by Desiree Holt
She shook her head. “That’s not why.” She looked down at her boot-shod feet. “Hondo, listen, I—”
“Don’t want to rush anything. I got that. So how about this? I’ll just put it out there, and when you’re ready for another night at Rawhide, you let me know. Your call, Bailey.”
Something very warm curled through her. He might have all the control in the dungeon, but he realized that outside those walls she needed to have it herself. And he was giving it to her.
She smiled. “Thank you, Hondo. I really appreciate that.”
“I know.” He touched his fingertip to the end of her nose. “Meanwhile, I think we’d better open the door before someone comes barreling in here looking for a piece of equipment.”
Hondo took a step away from her, opened the tack room door, and looked to see if anyone was coming their way. The barn was empty. Of course. It was lunchtime. Everyone would be on the big enclosed porch John Loughlin had built years ago so the hands would have a place to eat. Liz Wright had continued the tradition, making sure the cook prepared a full breakfast and a hearty lunch for everyone. Dinner was on their own, which worked well since a number of the people who worked the ranch were married.
Bailey always made it a point to take her meals with everyone, part of her statement that she was their equal on all counts. Just one of the guys. Downplaying her femininity. Even the female trainers saw her that way. But Hondo had sensed there was fire beneath that cool exterior. He just hadn’t realized how hot it burned.
He wondered if she’d walk over to the house with him or make the effort to put some distance between them for the others. He stopped in the area between the barn and the paddock, waiting to see what she’d do.
“You go on and get lunch,” she told him. “I need to run home before I start work this afternoon.”
“No one’s going to read anything into us arriving together if that’s bothering you,” he told her. “We’ve done this any number of times when we happened to be heading there at the same time.”
“I know. I just need to run home to do a few things. Really.”
“All right. See you later, I guess.”
He started toward the house again, but her voice stopped him.
“Hondo?”
He half-turned to answer her. “Yeah?”
“I’d like…another night, too. Next week.”
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Next week. You let me know what night.” Then he hurried away before he could trip on his tongue.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had pushed all his buttons the way Bailey French did. If his hormones had done the happy dance before last night, now they were in full-blown activity mode. All he had to do was look at her for his cock to stand up at attention and try to salute. It made sitting in the saddle for any length of time damn uncomfortable and was a constant reminder of just how addicted he’d become to Bailey after only one night.
It wasn’t because he hadn’t been with a really satisfying sub for a long time. No, it was more than that. It was emotional chemistry as well as physical. He just had to figure out how to get it under control and work slowly. She’d placed a lot of trust in him last night, but he could tell she still held back part of herself. He wanted to unlock the secrets of her past and make her accept him completely.
After one night? Dream on, you idiot.
Last night had opened something inside him, emotions he’d kept locked away for a long time. More than fifteen years had passed since he discovered he was actually a Dom. But with Bailey the reaction had been more intense than he could have believed, even after all this time. Now he was like a kid in a candy shop. Starving for his next taste.
Don’t push, don’t push.
Whatever had happened in her past had left her open only so far. Even in subspace, the barrier was still there, and he wanted to find out how to remove it. How to banish her demons and make her his.
Jesus, LaBar! You’ve only been with her once. Don’t jump off the deep end.
But he didn’t seem able to help himself.
Everyone else was already eating when he hit the porch, the savory aromas from the buffet table making his stomach growl. He noticed Liz was eating with the crew today, something she made it a point to do when she didn’t have other business to attend to. He made up his mind to get her alone after the meal and see if she’d tell him anything about Bailey. She was pretty closemouthed about people, discouraging gossip and announcing that people could share their personal details or not, it wasn’t coming from her.
Hondo ate slowly, trying to outwait everyone, not too hard since they had a head start on him. Finally, everyone else finished, dumped their plates in the container for the kitchen and headed back out to work. Liz watched him as he refilled his coffee mug and took the seat at her right.
“Something on your mind?” she asked in her low contralto voice. “If Alex had seen you tracking me the way you did through lunch, he might have busted your chops.”
Hondo grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to look like I was stalking you.”
She laughed. “Not to worry. I was just yanking your chain. I assume you want to ask me about Bailey.”
“I do.” He glanced at her over the rim of his coffee mug.
“So I take that to mean last night went well.”
“More than.” He hesitated, trying to figure out just how to word his questions.
“Whatever’s rattling around in your brain,” Liz said, “let me first tell you my rule still stands. If you want to know anything personal about Bailey, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He took a swallow of coffee. “She’s just such an…an…”
“Enigma?” Liz chuckled again. “She’s definitely that.”
“You must trust her a great deal to tell her about Rawhide and sponsor her there.”
“I do. But that still doesn’t mean I give away secrets.”
“Yet you let her in on a very private part of your life,” he pointed out. “Yours and Alex’s.”
“I did. Because I sensed a kindred spirit in her.” Liz ran a fingertip around the rim of her mug. “She’s very strong and independent, making her way in a field that’s primarily known for the men who work in it. She has to continually fight for their respect. And she has almost an obsessive need to control every aspect of her life.” She paused. “All but one, that is.”
“I know that,” he insisted. “And I respect her for everything she’s accomplished and everything she does. I’m just trying to get a clue on what makes her tick.”
“Why? If you and Bailey enjoyed each other last night, then I’m sure the opportunity will be there again. Within the four walls of the club.” She leaned forward, her face serious. “Bailey’s a complicated person, Hondo. It’s possible you could be in a position to hurt her. I’d hate to see that happen.”
He tightened his grip on the mug. “I have no intention of doing that.”
“Maybe not on purpose. But I urge you to be very upfront with Bailey on your feelings, what you expect from her as a sub and what your preferences are as a Dom.” She sat back and lifted her mug. “And that’s all you’ll get from me.” She glanced at her watch, an obvious gesture. “Aren’t you due back at work?”
Hondo sighed. No help here solving the riddle of Bailey French. “I am, and I’m on my way.”
“Just be careful, Hondo,” she called after him.
“I will. I plan to.”
But careful about what?
****
Bailey usually didn’t shower in the middle of the day when she was working. It didn’t make much sense. She was just going to get sweaty and dirty again. But that unexpected kiss with Hondo in the tack room had ramped up her already jitterbugging hormones and sent a flood of sexual liquid into her panties. Even soaking the crotch of her jeans. Between the constant abrasion against her tormented ass and the irritation of the wet denim on the inside of her thighs, she’d never
get through the rest of the day unless she changed.
Stripping off her clothes, she stuffed them into the hamper and turned on the shower spray full force. Turning slowly beneath the shower head she let the water cascade over her body from every side, washing away the accumulation of dust and dirt as well as the evidence of her sexual response.
Gotta get myself under control.
As the water sluiced over her head, she willed it to cleanse her brain as well as her body, to wash away the images from last night still dancing in her brain. Hondo as she first saw him at Rawhide, shocked by his presence yet so turned on she wanted to attack him on the spot. Hondo in their private room, standing beside the St. Andrew’s Cross, playing with the flogger as he studied her face. Hondo completely naked, his long thick cock swollen and ready for her. The feel of it inside her body, taking up every inch of space in her channel.
And his tenderness as he eased her down from subspace.
The sharp spray of the shower peppered her very sore ass and thighs like a barrage of needles. She welcomed the pain, even embraced it. Wanted to be back in that room at Rawhide with Hondo, feeling the flogger against her skin and the searing heat of the fire.
It shocked her how easily and immediately she’d fallen down that slope into that very special place where a sub totally trusts a Dom. Had that feeling of trust come from all the months they’d worked together when he’d shown her the kind of man he was? Usually it took her several sessions to allow herself to tumble into a place where rational decision was impossible and her entire welfare depended on the Dom.
And how the fear of the fire play had been a good kind of fear. She craved it yet hadn’t been sure she’d ever have the courage to indulge in it again. When she walked into Rawhide last night, she still hadn’t determined how far she was ready to go with a Dom who could answer her needs but who might turn out to be like her previous mistakes. The ones that still gave her nightmares.
Yet, somehow, with Hondo everything seemed as natural as breathing.
And that scared her even more than a Dom who took advantage.
Maybe that was why she’d refused the aftercare, a process every good Dom insisted on. She’d nearly had a battle with him over that, compromising only to the point where she agreed to let him hold her quietly until he was satisfied it was safe for her to drive. She’d been afraid that if she allowed him those tender ministrations, she might find her emotions involved and she was determined to avoid that at all costs.
At least, until she found the right Dom who respected her boundaries outside the bedroom but pushed her hard when the bedroom door closed behind them.
Pouring a generous amount of shower gel into the palm of one hand, she worked it into a lather and began to rub it into her body. Her breasts were tender, her nipples still unbelievably sensitive. And when her fingers reached the folds of her pussy, she stroked them lazily, finding her clit and brushing her thumb over it. On impulse, she touched it, hard, imagining herself stretched out, helpless, Hondo’s teeth on her.
Immediately the muscles in her cunt flexed and pulsed, and she thrust two fingers inside to fill the emptiness. But self-gratification barely took the edge off. She wanted the punishment, the pain. Pain so intense it ignited an orgasm that ripped through her with the force of a cyclone.
But controlled pain just the same. Not—
Suddenly, unbidden, Ron Wolfe’s face popped into the cloud of steam surrounding her.
“This will be our most intensive session yet.” His voice was harsh and arrogant, more so than usual.
“You have displeased me, girl. I cannot have that.”
She laced her fingers together tightly behind her back. There was something different about him tonight. He was more intense than usual, angry over something as stupid as the clothes she’d chosen to wear to work that day.
Bailey had been very explicit with him right from the start—she was his to do with as he chose in the bedroom but she made decisions about the other aspects of her life. She always welcomed his input but the choices were hers. At first, he agreed, but more and more she’d begun to realize she had made a mistake.
She had been drawn to what she thought was strength only to discover beneath it he was an obsessive egotist. Almost without realizing it, in an effort to make the relationship work, she had slowly ceded control to him over the ordinary aspects of her life. And now, here she was, in a situation where she was unsure of what he might do next. Had his ego overridden the rules of behavior as her Master?
“When you agreed to move in with me, you gave yourself over to me, Bailey.” His voice was cold. “I own you now. I possess you. Your body is mine to do with as I wish.”
He sounded different. Not the way he had before she’d moved everything she owned into his loft. Suddenly, the familiar sensation of fear curling in the pit of her stomach changed from arousing to something close to panic. Her brain was sending her warning signals that he was about to take her beyond the margins of edgeplay. Beyond safety.
“But only in the bedroom,” she reminded him, trying to reset her boundaries again. She was kneeling on the floor, hands behind her back, wishing she could raise her head and see the look on his face. Figure out what was going on.
“If you choose to believe that,” he told her, “then we have a conflict of opinion here. Perhaps I need a more permanent stamp of ownership than a collar.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but the little ribbon of fear widened and expanded. She heard the familiar snick of the lighter and caught her breath, stunned that he would begin with fire play. They always worked up to it.
“I made a little purchase on the way home today,” he went on, his voice as cordial as if they were discussing what to have for dinner. “Lift your gaze to look at it.”
When she saw what he had in his hand, she nearly vomited. His fingers were wrapped around a long thin rod, at the end of which was a metal R. For Ron, she realized. What was he going to do? Many times he’d used their fire play sessions to introduce the element of fear that turned her on so. One that ramped up her arousal but only because she knew exactly what was happening. He would tease her with a heated wand, but the metal he pressed to her body was always cold. And each time her pussy would spasm in response, her orgasm building inside her.
But tonight she sensed something completely different. Something evil. It didn’t just frighten her, it terrified her. Tonight he wasn’t playing.
“This will look lovely on your skin, girl. Then everyone will know you are mine to do with as I wish.” He tilted his head. “Let’s see, where would be the best place to put it? On your neck, I think, for the world to see.”
He’s crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Insane. He was going to burn his initial into her neck. That wasn’t fire play designed to elicit intense sexual response. This was a sick desire to do harm and establish an unnatural kind of ownership. And she wasn’t having any of it. As he lit the lighter in his other hand and held it beneath the R, she pushed herself to her feet and flung her arm against his, knocking aside the branding iron. He was so startled that she was out of the room before he realized what was happening.
“Come back, you bitch,” he shouted. “You can’t get away from me.”
But she could. Panic gave her strength and speed. She managed to grab a coat and shoes from the bedroom before he was there, barring her way, his face enraged. He reached out for her, the branding iron still in his hand. Desperate, she bit down on his arm, hard. He screamed, and when he dropped the iron to grab where she’d bitten him, she took her purse and ran through the loft and out the front door.
She didn’t even wait for the elevator, heading instead for the stairs, running as fast as she could. In the tiny lobby, thankfully empty at this hour, she pulled on her coat and shoes and ran out into the street. A rush of fear-inspired adrenalin gave her the speed she needed to run blocks away and lose herself in the crowd on the sidewalks.
At some point, exhausted, she ended up in
an all-night coffee shop. Digging her cell phone out of her purse, she called for a cab and had the driver take her to a medium priced hotel. Tomorrow, she’d figure out how to get her car and all her things still in the loft. Then she’d quit her job and get the hell out of Dallas as fast as she could. Tonight, she just wanted to be safe in a room with a deadbolt on the door and security in the lobby.
The change in water temperature from hot to ice cold shocked Bailey out of her unpleasant memories. Ron Wolfe had been the last in a long line of her very bad choices. Worse than the Doms who decided edgeplay was more than they wanted to handle were the ones who wanted to push her over the edge. At the end, Ron had consistently pushed her beyond even her extreme boundaries, unable to distinguish between the cries to stop that were part of the play and the ones that were real. That last night with him had terrified her so much she went running from Dallas, looking for a job where she could hide herself in her work. And stay as far away from sex as possible.
But the clawing need in her body wouldn’t go away. The craving for just the right man who would always know her limits. Apparently, though, she needed therapy if she ever expected to have a successful relationship.
“We can be successful. You and I.”
She spun around in the shower, startled, as if Hondo was there and had spoken the words out loud, sending her heart racing. But she was alone and shivering beneath the icy stream. Shutting off the water, she opened the shower door and reached for the large towel she’d placed on the counter, wrapping herself in its fluffy warmth. Another one she wound around her hair then leaned to look at herself in the mirror?
Who am I?
Had she run so far and so fast from her mistakes that she couldn’t see a true opportunity right before her eyes? Was Hondo the real deal or just another incarnation of Ron and the many Doms who had disappointed and destroyed her? If she could just figure out this crazy emotional connection to him that had popped up out of nowhere.