by Joey W. Hill
"No."
"Is that how you usually sleep?"
"Sometimes boxers, but it's easier to jump right in the shower first thing in the morning if you're already bare-assed."
"Such a practical man. Do you keep any lube near your bed? Anything you can use as lube?"
He blinked. "Uh, there's this balm I put on my hands or lips sometime when they get real chapped and cracked. It's in the nightstand drawer."
"Perfect. Spread a good amount on your hands, and then grip your cock with one of them, and put two fingers of the other hand up your ass. All the way to the bottom knuckle."
"What?"
"You've had a woman lick your rim. Penetrate you with her fingers?"
Some of his more experienced bed partners had introduced him to it. But he'd actually never put his own fingers up his ass.
"Yeah. A couple times. Just haven't done it with my own."
"No time like the present. I want you to start getting your ass ready for when I'll put on a nice thick strap-on and fuck your brains out, the way you've fucked your cute little buckle bunnies. Your fingers are nice and thick, much better than mine for that purpose. So do it."
Again he hesitated, but the erotic lure of it was too much for him to resist. The internal muscles of his ass already clenched with anticipation. "Okay."
"Hmm. I'm thinking I'd like to hear something a little more along the lines of 'Yes ma'am'. Think you can manage that?"
He paused, thought it over, and then it came to his lips as if it had just been waiting there to be said. "Yes ma'am." He'd called her Mistress the other night in the heat of the moment. Some part of him wanted to say that now too. But he restrained himself with "ma'am".
She purred. "God, hearing a cowboy say 'Yes, ma'am' in that drawl. It makes me want to have you stand in a corner and just say it all day long while I play with myself."
"I'd be happy to do the playing. Ma'am."
She laughed then, a throaty sound. "You like to flirt, Quinn. I like that."
Actually, he'd never been much in that department, but the edgy way she played at it herself inspired him. Then her voice sharpened to that sultry demand again. "Have you done what I told you to do?"
He slathered the udder balm on his fingers and gripped his cock, which was already nice and aching, like the skin was going to split right off it. Then he reached back, eased his other greased-up fingers into himself. His cock convulsed, cream blooming on the top, and a rasping breath escaped his lips.
"Nice." Her voice had that hum to it that he could feel vibrating all the way to his testicles. "The first time I fuck you, Quinn, I'm going to have you lying face down on your bed. I'm going to tie your wrists and ankles, spread you out wide. Then I'm going to put myself against your back, drag my nice big rubber cock down your spine, put it between your cheeks and push in so, so slow, until you're stretched and burning. Until your mind is completely breaking apart from the way it feels to have me fucking you like a man while my breasts press against your back and my hair brushes your shoulder, and you smell my cunt getting so wet..."
"God...Mistress."
"You can come for me now, Quinn. But you have to do it within five minutes or you don't get to do it at all. Remember what I said. I want to hear every filthy, uncensored thing going through your mind."
So he did just that. He described exactly what he was doing, the grip he had on his dick, how he was pushing the taut skin up to the head, stroking just the right spot firm and intent, and he said all sorts of delightful filthy things. How he wanted to fuck her cunt, her ass, shove himself into her mouth, come all over her tits...how he wanted her to fuck him...down on his knees, her behind him, fingers shoving into his ass, tongue there, then using the handle of his whip, making him shudder and bite back pleas for mercy as she worked him, his balls drew up and...
He spewed all over himself as she whispered the words to him. "Now, Quinn. Now."
The hot syrup clung to his fingers and dripped onto his balls. His skin was on fire wherever it touched. He felt as if every bit of energy had drained from his body through his cock and spilled around him. He'd had all kinds of sex--down and dirty, hot and sexy, even passable phone sex. But this? She had gotten into his mind, into his body, and taken over his senses. He had been powerless to do anything but what she commanded.
He was barely catching his breath when she spoke. "Remember, you call me whenever you need to do that."
She hung up. Just like that, leaving him hanging on to the throaty sound of her voice, which told him she was just as aroused. It tormented him as visions of her naked body shimmered in the air, her slender hips, her smooth pussy, her breasts swollen, her nipples hard and begging for his mouth. He imagined her pinching each of those nipples until they were engorged and stiff, then letting those fingers drift down the silken flesh of her stomach to her pussy. Separating the plump lips with the fingers of one hand while with the other she caressed her glistening slit in a long glide.
Christ! Heat jolted right into his balls and the vein feeding his shaft pulsed as his blood surged through it.
He closed his eyes and in his mind saw her bend her legs to give herself better access. Slip two then three fingers into her waiting cunt. His heart thudded as she fucked herself, now pinching her clit with her other hand and tugging and rolling it, bringing herself to climax with her slim fingers.
When she convulsed, spasms rippling over her body, his cock hardened to the point he was afraid to touch it for fear of damaging himself. At this rate, he'd have her on the phone all the damn time. He forced his eyes open, wiping away the image.
He needed more. Much more. Even if it meant letting her call the shots.
He couldn't leave it there so he dialed her again. She picked up on the first ring.
"Even your recovery time couldn't be that good."
"It just might be, baby." He grinned at the sound of her chuckle. "How are you?"
She paused. "What?"
"I asked how you're doing. Are you okay? Did your day go okay? I've been pretty busy with the ranch, and I haven't had a chance to check in."
He sensed the change in subject matter surprised her but she answered him. "You've checked in with Maria and your ranch hands to see how I'm doing, what I've been buying."
"Yeah."
"Then you know how I'm doing." She hung up again.
He stared at the phone. Was she pissed at him? She hadn't sounded that way. It sounded like she'd chuckled at him again before she ended the call. She was hard to figure. It took an act of will not to call back again, for more than one reason.
Sleep eluded him. Every scene with her played over and over in his mind. He felt the bite of the lash on his back, her touch on his bare ass, the sensation of her mouth. The unbelievable ability she had to bend him to her will. At last, he gave up and left the bed, getting an early jump on the day.
As he went about his work throughout the morning and afternoon, knowing he had to call her to get off kept him in a constant semi-aroused state. Perversely, it also helped him suppress the urge to call so he wouldn't seem like some sex-crazed lunatic. At least until evening.
Once he was in the shower that night, the water running down his bare body, the meanderings of his tired mind went right to his cock, and before he knew it, he was throbbing again. Her words in the darkness of early morning played out in his mind.
"I'll put on a nice thick strap-on and fuck your brains out."
Again his inner muscles tightened and a bolt of lust speared him. Fucking a woman's ass always turned him on, but what would it be like to experience it from the other side? Allowing that had never even been on his sexual horizon but now that Selene had planted the image in his mind...
No, you can't call. You don't want to come off as some kind of dog begging for scraps.
He held out until he'd gotten out, mostly dried off, and saw his phone sitting on the counter. His hand reached for it as if it had a mind of its own.
She picked up on
the second ring, but she was already talking. "Yeah, put that back there. Thanks, Robert. I'd like to change the shipment rate...hold on. Mr. Pedraza?"
She was dealing with the beer delivery guy. Just like the previous night in front of the customers, she was calling him boss or Mr. Pedraza. It fucking turned him on, knowing behind closed doors, it was something entirely different. He decided to give back tit for tat. "Yes ma'am?" he drawled.
There was laughter in her voice at that, but she kept on track. "So do you need the same order you requested this morning?"
Okay, she was better at this than him. Was she really going to have him do this while she was doing business? "I'll call you back."
"No. I'm accepting that delivery only at the proscribed time, boss. Just as we discussed. I can do this at the same time. Go ahead and give me what you need. Now."
Her voice was conversational, yet he heard the trace of steel, that hint of command that probably passed unnoticed to the beer guy. In contrast, Quinn heard it as clear as a drill sergeant's bark.
"Fuck, I can't do this."
"Yes, Mr. Pedraza. I'm very confident that can happen. Robert, here's the order change. Can you put that in the back?"
Robert must have walked away, because her voice changed immediately. "I want to hear you, Quinn. Want to hear every groan, every curse, the way you say 'I want to fuck your cunt' like a sacred promise. Obey me, cowboy."
"Are you wet?" he demanded. "Christ, give me something. I feel like a fucking dumbass teenager here, chasing a cheerleader's skirts." He should hang up. He was just too damn horny to do so. But he wasn't going to beg. He'd never been that kind of guy with a woman, and he wasn't starting now.
"I'm so wet that if I buried your face in my pussy right now, you'd drown," she said. "Give me a gift, Quinn. Give me everything you are in this moment. You're not a teenager. You're a powerful, tough-as-nails man who makes me hot just to hear your voice on the phone, begging me in that rough way of yours to let you come."
Just like that, hearing the urgency in her tone made all his uneasiness disappear. Was it his imagination, or did showing her desires so blatantly freak her out a little bit too? All he knew was hearing that note in her voice made things feel more balanced, though he was sure she wouldn't appreciate hearing that at all.
Over the next five minutes, he worked his cock in his hand, the shower steam still misting his flesh. During that time, Robert returned, she worked out a freaking new order schedule with him and told him to check the cooling lines on their tap system. When Quinn came at her veiled order, "Yes, boss. Now's the perfect time," he barely had time to cover himself with a towel to save a night of mopping up the floor.
While he was still catching his breath, she put Robert on the line so he could verify she was the new barkeep and not some wet-dream fantasy who'd wandered in straight from the pages of every guy's fave skin mag. Robert didn't put it that way, but Quinn was sure that was what he was thinking. It sure as hell was what he was thinking. He managed the, "Hey, Bob, yeah she's my new help, and unless she asks for the freaking moon, we're all good." Though he might just give her the entire universe, not just the moon. Selene took the phone back from Robert.
"All right, sounds like we're all done, Mr. Pedraza. Call me back if you need me again." The connection was cut.
It wasn't until about an hour later he started having weird feelings about it. Yeah, typical guy, getting off, then having regrets. But Jesus, while she was dealing with a vendor? He wished he could go see her tonight, but it just wasn't in the cards. He still had a few hours to go on paperwork for the ranch and a full day tomorrow. He sighed, put his head in his hands. In a matter of a few days, he'd gotten himself hung up in a pretty complicated set of feelings. Having those feelings for someone who worked for him was never a good idea.
Once again he was back to the idea it was probably good to put some physical distance between them. So he promised himself no more phone calls. At least until he actually had time to go see her again.
Chapter Six
The next morning, the men rode out early to get the herd moving. One of the hands called and told him they had finished mending a broken spot in the fence on the north pasture and were getting ready to drive the cattle there. While Quinn knew they would have done their usual efficient job and didn't need his stamp of approval, he was tired of wrestling with paperwork and forcing himself to leave the telephone alone. Checking out the repairs provided the perfect excuse to take in some steadying solitude.
The sun was bathing everything in its warm golden glow when he saddled Midnight and headed out of the barn. He didn't take his phone with him, on purpose. As he rode out through the meadows waiting to be filled by part of the herd, he drew the air deep in his lungs, let the underlying quiet beneath the sounds of nature ease his mind, his gut.
He walked Midnight along the fence, checking for other weak spots, but at a certain point, he closed his eyes, let Midnight walk about a quarter mile, his mind lulled by the horse's movement. When Quinn finally opened his eyes, he found one small detail in the landscape had changed. One that made him smile.
"Well, looks like there's more than one of you after all. Must be a new strain."
It was the same type of butterfly he'd seen a few days before. Midnight's ears flickered as the delicate winged insect beat a determined track right for the two of them, almost emanating the attitude, "Why on earth did I have to bring my ass all the way out here to find you?"
Bemused, Quinn watched the creature perch right on his rein-wrapped hand on the pommel, just as before. It fluttered its wings, settling down. It was rare a man got to look at a butterfly this up close and personal, so still, and in his current contemplative state, he was impressed, almost hypnotized by its beauty, by the subtle blending of the colors. The usual tracery of black was missing. Every butterfly he'd ever seen had at least a touch of it in its palette, but not this one.
Keeping still, he cast his gaze around, seeking others, but didn't find any. Weird. They always traveled in flights, never alone. Not that he remembered.
He lifted his hand, expecting the delicate creature to skedaddle, and was surprised it stayed in place. When he flexed his fingers, moving the knuckle the butterfly rested on, instead of skittering off, it fluttered its wings. Hovered in front of him before coming to rest on his shoulder.
He freed his hands from the reins, knowing Midnight would stay still until bid otherwise, though the horse's ears were swept back, as if listening with animal radar to the silent byplay between his master and the intriguing insect. Quinn turned his hand palm up, realizing he was holding his breath. The butterfly lifted off, floated down and landed right in the cup of his hand.
He stared at it. Slowly, he closed his fingers into a curved basket around it. It didn't move. At the faint brush of the wings, he opened his grasp, remembering something about a human touching a butterfly's wings could take away its ability to fly. The thought gave him a moment of consternation, then the butterfly lifted off, relieving him.
A piercing whistle caught his attention and he looked up to see the mass of cattle coming up over the crest of the hill, the hands in loose formation around them.
"Well look at that. I timed that just right, little lady. I assume you're a little lady. You just don't strike me as a guy."
When he moved to unlatch the gate so the herd could move through, he expected the butterfly to whisk away, but it sat on his shoulder, now on his hat, now performing a delicate dance around his head. When it landed once on Midnight's forelock, he tightened his grip on the reins, expecting the big black gelding to protest. But the magnificent animal just twitched his ears and bobbed his head once, as if having a private conversation with the little creature.
Okay, now I am really losing my mind.
It remained in its place even as he backed Midnight away out of the swarm of cattle. Then, once he was clear, it went back to resting on his hand. He kept it as still as possible, giving it that resting spot as he c
alled out direction to the men. Fortunately, none were close enough to notice, so he didn't have to explain what the hell he was doing playing with butterflies.
When Kevin brought lunch out to them in the four-wheel pickup, Quinn dismounted and waited for the butterfly to move off. Instead it simply changed its position, settling on the brim of his Stetson. A strange feeling whispered through his system. The men made a joke about it, and Kevin lifted a hand to swat at it. "Let me take care of that, boss."
Quinn caught his arm, quick as he'd rope a calf out of the shoot. A startled look crossed Kevin's face, and Quinn swallowed, hoping the dull flush he thought was on his face wasn't. "Don't. It's bringing me luck. Haven't had a damn thing go wrong since it showed up a few days ago." Because he was somehow sure it was the same one.
Well, at least that was something cowhands understood. They all had their superstitions, and though they ribbed him about it, not a one of them did anything like Kevin had again. They started looking a little amazed themselves at the way the butterfly stayed with him, just doing that gentle wing pump, sometimes barely moving at all.
"I think it's tired, boss," Dave said, pointing with his fork. "I saw one once get all buffeted about by a windy day, and when it lighted on a protected branch, it did just like that. The wing movement's like them catching their breath."
"Well, last time I saw it, it was clear on the other side of the property, so maybe it had a big trip today." Taking of his hat, Quinn set it on the rock next to him so he could study the creature. Per his request, Kevin had brought him his phone, so Quinn took a picture of the insect, examined it. He made it into his screen background, because he liked looking at it. He'd show it to Selene, tell her it had her eye color.
Damn, he missed that woman. Today was the last day they had to work such long hours. He was going to go see her at After Hours. No, forget that. He was going to call her, offer to take her out to dinner Sunday night. She was new in town and he'd been a selfish bastard, making it all about the sex and not being a proper gentleman. Never mind she hadn't seemed to mind making some pretty hefty sexual demands herself, a man knew the right thing to do by a woman. He wasn't going to call her in front of all his men, and by the time he got back, she'd be hip deep in the bar's operating hours. He'd send her a text, even though that wasn't as proper as asking her voice to voice. Truth, he wanted to call her for a reason other than whacking off.