by Sierra Hill
“I’ve got lots on my mind, darlin’. And most of it entails you naked in my bed.” He pauses as a booming thunder clap echoes across the sky, followed by a lightning bolt off in the distance.
“But we need to get you back before we get caught in this storm. You okay to ride right away?”
He hands me my shirt and bra as I dress quickly and stand, offering my hand to help him up.
“I’m all good,” I wink, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively. “But is it safe to ride back with this storm coming?”
I look to the sky that’s now blooming with dark, ominous clouds in the west. Thankfully, we’ll be heading the opposite direction.
“We’ll be fine, but we won’t dally. Storm or not, I want to get back as quickly as possible because we are doing more of that tonight.”
He slaps my ass with a quick crack of his hand and we ready the horses to ride back to the ranch. The sting he left me with and the nice soreness between my legs is encouragement enough for me.
“Then let’s head ‘em up and move ‘em out.”
I throw a laugh over my shoulder as I maneuver Thistle onto the trail and begin to head off in a slow gallop, Cutter shaking his head with mirth as he follows my lead.
But I know that lead will be short lived, because as soon as we get back to the ranch and into his bedroom, he’ll be taking over the reins once again.
And it’s in bed that I don’t mind giving up control.
Cutter
The week has sped by in a blur.
I’ve spent every day with Avery in the saddle, covering all aspects of the ranching business for the article she’ll be writing, answering all her questions and inquiries. And then every night, I have her in my bed, trussed up and fucking her in every position imaginable.
By day, she is curious, inquisitive, intelligent, digging deep into the essence of ranching and understanding what being a cowboy is all about. She’s missed nothing as it pertains to the challenges linked to this dying business and is empathetic to our plight.
And by night, this woman is all wild and ready to be tamed, enjoying my brand of rough and dominating sex. Just thinking about the way I had her tied and roped up last night, her legs spread wide, ass in full view with the red markings of my hands displaying brightly as I fucked her from behind until she screamed my name, has my dick hard as post, leaving me to adjust my groin discreetly under the kitchen table.
“Good morning, Mr. Lambert.”
Avery smiles brightly as my father walks into the kitchen, heading toward my mother, her tea cup mid-way to her lips as he bends to kiss the top of her head. Avery and I have been talking with my mother for the past fifteen minutes, mostly about Avery and her life as a journalist, and my mother’s involvement in the annual Cherry Festival and the pie she’ll be submitting into the bake-off.
My father is a proud man in his late-fifties, my parents the epitome of a strong and long-lasting marriage. My father may be a hard-ass rancher and shrewd businessman, but when it comes to my mother, he treats her like a queen. And they’ve each only ever wanted the best for me and raised me to work hard and be ambitious.
Their only disappointment in me is that I haven’t fulfilled my mother’s wish that I’d find a woman to share my life with and settle down to raise my own family. I hate disappointing them, but I never thought that life was for me. I never found the woman who could tie me down and brand me with her beauty, intellect or soul.
But as I listen to Avery easily chatting with my parents, I think I may have just gotten lucky and won the rodeo prize. I just need to find a way to hold on to Avery and strap myself in for a ride.
“I’m so excited about going to the Cherry Festival with Cutter. He was telling me last night all about it and the rodeo events, too.”
She catches me staring at her and shares her smile with me. As if an old gear shift has been greased and oiled, my chest clutches and thumps and something goes wonky inside my head. My vision blurs to everything else around her, a spotlight aimed just at Avery. In fact, my heart gives a gallop and then tightens, as if it’s been lassoed and cinched tight just by that gorgeous smile of hers.
She mouths at me, a little crinkle forming in between her brows. “What?”
I shake my head and stand. “We best get going so we can finish the chores and head on over to the festival after lunch. We’ll see you both at the rodeo tonight.”
Pulling out the chair for her to follow me, I take her hand in mine, much to the surprise, but clear enthusiasm, of my mother, who tips her cup to cover the smile that threatens to break across her mouth.
Avery waves at them both from behind her head as we leave the kitchen. As soon as we’re outside and a safe distance from the house, I wedge her against the river rock exterior, bracketing my arms on either side of her and pin her against me, letting her feel my erection against her soft center.
Her gasp of pleasure ratchets up my arousal even further. My body tightens as I press into her, feeling the eager hum whir between us, her nipples pebbling against her T-shirt that turns my breathing ragged.
“Cutter,” she exclaims, a note of concern filtering through. “Someone could see us.”
Looking over my shoulder, I notice the ranch hands down near the stables and the pasture and tug her around the corner of the house in the direction of the smaller barn. I’m growing too desperate and hungry to wait until later and need more of her mouth and body now.
As we step inside the barn, the only light flittering in through the rafters, I latch the door and our bodies instantly collide. Our mouths meld together in that needy way, looking for our next breaths, my tongue sweeping passed her lips and into the warmth of her mouth. She tastes of citrus and coffee, sweet syrup and honey.
“I need your mouth on me,” I say gruffly, pulling away to watch her swollen lips, reddened by my rough beard, part and then grin. “On your knees.”
She does as I say, her hands sliding down the length of my torso and over my hard thighs as she falls to her knees against the soft hay covered ground. Her fingers toy with my buckle, as I give her a nod.
“Unbuckle and take me out.”
She sweeps her tongue over her bottom lip, exerting concentration as she does my bidding. I keep my hungry gaze on her and groan gutturally when her warm hand wraps around my throbbing cock, my fullness pressed into her tight grip. My gaze remains glued to the top of her head as she leans in, her tongue darting out and over the stretched head, flicking away the drop of moisture at the tip.
Grabbing at the back of her hair, I grasp it firmly and give it a good yank.
“You’re gonna get me off in that pretty, sassy mouth of yours.”
The gleam in her eyes is one of lust, desire and a bit of challenge. As if to say, ‘I’m going to give you something you’ve never had before.’
And I don’t think I could argue. Everything with Avery is something new and nothing I’ve ever had before. She’s like springtime over the ranch.
Avery opens her mouth and wraps her full lips over my girth, sucking me in until I’m hitting the back of her throat.
“Oh Jesus, fuck.”
I close my eyes and for a moment feel suspended in air. I’m not ready to come down yet. Maybe not ever.
I drop my head to watch her as her lips glide up and down my shaft, leaving a wet sheen across the surface each time she encircles the tip. Her hands get in the action with one at my ass and the other stroking down to the root, massaging it firmly with every jerk and pull.
“Darlin, it’s never felt so good,” I groan, getting close to my tipping point. “Fuck, I’m so close.”
A smile appears on her face and beams through her eyes as she continues to work me in her mouth, coasting her flattened tongue over the length before I bottom out at the back of her throat.
My body begins to tense with that familiar crackle at the base of my spine. I grasp her hair tighter, signaling my eminent release as I bellow loudly, shooting down her throat, releasing so hard
my knees practically buckle.
When I’m finally able to catch a breath, I help Avery up to her feet and pull her in close, my still hard length pressed between us.
“That was a helluva great way to start off my morning. Thank you, darlin’.”
I cup her cheeks in my palms, kissing her soundly and firmly. My hand snakes down the curve of her hip and I slink my fingers inside her waistband. When I reach her apex, I slip a finger through her folds and find her wetter than the rain in Seattle. The sound she gasps is swallowed by my kiss.
She moans as I flick over her swollen clit, then impale her with my finger. Her hips thrust forcefully, seeking wanton release.
But I’m not going to give it to her. Not yet, at least.
I know she’s close, her neck and face beautifully flushed and her body jacked up and tense, wanting to come.
Removing my fingers, I pull my hand out of her pants as she gives me an expression I can only describe as murderous.
“What are you doing, Cutter? I’m not done.”
I bring my fingers to my lips and suck, as her expression softening to something more lustful, as she watches my fingers slide between my lips.
“I know, darlin. And you’re going to hold that thought until after the festival. Because I want you squirming and needy all day. That way, tonight when I tie you up and have my face between your legs, you’ll come harder than you ever have before.”
I zip up and spank her on the rear as I stride out of the barn, knowing I’m leaving her hot and steamed over what I did.
And it’s exactly how I want her.
Avery
I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad and so turned on at the same time as I was when Cutter up and walked out of the barn, leaving me with my unspent orgasm.
And it’s doing my normally cheerful disposition no favors right now as Cutter and I stroll through the festival grounds together. Cutter greets everyone with his naturally crooked smile and a howdy or hello, while I try to summon the strength not to throttle him for acting so cavalier while I’m squirming in my jeans.
But something transforms between us, as we stop and chat with the locals, who are all extremely interested in who I am and who I am to Cutter. It became quite obvious the moment we parked and got out of the truck that the community of Paulson had already heard a rumor about Cutter’s new “woman.”
And as we moved through the crowds and socialized, it’s made me even more curious about Cutter and his social life, as I’ve noticed all the women who have strut past him, swaying their hips as if on a beauty pageant stage, seeking out his attention. It’s clear that Cutter Lambert is a hot commodity and the town’s most eligible rancher.
But Cutter seems oblivious. His attention and focus have been securely on me. Which I’ve enjoyed, but I can’t seem to shake the question out of my head.
“Cutter, why are you still single? You have all these interested parties flaunting their stuff at you. You’d have your pick.”
He stops short in front of the Corn-on-the-Cob food truck, the delicious buttery scent reminding me that it’s been four hours since we’ve eaten.
Cutter stares intently into my eyes, part of his face shadowed by the brim of his Stetson, the rough texture of his beard a burnt-ginger in this light. He’s a gorgeous, rugged cowboy, and one that has a strong personality to match.
“Well, darlin, I guess no one has really roped me in…until now.”
I swallow. “Now?”
I’m thoroughly confused by his statement. Does he mean now, as in me?
It’s only been a week, and while it’s been a pretty great frickin’ week, I have no illusions that it would turn into something long-term, considering I’m heading home to Billings tomorrow, an hour and a half away from Paulson.
There are crowds of people pushing past us, some even rubbernecking to find out what’s happening between us. Wouldn’t I like to know, too?
“You, Avery Boone, are my pick,” he confesses in a low, whiskey-lined voice. “You’ve managed to wrangle me in and roped me up like a calf set to cattle auction. I’ve finally found the one that makes my heart quiver.”
Cutter takes my hand and brings it to his chest, pressing my palm over his heart.
“I want to see where this goes between us. I don’t want to lose you when you go.”
His voice is tentative, so completely opposite from his usual commanding, bossy style. It’s his vulnerability that does me in.
My lips tremble with anticipation. Cutter leans in, his own lips inches from mine.
“Just say yes, darlin’. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
I feel my limbs go weak as I bob my head in agreement.
“Okay…yes.”
And then my cowboy kisses me. Thoroughly, completely and possessively.
Whistles, cheers and hoots and hollers go on up around us as Cutter cuts the distance and loops a strong arm around my waist, lifting me in the air and pressing me against him, his lips covering mine, as if telling the crowd, “She’s mine. This girl is mine.”
When he places me down on my feet, I feel a little lightheaded and wobbly, but his strength holds me up as we walk hand-in-hand through the center of the festival grounds.
“Now, let’s get you some of my mama’s cherry pie… then we’re going back to the ranch where I can eat something sweeter.”
My mouth gapes open as Cutter slaps me on the ass with a wink.
“I think that sounds like a pretty great plan, Cowboy.”
The End
One Year Later
“Avery, you look stunning.”
I stand in the doorway to the master bedroom Cutter and I now share, modeling the gold and silver gown I’ve chosen to wear for the awards ceremony and event we’re attending tonight.
The exposé piece that I wrote and published on the ranching crisis in the west has been nominated for a Peabody Award, one of the highest honors in the world of print and online journalism. I hadn’t known it at the time, but after publication, Gabe submitted the entry and it was syndicated across the U.S. earning me some pretty amazing notoriety.
But the honor is nothing compared to what I’ve found in Cutter. Watching him run his ranching business has proven that he is the most driven, successful, gorgeous man I’ve ever known. And inside the bedroom, Cutter is the dirtiest cowboy I’ve ever met and reminds me of his skills every single night.
I give him a little curtsy before lifting the hem of my long gown to show off the boots. They are rhinestone encrusted cowboy boots that Cutter gave me as a birthday gift this past May. He had them especially made for me and purchased on Etsy (a fact that he still finds humorous).
And on each boot on the back lip there is a word engraved into the leather. Cutter’s Girl.
“Why thank you. You look pretty dashing yourself, Cowboy.”
Cutter’s decked out in a pair of dark jeans and crisp white button-down, a suit jacket and in his hand he carries a black Stetson hat. My gaze drinks him in from head to toe, returning to the bulge evident below his belt.
I give him a coy smirk. “Someone really likes how I look.”
Cutter’s erection swells behind his jeans, the shape of his cock outlined perfectly under the denim.
He strides toward me with quick, long steps, and without stopping, he backs me up into the bathroom whence I came.
“You can’t expect me not to get hard when you show off these tits like this,” he growls against my ear, spinning me around to face the mirror, the tops of my breasts spilling out over the dress bodice now cupped in his hands.
I spread my palms on the counter as one of his rough, calloused fingers traces over the stitching over my nipple, causing it to pebble hard against the material. It’s a strapless gown that glitters in the light and makes me feel like a beauty queen. Cutter bends his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot at my neck and places open mouth kisses before he clamps on and begins sucking.
I swat at him lightly. “Hey, none of
that. You can’t mark me like that before I go to this event. What if I…”
I don’t say it because I don’t want to jinx myself.
“That’s the point,” he growls, letting go of the spot and running his thumb over the redness burgeoning over the skin. “I want everyone in that audience to know that this winner is mine. My prize.”
“Mmm-hmm. I seem to recall we’ve already established I’m not your property.” I say dryly.
Over the past year, there’s been a lot of push and pull between me and Cutter. He and I, both extremely strong personalities, can butt heads when it comes to how demonstrative he is outside the bedroom. He is possessive by nature. And he’s had to learn to give me space when I need it. But what it boils down to in the end is I belong with him and to him. Just as he belongs to me.
He slides a hand up the inside of my leg, drawing the dress with him as he rucks it up to my waist. Cutter’s finger inches underneath the edge of my panties and finds me wet and needy. That seems to be the nature of things when I’m with Cutter. He drives me wild and I can never get enough of him.
Cutter grins smugly, diving through my hot, wet arousal, as my eyes flutter closed. I rock against his hand, lifting my eyes and returning my gaze to him in the mirror. He penetrates me with a swift thrust, stretching me with his fingers now coated with my desire.
A moan rolls off my tongue and I begin to pant, fully aware that in a matter of seconds, I will explode into a million pieces.
“You may not be my property, but I own you, darlin’. I own your orgasms and your satisfaction. And more importantly, I take care of what I love. Now tell me, Avery. Who do I love?”
I can barely form words as I climb closer and closer to my impending climax. The throbbing ache builds loudly between my legs and it’s ready to let loose. Before I can speak, Cutter unfastens his jeans, pulls out his cock, lifts the back of my dress and slams inside me from behind.
The first wave of my orgasm ripples inside me, my legs and limbs shaking from the intensity, as I lift onto my tiptoes to accommodate his girth. I watch as the flush of my release rises over my chest and up over my face.