by Penny Wylder
I hesitate, not wanting to hurt his feelings over the food that I’d just labeled as completely average and fine in my mind. He sees my hesitation and reaches across the table for my hand. “One hundred percent honesty, remember? I wouldn’t ask the question if I didn’t want to know the answer.”
I give him a nervous smile. “It’s fine. It’s not amazing or exciting, but it’s not bad either. It’s just…fine.”
Clayton chuckles. “That’s fair. Thank you for being honest.”
We’re nearly done with our food. “Can I see the kitchen?”
“Sure.”
He takes me back, and the kitchen is surprisingly chaotic for the end of a service. I can see the head chef right away, delegating tasks to get the kitchen ready for the following day, but I can see right away that he’s in over his head.
“Hey Martin.” Clayton waves him over.
“Hey boss.”
“This is my wife, Rachel,” he says, introducing me. “She works in the culinary field and wanted to see the kitchen.”
Martin looks shocked through his exhausted panic. “What do you do?”
I try to be cordial about it. “My most recent position was junior chef at Alaban in Denver.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Clayton looking at me. What does he think of me being a chef and judging his food?
“Holy shit,” Martin says. “Well, we do the best we can here. Probably not what you’re used to.”
I look him in the eye and sense his despair. I’m not sure exactly what’s causing the problem, but he’s not ready for this. Following my instinct, I suddenly speak. “I’d like to take over tomorrow’s dinner service, if that’s okay.”
“Rachel,” Clayton says, and I would be willing to bet that he’s going to stop me, but Martin cuts him off.
“That would be amazing. We can use all the help we can get.”
Clayton looks shocked.
“It’s settled then,” I say, smirking at my husband. As soon as I get my hands on this kitchen—and it is an incredibly beautiful kitchen, or would be without the frantic atmosphere—I’m going to show Clayton exactly what I can do.
We say goodbye to Martin, and he pulls me back outside and toward his house. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You can take more time to settle in before we put you to work.”
I smile. “He was looking for help, and I don’t mind. I expect you to come to a late dinner, because I’ll have some stuff to show you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he murmurs, pulling me in for a kiss before sweeping us back to his house and his bed.
9
Clayton
When I wake in the morning, Rachel isn’t beside me. Which is a pity because I was looking forward to rolling over and burying myself in her first thing this morning. She was so exhausted last night after everything, that we didn’t have sex after returning home. We just fell asleep.
Where could she be?
Not in the bathroom or the guest bedroom, so she must be out and about. I did tell her to take a few days to explore, but I’m just craving her presence, and her mouth. I want to kiss my wife good morning. That’s a phrase that I worried I would never get to say, and thinking it warms my chest.
I’m still shocked that she agreed to my request. The few relationships I’ve had, my intensity in the bedroom has scared them away. When I posed the same question to my last girlfriend, she scoffed at the idea of giving up any kind of control.
We didn’t last long after that.
But Rachel seems to crave it. I felt her shiver when I was telling her what I wanted. The way her eyes dilated and went unfocused, imagining all the possible things that could happen between her and me.
Yeah, I need my wife in my bed right away.
I dress quickly and start my search. The nice thing about running the ranch is that there isn’t anything that I have to do. I didn’t lie to Rachel when I told her that everyone pulls their weight around here. We all do, and I do as well.
But most of my day isn’t spent like yesterday, doing mundane tasks like painting the barns. That was the exception to the rule. Most of my days are actually spent running around the ranch, helping other people solve problems and approving the solutions.
Speak of the devil, one of the ranch hands waves me down, and I am side-tracked into helping him fix an urgent problem with one to the corral gates. The last thing we need is cattle running free over the pedestrian portion of the ranch.
It doesn’t take too long to fix, and I cut through one of the stables on my way back to looking for Rachel, wondering if it would be faster if I used Exo in my search. But then my gaze falls on the supply rack in the stable, and I freeze in my tracks.
Rope.
Lots and lots of rope.
Oh, that is an idea. I told Rachel that I was going to tie her to the bed and tease her. Now is as good a time as any to show her that I am serious about what I said, and to see if she is really as willing as she said she was. There is plenty of time before she needs to report to the kitchen tonight.
My nerves jangle at the thought of her taking charge in the kitchen. I know she can do it, but how will the staff react to someone just coming in and taking over without so much as an introduction? I have to examine my reaction. I did tell her to pull her weight, and that’s what she’s doing. I can’t be angry with her, but I still might have a conversation with her about order of operations.
She owns this ranch with me, but I run it.
I take several lengths of rope from the supply rack and sling it over my shoulder. It is much more than I will need, but better have too much than not enough. Wouldn’t want my wife to be able to escape.
I laugh out loud at the thought.
Quickly, I make a lasso, and carry it with me as I search the grounds. When I find her, I am freshly annoyed jealous that she didn’t wake me up. Rachel is at the archery range with a beginner bow shooting arrows at a target.
I wish I were the one showing her how to shoot, getting up close and personal while she pulls the string. She draws an arrow back and releases it. It goes flying—nowhere near the target. I can’t help but laugh. Her head shoots toward me and she scowls. “I’m not very good.”
“That’s what practice is for,” I say, tossing the lasso into the air directly toward her. It lands true, and I pull it tight around her hips with practiced ease. She yelps as I yank her toward me. “Clayton!”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“Well,” I smirk, “I woke up to an empty bed. So I think you owe me a kiss good morning.”
The blush on her cheeks is truly beautiful, and when I kiss her, she’s so sweet and so soft that it makes me ache.
“I think I’ve had enough practice for the day,” she says.
I chuckle. “You’re really doing a number on yourself. Arms will be killing you tomorrow. How’s the soreness?”
Rachel wrinkles her nose. “A bitch.”
“Maybe you need some more muscle cream.”
“I need something,” she says with a grin. “What’s all the rope for?”
There’s no one within true hearing distance of us, but I lower my voice anyway. “It’s for you.”
She goes still, eyes locking on mine. Beautiful shining green in the morning sun. “What do you mean?”
“Want to find out?
She nods quickly, and I take the bow from her hands and place it on the nearby rack. Rachel moves to remove the lasso from her waist, and I stop her, wrapping an arm around her ribs and pulling her against my side. “I don’t think so.”
Her breath stutters. “Don’t you have things to do today that are more important?”
We’re walking fast now. “If you don’t want this, say it.”
“No, I do. I just don’t want people to think you suddenly started neglecting your work because I showed up.”
“Everyone that works for me is incredibly capable,” I say. “They can live without me for a couple of hours.”
I follow at a slower pace, savoring the sensation of control. Of surrender. Of someone willing to play this game with me.
Rachel is perfectly, gloriously naked when I reach my—our—bedroom. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders and her chest is flushed pink in anticipation.
My cock is hard enough that I’m uncomfortable. But it’s worth it for what’s about to happen. I walk over to her, standing at the foot of my bed, and put one finger under her chin. I tilt her gaze up to mine. “Still okay?”
“Very okay.” Her eyes are liquid with lust. “Do I need to call you sir?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You can if it feels right. Let’s start simple,” I say, walking around her. “Give me your hands.”
She presses them behind her back, and I gather her wrists together in one hand and wrap the rope around them with the other. I bind them together carefully, hearing her breath hitch as she tests the strength of the bond there.
I’ve been tying knots since I was young, and with ranch life, you don’t even have to think twice. She’s not going anywhere. Circling back to her, I slowly smile. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is breathy.
Gripping the back of her neck, I pull her in for a powerful kiss, using my other hand to slip between her legs. Her pussy is hot and wet, already aroused by just being in my rope. Damn, she’s perfect.
My wife is perfect.
I pull back from the kiss, holding myself back from tossing her on the bed and abandoning all my plans. “On your knees, beautiful.”
Rachel lowers herself to the ground, her eyes are glued to my belt as I undo it, pulling my cock free. It’s already fully erect, exactly in line with her luscious mouth. I didn’t get to see her suck my cock yesterday, and this time I’m going to enjoy it.
Reaching out, I brush my fingers across her jaw, dip my thumb between her lips. She sucks on it like she’s already got her mouth on my cock, and that nearly makes me go blind. “Open your mouth,” I growl.
“Yes, sir.”
Holy shit. I’m not prepared for the reaction in my body, my cock jumping in response to her words. “Suck my cock, wife. However you like. You’ll start in control, but I promise that you won’t end that way.”
I watch the way she shudders, the words sinking in. We both ignore the fact that the way I have her bound means that she’s not in control at all, and I love it.
Rachel doesn’t waste time, wrapping her lips around my shaft and sucking me deep. Her tongue traces that sensitive spot on the underside of the head, and she lets me fall out of her mouth in order to glide her lips and tongue down the sides of my shaft.
She is very, very good at this.
There are a hundred scenarios in my head of how I can use her delicious mouth. Each one naughtier than the last. And when she sinks deeper onto her knees and takes my balls into her mouth without me telling her to…I nearly come right then.
I’m not going to last long like this. Being with Rachel makes me feel like I’m a teenager again. Always horny and always ready to go. I’ve had more sex in the last day than I’ve had in years, and I don’t see my body showing any signs of stopping.
Fisting my hand in Rachel’s hair, I guide her mouth back to my cock and thrust in. She’s no longer in control as I thrust deeper into her mouth. And deeper still. How far can she take me?
I’m not small, and the thought of her taking all of me inside…damn, I can’t think about that if I want to last.
But she takes more of me than I’m expecting, all the way to the back of her mouth where my cock is pushing against her throat. One swallow and she’ll be there.
We can save that for next time. I’m too close as I fuck her mouth, hard and fast, holding her head still as I take what I need. I’m there, the fire licking down my spine and through my balls. My voice is raw. “Swallow it all,” I say, a split second before the orgasm hits, pleasure driving through me like a stampede.
I hold myself deep, feeling the way I fill her mouth with cum and the way she swallows me completely. Her lips are still stretched around my shaft. When I can breathe again, her gorgeous eyes lock on mine. “Good girl,” I tell her, pulling my cock from between her lips.
She just smiles. And I smile too. Because we’re not remotely finished.
10
Rachel
That was the hottest thing that I’ve ever done. I’ve never been tied up before, and that added element of not being able to move my hands turned my arousal up to eleven.
I honestly barely noticed Clayton’s bed frame in the midst of our passion, but now I’m very aware of the fact that there are four tall posts. They don’t go to the ceiling or anything, but they’re prominent, and given that rope is wrapped around my wrists, I’m betting those are coming into play.
“You like the rope,” Clayton says. It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
He smirks. “Ready for more?”
“Hell yes,” I breathe.
Clayton unwinds the rope from my wrists, but he doesn’t free me. He keeps the rope attached, drawing me over to the bed, and laying me out. One by one he ties my wrists to the bedposts. And when he strokes his fingers down my legs to wrap his hand around my ankle, I’m shaking with anticipation.
He locks eyes with me as he wraps the rope, deliberately making me think about the fact that I’m being bound to the bed. Open. Vulnerable. Exactly where he wants me.
Terrifying and exhilarating. I trust Clayton. On a level deeper than conscious thought, I know that I am safe with him. Even as I test the strength of the ropes and my fight or flight instinct kicks in, I know I am safe. But that doesn’t stop me from yanking on the ropes and trying to break free.
Clayton easily grabs my other ankle and finishes securing it to the bed. And then I can’t move at all. My breath is short. He drops his pants all the way to the floor and steps out of them. He strips off his shirt so he is completely naked in front of me, hard again. Lazily, he rolls the condom down his cock, drawing my eyes to his length. Fucking hell.
When he climbs up my body, it’s like a beast coming to consume his prey. Sexy as hell. “I like you like this,” he murmurs against my lips. “I can do whatever I like with you.”
I am nothing but heat, and if I had my eyes closed, I would swear that I was on fire.
He laughs softly. “I need to buy a vibrator.”
Searching his face, I don’t think that he’s joking. “Why would you need one?”
A slow, feral grin. “Once I buy one, I’ll tie you down just like this. Maybe tighter. Blindfold you. And then I’ll strap the vibrator to your clit and let it run.”
“That sounds fun,” I manage, breathlessly.
“But here’s the catch,” he says. “I could leave you here, just like that. Go downstairs and have a snack. Watch TV. Read a book. While you were just here, with nothing to do but feel while I had the remote.”
I swear to God that there’s no more air in this room. He’s taken it all with his fantasy. I have to close my eyes, and I can’t breathe. My pussy is so wet I can feel it. Clayton’s lips move at my ear. “And under no circumstances would you be allowed to come until I told you that you could.”
“Fucking hell,” I said.
“Can you imagine that, Rachel? Tied to my bed, writhing in pleasure just because I want to you to?”
Part of me knows that he’s saying it just to turn me on, but fuck me, it’s working. Lips graze along my neck, and the vibrations of his voice ripples goosebumps across my skin. “And if you don’t make it, we start all over again the next day until you learn how to be a good girl with some self-control.”
All I can do is moan.
Clayton fits himself between my legs and drives in to the hilt in one motion. I can’t move an inch, and the sudde
n invasion nearly sends me over. His words take me so close that I think if he had kept talking he could have told me to come and I would have. Now, euphoria drips down my body as he fucks me hard.
I reach for him and can’t, reminded that I’m bound in his ropes so he can do what he likes, and that’s the end. I come. One blinding tsunami of pleasure, and I scream his name, begging for more.
He doesn’t hold back, working me with long, smooth strokes. Hard. Fast. This is beyond fucking. This is being taken. My mind goes blissfully blank as I fall into the rhythm of it, falling into pleasure again. I’m not sure that I can separate one orgasm from the next.
Clayton’s hand is at my throat, and through the haze of pleasure I hear his words. “Look at me, Rachel.”
With his gaze locked on mine, there’s nowhere to hide. Everything I am. Every vulnerability and weakness is on display for him, every need and strength. Something weaves itself together in my gut, a connection that I’ve been fighting but can’t anymore. Deep and permanent and true.
He drives home faster, never looking away as he finds his own release. Lips fall on mine, nearly bruising in pressure. Clayton’s tongue invades my mouth, taking what’s left of my breath and my doubts, still pushing through his orgasm until he’s spent and we’re both panting like we’ve run a marathon.
“You’re damn perfect,” he breathes.
I laugh. “No one’s perfect.”
Still inside me, Clayton thrusts once, hard, and I gasp. “What did I tell you about compliments?”
“That’s not a compliment, that’s a statement,” I say, smirking and still gasping for breath. “And a false one. I can’t be perfect.”
“I’ll rephrase then. You are perfect for me?”
The words catch me off-guard, lodging in my chest. They hit me in a way I don’t expect, bringing sudden emotion to my eyes.
I try to reach for him, but I’m still bound. Slowly, Clayton eases out of me and releases me from the ropes, rotating and massaging the stiffness and pain from them. And when he’s finished, he gathers me into his arms and sits on the bed, cradling me. “How do you feel?”