Picture Perfect Cowboy

by Tiffany Reisz

  Jason laughed a big sexy laugh, so big it shook the bed. “A spankee?” he said, still laughing.

  “Exactly. I’m a spankee. You’re a spanker.”

  “That’s what I’m calling you from now on,” he said. “Spanky. My little rascal.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Is that how you talk to me?” he asked. His brow furrowed and he looked about as mean and dangerous as a little boy glaring at a naughty puppy.

  “Oh, God, sir?”

  “Better,” he said as he reached for her and pulled her to him. “Much better.”

  He took her by the hips and had her sit across his thighs. He put his hand in her hair and tilted her head back, her chin up, and he kissed her deep and hard. He was a good kisser. Too good, maybe. When he kissed her, Simone almost forgot she had a flight she had to catch that night.

  Jason put his hand on her neck as they kissed, lightly pressing her throat, not hard enough to choke her by any means, but hard enough to remind her he was there and he was in charge.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he said against her lips. She said nothing in reply. No reason to. He was going to fuck her. Why argue with the facts?

  He lifted her off his lap and pushed her down onto her back again. She lay there, putting up no resistance at all as he slipped her panties off her legs. She thought he’d toss them aside to join his t-shirt on the floor but he didn’t.

  “I’m keeping these,” he said. To show he meant it, he wrapped her pink thong around his wrist, doubling it up like a wrist cuff. It was equal parts sexy, adorable, silly, and possessive, and she adored him for doing it.

  She watched as he unzipped his jeans again and lowered them to his thighs, watched as he knelt between her wide open legs and rolled a condom on. He took her by the knees and yanked her a few inches down the bed. He pressed the tip of his cock against her opening and rose up again, entering her fully and with one hard stroke. She sighed and groaned at the penetration. It was rough and deep, deep enough she felt him against her cervix. He took her ankles in his hands and set them on his shoulders. Once she was right where he wanted her to be, he started fucking her with slow, steady thrusts. He’d already come once and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to come again. Simone hadn’t come yet, and she was about to lose her mind if she didn’t. He felt so good inside her. She wanted to close her eyes, concentrate, and come so hard her vagina broke. She found if she turned her head slightly to the right she could watch them fucking in the mirror on the back of the door. He looked so strong, so powerful, so manly and virile as he moved his hips in rough and steady thrusts. She could even see his cock sliding in and out of her. He had one arm wrapped around her thighs to hold her legs in place. Every thrust set nerves deep in her body firing wildly. Shivers danced up and down her spine. In the mirror she saw Jason looking down at her, at their joined bodies. She turned her head again and for a brief moment their eyes met, right before he pumped his cock into her so hard her head fell back against the bed.

  Simone moaned as Jason lowered her legs off his shoulders and wrapped them around his back as he crawled on top of her. She flinched in pleasure as he shifted inside her.

  “You like it when I use your pussy, don’t you?” Jason said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You need your pussy used hard, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “By you.”

  “Only me.”

  “Only you.”

  The words were dirty pillow talk, the sort of heady, hot-blooded things new lovers said to each other as hormones coursed through their veins and temporarily silenced the rational parts of the brain. But Simone knew if she wasn’t careful with this man, she might start to mean some of this stuff.

  Jason lowered his head and took her right nipple into his mouth. He sucked it, licked it, sucked it harder, licked it harder and finally nipped it gently with his teeth. The pleasure and the pain mixed and mingled inside her body as he did it all again to her left breast. She clutched the sheets tightly in her fingers as her hips ground wildly up and against his cock.

  “You’re going to come for me,” Jason said as he kissed the valley between her breasts. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But not yet. Not just yet.” Jason grasped the shirt she wore—his shirt—and roughly yanked it off her arms. He knelt, still inside her, and Simone watched as he quickly, deftly spun his shirt into a thick rope. Except it wasn’t a rope he’d made, but a blindfold. He laid it across her eyes even as he still held onto the two ends. With his hands next to her head, he started to thrust into her again, rough and fast. Simone arched and moaned. He pounded her—there was no other word for it. He pounded her like he owned her.

  Simone’s clitoris throbbed as his cock rubbed against it with every thrust. She could hardly keep up with the speed of his wild rutting. Finally she let go, surrendered entirely, lying there splayed open on the bed, pinned down and penetrated and split apart. The orgasm was bliss, pure bliss. She came hard, hard enough Jason must have felt it because she heard him gasp as her pussy clamped down onto his cock.

  His thrusts continued as she rode out her orgasm. The bed shifted and squeaked under them. This was intense fucking. She could tell from Jason’s rapid breathing he was nearly there as well. She lifted her knees and spread her legs as wide as she could, making her body an offering. He accepted the offering and pounded into her one last time before coming with a soft cry that broke her heart for the sweetness of the sound. She had given him pleasure and nothing could please her more than that.

  When it was done and over, Jason carefully pulled out of her. She lay on the bed, spent and listless, her eyes still hidden behind his shirt. He’d stolen her panties but if he wasn’t careful, she’d steal this shirt. It smelled of his body and their lovemaking. She might never wash it.

  Jason left the room, and she knew he’d gone to flush their condom. When he came back a moment later he gently took the shirt off her face and gazed down into her eyes.

  “When’s your flight tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Tonight,” she said. “Nine o’five to Newark.”

  “You’re going to change it.”

  Ah, here it was, the moment the sexy fantasy of being his slave met the reality of real-world commitments. But she didn’t really have to be back until Friday when she was booked to photograph a wedding in the Hamptons. Still, just because she could stay four more days didn’t mean she should stay four more days. A lot could happen in four days. She could fall in love in four days. She could get her heart broken in four days. But she could also help Jason figure out who and what he was in four days, too. She should stay, for his sake. Right?

  Simone smiled up at him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Seven

  This little scene had never been a part of Jason’s fantasies. Simone stood next to him at his kitchen sink, wearing nothing but his shirt. They washed the dishes. Well, she washed. He dried.

  In his mind he’d never gotten much further past the visions of a submissive beautiful woman kneeling in front of him or bent over his knee for a spanking or cropping. He really should have added the half-naked girl doing his dishes to the fantasy.

  “You just can’t do it, can you?” Simone asked him, a little smile on her lips.

  “Do what?”

  “Sit and watch while a woman does your dishes for you? You have to help?”

  “You don’t want me to help?” he asked.

  “I like the help,” she said in that sweet little voice of hers. “But you cooked dinner. Only fair I do the dishes.”

  “Spaghetti and toast isn’t that hard to cook,” he said.

  “What’s the point of having your own personal slave if you don’t let her, you know, slave in the kitchen for you?”

  Jason laughed softly. She asked a fair question.

  “I’d be a dead man standing here if I ever got it in my head to sit and let a woman in my house wait on me hand and foot. No
thing infuriates Dad more than men being lazy while women work. If Mom or Aimee were working, so were we. Men don’t sit while women are still standing. House rules.”

  “He sounds like a very interesting guy, your dad,” Simone said as she passed him a clean wet plate to dry.

  “He’s a good man,” Jason said. “Just not always easy to get along with.” Jason put the plate in the cabinet. “I keep thinking how disappointed he’d be in me if he knew about…” Jason sighed. “All this.”

  “None of his business,” Simone said.

  “His kids are his business.”

  “His kids are adults,” Simone said. “Once you’re out of the house and paying your own bills, it’s none of his business.” She passed him another plate. “For the record, I’m not disappointed in you. I’m pleased as punch.”

  He smiled to himself. “You liked all that, did you?”

  “You know I did. Sir.”

  She blushed a little and he nearly threw her down on the kitchen table and had her again just at the sight of that blush.

  “I’m not fishing for compliments,” he said. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Had no idea what I was doing up there.”

  He felt weak admitting all that but it wasn’t like Simone didn’t already know he was new at this.

  Simone shut off the water and dried her hands. She turned around and met his eyes.

  “I canceled my flight and rebooked it for Thursday. You really think I’d do that if I wasn’t enjoying this with you?”

  He smiled. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “But I…can I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” she said. They’d finished all the dishes but Jason was in no hurry to leave the kitchen. He liked the sight of her in his shirt standing with her back to the sink. “Ask me anything.”

  “Am I doing this right?”

  “Doing what?”

  He shrugged. “This? The master/slave whatever this is?”

  “Does it not feel right to you?”

  “You know that saying—‘This ain’t my first rodeo’?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “This is my first rodeo,” Jason said. Simone laughed. “No, I mean it. I got no idea what I’m doing. So you tell me.”

  “I’m a pro-sub,” Simone said. “I submit for an hour or two here and there to men who pay me. I know how to do a lot of kink, and I enjoy a lot of kink. I’ve dated kinky people and slept with kinky people, but I’ve never been the real slave of someone I was in a relationship with. I mean, not that you and I are in a relationship. I just…I mean, you’re not paying me.”

  “Not enough money in the world to pay you for what you’re giving me.”

  “This is what I think,” she said. “If you’re enjoying it and I’m enjoying it, then we’re doing it right.”

  “I’m not enjoying it,” Jason said. “I’m loving every second of it.”

  She walked over to him where he stood with his back to the counter. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked up into his eyes.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I was hoping if I stood within kissing distance, you’d kiss me,” she said. “You say something like that to a girl, and she’ll probably want to be kissed after.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It’s so.”

  “Well, then,” he said. He pulled her to him and kissed her. He had a feeling he’d never get tired of kissing this girl. She knew exactly how to let a man lead in a kiss and all the right sounds to make him feel like a man. He lingered over her lips a good long time and when the kiss ended he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. He held her to him, arms wrapped around her back, her head against his chest right where it belonged.

  “I never got this far in the fantasy,” he said. “I should’ve thought a little farther past the bedroom. You’re supposed to be my little slave and I’m supposed to be your big bad master. And yet I can’t even let you do my dishes for me. But I can’t see myself ordering you around every minute of the day, either.”

  “There’s all different sorts of ways to be a master,” Simone said. “I’ve known nice ones and mean ones and silly ones and sexy ones. Ones who do it an hour or two a week and the ones who do it 24/7 because they can’t get off any other way…”

  “So you don’t have to do it all the time?” Jason asked.

  “My friend Mistress Nora, she’s the dominatrix I told you about. And her master, Mister S, he’s this guy.” She held out her arm to display the cross tattoo. “I’m close with them both. Anyway, the way she explained it was that for her, it was like being a surgeon.”

  “A surgeon?”

  “A surgeon isn’t always performing surgeries. But a really good surgeon is almost always on-call. So even if Doctor Surgeon is home with his kids or asleep or in the shower or on a date, if his pager goes off and he’s needed in the operating room to save someone’s life, then in a split second, he goes from being Dad back to being Doctor Surgeon. Like that.” Simone snapped her fingers. “And that’s how Nora said it worked for them. She wasn’t ‘on’ all the time, but she was ‘on-call’ all the time. When Mister S needed her or wanted her to serve him, she immediately dropped what she was doing and went and served him.”

  “Yeah, but what if she couldn’t? What if she was in another state or working?”

  “She said he respected her enough to not demand that she serve him when she had something really important going on. And even then, if she was, you know, in another state when he needed her, she’d call me, and I’d take care of business.”

  “Take care of business?”

  “He’s a sadist,” she said. “If he needed to whip somebody, well, he needed to whip somebody. And if he needed it bad enough, he wasn’t too picky about who that somebody was. That’s not true. He was really picky. He just happened to pick me,” she said with pride.

  Jason laughed. “So you were the substitute slave?”

  “I was. And you better believe I had a lot of competition for that job.”

  “Good-looking guy, huh?”

  “Not bad if you like incredibly handsome, six-foot-four blond men.”

  “Not my type,” he said. “Guess he was yours if you got a tattoo for him.”

  “Keep up the good work, sir, and you’ll earn some ink, too,” she said.

  “Good to have a goal.” He pulled her closer to him.

  “Of course…if you showed up at the club with your crop in your hand, there’d be a line around the block of subs, slaves, and masochists waiting their turn for you.”

  “And what’s the address of this club of yours?” Jason asked.

  She looked up at him, eyes narrowed and glaring.

  “Oh, look at that—Spanky’s got a jealous streak,” he said. “I like that.”

  “I saw you first,” she said, face scrunched up in determination.

  “But you’re my slave. I’m not your slave. Right?”

  “Yes, master,” she said, grinning.

  “So I can play with anyone I want but you have to do everything I say?”

  “No, master.” She shook her head.

  “No? Did you tell me no? You’re going to get punished for that now.”

  He grabbed the dish towel off the counter. It was damp enough that when he twirled it and smacked her thigh with it, she let out a yelp that probably spooked the horses.

  “Oh, shit,” she said, laughing. “That stung like a bee.”

  “What did I say about swearing?”

  He swatted her with the damp towel again. She jumped a foot in the air, laughing and squealing at the same time.

  “You keep doing that and I won’t need to get a tattoo for you. I’ll have a permanent scar,” she said, trying to snatch the towel from his hand. She was laughing but he wasn’t.

  “Did I hit you too hard?” he asked, suddenly cold all over.

  “What? No. I mean, it stung, but I’m okay.”

  “You said I was going to leave a scar on
you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I was kidding.”

  “Let me see it, Simone,” he said, his voice so stern it almost scared him.

  She looked surprised, almost scared, but she did as he’d ordered. She turned and lifted his shirt up to show him her upper right thigh.

  Jason knelt down behind her and looked at the red mark he’d left on her leg. It was an angry red welt an inch long with a little bit of blood rushing to the surface.

  “Jesus, I broke your skin,” he said.

  “So?”

  “So?” he repeated. “Are you kidding me? You’re bleeding.”

  She shrugged. “Happened before.”

  “Not with me.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I have some antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids in the bathroom. I’ll go get it.”

  He got up and left her in the kitchen. He heard her calling his name and ignored it. He nearly ran through his bedroom to get to the bathroom where he found his first aid kit. As he was heading back down he nearly ran into Simone coming up the steps.

  “I got the stuff,” he said. “Let’s go in here and I’ll clean you up.”

  She looked at him like he’d gone crazy but when he pointed at the door to the guest room, she went inside without a protest.

  Simone lay on her stomach on the bed. Jason opened the first aid kit and set it up on the nightstand.

  “I’ve got alcohol wipes,” he said. “It’ll sting a little.”

  “I can handle it,” she said.

  She didn’t wince or flinch when he started cleaning the bloody welt. He did, though. The whole area around the welt was bright red and he could already tell she was going to have a bruise.

  “I’m not sure a band aid will stay on that part of your leg very well,” Jason said. “But we can try.”

  “Is it still bleeding?”

  “Looks like it’s stopped.”

  “Then I don’t need a Band-Aid.”

  “You’ll need some ice, though. I’ve got an ice pack around here—”

  “Jason—”

  “Or I can run to the drugstore for—”

  “Jason.”

  Simone turned over and sat up. She met his eyes and said nothing.