins mesmerized her as if she were a horny teenager.

  A lot of time had passed since she was around a man with such rampant sexuality. Images she’d been locking away with determination always seemed to batter at the door to get loose whenever Hondo was within fifty feet of her. Whatever chemistry was erupting between them made her yearn for things she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Experiences that, with Hondo—

  Don’t you dare, Bailey Raeanne French. The men around here are off limits. Permanently. And for more than one very good reason.

  Things had gotten a lot busier at the ranch during the past year. Liz and Alex Wright decided to add a small herd of cattle to the cutting horse breeding stock, the boarding and training. Probably why they’d had a job available at exactly the moment she needed one.

  Wranglers were responsible for the care and feeding of the stock, both horses and cattle, and for working with the cutting horse trainers. A never-ending list of chores kept them busy from sunup to sundown. Bailey had plunged right in, using the skills she’d worked her tail off to acquire. Choosing a job in a male-dominated profession meant always having to work harder, better, smarter, and definitely not giving out any vibes that she might be sexually available. What she did was hard work, and she constantly had the sense of needing to prove herself. Hiring on at the Lucky L was a big break for her. The owner, Liz Wright, had faced a lot of the same prejudices so the women really connected.

  For the most part, she worked well with the other wranglers. But that was because she made herself see them all as sexless humans, muscle and sinew built for a hardass job. And because she never interacted with any of them personally except in the most casual way.

  Not so with Hondo LaBar. Even now, dirty and sweaty as she was and engrossed in a delicate chore, just being near him made every one of her pulse points throb. If she didn’t have Hank’s foot steadied between her legs she’d be squeezing her thighs together to still the ache building there.

  Hadn’t she learned by now that her ability to choose was seriously flawed?

  “I didn’t realize that was a difficult question.” His voice, with the perfection of aged whiskey, held a tinge of humor.

  “What?” She tightened her fingers around Hank’s hoof. “Sorry. Did you say something? Paying attention here, you know.”

  He laughed, a deep-throated sound that made her nerves snap and her breasts ache.

  “Actually, I wondered about Hank getting more conversation from you than any of the rest of us.”

  Bailey waited until she’d finished cleaning the one hoof and released it before she answered. Then she looked at him with what she hoped was a complete lack of expression.

  “Actually, Hank and I have something special going here. We understand each other.”

  “You know, I’ve been wondering something.” Hondo slid his foot from the bench and took a step closer. “How come you never go into town with us on the weekends? A cold beer really washes away the dust after a hard week. Especially in this heat.”

  Bailey shrugged then bent to lift Hank’s other rear hoof.

  “I’m not much of one for hanging out in bars.” Not one at all, as a matter of fact. “I do appreciate y’all asking me, though.”

  The last thing she needed was loosening up with a bunch of horny cowboys. She kept a very tight lid on her sexual preferences, so tight she hadn’t even lifted that lid in a very long time. Some might see her desires as a weakness and scorn her for it. Others might as easily take advantage. She’d discovered that to earn and keep the respect she needed on her job, she could never blur the line between social and work.

  Hondo moved a couple more steps closer, careful to keep away from Hank’s wayward hooves.

  “Sure I can’t talk you into it? Pizza’s tonight’s special.” She could hear the coaxing smile in his voice. “Might actually be fun.”

  She was silent as she finished with the other hoof although acutely aware of him standing barely more than a foot away. Finished, she put her tools in the wooden carrier she used and straightened up.

  “It’s very nice of you to ask, Hondo.” She brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead. “Maybe some other time.”

  “That’s what you always say.” He followed her as she untied Hank and led him to his stall. “You have something against socializing?”

  Yes. But I can’t tell you what it is.

  Poor judgment had landed her in a bad situation. She’d fled both the man and her job at a ranch outside Dallas. Luck and circumstance had turned her onto the opening at the Lucky L. She didn’t plan to do anything to screw it up.

  “Bailey?” Hondo’s voice jerked her back to the present. “It’s not much of a life if you spend it working all day then hole up in that little cabin you’re using at night.”

  Could the man not take a hint? She needed to take care of this before it became a full-blown scene.

  “Actually, I’m going into San Antonio tonight to see a friend.” She stowed her carrier in the tack room and ran through a mental checklist of what still had to be done before the end of the day.

  “Yeah?” He blocked her exit at the open door. “What kind of a friend would that be?”

  Bailey wanted to suck in a deep breath and inhale his essence throughout her body. The mixture of man, hay, horses, and leather was an incredible aphrodisiac. Especially the leather. Instead, she slid past him out into the main aisle.

  “An old friend. And right now I have things to do if I want to leave on time.”

  Of course, now she had to think up some place to go and hope this persistent man didn’t follow her.

  He walked with her in silence for a moment. “Well, maybe on the weekend. There’s a guitar player on Friday and Saturday nights. Music’s pretty good.”

  Bailey stopped and turned to look at him. She needed to nip this in the bud right now.

  “Hondo, listen. You’re a really great guy, and I like being your friend. But hanging out with you guys wouldn’t be good for my situation. Pretty soon one of you would get the wrong idea, we’d have a problem and I’d have to leave.” She sighed. “And I like my job.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You think the guys would disrespect you if you hung out with us and had a beer now and then?”

  She shrugged and started walking again. “It’s a chance I can’t take. I worked too hard to get where I am.”

  “Everyone has to let their hair down sometime,” he insisted. “All work and no play makes for a very dull life.”

  “Maybe.” She stopped at the gate to the corral. “But if I play, it certainly wouldn’t be smart to do it here.”

  His fingers closed lightly over her upper arm. “Are you saying you have someplace you go to play?”

  Damn. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

  “I’m not saying anything. Think what you want. Anyway, I have to get Mick Jagger out of the corral right now.”

  Hondo grinned. “People sure give weird names to their horses.” He moved his hand from her arm. “Just think about what I said, though, okay? Just a drink now and then?”

  “I’ll think about it. Now, I’d better get back to work before I don’t have a job to worry about.”

  But she stood there a moment, watching him walk away with his familiar loose-hipped gait. Images floated unbidden in her brain, images of herself bound hand and f
oot on a padded table and Hondo standing beside her, fastening clamps to her nipples. Images of him trailing the thin strap of a single-tail whip over her body. Or drumming the soft flesh of her breasts and stomach with fire wands, just enough to heat but never burn. Or—

  Stop!

  Lord. She shook her head and looked around to make sure no one was watching her. The pulse in her cunt was throbbing so hard it pulsed through her entire body. She could never, ever, let any of these men know the kind of extreme BDSM she was into. The edge play that turned her on. She had just denied herself any play at all for so long, her body was hungry for it and her self-control was starting to fray.

  Finding a Dom who knew the proper etiquette and rules for edge play was hard. Some she’d met were so over the top she’d had to nearly shout her safeword to get them to stop. Others said they were into it but couldn’t take it as far as she wanted. Or needed. She’d finally had to admit to herself that taking it to the edge was what really turned her on and she longed to find a Dom she could put her complete trust in who knew how to give her pleasure while receiving equal pleasure from her responses. Maybe she’d email one of the subs she still checked in with to see if someone could recommend a club not too far away she could try out.

  Deliberately pushing everything from her mind, she walked into the corral and whistled for Mick Jagger.

  “Come on, hot stuff,” she called out. “Time to get your manicure.”

  But as the horse trotted obediently toward her, she couldn’t help wondering just once more if Hondo LaBar was into BDSM, and what extreme edge play, the kind she craved with every cell in her body, would be like with him.

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