Nowhere Ranch

by Heidi Cullinan

  He was the one under me this time, all soft and pliant for me. Usually it's angry when I do the actual fucking. But I didn't want that with him. Not tonight.

  “I want to fuck you,” I said. “I want to fuck you, Travis.”

  He nodded, shutting his eyes. “Bathroom cupboard. Top shelf.”

  I waddled a little on the way to the john. My ass was really sore. While I was in the cupboard, I put a little Vaseline on the outer ring of muscle. I tried not to think about my ass, tried to focus on Travis's instead as I made my way back to the bed, condom in hand.

  He had been watching me and my waddle. “I did hurt you.”

  “Don't worry about it.” I knee-walked over to him and stroked his thigh. “Can I do you on your hands and knees?”

  What I wanted was to get a good hold on his ass. It was a little bit soft like his belly, and I had been thinking it would be nice to hold on to. I was scrawny and wiry, but Travis had a nice, plump ass. And oh yeah, it felt good in my hands.

  I rode him slow. Even without the tightness, I could tell from his body language that he didn't give his ass to just anybody. Which was a shame, because he was a good ride. I bucked into him in a sort of slow-mo version of the bronc riders at the rodeo, rolling my hips and thrusting my groin, rocking back and curving my body to compensate. I even held on to his ass cheek like a pommel and raised my other hand like a rider a few times because it was fun.

  Hot. Hot and slick and tight. Soft hot. Closed around me, sucking me in, taking me. I was not gonna be able to come, not a third time. Too tired, too sore. But I gave him a good hard ride, got him all ramped up. When I reached underneath him for that nice fat cock again, it was hard and leaking. I stroked it as I thrust, talking dirty again. “Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah, baby. Like that. Oh yeah.” And it worked, because eventually he came all over my hand. He collapsed on the bed, and I rolled him over, spooning against his side. Then I kissed him, running my tongue along his jawline.

  He stilled me with a touch, then let his hand slide to the back of my neck, drawing me into his shoulder.

  “I want you to tell me,” he said quietly, “what you need from me so that we can do this again sooner than four months.” His fingers brushed my hairline. “Do you need it to be a secret? Is it that you want to be the instigator? Only on certain days?” His hand tightened, and I could feel his frustration. “Tell me there's something I can do or agree to.”

  I had seen this coming in my peripheral vision all night, I guess. It didn't bother me so much because even though I knew it was trouble, I wanted it too. I didn't want to date, which was what I'd been afraid he was gonna ask. But he was focused on the sex, which was fine. He was right. It saved a trip to Rapid City. And it was first-rate stuff, this. This could be fine, so long as we kept it to just sex.

  But there needed to be some rules.

  “I don't want any of the crew to know,” I said. “Not Tory. Not anybody. I don't advertise my sex life.” I stroked his clavicle. “And work is work. No fucking around while either of us is working.”

  “I can live with those terms.” He sounded relieved, like he was thrilled at the deal he was getting.

  “I ain't done. It don't have to be just me that starts it. And you can set it up while we're at work, if you're discreet. Ask me if I'm free in the evening or whatever. I'll figure out what you mean. And you tell me about what your rules are too.”

  “I don't really have any requests beyond, ‘As much of you in a bed as I can get.'”

  “Well, I got one more.” I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. “I want access to your kitchen. Any time of the day.” That made him laugh. I didn't. “Yeah, you think it's funny, but you aren't working in my sorry excuse for one. The kitchen is crucial to this negotiation, Mr. Loving.”

  He sobered a little. “All right. The kitchen is yours. Which you could have had without the sex, but you can't take it back now.”

  Now I did grin. “We could have sex in the kitchen.”

  He groaned. “Not now. If I had the energy to move, I'd go sit in the hot tub.”

  My eyebrows went up. “You have a hot tub?”

  “I have a hot tub.”

  “We are having sex in the hot tub.” I laid my head back down. “Later.”

  He pulled the blanket up over us and arranged us better on the pillows. Cuddling with this man was getting to be a habit. It should have been weird, but it wasn't. I wouldn't stay like this for long, because it would make my neck stiff, but it was nice.

  Travis nuzzled the top of my hair, and I closed my eyes and let myself float on the sensations.

  “I wish you could have seen yourself with that inside you,” he whispered, mouth still on my hair. “You were beautiful. You made my teeth ache just watching you.”

  Right then I felt beautiful. Sore and tired and beautiful. And not lonely. Not lonely at all.

  I did end up sleeping on his shoulder all night, and it did fuck up my neck just like I said it would. But much like my backside, the pain was worth it.

  The next morning was awkward at first. Even in Travis's bed, I was aware I was on the ranch, which meant work and sex had mixed a lot closer than I cared for. I'd known that last night, but I hadn't made peace with it as much as I'd shoved it over because I really, really wanted sex with Loving.

  Loving. Travis. It was getting hard to know what I wanted to think of him as. Which was why sex was always with guys in towns far away from where I worked. Which was why it was very infrequently with the same guy. And now here I'd agreed to regular sex with not just one guy but the guy who also signed my paycheck.

  Though there was the kitchen.

  Rubbing my stiff neck, I slid out of the bed, took care of business in the bathroom, and made my way naked down the stairs to hunt down my clothes. It was Saturday. None of the other hands worked Saturdays or Sundays, but I always checked the sheep when I got up.

  I climbed into my clothes, thinking about hay and rain and yield and soil and sheep. But I saw the kitchen out of the corner of my eye and decided all that could wait a minute. I remembered Loving had been drinking coffee the night before, which meant he probably had some here. I headed to the kitchen.

  After so long with my hot plate and tiny fridge, I felt like I was in a palace. And it kind of was, as far as ranch kitchens went. The floor was heavy gray tile. The counters were granite, and the appliances gleamed. You could have given a bath to a midsize sow in that sink. The cupboards were sturdy, heavy wood. But there wasn't a damn thing inside them.

  He had a few cups and plates and the odd packet of noodles and sauce, and there were filters and coffee beans. That was about it. Normally I wouldn't snoop, but I couldn't stand it. I had to find out if the cupboards were empty all around, and by God, they were. I had more in my pantry than he did.

  The coffeemaker stumped me for a few minutes. You could've launched a nuclear missile with the damn thing, there were so many buttons, and the grinder for the beans was in the coffeemaker. I frowned at it. It was fuss, and I don't care for fuss. Fresh beans are better, but they're expensive and troublesome, and the stuff in the tin gets the job done. But there was no can of Folgers here, just some bag of beans which I was pretty sure came from a local shop, like they roasted them there. Fuss. So much fuss for coffee.

  But I figured it all out, and before too long I had the java brewing. I took a moment to prepare myself before opening the fridge door, and it was about as bad as I'd feared. Eggs but no cheese. Milk, but it was expired. Beer, plenty of that, and some diet soda. The freezer had ice cream with a layer of frost on it, a few bags of vegetables that had turned into bricks, and some steaks. They at least were from his own stock, so they were in butcher paper. I assumed he thawed them and ate them with the baked beans in the cupboard. The vegetables must've been a nice idea that hadn't panned out.

  I stuffed my feet into my boots and headed out to check on the sheep while the coffee brewed.

  The trouble with Loving's operation was that he wanted
it to be organic, but he kept getting stuck on all the problems that come up with going that route. He had been at this long enough to figure out you didn't just turn the animals out and watch them graze, that with sheep especially you had to get in there and trim hooves and move them around. That was the big change I'd made. I had them trimming more often and moving pasture twice as frequently. Tory was good about anticipating and preventing problems with the cattle, but he and Loving both tended to wait for a fire to start with the sheep before they did anything.

  Which was why I had just taken it on myself to check the sheep every day. They'd come to know me, and much as they didn't care for my hossing them around and pecking at their hooves, they enjoyed the alfalfa pellets I kept in my pockets, so I was still pretty popular.

  When I found an injured wether, I lured him out of the pasture with pellets, went back for some scrub, and cleaned him out good before I bandaged him. One of my goals for the year was to convince Loving to vaccinate for tetanus and other disease prevention. I'd made some calls and verified he could still certify organic with some of them, but he's all about purity.

  On my way back to the house, I stopped by my place and raided my pantry. I carried my supplies back in a Walmart sack, heading straight for the kitchen, where I planned to roll up my sleeves and get serious.

  Loving was up and sitting at the counter, sipping coffee. I hesitated when I saw him. He looked happy to have me there, but I'll be honest, I'd been looking forward to cooking alone. But that was rude, so I gave him a nod as I came through. “Morning.”

  He nodded back and watched me work. I'd worried he was going to get kissy on me, but he stayed where he was, and bless him, he didn't talk, just watched me work. I poured myself some coffee and got to it.

  “You were serious about the kitchen,” he said eventually.

  I nodded and went back to cooking.

  “Omelet?” he ventured as I whisked eggs.

  I nodded again. “There'll be one for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  They were not much. Ham and cheese with a bit of onion and pepper. I like bacon, but I put that on the side, next to some toast. It isn't as good a bacon as I could have gotten back home, but bacon was bacon, kind of like coffee. Loving seemed to think this was some kind of gourmet feast, though.

  “If you weren't so good with the sheep, I'd hire you as a cook instead,” he said between mouthfuls.

  I frowned at him, because that was just a damn ridiculous thing to say.

  He had the bit between his teeth now though. “Seriously, would you be willing to do this more often? I could get a line of credit at the grocery store.”

  “Eat your bacon,” I told him. I didn't like the idea of shopping for him. Not with his money. It was too weird, like I was his wife. Maybe I shouldn't have included the kitchen in the deal. But then I looked down at the omelet that had been so easy to make with counter space and hadn't burned on one side while being raw on the other, and I decided I could manage this if I stuck to my guns.

  Thankfully he seemed to get the hint that I didn't like the way his mind was turning, and he settled down and ate. He ate every damn bit of it. He also shooed me out and insisted he would do the dishes. I wished he hadn't, because that made me restless, so I gave myself a tour of his house instead.

  It was mostly empty. There were more empty rooms than there were furnished ones. The living room where we had made out had a nice leather couch and recliner and had a nice TV with a lot of receivers and players underneath it. There were bookshelves too, with lots of books in them. But there was this whole empty side at the other end with just a fireplace, nothing to sit on in front of it. There was an empty formal dining room and another empty room. The basement was finished, but it just had boxes in it. There was one room I couldn't get into because it was locked up tight with a padlock, for storage, I supposed. In the upstairs he had three bedrooms. One had his bed, one had a guest bed, and the other was empty.

  It was kind of depressing.

  But there was plenty of stuff in his four seasons room out back. You got to it through the living room and the empty room, but once you were there it was like you finally hit the actual house. He even had plants in there. A lounger, four other chairs—one that rocked—a rug, decorations on the walls, and lantern lights on a string all around the edges of the room.

  And there was the hot tub.

  It was a nice-sized hot tub. I don't know how many people it was officially for, but it seemed to me that you could get six in there or maybe more if you were determined. Of course, the idea of being in a hot tub with six people, even guys, was not something I had a personal yen for. But two guys could get in there no problem with lots of room for extracurricular activities. It was covered, so I lifted up a corner and peered underneath. The smell of chlorine filled my nose, and dark water rippled as I bumped the side. I thought about being in there with Travis and got a little bit excited.

  “Go on and take the cover off,” he said from behind me. I jumped and let the cover fall back down, but he came over and peeled it back himself. He folded the squares over one another and set it aside before turning to me.

  I went still, but my heart kicked up a little. He had a look in his eye that had no hints of conversation or accounts at the grocery store and everything to do about fucking me. My ass, still tender, sent up a few waves of misgiving, but my cock choked those off at the pass, pointing out there were plenty of other body parts that still wanted to play.

  He nodded to the open tub. “Take off your clothes and get in there.”

  My cock bobbed in my pants and sent out a hum through my body. “Yes, sir.”

  I skimmed out of my clothes and climbed into the water in under thirty seconds, then stood in the middle, waiting for my next instruction. But he only pushed a button to start the jets and waved me down. “Sit,” he said, “and relax. I'm going to get a few things.”

  I sat down in a corner, though I moved quickly because the jet there was a little bit too strong and went straight up my ass. Normally that could be a party, but not today. Mostly I moved around the tub, sitting in different places, watching the door. My body was humming as it anticipated what was coming.

  I had not expected Loving to come back with rope.

  He had a small bag too, but mostly I was fixated on the rope. It was nylon cord, like clothesline, except it was cut in nice tidy sections which I knew from experience were just enough to bind hands and ankles. He hadn't been gone that long, so these had already been prepared.

  “Somebody's a Boy Scout,” I observed, nodding at his supplies.

  He grinned. “I was. I was a city boy, but I loved the outdoors. Always have.”

  “You didn't get out this toy kit in Rapid City,” I said.

  He was arranging things on a small table off to the side, but he had propped a plant up between us so I couldn't see what he was doing. “I don't bring things like this with me when I go cruising, no.”

  “This for when you and Tory feel like playing, is it?” I was aware that now I was the chatty one, but I really wanted to figure this mystery out.

  He stopped arranging and glanced over at me. “When I first came here, I came with a lover. It had been our plan to run Nowhere together, but he discovered he didn't have as much taste for it as I did. And I discovered I wanted to live on an isolated Nebraska ranch more than I wanted to be with him.”

  The careful way he said all that promised there was a lot more to the story, but I had enough to follow along. I also noted that in a way he was saying I was special, if he was trotting out these toys and fucking me here at the house. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but this was not the time for worrying. I settled back against the side of the tub as much as I could and tried to let the warm water and the bubbles relax me.

  Eventually he stopped arranging and stripped down too. I lay back with my arms over the edges of the tub and watched the show, feeling the hum deepening in me as he exposed more and more of his body. B
ut before he climbed in, he grabbed two lengths of rope.

  “Stand up and turn around.”

  I did as he told me.

  “Bend over and grab hold of the rail.”

  There were metal rails around the edges of the tub to help people get in and out. I held on to one of them, and no sooner were my hands there but he was threading the rope around my wrist and onto the rail. He tied me tight and fast with a skill that made my stomach dance.

  He glanced at my face as he finished the first hand. “I still remember what ‘no’ means for you.”

  “You just surprise me is all,” I said. “You acted in Rapid City like you hadn't done much of this kind of thing.”

  “I have, but only with one person, and we pretty much made our own rules. I don't know quite what you expect. It feels like starting over to me.”

  He moved around to the other side of me and began to bind the other hand. “Well, I have only played around with this stuff. There were a few tense moments a couple times, so yeah, I don't court it.” He glanced at me again, and I glared. “I didn't say stop. And anyway, you're different.”

  That, I realized too late, had been a stupid thing to say, but he fussed over that confession less than I would have figured. “Because I'm your boss?”

  “Thought you said that was Tory,” I shot back, but I had to work to make it come out grumpy.

  I wasn't ready for him to grab the back of my head, pull it back and come down on my mouth like he was going to take it over. It was so strong and so unexpected that I just sort of melted and let him dive into me. When he finally lifted his head, I was really hard.

  He nipped at my bottom lip. “I'm your boss today, boy.”

  That made me buzz. “Yes, Mr. Loving.”

  He nipped me again, then ducked under my arms and sat down on the bench between them. He grabbed my hips, and I came forward to straddle him, hands still lashed to the sides of the tub. After plunking me on his lap, he let his eyes wander over me, and his fingers wandered all over my chest.

  “You have questions all over your face,” he said at last. “I want to hear them.”