by Reece Butler
In the last few days she’d realized she didn’t want to obey him. She wanted to fight him all the way! She needed the physical release that she’d never experienced from sports. Her legs and arms were so long when she was younger that she was clumsy. She’d used the excuse of extra work to improve her marks to get out of gym class. Since the teacher knew no one wanted her on their team, it wasn’t difficult. But now she wanted to strain her muscles, struggling to escape.
He’d said he had a beast in him, one that demanded he take her hard. She’d realized she had a beast as well. Hers wanted to fight, kicking and screaming, until she was overpowered. She wanted to be forced to enjoy her sexuality, knowing she was totally safe with Eric. She even had a safe word to use, just in case.
She had everything but the man.
She sauntered out of the bathroom, not bothering with a towel since she was alone. She plucked an ice-blue lingerie set from her top drawer. Eric didn’t have much furniture, so hers had fit in the master bedroom. She stepped into tap pants and leaned forward to put on the demi-bra. It held her breasts from drooping but the lace barely touched the lower edge of her nipples.
Maybe she should drive up into the mountains to think. It had been weeks since she’d had a chance. There’d still been snow under the trees and on the north sides of the rock outcrops. By now there should be wildflowers, perhaps even wild strawberries.
Or, she could stay here and fantasize about a hard man meeting her needs.
Would Eric ever do something about the night she’d not only walked out on him, she’d taken his precious truck? All that talk about spankings, and then he’d abandoned her. He wasn’t the first, but she was determined he’d be the last. At least she had memories.
She closed her eyes and imagined it was Eric’s hand that drifted between her legs. The tap pants were loose, allowing easy access. Her fingers slipped between her wet folds. It felt good, but nothing like his tongue, or his callused fingers.
Calluses. That’s something working men had, along with muscles. Calluses to provide a grip when he held her sweat-slick body. Muscles to hold her down as he forced her to obey. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Eric The Barbarian to force her to submit.
“Very nice.”
Nikki gasped and whirled around at the deep growl. Her hands splayed against the dresser. Eric leaned against the open bedroom door. She’d closed it, hadn’t she?
“What are you doing here?”
“Collecting my woman. You’ve got five minutes to pack and get in my truck.”
“Five…!” she spluttered. She gathered her dignity and stood tall. “Or what?”
He let his eyes play over her body. Her breasts hardened, pushing her nipples against the thin silk of her demi-bra.
“Or you’ll be flashing the neighbors when I haul you to my truck over my shoulder with your ass in the air.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
His dark eyes dared her. She wanted to fight him, but not here, not like this.
“I’m taking you to the ranch,” he added.
“Why?” she demanded. He raised an eyebrow. A hint of a lip twitch was quickly hidden.
“It’s time you learned to obey. That means you’ll be doing one heck of a lot of screaming. I didn’t think you wanted the neighbors to hear, but I’m game to do it right here.” He started to undo his belt.
“No!” She leaned over and grabbed her suitcase from beside her dresser. “I’ll need fifteen minutes to pack.”
He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got three point five left.”
One part of her wanted to scream that he was being entirely unreasonable, first to expect her to go along with him, and to give her such little time to prepare. A second realized he knew it and was pushing to see how she reacted. The part that contained her fantasies peered out of the dark and cheered.
She flashed a quick glance, expecting to see Ted’s pompous contempt. But this was Eric. He hadn’t demanded she be something she wasn’t. He hadn’t even asked. He had, however, assumed she’d want a home and family. There was a cost to everything. Even if you lived alone, you had to compromise now and then. She did it daily in her work, choosing to stay late or come in early so people wouldn’t lose pay to see a doctor during working hours. Her patients came before her comfort, especially in an emergency.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to come home and hand over responsibility to someone else? Someone who would enfold her in his arms, carry her upstairs, and make wild, passionate love to her? A real man, one she could look up to, physically as well as emotionally. She might not agree with all his decisions. But that was true in any aspect of life.
Letting Eric make the final decision, telling him she would obey him, did not make her a submissive woman. But, she was beginning to realize, it might make her a happy one.
In the end she took seven minutes, which he said she’d make up for later. He stared at her mouth as he said it. She’d trembled, unsure what he’d make her do. The whole way to the ranch he whistled cowboy songs she didn’t know. They sounded a lot like the jukebox music playing that night they’d gone to the Roadhouse.
That night she’d thrown on her black skirt, pulled a sweater over her head, slipped on a pair of socks and panties, and stomped into a pair of boots. Eric had leered and said he just might keep her naked the whole time. She’d followed him to the truck like an obedient child, but only because she had nothing better to do. She’d had a riot, laughing and dancing. And then they’d come home, eaten a quick supper, and headed upstairs.
She’d been driven past the Circle C ranch house on her whirlwind tour of the valley when she arrived. Back then there wasn’t much to see but snow and evergreen trees. But in June, the Circle C was lovely. The ranch house was set on the flat part of a ripple of land, which then sloped down to the river. Her tour guide, Sam Elliott, said the hills deflected the strong winter winds, though storms dropped a lot of snow as they went over.
But today she saw white, dark purple, and mauve lilacs lining the driveway. She concentrated on the view rather than the man beside her. He pulled up in front of the squared-timber house. White chinking striped the mottled wood.
“The center cabin was built in 1867 by Luke Frost and his partners, Gabriel and Oscar,” said Eric, pointing. “The north extension was added in 1871, when Sarah joined them. My parents added the second wing, to the west and south. That’s where the family room is. Above is the master suite.”
Second story windows overlooked the center portion. The master suite extended only halfway over the family room. A set of wide patio doors led from the bedroom to a huge outdoor area. She noted stairs leading from the porch down to the open area near the truck. Though everything seemed peaceful, her city-honed survival skills encouraged her to find escape routes.
“It’s lovely,” she said, meaning it.
“Hope you like dogs.”
“Why? Does Matt have some pets?”
“Not pets. These animals work for a living.”
Eric climbed out of the truck. A black-and-white streak raced toward him. It was a border collie, the kind that was always grinning. Nikki couldn’t help smiling in return. When the dog got near, Eric disappeared. Nikki climbed out and walked around the front of the truck. Eric, crouching, had the dog in a headlock as it frantically licked his face.
“Enough of that!” he ordered.
The dog stopped, but only because it put its attention onto her. Black fur covered his back end, head, and neck. A white line began on his forehead and flowed forward, widening to circle his muzzle. His shoulders and front legs were a mix of white and gray.
“Aren’t you beautiful,” she crooned.
“He’s enough of a handful without you saying things that’ll go to his head,” replied Eric. “Shep, this is Doctor Nikki. Go shake a paw.”
The dog walked over, sat in front of her, and lifted its right foot. Its left ear stood up and the right flopped. She leaned over, too
k the paw, and shook. When she let go Shep yipped, licked her face, and trotted back to his buddy. Eric scratched Shep all over with his fingers, making the dog’s back left foot twitch as if running. One more pat and then he straightened up. The dog was no fool. He returned to her, sat, and gave a hopeful look. She laughed and crouched. She scratched his back, imitating Eric.
“His fur is so soft.”
“Don’t be thinking of bringing him into the house,” warned Eric. “Two cats is enough animals for me.”
“You have cats?”
“Matt has cats,” he corrected. “He doesn’t like to sleep alone, so he lets them on the bed. I can’t understand how a couple of twelve-pound cats can take over a super-king bed.”
She pressed her lips together to hold back a snicker, and stood. Shep licked her hand once, then lay at her feet. Eric scowled at him.
“Traitor,” he scolded, though Nikki saw a hint of humor around his eyes.
The loud bellow of a cow made Shep’s head whip to one side. Next thing he was gone, a black-and-white arrow streaking across the ground.
“Where’s he going?” She held her hand over her eyes to see better.
“Back to work.” Eric turned to her. “Welcome to the Circle C, where there’s always more chores than time.”
Nikki waited as he grabbed her bag from the truck, then followed him through what she would call an enclosed porch. Cupboards lined the outside walls, all of them with closed doors. Straight ahead was a set of steps. She could see the kitchen through the window in the glossy black door. To her left was a set of coat hangers made from small horseshoes painted black. On her far right were two upright freezers, or maybe a freezer and a fridge. A multi-tined set of large antlers held a variety of hats. Eric kicked off his boots, set them on a rack, and gestured her to enter first.
She removed her own boots, setting them beside his, and climbed the few steps. She stepped into the kitchen, but immediately looked through it to the windows. Two sets were cut into the white wall on the other side of a long wooden harvest table. The ground rose immediately beyond the cabin, framed by the windows. A huge evergreen tree, maybe fifteen feet from the house, provided the backdrop for a lovely garden. She walked across the smooth pine floors, but stopped before she got to the table. A tiny hummingbird was at the feeder just to the left of the windows. It hovered there for a moment, then zipped away.
“Don’t think you have Calliope hummers back East,” said Eric.
“I’ve never really noticed.”
An old wooden half barrel had been filled with flat rocks and placed right in front of the window. A trickle of water came out of a pipe buried in the hill to keep the barrel full. Some rocks were partly submerged, while others were dry. A small bird with a bright-red head and rosy neck landed on a rock. It bent to drink, then dashed off when two large-beaked birds flipped past to land on the feeder.
“The grosbeaks were happy to see me put out seed,” said Eric. “Matt fills the feeder every night and puts it out each morning.”
“You don’t leave it out?”
Eric shook his head. “Seeds attract bears.”
She turned to see if he was joking. “But, it’s right by the house.”
“And right up there are woods,” he replied, pointing uphill. “To the west are more woods, with an open meadow to the east. And down the hill is the river with lots of berries, roots, and fish. We’re in prime bear country, so keep that in mind if you head off for a walk.” He winked. “Don’t worry. You’re more likely to see mule deer cutting through the yard, hoping to munch on something in the garden.”
“You have a garden?”
“Mom has a garden,” he corrected, “I just do the work. I turned it over last night so it’ll be ready when they get back.”
“Marci has a garden,” she replied, not wanting to tell him of her own wish for one.
“It’s no longer a matter of survival, but most ranch women still put up food for the winter.”
Marci had mentioned how eager she was to do the same thing. Nikki would be happy to have fresh carrots, lettuce, and tomatoes. Though, if there were lots of berries, she wouldn’t mind helping pick if she could have some of the result. Wild strawberry preserves or grape jelly would warm her on a winter morning.
“That leads to the laundry and my parents’ suite.” Eric pointed to a door leading from the kitchen. “The family room is through the old cabin to the south, but we’re going upstairs.”
She stiffened. “We are?”
When he didn’t say anything, she turned away from the active birds. His possessive look made her skin pop up in goose bumps while other parts of her heated. The large, airy room seemed suddenly smaller.
“The master suite is up those stairs.” His low words rumbled through the room.
Just because she’d practically jumped him last week, didn’t mean she wanted the same thing in return. She did, but that wasn’t the point. He should not presume. One eyebrow raised a quarter inch in challenge.
This was it. Did she give in meekly, or stand and fight? She couldn’t escape the way they came in as he blocked that door. There was another at the far end of the dining area. She turned toward it.
“I’m not tired. I believe I’ll go for a walk,” she replied airily, and turned away.
She strained her ears over her pounding heart but didn’t hear him follow. She realized she was in sock feet and would have to remove them, then walk barefoot to the truck. Last time he’d left his keys in the ignition. She could lock herself in and—
“No.”
She faltered for a second, then put her foot down and kept going. Six steps to go.
“You really want that spanking, don’t you, pet?” He said it far too calmly.
“I’m not your pet,” she replied stiffly. Four steps. Two.
“It’s locked.”
She reached for the door handle. It was the lever type, easy to open. She grasped it and pushed down. It didn’t budge. She looked for the deadbolt. The slow, soft, padding of approaching large male feet had her scrambling. She flipped it open, but still the lever wouldn’t move. The deep chuckle was only a few feet behind her. She saw the problem, a lock set into the floor. She bent over to flip it. Large hands circled her waist. She shrieked and twisted, forcing him to release her. She scuttled around him and ran.
He moved fast, outflanking her and cutting off the door near the truck. She had no hope there would be an escape route in his parents’ suite, but there was that patio door upstairs. She could always lock herself in a bathroom as a last resort. He waited, arms crossed and feet wide, for her to move.
“You’re choices are limited, pet, and the outcome is non-negotiable.”
His calm amusement infuriated her. He was just like those insufferable old doctors who patronized her because she was intelligent, well-schooled, and female. They both knew he would catch her eventually. That wasn’t the point. She wanted to run, and have him to catch her. But it would not be without a fight.
“You do know what happens when you run from a predator, pet?”
“I said, I’m not your pet!” She pointed past Eric, toward the door. “Shep is out there, guarding your cattle or whatever ranch dogs do.”
He sighed, glanced down, and shook his head. The gleam in his eyes when he flicked his eyes up made her put a hand to her chest.
“Don’t insult Shep, Nikki. He’s a working dog.”
“What about the cats?” she demanded. “Aren’t they pets?”
“Perhaps, but they also catch rodents so serve a useful purpose.” The gleam was back, only stronger. “The only pet I have is you.”
“For the last time, I’m—”
“My sweet pet,” he murmured. “You almost purr when I run my fingers and tongue over you. You moan when I lick your sweet, wet pussy. I can tell that it’s getting all plump and wet as you listen. Your nipples are tight, like pebbles. And all because you want me.”
Nikki couldn’t deny any of what he’
d said. She was aroused and eager. She clenched her Kegel muscles, wishing she was gripping him. He knew, and smirked at her. The stairs had carpet on them, but if the upstairs was bare wood, she might slip.
“You can run, sweet Nikki,” he murmured, “but I will catch you. And when I do, you’ll learn to obey my orders.”
She lifted one foot and slowly slid her sock off. He watched, staring as if mesmerized. The second followed. She folded them, one into the other, then she threw them at him, turned, and ran.
His roar spurred her on.
Chapter Thirty
Eric’s sock-clad foot slipped out from under him as he made the sharp corner to the stairs. He grabbed the banister, used it to haul himself around, and continued. The woman was going to drive him insane. Thank God Matt was due back today or tomorrow. It would take both of them to tame her.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and listened for footsteps, but she was in bare feet and the floor was carpeted. To his right were a couple of bedrooms and a full bath. Nothing looked disturbed in that direction. He turned left. A slight squeak of a floorboard proved where she’d gone.
How convenient. He’d prepared the room for her, including putting fresh sheets on the bed he and Matt had built. His hard cock jumped at the idea of sinking deep inside her again.
He’d worked his butt off under Brewster’s so-called supervision. After days of yack-yack and complaint, he’d finally told the old man if he showed up next week, Eric would walk off the job. Brewster had huffed and said he’d already booked his flight to Vegas anyway. Eric let him go with his pride intact. The man was a sixty-five-year-old, never-married bachelor. A trip to Vegas every five years was as wild as he ever got.
Kenny said it was Brewster who’d helped Susie that first time, fronting her the cash for a bus ticket to Vegas. Eric didn’t doubt it. The man was a dry old stick, but he liked it when pretty girls smiled at him. That’s all he ever wanted, Susie had told Kenny. Just a smile. If Susie did become Mrs. Kenny Peters, Eric expected Brewster would get a fair number of smiles, and likely a cake every now and then.