Hitched: Steele Ranch - Book 4

by Vanessa Vale

  Hitched

  Steele Ranch - Book 4

  Vanessa Vale

  Hitched

  Copyright © 2018 by Vanessa Vale

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from both authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover design: Bridger Media

  Cover graphic: Bigstock: marconicouto, fotorince; Deposit Photo: cokacoka

  Contents

  Get A Free Book!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Note From Vanessa

  About the Author

  Also by Vanessa Vale

  Get A Free Book!

  Join my mailing list to be the first to know of new releases, free books, special prices and other author giveaways.

  http://freeromanceread.com

  1

  WILDER

  * * *

  January in Montana was cold as fuck. After a day of riding snowmobiles in the bright sunshine but close to zero temperatures, it felt good to be settled in front of a roaring fire, whiskey in hand. It paid to be friends with Micah and Colt, wilderness outfitters who had taken us on an awesome day into the national forest. There was nothing like seeing the great outdoors seated on two-hundred horsepower, but when we returned to Hawk’s Landing where we were staying for the weekend, we’d discovered the indoors was just as wild.

  A man in leather pants and a snug black t-shirt led a woman by a leash. She wore a red leather skirt the size of a Band-Aid and a black bustier that made her breasts defy gravity. Yup, a leash. She had a collar about her neck and was content to follow a few steps behind, eyes down as they made their way to the resort’s conference room that had been converted for the night into a BDSM dungeon. A group from Billings had rented out the resort for the weekend—except for our two rooms. A dominatrix wearing black boots with lethal stiletto heels and a latex top had a man crawling behind her in the same direction across the resort’s great room. Thankfully, the two-story stone fireplace was lit and the heat had been set a touch warmer than usual since he wore nothing but a metal cock cage over his dick. The sight had me wincing and shifting on the leather couch. I didn’t mind a woman playing with my dick or my balls, but I liked a gentler approach—and the ability to come.

  Unfortunately, the only woman I wanted anywhere near my dick wouldn’t be caught dead in fet wear. No, she was too sweet, too pure. Too innocent for anything as wild and kinky as what was happening tonight. Sarah Gandry was the woman I wanted to marry, not the woman I fucked in a dungeon. Well, I wanted to fuck her pretty much anywhere, but it turned out we weren’t compatible. At least, that was what she thought. I found her smart as fuck, gorgeous and perfect. Oh, and I loved her.

  Shit, I shifted my dick in my jeans just thinking about her. She had gorgeous black hair and the perfect, very fuckable body. I’d never forget her plump lips. Yeah, she might not have my cock in a restraint, but she’d been leading me around by it for years.

  And not just me, she had King pussy-whipped, too. And we hadn’t gotten anywhere near that pussy of hers.

  “When I heard about the event this weekend, I was going to cancel, but we figured you’d be fine with this going on,” Micah said, leaning back in the big leather couch, feet on the coffee table, his glass of whiskey resting on his chest. He angled his head toward the fet event that was happening in a room behind him, the thumping of a deep base from Nine Inch Nails muted. “While you don’t live the lifestyle anymore, you aren’t bothered by it. Wouldn’t say shit about what you see.”

  King shrugged from the chair beside mine, lifted his glass in salute. The furniture was set up in a U-shape in front of the fireplace, Micah facing it directly, us perpendicular.

  King grinned. “Bothered? Hell, no. We just wish our girl was into it like we are, although neither of us have been to an event like this in a long time. As for letting anyone watch? I don’t care what others do, whatever floats their boat and all that. But if—”

  “When,” I said, cutting him off.

  “—when” —he corrected himself— “we get our girl between us, we’re not sharing her with others. No part of her. Not her gorgeous body, the sounds she makes or how she looks when she comes.”

  “No fucking way,” I added, getting pissed just thinking of some bastard seeing Sarah like that. “That shit belongs to us.”

  Yeah, our girl. King and I had been best friends since kindergarten and we’d wanted Sarah for years, since before she was even legal. Watched out for her longer than that. Being six years older, we’d bided our time—we might be into kink, but we didn’t go for jail bait—until she’d finished college and returned to Barlow, to date her. Separately, so we didn’t scare her off. Dinner, movies, bowling. Chaste kisses at her front door.

  God, they’d been sweet, but it had been almost impossible not to push her up against her front door, nudge my thigh between hers and feel the heat of her pussy even through my jeans as I took her mouth in a claiming kiss. That’s what I’d wanted to do with her. Sink into her and lose my mind, make her lose hers.

  But she hadn’t been interested. She hadn’t responded to the brush of my lips against her brow, along the corner of her mouth. No gasp of breath, no clench of fingers on my biceps. No lifting her face to mine for more.

  No, she hadn’t been interested in the tender attentions either of us showed her and had ultimately turned us down, one after the other. Strange, because we’d been sure she’d been into us. Every time we ran into her, interest had flared in her eyes, her cheeks had turned pink. And when I’d picked her up at the door, she’d been eager. But by the end of the date, nothing. Just a small smile, a quick thank you before she’d gone inside and closed the door in my face. King had said the same had happened to him.

  The rejection had stung, and still did. It was confusing because up until I’d walked her to the door we’d had a good time. Being with Sarah felt like being home. It was always easy, no nervous silences. We’d known each other so well already. And yet…no desire. No passion, as I’d hoped. As King had hoped, too. But that didn’t mean we didn’t stop wanting her. No, we were men who got what we wanted, and we wanted Sarah. We just had to be patient and think of our next plan of attack.

  Micah grinned. “I didn’t know you had a girl. Congrats.”

  King’s smile slipped. “We don’t,” he grumbled. “Well, we do, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He took a sip of his drink. “We want a relationship like yours.”

  “What?” Micah frowned, suddenly wary. “With a movie star?”

  “Fuck, Micah, you know us better than that,” I told him. Obviously, he was protective of his wife. “We don’t give a shit that Lacey’s famous. We want a woman to share like you and Colt do. Like Matt and Ethan, too,” I added, referring to the resort’s owners. The two men shared a wife as well. Rachel.

  “Not just any woman, we want to share Sarah,” King clarified, lifting a finger from the
side of his glass and pointed. “We just have to figure out how to get her.”

  Damned straight. There was interest there, even if she’d said no to additional dates. Her eyes lit up when she saw me—and I stopped by the library for more than books—but that hadn’t swayed her into another date. It made no sense.

  “Tell me about her,” Micah said, taking a sip of his drink. His gold wedding ring glinted in the firelight and I was envious as fuck of that simple outward gesture of his commitment to Lacey.

  I ran a hand over my face, realized I probably should have shaved because my five o’clock shadow was heading toward a beard. We’d returned from snowmobiling, showered in our rooms, ate a big meal in the dining room and were now relaxing by the fire. The only thing better than this would be if Sarah were with us. Between us. Under us.

  “She grew up in Barlow with a crazy-ass mother and younger half-brother. How she turned out normal I have no idea,” I told him, wondering if her mother was on her third or fourth husband by now. Maybe even fifth. She changed husbands as fast as most people changed the oil in their car. Instead of working, she married rich men, divorced them for a big settlement and moved on.

  “Sarah went off to college in Bozeman, came back and got the job as the town librarian when the lady who’d been there since forever retired,” King added. He leaned forward, grabbed the whiskey bottle we’d pulled from the hotel bar and refilled his glass with about two fingers of the amber liquid. He’d changed out of his heavy winter-wear for a blue flannel shirt, jeans and leather boots. His pale hair was slicked back from his shower, but had curled at the ends from the heat from the fireplace.

  “Smart and the most amazing smile you’ve ever seen.” If Micah wanted to know about Sarah, we’d tell him. “She’s tiny, doesn’t even come up to my shoulder.” I put my hand up as if to measure her. “Sleek black hair that goes halfway down her back. Curves in all the right places.” My hand shifted as I used it to form the shape of an hourglass.

  “Don’t forget the damned dimple,” King added. Micah’s gaze turned his way as King pointed to his right cheek. “That fucking dimple can bring a man to his knees.”

  “But she’s not interested,” Micah repeated.

  King sighed and I took a big swallow of my drink, let it burn its way down to my stomach.

  “Nope,” King said. “We took her out, separately. We didn’t want to scare her with our intentions of claiming her together even though we’ve known her forever. Except for you guys around here in Bridgewater, it’s not like having two men interested in you is the norm. A few men we know in Barlow share a woman as well, but it’s not like Sarah would know about it. Expect it. She was interested. I know it. I felt it, saw it in her eyes, yet she turned me down for a third date.”

  “Me, too,” I added. I had to wonder if she’d been scared, if we’d somehow pushed her too hard. Perhaps because her mother was so…bold with her affections with men, it had made Sarah inhibited. I was willing to go as slow as she needed, as long as she did need. Us.

  I sighed. It was fucking frustrating because I loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. We’d waited long enough and now…now she was driving me crazy.

  Micah put his glass on a coaster on the end table. “If she’s not into you, then why not see if there are any single subs at the party? Nothing wrong with scratching that itch with a willing woman if you’re single. Especially that need to dominate.” His gaze lifted and he looked over King’s head toward the reception area. “You guys like petite and curvy? Dark haired? There’s a woman talking with Rachel who fits your type.”

  I huff out a laugh. “While my dick is tired of my hand,” I admitted, “it doesn’t have any interest in anyone besides—”

  “What the fuck?” King said quietly. He’d shifted in his seat and was looking toward the reception desk.

  I spun about at his tone and the way his eyes were practically popping out of his head. My brain couldn’t process what I was seeing, yet the words fell from my mouth.

  “No. Fucking. Way.”

  Sarah. In the flesh. And a whole lot of it. A black latex skirt caught the light and made it shimmer. The cut was wide, like…like a fifties skirt without the puffy petticoat beneath. Hell, I didn’t know shit about skirts. This one fell to a few inches above her knees. It wasn’t indecent, but I’d never seen so much of Sarah’s legs before. Ever. The black shoes she wore had a little strap across the front, almost school girl style, although the high heels made them anything but. They only showed off the toned legs even better. And that was just her lower half. She had on a prim white blouse, but it was short enough to show off a narrow strip of her pale waist and tied in the front. I only saw her in profile as she spoke with a woman behind the reception desk, Rachel, I assumed, but I could tell that a number of buttons were undone. Too many. Her sleek hair was back in a simple braid, as if she intended for someone to grab hold of it as they flipped up her skirt and fucked her from behind.

  I shot up from the couch, stalked around it. I heard footsteps behind me and knew King followed.

  “Sarah,” I said. The one word shot from my mouth like a bullet and it made her turn on her high heels.

  Her gorgeous eyes widened, her mouth fell open, her pale skin went almost white, then she flushed as red as the lipstick on her full lips.

  Facing me, I saw even more of her outfit. While the skirt covered her, her top did not. It was as if she’d taken one of her prim librarian blouses, skipped doing the buttons and tied it at the bottom to hold it closed. Beneath, a black lace bustier could be seen through the gaping part in the white fabric. But that wasn’t all. Because the blouse was thin, it was blatantly obvious that the bra was a half cup style that didn’t cover her nipples because I could see their dark color and how hard they were through it. And if I could see, then—

  My jaw clenched and my dick swelled in my pants.

  “Wilder,” she breathed. She looked left, then right, as if she were considering ways to escape.

  I felt more than saw King come to stand beside me.

  “King,” she added, her pink tongue darting out to lick her lips.

  I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a mix of breathy seductress and the squeak of Minnie Mouse. Her hands went to her skirt, smoothed it down, although it didn’t need it, then went to her top, tucked the two halves together.

  “Are we the only ones you don’t want to see your nipples?” I asked, angling with my chin to indicate her sudden modesty. It pissed me off because all that gorgeous skin, those lush curves, were meant for me and King. And she was flaunting it for others to see.

  Her eyes narrowed and she tapped her toe on the tile floor. “I’m here for the BDSM night.”

  It was King’s turn to look around. I saw the way his jaw ticked. “Are you here with someone? Your dom?”

  She didn’t have a collar around her neck, the blatant sign she’d been claimed. The idea that she’d had a man on the side…a fucking dominant, made me see red. While we’d only dated, and casually at that, I—both of us—expected complete and total monogamy. But we weren’t dating now. That had been months ago.

  I was glad King asked the question because all I wanted to do was toss her over my shoulder, take her to my room and for us to show her how two men could top her. But she didn’t want that. Or did she?

  I wanted her, and for more than a quick fuck. I wanted all of her. Her smiles, her tears. Her joys and sorrows. The whole fucking deal. But she’d hidden herself from us, it seemed. She’d hidden a whole fucking lot, and I didn’t mean those big tits that would more than fill my palms. We’d stayed away because we’d thought she was one thing, a shy virgin too timid to handle our darker needs, but now? No fucking way.

  It seemed she had darker needs. Big secrets.

  I loved her and I’d discover the true Sarah, kink and all. And if she already had a man, someone to give her what she needed, then…fine. No, it wasn’t fucking fine. But
I’d know the truth at least. We weren’t her lovers, but I liked to think we were her friends. We deserved honesty, at least.

  “No…I’m friends with Rachel.” Sarah thumbed over her shoulder at the woman who was watching us closely. Rachel gave a small smile and a finger wave. “She told me about the event and I decided to um…check it out.”

  No man. No dom. Thank fuck. I inwardly sighed, but we weren’t done. She wanted to check out a BDSM night? That meant— “Princess, you want men to dominate you, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to drive all the way to Bridgewater.”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times as if she didn’t know what to say. We’d been calling her princess for years, but now, it meant something different, something more. Rachel, behind her, laughed. While my gaze didn’t stray from Sarah, I saw Micah move to lean against the registration desk. I wasn’t sure if he was there to watch out for Sarah—even though he knew we would never lay a hand on her in anger—or keep Rachel from leaping over it and protecting her friend, although she didn’t seem too worried. Either way, I was glad he was there. It was time to get to the bottom of...everything, and Micah knew us, knew the rules of BDSM play.

  Sarah’s dark eyes flicked from mine to King and back. “Men. You mean—what?”

  I smiled, stepped closer. Her grip got tighter on her blouse and she had to tilt her head back to look at me.

  “Men. Me and King. While we’ve known you for a long time, it seems like there’s some things we need to clear up.”