by Tia Siren
“Yes, that’s it,” he sighed. “Take my big cock in to that gorgeous mouth of yours. Take all of it. Suck my cock good and hard.”
I closed my eyes and let his cock slide into my mouth an inch at a time. My lips were tight around the shaft. The oil tasted sweet, like rose wine. I took him in until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I didn’t gag. I just kept going. I took in the full length of his cock until my nose was brushing his thick pubic hair. I let him slide out of my mouth, and then I took him in again, over and over, until his cock literally throbbed in my throat.
“Make me come, baby,” Conner moaned. “Pump my big cock until I come like a fucking volcano.”
I gripped his cock tightly in my right hand and started pumping the shaft while my left hand played with his balls. I slid my middle finger beneath his balls and across his taint, and then with one quick movement I slid my entire finger up his asshole. The second I did, his entire body tensed and he lifted his ass off the table with my finger clenched inside him.
I pumped him faster until the head seemed to blossom and the slit quivered. Suddenly, white, milky cum shot from his cock like a geyser, sending ropes of it a foot into the air for what seemed like minutes. It overflowed from his cock and covered my hands. I worked my finger in and out of his asshole, and each time I did, he came a little more.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Conner’s body went limp and he let go a long, satisfied sigh. I was still holding his cock in my hand, covered with his cum.
“Clean me off with your mouth,” he commanded, smiling down at me. “Lick that cum off my cock like it’s ice cream.”
I didn’t speak. Nor did I hesitate.
I simply leaned down and, with my lips and tongue, licked his cock clean.
When I woke up the next morning, I thought I’d wet the bed.
The sheets beneath my ass were soaked.
Then I realized that it wasn’t pee.
It was the juice that had flowed from me while I’d been dreaming.
My pussy was still dripping with it.
I had orgasmed multiple times in my sleep.
I glanced over at Wanda Jean, who was still snoring softly in her bed next to mine. I lay back and sighed.
What a wonderful way to start the day.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Miranda
To my chagrin, I didn’t see Conner Blackstone all day Tuesday or Tuesday night. It was probably for the best, because I was booked solid with clients from ten in the morning until eight that night. By the time I left the spa my hands were cramping and my back felt like it was going to break.
I didn’t know which was more tiring: a full day hoofing tables at Red Lobster or standing at a massage table and rubbing the kinks out of rich tourists’ backs.
There was certainly no comparison between the two in regard to the amount of money I made. On a good day at Red Lobster I might have made a hundred bucks.
On my way out of the spa that night, Carla told me I had made three hundred bucks just in tips. That was on top of my base pay, which was a hundred bucks for the day.
Four hundred dollars in one day. Sometimes I didn’t make four hundred dollars in a week. Wow! That certainly made the pain my body was feeling much easier to bare.
* * *
When I got to the spa on Wednesday morning, Carla told me that I had been booked for private massages at the chateau for the entire afternoon.
“You need to head up to the chateau at one and stay until you’re dismissed,” she said. “Be ready. It could be a long day, but the tips will be amazing.”
“Chateau?” I asked, giving her a confusing look. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand.”
“That’s Mr. Blackstone’s private residence on the hill,” she said with a thumb in the air. “He has personal guests coming today and wants to offer them all massages. He said he wanted you and only you.” She gave me a suspicious look. “Any idea why he’d do that?”
I had an idea, all right, but I was hesitant to share it with Carla. I just gave her a shrug and tried to look clueless. I knew it was all a ruse. There were no personal guests coming. This was Conner Blackstone’s way of getting me alone so he could try his bullshit alpha male crap on me again.
I wondered exactly what he was up to.
And I wondered if, this time, it just might work.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Conner
“You can’t be serious!” Wesley said as he stood in the bedroom door, watching me tug on the dingy pair of cowboy boots I’d found in my closet. They were working cowboy boots, not dress boots like the pair of two-thousand-dollar elephant skins he was wearing. They were old and scuffed and dirty. I used to wear them when the old man and I came here for roundups before he died.
“We were supposed to head back to Dallas today to meet with your brother’s lawyer,” Wesley said. “I told you, this is not going to go away.”
“You handle it,” I said with a shrug. “You’re my lawyer.”
“But he’s your brother!” Wesley said. “The kid is going to be there with his aunt, Conner. They expect you to be there to meet him.”
“He is not my brother!” I screamed at him. “I’ve already told you: Pay the little bastard off and get him out of my life! I don’t want anything to do with him. What don’t you understand?”
Wesley looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. I ignored him and put on a denim shirt and tucked it into the ratty jeans. I put on a belt that had a huge silver buckle and then stood looking at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. All I needed was a hat and I’d look like a real cowboy. Yee-fucking-haw!
I heard Wesley sigh, and from the corner of my eye I saw him lean against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.
He said, “Throwing money at this kid is not going to make him go away, Con. For Christ’s sake, he’s your brother. DNA tests don’t lie. He is the only family you have now. How can you not acknowledge that? How can you not want him in your life?”
I fiddled with the pearl buttons on my shirt and stared at myself in the mirror. “Wesley, I’m going to say this once more. I don’t give a flying fuck about DNA tests. I don’t care who he is or what our connection is. I do not want my old man’s mistakes interfering with my life. Period. So handle it. And if you can’t, I’ll find someone who can.”
“You are the biggest fucking prick on the planet,” Wesley said, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll fly to Dallas and meet with them, but you have to face this at some point, Con. This little boy is not going away, but if you keep acting like the world’s biggest asshole, I just might.”
“You’ll never quit,” I said with a grin. “You love me too much.”
“I don’t love you nearly as much as you love yourself,” he said. “And that’s what’s gonna do you in, my friend. You’ll grow old and alone with nothing but your money to keep you company because you can’t love anyone as much as you love yourself.”
“Thanks for the psychobabble, Wesley,” I said with a dismissive wave. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to finish getting ready.”
“You’re an asshole,” he said.
“No argument there.”
He turned and disappeared down the hallway. He had a car waiting at the lodge to take him back to the heliport, and then on to Amarillo for the flight home to Dallas.
He’d figure this whole “little brother” bullshit out. He better. That was what I paid him the fucking big bucks to do.
Thoughts of my old man’s bastard child quickly left my head as I went through the house looking for a hat to wear.
I had a girl to woo, and according to the employee roster, her name was Miranda Carson from Fort Worth, Texas.
I just grinned and said, “Miranda Carson…come on down!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Miranda
“Are you sure? There must be some kind of mistake. I’m the masseuse from the lodge. Mr. Blackstone left instructions for me t
o be at the chateau at one o’clock. I’m supposed to massage his guests.”
The old cowboy who had met me at the foot of path leading up to the chateau scratched his whiskered chin and shook his head. His other hand was holding the reins of a beautiful black mare that was all saddled up and ready to go.
“Must’ve been a change in plans, ma’am,” he said, nodding at the mare. “Mr. Blackstone said to put you on this horse and tell you to ride west along that path.” He nodded toward the path that had been cut through a pasture for horseback riders. It disappeared over a rolling hill half a mile away.
“He’ll be waiting for you in the west pasture, just over that hill.” He narrowed his eyes to give me the once over. “You wanna change clothes first?”
I looked down. I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops and a tan smock from the spa. I was obviously not dressed for whatever Conner had in mind. The old man and the horse stared at me as if both were waiting for my answer.
“Okay, yes. I’ll change into jeans and boots,” I said. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“Take your time, ma’am,” the old man said, tipping his hat. “We’ll be waiting right here.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later I was on top of the mare, trotting along the path toward the west pasture. I grew up riding horses, but it had been a while since I’d been on one.
My butt bobbed up and down on the saddle until I finally settled in and started to remember how to ride.
I had no idea what was in store for me over the top of the hill, but my heart was racing at the thought of being alone again with the infamous Conner Blackstone.
CHAPTER TWENTY: Conner
When I spotted Miranda coming over the rise, my heart started beating a little faster in my chest. My pulse quickened and I felt my entire body tense.
My horse seemed to sense her presence, too, because he kicked the ground and snorted at her. Or maybe he just wanted to screw the mare she was riding. Obviously, I’d picked the perfect horse for me.
I smiled and gave her a wave as she approached. She smiled and waved back.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said as she pulled back the reins to stop her horse next to mine. “I’m glad you did.”
“I thought I was coming to work,” she said, giving me a suspicious look as she let her eyes go around the pasture. Other than a few stray head of cattle, we were alone. “I was told I would be doing massages for your personal guests this afternoon.”
I couldn’t help but gawk at her. God, she was beautiful. She had her long hair pulled back into a ponytail that accentuated the angles and lines of her face. Her eyes sparkled in the bright sunshine and her skin glistened with a faint film of sweat that I had to resist licking off.
I said, “I’m afraid I might have just made that up to get you out of the spa today. I thought we could take the afternoon to get better acquainted. My way of making up for my awful behavior the first time we met.”
“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Blackstone,” she said, her blue eyes narrowing, “but if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I’m not here to have a vacation. I have a family back home to support, so I can’t waste a day of my time riding around and playing cowboy with you.”
A family back home…fuck. I forced a smiled and said, “Family back home? You mean like a husband and a bunch of kids?”
When I saw her amused smile, I knew there was no man waiting for her back home. I had no problem banging a married woman on occasion, but for some reason a little voice in my head kept telling me that Miranda Carson might not be just another conquest. She might be—could be—something much more.
“I have three brothers,” she said. “Our parents are gone, so they depend on me. That’s why I have to work.” She tugged the reins to turn her horse around. “So, I better be getting back.”
“Wait,” I said with a touch of alarm in my voice. “What if I just pay you to keep me company then?”
She gave me an angry look. “You mean like the whores you’re used to being with?”
I blinked at her. “Whores?”
“The way you talked to me the first time we met,” she said. Her beautiful nostrils flared. “You called me a whore. I assume by the way you acted and spoke, that’s who you’re used to being with.”
“Christ, did I really call you a whore?” It was a genuine question. I didn’t remember calling her a whore. And if I did, shit, maybe Wesley was right. Maybe my cock took over and my brain shut down and shit just spewed from my mouth. I suddenly felt like a total heel.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, meaning it. “I guess I…well...when I get in certain situations I…fuck…. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“You are one fucked-up individual,” she said, her face softening into a smile. “I’ll forgive you, but I really do have to work.”
“How much did you make yesterday?” I asked.
She eyed me for a moment. “Around four hundred dollars.”
“Tell you what, I’ll make sure you’re paid that same amount for the day and you don’t have to put your hands on anyone to earn it.”
“Anyone?” Her eyes became slits as she studied my face. “Including you?”
Bingo. I had the fish on the line. All I had to do was reel her in. I gave her a big smile.
“Especially me,” I said as sincerely as I could. “Look, I just thought we could ride for a bit and get acquainted. No strings. No evil plan. There’s an old cabin at the base of the hills where the cowboys used to brand cattle a hundred years ago. I thought you might enjoy seeing it. We can come back whenever you’re ready. You’re completely in charge.”
It took her a moment, but finally she smiled and said, “Okay, Mr. Blackstone. Lead the way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Miranda
I had my doubts at first, but the afternoon I spent casually riding around the ranch with Conner Blackstone was one of the most relaxing days of my entire life. There was nobody yelling orders at me or bitching because their scallops were overcooked or crapping their pants or giving me teenage attitude.
It was quiet, peaceful, with the blue sky overhead and the warm wind blowing through my hair. It was, in a word, wonderful.
And so was Conner. He was like a different person now. I started to wonder if it truly was him that I’d encountered in the massage room or his evil twin.
We talked about everything: life, plans, dreams, food, movies. The only time Conner seemed apprehensive at all was when the topic turned to family. I got the impression that he and his father hadn’t ever been close but he’d worshipped the old man like a god that constantly let him down. I didn’t press him too hard. If he wanted to tell me about it, that was fine, but I was not one to pry.
“There’s the old cabin,” he said as we came to a hilltop that overlooked a patch of flatland covered in saw grass.
It was a tiny log structure, probably a third of the size of the bunkhouse I was staying in back at the lodge.
There was a catering van with the Big Sky logo on the side parked at the back of the cabin. I could see Wanda Jean and another worker carrying platters of food inside. Crap. I knew she’d be waiting back at the lodge with a million questions for me later.
“My grandfather built that cabin with his own two hands over a hundred years ago. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” Conner gave his horse a gentle slap of the reins and started trotting down the hill. I clicked my tongue and my horse fell in behind his.
We got off our horses just as Wanda Jean came through the front door. When she saw me, her jaw literally dropped.
“Uh, hi, Miranda,” she said, her eyes bugging. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Conner’s eyebrows went up. “You two know each other?”
“Wanda Jean and I are best friends,” I said quickly, before she could say something totally embarrassing. “We drove up together. We’re both from Fort Worth.”
“Very cool,” Conner said with a smile. He turned to Wanda Jean,
who was standing on the porch at parade rest, like a soldier awaiting orders. “Well, Wanda Jean, is our dinner ready?”
Wanda Jean looked a little like the cat that ate the canary. She said, “Yes, sir. Exactly what you ordered: flank steaks, baked potatoes, homemade peach cobbler. There’s also a cooler with an assortment of beer, wine, and soft drinks.” She gave me a smile. “Hope you both like it.”
“I’m sure we will,” Conner said, reaching into this pocket and bringing out a wad of cash that would choke a horse. He peeled off four one-hundred-dollar bills and held them out to Wanda Jean between two fingers. “For you and your helper. Y’all can go on back. I think we can handle it from here.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackstone. Thank you.” To me, she lowered her voice to say, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
It wasn’t great advice, because there wasn’t much Wanda Jean wouldn’t do if she were in my shoes.
She took the money, cut me an amused look, and then disappeared back into the house and out the back door.
I heard the van start up and Conner extended a hand to welcome me inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Conner
We sat at the little table at the center of the old cabin and feasted like kings. The food was perfect and the company was amazing. Miranda and I talked for hours. There was no agenda, no ulterior motive. We just liked each other.
Talking to her was easy. Looking at her was even easier. It was like reconnecting with an old friend you didn’t know you’d missed until they showed up. I couldn’t remember ever being so relaxed and unguarded.
“You mentioned your family back in Fort Worth,” I said as we sat eyeing each other across the table covered with empty plates. I was drinking Coors and she was nursing a glass of red wine. We weren’t drunk, but I didn’t think either of us was feeling much pain. “Tell me about them.”