by Dahlia West
“I’m sorry, Dakota. I know it’s frustrating.”
Dakota raised her eyebrows at her.
“Please. You think my father talks to me about Conroy Cattle? Or cares what I think? The worst part is sitting at the dinner table every night while he and my brother ignore me and my stepmother to talk about the place where we all live but it’s none of our business.”
Well, truthfully Cassidy couldn’t care less about Dad and Palmer ignoring Karen. Cassidy did her level best to ignore the woman as much as possible. But it did hurt to be ignored herself.
“Yeah, but I went to college!” Dakota replied. “I have a degree in agriculture management. I actually know how to—oh, sorry Cassidy!”
“It’s okay.”
“I didn’t mean you were stupid.”
“It’s fine,” Cassidy insisted.
“You’re…you…”
Cassidy didn’t know which was worse; hearing herself compared to Dakota or watching the woman struggle to come up with even one positive thing to say about her. She smiled. “I pick good panties,” she said, making a joke out of it the way Sawyer would do.
“Oh, come on! You’re…you can…you…”
Again the woman flailed, and Cassidy’s smile widened. “I nailed that dress for you. And Walker is an idiot if he didn’t pounce on you the moment he got you alone. I will make these biscuits,” she declared, holding up the small, round cutter. “And they’re going to be the best biscuits you’ve ever had in your entire life.”
Dakota beamed. “There you go. I love biscuits. So do all the boys.”
Cassidy nodded. “Well, there we have it. World’s Best Biscuit Maker. I could do something with that.”
“Hey, it worked for Mrs. Fields,” Dakota declared.
“Damn straight.”
*
AT THE TABLE, her biscuits took center stage in a large bread basket, and Cassidy’s chest swelled a little that she’d actually accomplished something today. She hadn’t even used Sofia’s recipe this time, and she was pleased to be earning her keep.
Gabe was the first to reach for one, but he frowned as he bit into it.
“Oh, no,” Cassidy muttered to herself.
Sawyer plucked one out, sniffed it, and took a bite. “I think I broke a tooth. Did you get the measurements wrong?” he asked.
Cassidy glared at him. “I never get measurements wrong. I got an A plus in calculus, Sawyer. It was just flour and water and eggs and butter and baking soda.”
“Baking powder,” Sofia corrected.
“Baking soda!” Cassidy insisted.
“Baking powder,” the woman repeated.
The men laughed.
Cassidy groaned. “But…it’s all for baking. Why does it matter?”
Sawyer flung a biscuit at Gabe. “Too bad it’s summer,” he declared. “We could play hockey with these things!”
“They’re not that bad!” Cassidy cried.
Willow stabbed at hers with a fork and stuck out her tongue.
“Willow!” Rowan hissed.
“Are these rocks?” the little girl asked.
Cassidy shook her head. “I should’ve used the recipe card.”
Sawyer laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair.
Cassidy had half a mind to push him.
“These are rocks!” Willow declared and threw one at Sawyer.
“Willow!” Rowan snapped. “That’s enough. Apologize to Cassidy.”
The little girl suddenly looked stricken. Her lower lip quivered, and Cassidy didn’t know which was worse, being made fun of or making the little girl feel bad by proxy. “Sorry,” Willow sniffed.
Cassidy put on a pageant smile. “Oh, it’s all right, honey. Don’t worry about it.” She stood up and gathered her plate and the basket of offending biscuits. In the kitchen, she ran the tap until it turned hot, determined to be useful to someone today, even if it killed her.
“Don’t be sore at us,” Sawyer said from behind her.
“Go away.”
“Oh, now, come on.”
“I mean it, Sawyer. I’m pissed off. And you should go away.”
He laughed, and that spiked her anger. “You’re pissed off.”
“Yes,” she snapped.
He scoffed. “Okay.”
“I mean it!”
“Uh-huh.”
She whirled on him suddenly and without thinking grabbed a handful of flour at the bottom of the dough bowl and flung it at him. When the puff of white smoke subsided, Sawyer was covered in a white dusting.
“God damn it, Cassidy!” he barked.
She laughed unexpectedly, covering her mouth with her hand.
After he stormed out the side door, she turned back to the sink feeling somewhat vindicated but not much. She was a terrible cook, but he didn’t have to point it out to her.
“He’s a jerk!” she said out loud.
“Yep.”
Dakota brought in her plate and set it on the counter.
“They weren’t that bad!” Cassidy cried.
Dakota drew her lower lip between her teeth.
Cassidy huffed. “Really?”
“Well…”
“But he didn’t have to be so mean about it,” Cassidy countered with a sniff.
“That’s true.” Dakota looked down at the thin layer of flour on the kitchen floor.
“I threw it at him.”
“Good for you. Feel better?”
Cassidy sighed. “No.”
“You should pay him back for that, then. For insulting your biscuits.”
Cassidy turned slowly and looked at the younger woman. “His horse’s hair—uh, mane—is black,” she replied. “We can’t dye it.”
Dakota shrugged. “We could do something else.”
“Like what?”
Dakota pulled back the curtain on the kitchen window and peered out into the darkness. “It’s a nice evening,” she mused.
“True,” she said cautiously then looked back at Dakota.
“So…let’s change the forecast.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
‡
SAWYER LET THE water wash over him, torn between getting his shower done quickly and getting Cassidy in bed with him. Then again, he thought, if he came to bed with flour in his hair, she wasn’t likely to get very turned on by it. He took his time, scrubbing thoroughly, even cleaning the pink dirt out from underneath his fingernails. Her punishment would come soon enough. He could think of several food-related methods of torture, but most of them ended with him spreading honey or whipped cream all over her and licking it off. Not really a punishment for anyone, he supposed, but probably damn fun.
Truthfully, though surprised, he was glad she’d done it. Cassidy needed a little fun in her life, not just lately but, he suspected, all the time. She did have a stick crammed way up her ass, but he didn’t think she’d put it there herself. And he didn’t think she could remove it on her own, either. He was more than willing to help with that.
He let himself get hard underneath the spray but didn’t reach down to attend to himself. He wanted to save it all for her, every drop. The image of her underneath him, looking up at him, ready for him, was burned in his mind. Now they had a bed and, if she was willing, all the time in the world to play.
Grabbing a towel, he shut off the water and headed for the door to get dressed and lure her back to the bunkhouse. When he opened the door, though, he stepped out and knocked over half a dozen red solo cups, all sitting upright on the floor. The first one overturned, taking out the second, then the third in an avalanche complete with ice. Cubes and cubes of it scattered across the tile floor.
“Damn it!” he cried. “God damn it!” He picked up his feet, over and over, like one those dancing chickens at the carnival. Cup after cup continued to topple in his desperate bid to get to the safety of the couch. Ice cubes slid across the floor, in heaps or by themselves. Tiny puddles formed instantly, all around him and under his feet, all causing him t
o lose traction. His heel caught on one, and he tumbled to the floor. The sound of cracking plastic filled the room as he crushed dozens of cups, resulting in exploding, freezing shrapnel.
He looked up to see Cassidy and Dakota at the far end of the room. Between them lay a sea, a Red Solo Cup Sea, icy and treacherous. “I am going to get you!” he vowed, pushing himself up off the floor. His hands slipped, and his knee hit the tile. “As soon as I get up,” he bellowed.
He managed to right himself and kick away the filled cups on his warpath toward the front door. When he was almost within arm’s reach, Dakota squeaked and fled out the door.
“Wait a minute!” Cassidy called after her and tried to follow.
Sawyer caught her around the waist though and pulled her across the booby-trapped floor.
She squealed as he hoisted her up and slung her over his shoulder. He dipped once more and picked up an upright cup, carrying both to the bedroom door. He managed to make the crossing without killing them both, and threw her down on the bed so hard she bounced on the mattress.
“I see you found my old beer pong stash,” he declared, rattling the cup in his hand.
Cassidy laughed. “Dakota knew they were in the pantry. Are you the reigning cham-peen of high school party games?”
“It just so happens I am,” he replied. “The Beer Pong King and the Lincoln County Queen. Sounds like a match made in Heaven.” He reached down and tugged off his towel with his free hand.
“Are you going to tie me up?” she asked him. “Isn’t that what you Barlows do to your women?”
“If you try to run away again, I just might.”
He set the cup down on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed with her. He stripped her shirt off over her head and tugged down her bra until her breasts were freed. “And here I was looking for a way to punish you. But you figured it out for me.”
Her eyes widened. “Sawyer—”
“Shh,” he ordered as he brought the cube to her exposed nipple.
She gasped.
He ducked his head and trailed his tongue over the drops of water that beaded on her skin. When it was all gone, he grabbed another handful of ice and rose up over her, twisting a cube back and forth between his fingers, watching the silver droplets fall to her breasts and belly. Her skin shimmered in the moonlight that streamed in through the window. He brought it down and touched it to her belly button.
She shrieked and tried to bat his hand away.
He followed it again with his tongue, though, and she sighed. “Spread your legs,” he told her.
“What? No. No way!”
Undeterred, he gripped her leg behind the knee and pulled.
She slapped at his hand again. “Don’t you dare!”
He grinned. “Relax. I’ll push it in and lick it right back out. I promise.” He doubted he’d need to, though. He already knew how hot she was.
“No,” she said firmly.
“Yes,” he countered.
“No!”
“Fine. I’ll just lick your pussy, then.”
He pushed her thighs wide with his free hand and cupped her pussy with his melting-ice-laden palm.
“Oh! Oh my God!” Cassidy screamed.
Sawyer pressed his mouth to her slit to warm it with his tongue.
She thrashed wildly.
“You need me to eat this pussy?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, God! It’s so cold! Sawyer, it hurts!”
“Say it.”
“Sawyer!”
“Say it.”
“Eat my pussy, Sawyer! Oh, dear God, oh please. Eat my pussy!”
He obliged, taking her back into his mouth.
She gasped in relief and threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place. With his fingers he nudged a small half-melted chip between Cassidy’s swollen lips.
She screamed again as he shoved his thumb in after it, pushing it deeper. Then he clamped his mouth over her wet seam, licking at her until he located her entrance once more and plunged his tongue inside.
Her hips shot up off the bed, and Sawyer had to wrestle her like a wayward calf. He tightened his arms around her thighs, holding her still as he sucked away the cool, clean drops of water. He nibbled at her until her own warmth surged again in his mouth. Cassidy’s fiery core was back in full force, the ice chip inside her only a memory now.
He took her hard with his mouth, demanding her surrender with his lips and tongue. For her part, Cassidy’s hands fell onto his shoulders, manicured nails digging into his skin. She was gasping and crying out, but she didn’t tell him to stop, which Sawyer took as a good sign—a very good sign. She knew what to do, he assumed, or rather, she knew what she wanted from him, and by now she knew how to get it.
Cassidy’s thighs relaxed, then her hands, and the rest of her body followed. She stopped bucking furiously and sank back into the bed. She was crying though, in frustration, he knew, and Sawyer understood it was taking all her willpower to force herself to stop fighting him.
He took another long, slow lick of her pussy.
She sighed.
As fun as she was to play with, this was the part Sawyer wanted the most, her surrender, her acknowledgement that she wanted him and not just a good time. He’d thought about that first night with her so many times, remembered with longing the way she’d finally come undone for him, finally given up her haughty, put-upon airs and given in to him.
“Sawyer!” she breathed, fingers running through his hair. She was lifting her hips again but not to get away this time. This time she was begging him.
“There’s my sweet, gentle girl,” he whispered. “There’s my princess.”
Cassidy spread her thighs wider and pushed her heated core into his face.
Sawyer cupped her bare ass with his hands and savored the treat she was offering freely now.
She writhed and moaned and sighed and pleaded with him for more until she came in his mouth, flooding his tongue with her juices.
He reached for the nightstand drawer, but she surprised him by taking hold of his wrist.
“No,” she said in a voice raspy from screaming. “Now, it’s your turn.”
Sawyer let her push at his chest and direct him to lie on the bed. There was no more ice left, thank God. Otherwise it would be an…anticlimactic experience. Cassidy lowered herself over his lap and kissed the head of his cock. She attended to it with enthusiasm this time, licking and pressing her hot mouth against it as little moans escaped from her throat. She dragged her nails along his thighs but gently, slowly.
When he couldn’t take any more, he reached for a condom, rolled it on, and pulled her over him. She sank down on top of him, taking all of him inside her as she leaned down to kiss him and mix their tastes with their tongues. Sawyer found himself longing to take off the condom and spill his seed inside her. The thought of marking her, claiming her, was infinitely arousing to him. He pinched her clit to make her tighten up on him, squeeze him with the force of a second orgasm.
When he felt her going over the edge, he held her hips firmly and thrust hard, again and again, until he felt his balls draw up and he began to pulse inside her. She collapsed on top of him, and he gathered her in his arms, both of them breathless. Sawyer held her against him and stroked her damp hair. “I can’t believe you booby trapped the bunkhouse,” he said chuckling.
“You made fun of my cooking,” she shot back.
Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up. “So?” He laughed. “Seriously? Walker’s a disaster in the kitchen. We tease him about it all the time. The man could burn water. Cooking’s just not your thing. Are you honestly surprised by that? I’m not. Sorry if I hurt your feelings, Princess. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” She grunted unhappily, and he hugged her.
After she’d drifted off to sleep, he carefully touched the skin just below her darkened cheek. The bruise there had begun to fade a little, but even in the dark it stood out on her pale skin. He wanted to touch it, somehow make it better, make
it go away, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain. The man, though, the man who’d hurt her, he was fair game. And as soon as Sawyer had a name, that name was going on a tombstone.
He bent, kissed the side of her head, and snuggled down into the bed, holding her against him. “No one’s going to hurt you again,” he whispered. “Not on my watch.” Sawyer was determined to keep her safe, keep her here. Even if he had to tie her to the bed to do it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‡
CASSIDY WOKE TO an itch on her nose, swatted at it, and hit flesh instead. She opened one eye to see Sawyer standing over her, already dressed.
“Wake up. We’re burning daylight,” he told her.
She closed her eye again and groaned. “Good. Let’s burn it all. Isn’t there any kind of chore that can be done at night? Bats that need feeding or something?”
“The only thing that needs to be done at night is me. Now, come on, get up.”
She grudgingly rose and pulled on another pair of borrowed jeans and a shirt. “If you get in bed, I can handle that.”
He grinned at her as she tied her shoes. “I’ve got a better idea.”
She looked up at him, confused. “What’s better than that?”
“Not what,” he replied. “Where.”
Thoroughly intrigued now, she followed him outside, where a horse stood next to her Mercedes. He swept his arm toward it. “Hop on.”
Cassidy gaped at him. “Sawyer, there’s not even a saddle!” She eyed the saddle pad he’d laid over Cash’s back instead.
He grinned at her. “You don’t need one. The pad’s enough. Plus, you’ve got me.”
“But how—?”
He walked her to the animal, gripped her around the waist, and lifted her straight up into the air. She shrieked, but thankfully he didn’t drop her, nor did the horse move even a muscle. Sawyer set her down on his back, and she grabbed his arms in a death grip. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed. “Don’t you dare let me go!”
“Princess, lift your leg and swing it over. Face forward, though,” he told her with a smirk.