Burn for Cowboy (Stampede Sizzlers)

by Jenna Howard

  Mike squeezed the back of his neck. “Chance–” The man, however, was on a roll and wasn’t going to slow down for any explanation Mike had.

  “Bad enough nobody knows where Charlie is, if he’s alive or dead. But you. You are alive. But nobody knows where you are either. They’re your family, Michael. I get our friendship is dead and gone, but fuck you. Calling here before the sun’s up and you make my wife cry? Because you’re a selfish asshole. You always have been. Stop hurting my wife. You may be bigger than me but I will bust your head open and end you.”

  “You couldn’t end me if you were pointing a gun at my head, Bremner.”

  “Well okay. I’ll make you fucking bleed and take great satisfaction in it. Now. What the hell is wrong?”

  “I’m not talking to you about this.”

  “Fuck you. Ric’s crying, the babies are up. You got me. Talk, dickhead. I got cows to feed.”

  “I met someone.”

  “Yes,” his former friend said slowly. “I figured as much. What’s wrong?”

  Everything, Mike thought as he dragged a hand down his face. Bracing his shoulder against the window, he looked out at the night. A lot of drunk yahoos were down on the street. He rather wished he was one of them. That was easier than this phone call. “I’m working on it. I called for a reason.”

  “I figured that too. Since it’s one in the fucking morning. Dickhead.”

  “You still with Stealth?”

  “Just a minute, baby,” he heard Chance say. “Yeah, you know I am. That’s why you phoned.”

  Mike looked at the bedroom door and took a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

  Chapter Two

  Bondage and Meri were two of the most perfect things in the world. He sipped his beer and gazed at the woman on the bed. Hotels weren’t very accommodating with their lack of places to tie rope to on a bed. It hadn’t entered his mind to not involve bondage on their holiday, so he had purchased one of those kits where there was a long restraint under the mattress with a connector straps that came over the edge of the mattress. They certainly weren’t for spontaneous bondage since it took lifting a really heavy mattress then trying to make sure the fucking main strap didn’t get positioned out of place.

  Give him his bed and headboard any day. This bondage kit business was shit.

  That said, he still liked seeing Meri cuffed and helpless. Cuffs at her wrists and ankles held her in place.

  One of his ties covered her eyes and another was tucked between her lips, the silk damp from her mouth. Her pretty little breasts were topped with silver strands looped over dark pink nipples while tucked into her luscious little pussy was a vibrating egg he controlled.

  Fuck, she was breath-taking.

  Her fingers clung to the restraints as if they alone could keep her from flying off the bed. He thumbed up the speed of the toy and she cried out, arching up as her body strained against her binds. His cock throbbed telling him to wrap this fun up and sink deep into her.

  The first time he met Meri, there had been bondage. It was as if her flexible body, honed by years of ballet, dance and figure skating, was made for ropes. He could still easily envision that dainty, five-one figure stretched along his St. Andrew’s cross, a dildo filling her sassy little ass, and her bare pussy dripping cream onto his floor. So pretty and sweet. Perfection.

  She had been his ever since.

  He took a final sip of his beer, then he eased up to walk over to her. With the remote, he slowed the vibrations to a gentle hum. A jolt moved through her body as he caressed up her shin. “Look at you,” he said, following the line of her thigh. “So beautiful.”

  She gasped loudly for breath, her nostrils flaring as her hips shifted restlessly. She cried out, arching when he stroked her damp, swollen pussy. The tie did nothing to muffle her scream when he flicked the tiny ball that glimmered in her clit hood. The piercing had been his fortieth birthday present. It was the gift that kept on giving.

  Reaching over, he tucked the remote in her right hand. “Make yourself come, little love.”

  She almost dropped the remote. Finally she had it in her grip and the muffled rumblings of the toy resumed. Leaning down, he licked her swollen nipple then flicked the tie with his tongue. Her body jerked and convulsed as the remote fell to the bed, forgotten as she came. His fingers tugged the slick egg from her and he tossed it aside.

  He wanted inside her. He needed to be inside her.

  Quickly, he stripped himself of his jeans and moved between her open legs. Her breathing changed and her hips lifted in a silent plea. Mike gazed at her, taking a mental picture.

  She was everything he had ever wanted in life. He wished he were the same for her. He wished he had found her first as opposed to whomever it was who had broken her heart. That he had been the one to imprint upon her heart so that it was only him.

  Selfish, but true.

  Reaching up, he eased the tie from her mouth and heard his name in a raspy whisper. He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the ties. She moaned at the added pressure on her wrists. “Tell me what you want, little love.”

  “You,” she whispered. “You.”

  His gaze moved over her face, her eyes hidden from him. He wished he believed her. He wished it were him she wanted. “Then who am I to deny you anything?” Kissing her, he slowly eased into her. She was swollen and wet from the abuse of the vibrator and she came around him with a cry. He loved when she did that. As if the sensation of his cock was all she needed to orgasm. With his free hand, he tugged the clamps from her nipples then began to move in her.

  Months after their first time, he had abandoned condoms. Coming inside her was beyond description. A savage part of him wished he had the power to impregnate her, but the horrific car accident that had ended her figure skating career had robbed them both of that.

  Her tongue tangled with his, her fingers brushed over his wrist with the need to touch him while she rocked beneath him. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded again as he peeled the blindfold away.

  “You,” she whispered, her dark golden lashes lifting so he could gaze into the soft grey of her eyes. “Michael. Please.”

  Mike caressed her mouth. “Then come for me,” he murmured, claiming her mouth as he came inside her. She tightened around him and arched as much as the restraints allowed. She cried into his mouth, her squeezing pussy milking his dick.

  Bracing his forearms on the bed beside her head, he eased up and gazed at her. He wished he knew what was wrong. How could she not trust him with everything? She trusted him to tie her up. She trusted him with a crop in his hand. But her heart seemed to be off limits. It was driving him nuts.

  “Let’s get you untangled,” he said, easing out of the haven of her body.

  Within minutes she was free of the padded cuffs. They wouldn’t be coming home with him. What would the cleaning crew think about finding the bondage restraint system in the trash can?

  He teased one nipple then the other before working his way down to the piercing. By the time he reached that silver stud, his dick was ready to claim what was his again.

  ****

  Meri spent more time worrying about Mike than watching the parade. Something was wrong. He sat beside her in the seats he had purchased in the VIP seating, but she wasn’t entirely sure he was with her. “Is something wrong?”

  His white dress shirt was bright beneath the July sun that had come out for the parade. The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, which was very distracting. She had teased him earlier about not having the proper western shirt or even plaid. If he had either kind of shirt in his vast wardrobe, she’d eat her new hat. Mike was not a plaid shirt kind of man. If he wasn’t wearing his power suits, he was kicking back in his beat up jeans and a sports T-shirt.

  She loved his hands. They were broad and large, the fingers long and thick. They could deliver heady combinations of pleasure and pain, soothe and tease, and they gripped a hockey stick like it was a weapon. His forearms were li
ke the rest of him, muscular, with thick wrists. Dark hair covered the bronze Italian skin and she went with her urge to touch the sun-warmed skin.

  They both watched her fingers trace where the white fabric was folded then slide down to his wrist and over his palm. His fingers spread open for hers and she looked at the size difference in their hands.

  He had intimidated her before that night at his house. She had heard of Mike “the Blade” Rossi. You didn’t live in the sports world and not know his name. He had the uncanny ability of getting his clients astonishing contracts, be it within an organization or as endorsements. Even thirteen years ago his name had been at the top of the food chain. Her father had been determined to get Mike Rossi to represent her because Mike was the best.

  She’d have met him when she was fifteen, before the accident, before Adam. He’d have been her agent instead of Kyla Wilson’s.

  What ifs…

  Dangerous little bastards.

  Instead of meeting him while she was on the ice, she had met him while coaching Kyla on the ice. The girl could skate. He had seen her at one of the junior competitions and came to a practice. So had begun the negotiations of representing a seventeen year old who dreamed of the ice.

  Long before he had the signed contract with Kyla’s parents, Meri had been in his bed. That first day at practice he had watched her with his dark, alpha dog eyes and made her warm and tingly. He had invited her over for dinner. Actually, what he had said was “You’re coming to dinner.”

  Resisting him had never entered her mind. Within hours he had her upstairs in his room, tied to his custom designed St. Andrew’s cross shaped like an M. He had done things to her she had only fantasized about.

  No one had ever hit all her kinky desires until Mike, not even Adam. There had been dates and lovers over the years, but she had learned quickly that an alpha male was not the same as a dominant male. With Mike, he was able to pry open her mind and find everything that felt so very, very good. He made all those jumbled pieces inside her click together.

  Since that first night he had been pushing her boundaries both sexually and emotionally.

  It was the emotional part that terrified her.

  Fingers gently stroked along her jaw and he tilted her head up. Every touch made her skin tingle. For almost a year he had made her body tingle and burn. Sometimes with a touch.

  Sometimes without.

  “There you are,” he said softly as he removed her cowboy hat and kissed her. When his tongue flicked along her lower lip, there was no thought of hesitating. He pressed the hat against her back, moving her from her hard wooden seat to the hard muscles of his thighs. So much better, she thought as she met the erotic dips of his tongue. When his hat bumped her head, he set it on her seat. Fingers spread through her hair to hold her still for the deep thrusts of his tongue.

  Meri’s legs hooked behind his back to get closer to him. Through the layers of denim she felt the thick bulge of his cock and she squirmed to get closer. Hands gripped her ass, holding her close for a few moments before he eased her back. No, no, no.

  A hand stroked up her spine, over the light cotton of her tank top. Fingers fisted hard in her hair and tilted her head back so she could see the bright blue sky above the buildings. The sharp tug on her hair loosened things deep inside her.

  “No coming,” he said in her ear as a marching band thundered by, playing a rousing rendition of a classic song. Teeth scraped down her neck to the tendon at her shoulder. She bit her lip as her hips pushed into his. The cotton of her top teased her swollen nipples, the sensation making her throb for more. The hand at her ass slid down her leg, caressing lightly over the scar where her shorts ended. Before she could think of his name, he spun her around and set her hat on her head. “Behave, little love.”

  Evil, she thought as she tried to focus on the colorful, noisy world around her. He was evil.

  She was hyper aware of the insistent press of his erection against her ass and his fingers teasing the hem of her shorts. Anyone looking at her would know she was aroused.

  Fingers gently brushed over her scar and she watched him follow the familiar lines of a dream-ending injury. He cupped her hips then caressed up her back. Against her chest she felt the twisted strands of the copper necklace slide free. He caught it while his lips pressed against her shoulder. As the crowd on one side of the street gave a boisterous “yah” and their side shouted back a “hoo” until the rhythm was smooth, melding into “yahoo”, Mike wove the necklace through her bracelets.

  He removed her hat and she settled against his chest, his thumbs caressing the copper and silver bangles. Against her ass, his erection still pressed and over the pulse points of her wrists, he caressed. “At the next hoo,” he said against her ear, “come for me, little love.”

  His hands slid to the insides of her thighs and need tightened deep in her belly. “Yah,” he murmured as he rocked her over his straining cock.

  “Hoo.”

  The shout of the crowd muffled her cry as she arched against him, seeking the release he allowed her. She gasped for breath, her face turned to his neck so she could smell the subtle blend of skin and cologne. There was a sense of loss when he removed his impromptu cuffs.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he lifted her off his lap and held her hips as she tried to find her balance. Her orgasm left her feeling a little wobbly on her feet and his smug grin said he knew why she wasn’t so steady.

  Once more he slipped her hat in place, then he took her hand and they returned to the hotel.

  It was, by far, the best parade of her life.

  Chapter Three

  She did not get the rules of the rodeo. The chuck wagon races were easy to grasp. Whoever gets over the line first wins. But everything else?

  “It’s points,” Mike said without looking up from the notebook resting on his thigh. “Think of it like figure skating. You get points for your routine. Certain things get you higher points. A triple for instance. That horse,” he pointed his pen toward a man getting his brains rattled, “is a triple.”

  He was scouting. On every line of the book was a name of the participants, and beside each name was their score. Already through the various events, names had lines drawn through them. Watching Mike work was almost as confusing as the rodeo. How could he figure out, on the first day out of ten, who sucked hard enough to earn a scratching out in his notebook?

  The candy apple was forgotten as she studied her lover. “How do you know all this?”

  “I read. I ask questions. Plus I grew up around this.” He lifted the white plastic cup filled with beer and took a sip.

  “I thought it was cows.”

  “Cows.” He said the word like it was disgusting. His lip curled and his nose twitched as if he smelled manure nearby. “Fucking cows.” Mike leaned forward, watching the cowboy on the bucking horse. Within seconds a cloud of dirt exploded up when the man landed and a line went through his name. “Guy on the neighboring ranch worked the broncs. He had a hot daughter.”

  “Ahhh, and it all comes together.”

  His lips curled in a grin. “And she had a pretty, submissive best friend.”

  “Really.” She rested her elbow on his shoulder. “Did she now?”

  “She did. Robin Mathers.” He said the name slowly and she half expected angels to let out a chorus of hallelujahs. “Little pain slut. Those are always fun.” He caressed her cheek as he looked at her. “Aren’t you?”

  Meri stuck her tongue out at him and was rewarded when he pinched her ear lobe. Hard. Her nipples tightened as if he had given those a little tweak. His hand settled on her hip and he wrote down a new name.

  “You breaking into the rodeo representing?”

  “This year’s winner gets a hundred thousand dollars. That’s a big jackpot. Half of these guys live rodeo win by rodeo win. You don’t win, you don’t eat.”

  “Gold medal,” she said, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

  “Gold medal,” he repeat
ed.

  “Hey, little love,” she said in a deep voice, mimicking his words, “you know what would be a neat getaway? The Calgary Stampede. Getaway,” she said in her normal voice, “my ass.”

  His hand gave her ass cheek a sharp slap. “It’s a nice ass. I gave you a parade. I bought you jewelry and a hat. In a few hours you’ll get fireworks. You’re eating a candy apple. And earlier I beat your ass with a belt. How much more of a getaway do you need?”

  Meri grinned then stretched up to kiss his jaw. His hand squeezed the ass he had taken a belt to earlier. He returned to his scouting, watching everything from the way the cowboy settled onto the horse’s back to the way he landed at six seconds. That cowboy’s name was not crossed off the list.

  Her gaze wandered around the people watching the happenings down in the dirt. There were a few suits scattered throughout but not many. Most were in citified country gear like her. Jeans, a western shirt, though hers was just a plaid button shirt over her tank top, and a cowboy hat.

  The Stampede, she realized, was an equalizer. You didn’t know if you were sitting beside a millionaire or a stay-at-home mom. Meri turned to look at the sea of people behind her. She had the feeling they understood as much about the various rodeo events as she did. But it was like skating. You knew when something went right and when someone landed on their ass, you knew when something went wrong. So you cheered when it was good, and you gasped when it went bad.

  Toying with the fingers curled over her thigh, Meri turned her attention beyond the people to look at the field where some guy clung to his horse. There were seats down below. Talk about getting close to the action. “How come we aren’t sitting down there?”

  “You know what it smells like down in the infield? Shit. Shit and sweat.”

  “So we’ll be down there tomorrow?”