To Con A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 3)

by Maggie Carpenter

  "You're taking a lot for granted," she quipped, ambling around the room and shooting him a sassy grin.

  "Am I? You don't have to stay up here. Should I take your packages down to your guest suite?"

  "Uh, no."

  "But you just had to be a smart ass, right?"

  "Something like that," she murmured, ambling towards him. "But that's one of the things you like best about me. You said so yourself."

  "Indeed it is, and you won't be surprised when I tell you to hand me the crops and bend over that bed."

  "What?"

  "Stop being coy and do as you're told," he said with a grin. "Or do you want me to ask a second time?"

  "Is this really necessary?" she asked, dropping over the mattress.

  "What do you think? Stretch your arms out and hold this in both hands—and don't let it go," he instructed, giving her the long, thin whip. "When I say don't let it go, I'm serous. If you do I'll use it, and I don't think you'd like that."

  Her pulse ticking up, she curled her fingers around the thin rod, then slid her arms out in front of her.

  "All the way, Amber. I want your body flat on the bed and your head turned to the side."

  As she wriggled into position, Brett stood back and admired the painted-on stretch jeans hugging her glorious curves. Waiting until she settled, he tapped the heart-shaped leather tongue against the center of her right cheek.

  "Tell me what I'm waitin' to hear."

  Memories flashed through her head.

  He'd put large pieces of foam in the back of his truck, cover them with a clean sheet, and park under the stars near the lake. He'd spank her, and though she'd pretend to resist, she'd loved it. Every single hot slap. They'd kiss and fondle each other, then drink cheap wine and talk. Secrets were for other people. There was nothing they wouldn't share.

  "Tell me what I'm waitin' to hear," he repeated.

  Years before those same words had sent her pulse racing, and hearing them again sent a flood between her legs.

  "Please will you punish me, Sir?"

  "What have you done, Sassy Lassy?"

  "I tried to embarrass you in the store, and I've been a smart-ass."

  "What does being a smart-ass get you?"

  "A stinging ass, Sir."

  "That'd be right," he declared, landing the first sharp swat.

  "Ow."

  "Try that again."

  "Thank you, Sir."

  "Are you ready for your spankin'?"

  "Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir."

  Tapping the leather swatch on her opposite cheek, he delivered a series of quick smacks, then carried the discipline across the width and breadth of her round rump.

  "Do you have anything to say?"

  "I'm sorry, Sir. Please will you punish me more?"

  "How?"

  "Spank my bare backside, please, Sir."

  Dropping the crop on the bed, he yanked down the clinging, stretch jeans, smiling as he admired the sexy pink thong, then smoothed his hand over her red blotchy skin.

  "Mmmm, I like these marks, but your smart ass isn't anywhere near red enough."

  Though she moaned loudly, she couldn't stop from wriggling her agreement. The sight sent fresh energy through his loins, and with his cock urgently begging to be released from the confines of his pants, he quickly pulled them off. Sitting bedside her, he lightly pinched the tender skin, then forcefully slapped his flattened palm on her sit spot. Her loud squeal was rewarded with a second smack, then a third, before he traveled his hand in a steady rhythm across her bottom.

  "Startin' to look the way it should. Damn, girl, you're soppin'," he declared, sliding his fingers under the gusset of her thong. "This is comin' off."

  But as he was about to pull it down, he changed his mind, ripping the lacy fabric in half and tossing it aside.

  "Oh, my God!"

  "Don't worry, I'll buy you plenty more."

  Taking his cock in his hand, he teased her wetness for only a moment before plunging forward and grabbing her hips, stroking vigorously as his fever took hold. Her punished behind, with its splotches of red mingling with his palm prints, made his blood run hot, and her sounds of pleasure, glorious music he could never hope to replicate, fed his carnal fire. Though determined not to stop until she shrieked his name, his cock screamed for release, and forcing himself to slow down, he heard her groan of disappointment. Running his fingertips down her back, he took long deep breaths, then leaning forward he placed his lips at her ear.

  "You were beautiful then, but you're even more beautiful now. I love bein' inside you, darlin'. I love it more than I know how to say."

  "Me too," she murmured, craning her head around. "Please will you k—?"

  But he was already engulfing her mouth with a kiss filled with the love he'd held in his heart for so many years. A kiss exposing his need. A kiss he'd been longing to deliver since the moment she'd entered his lawyer's office and he'd seen her on the monitor.

  "I love you, BD," she whispered as he broke apart. "I realize now I never stopped loving you."

  "Me too, baby. It's always been you. It always will be you."

  Slipping from her depths, he took the crop from her hands, and helping her move up the bed to the pillows, he rolled her on to her back.

  "Now, Sassy Lassy," he crooned, towering over her, "I'm gonna ride you 'til you come!"

  Holding his rigid rod and guiding it back inside her, he gripped her wrists, pinned them on either side of her head, and pressing his lips on hers, he began to pump. Though he started with slow strokes, as his thrusts gathered speed and force, her fingers dug into his back. When he sensed her climax was closing in, he broke the prolonged kiss and lifted his head to stare down at her.

  "You're gonna come for me," he growled, "and you're gonna come hard."

  Her eyes gazed up at him, her forehead crinkled, and she suddenly gasped.

  "That's it, baby. Come for me now!"

  As she exploded, his cock jettisoned his essence in violent spasms. Tingles vibrated through him as the convulsions continued, her cries of pleasure meeting his groans until she fell limp beneath him. Utterly spent he slipped from her depths, and sliding off her body, he fell on his back, bringing his arm around her as she nestled against him.

  "I've dreamed about being with you like this so many times," she panted. "More times than I could possibly count."

  "I hope I'm livin' up to your fantasies."

  "Beyond. So far beyond."

  He could feel himself drifting, and with his heart settling, he let out a long, contented sigh.

  She carries conflict. There's a secret behind her eyes.

  Steve's words suddenly floated through his head.

  "Amber," he murmured, "are you doin' okay?"

  "If being in heaven is doing okay, then yeah."

  "You know you can tell me anything," he said softly, propping himself up on an elbow and staring down at her. "Anything at all. The one thing that can hurt us is holdin' back. That's what hurt us back then. You didn't tell me what was goin' on."

  "I know. I'm so, so sorry."

  "That's not what I'm talkin' about. That's over. I just wanna make sure it doesn't happen again. You'll let me know if you're in trouble, or if there's anything botherin' you. Agreed?"

  "Sure."

  "Amber, that didn't sound real convincin'. Is there a problem I should know about?"

  "No. Everything's great. Perfect. Wonderful." Except I'm in debt up to my eyeballs, there's no way I can sell your story, and I have no idea what I'm going to tell the publisher.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A chicken salad sandwich and coffee satisfied their hunger, and with the dogs in the bed of the truck, they climbed in for the quick trip down to the barn.

  "You did such a great job of restoring this old thing," she remarked, running her fingers across the glossy dashboard. "It used to be a dull rusty red."

  "I can't claim any credit. I just wrote the checks."

  "Why did yo
u decide on this color? It's beautiful."

  "You really need to ask me that?"

  "I don't—no! That T-shirt? You painted it aqua in honor of that T-shirt?"

  "I did. Do you still have it?"

  "I was fifteen. Why would I still have a T-shirt from when I was fifteen?"

  "That was a yes or no question," he said, shooting her a look as they pulled to a stop outside the barn. "Come on. Out with it."

  "Okay," she admitted with a giggle. "It's in a box at the back of my closet, along with that river rock you gave me the first night we kissed. There's a bunch of other stuff in there as well."

  "Why didn't you wanna tell me?"

  "I don't know. Sort of a strange thing to hold on to."

  "No stranger than me paintin' my truck the same color, but please tell me you washed it before you stashed it away."

  "Of course, but now it's official, we're both bonkers," she declared, the giggle turning into a laugh. "Though I have to say, that was one night I'll never forget."

  "Just thinkin' about it is makin' me hard."

  "Was it really the first time a girl had done that for you?"

  "Jerked me off? Hell, yeah. I was a tub of lard, remember?"

  "You weren't that bad."

  "I sure as hell was no jock. I couldn't compete with guys at that school."

  "But you did, and you won. You had me."

  "For a little while."

  "Long enough," she said softly, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

  "Long enough to give a guy the best hand job he could ever hope to get?"

  "Long enough for me to fall in love with you."

  "Back at ya, Sassy Lassy," he murmured, and moving his hand to the side of her face, he added, "Who would've thought we'd end up here."

  "Dreams can come true," she whispered, then closed her eyes as he cupped her chin and softly kissed her.

  "We've been given a second chance. I'm not gonna blow it, and I'm not gonna let you blow it either."

  "Deal."

  "You ready to ride?"

  "Absolutely."

  Climbing from the truck, Brett opened the tailgate, lifting Cash out while Johnny leapt to the ground, then headed into the barn. Surprised to see Millie in her stall, he peered in to see she'd already been groomed, and glancing across the aisle, the saddle waited on its rack.

  "How the hell did he know?" Brett muttered, slipping a halter on the mare and leading her to the cross-ties. "Amber, grab that bridle with the rhinestone browband on that hook over there."

  "Who are you talking about?" she asked, lifting the bridle from the holder and handing it to him.

  "Steve. Millie is ready and the saddle is out, but I didn't tell him you were gonna ride until I saw him in the garden."

  "That's spooky."

  "He does stuff like that all the time," he remarked with a sigh, "but I need to hear about the lessons you've had. Tell me what they were like while I tack up our girl here."

  "Not much of anything. I'd get on, and the instructor would lead me around the ring, show me how to hold my hands, then she'd let go and tell me to turn right or left, then stop. The last time we trotted a bit."

  "That's it?"

  "Uh, yeah."

  "We'll be doin' things a bit differently. Oh, and I have to ask. How's your butt?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You heard. Still tender, I hope."

  "Yes, and thank you very much for caring!" she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "So thoughtful."

  "I do, Amber. I care very much," he said with a grin. "Okay. Let's move. You'll mount up in the arena."

  "What's that for?" she asked, as he picked a looped length of cord hanging nearby.

  "You're goin' on a lunge line. By the time we finish today you'll have a real sense of what you're doin' in the saddle."

  The covered ring was a short walk, and with the dogs running ahead of them, the sun shining, and a soft breeze blowing, Amber couldn't imagine anywhere else she'd rather be. Entering the ring, Johnny and Cash walked to a corner and laid down, while Brett stood Millie next to the mounting block and Amber climbed into the saddle.

  "Sure is a lot easier in these stretchy jeans," she declared, though sliding gingerly into the saddle. "And these boots make such a difference. My feet and ankles are supported."

  "Yep. Havin' the right equipment matters," he said, checking the length of her stirrups. "Remember these two simple rules. Sit up, and look ahead."

  "I can do that."

  "Millie knows her job. If you wanna stop, just say whoa, and we'll practice that, but you'll be goin' around me in a circle. You don't have to worry about steerin'. Just think about bein' in the saddle and feelin' the movement of the horse underneath you. Got it?"

  "I've got it."

  Attaching the lunge line, he led her to the center of the ring and asked Millie to move away from him. The gentle mare ambled off, then he clucked to move her forward with more pace. Once he had Millie's attention, and the horse was walking with a steady rhythm, he called out simple instructions to build Amber's confidence.

  But he quickly realized Amber had confidence in spades.

  Almost too much.

  "Can't we trot?"

  "No. Baby steps."

  "But I'm not taking any steps. I'm crawling."

  "Hey, I'm startin' you at 101 for a reason. Do as you're told."

  "Okay, but when can we trot?"

  "I should've known," he muttered to himself.

  "I didn't hear you."

  "I was thinkin' out loud. You had no problem climbin' on a strange horse and pretendin' you knew how to ride. I should've known you'd be difficult."

  "I'm not being difficult. I just want to do more."

  "And you will! When I say so! Now sit up straight and show me a halt."

  The back and forth continued, but Brett remained patient, and when the lesson came to an end they were both thrilled with the result. Amber knew what it meant to quietly control the horse, and Brett had to admit she was a natural. She brimmed with confidence because she was comfortable in the saddle, and possessed little, if any fear.

  "You'll be lopin' around in no time," he promised as she slid to the ground.

  "You think so? I really enjoyed myself, but I want to do more."

  "So you kept sayin'! Your position is almost perfect, and you've got nerve. A horse picks up on that. If you're feelin' good the horse will too. Why the heck didn't you ever come out to the stables with me back then? I invited you enough times."

  "I preferred going to the mall with my friends. I loved clothes and shopping and hanging out."

  "Yeah. I remember. Well, it's not too late, and you'll be able to learn on Millie with no problem."

  "She's wonderful. Thank you, Mille," Amber said gratefully. "You're a lovely mare. Oh."

  "What?"

  "Steve. He's at the entrance. Looks like he needs to talk to you."

  Turning around, Brett saw the worried look on his barn manager's face.

  "I'll be right back."

  "Sorry to interrupt," Steve said as Brett jogged up.

  "You're not. What's goin' on?"

  "We have an intruder."

  "I'm not sure I understand."

  "I found signs of life. Human life. I found tracks in the forest close in. They led to the fire break, but he continued up the hill."

  "Probably a ranger, or the fire marshall checkin' on things. They'll be worried about the winds."

  "I found four cigarette butts," Steve said grimly, pulling them from his pocket. "All in one place. A ranger or fireman would never smoke in the woods, especially not in these conditions."

  "In one place? Where exactly?"

  "I can take you there. From where this man stood he had an excellent view of the compound."

  "Whoever it is, he's not gonna see very much over the wall."

  "After he left that spot, he hiked a decent way up on the other side of the fire break. He's a photographer. With a powerful zoom lens he'd
be able to see down into the grounds from there. I found the indents of a camera stand in the ground."

  "You mean like a tripod?"

  "Yes. A tripod."

  "Dammit."

  "This person has been there more than once," Steve continued. "There was also garbage and beer cans. I picked up everything I found. Trash can harm the animals."

  A heavy frown crossed Brett's forehead. He'd had enthusiastic fans uncover his address and hang around his gate hoping to see him, but rarely did they stay very long. Someone perched on a hill watching him and taking photographs of the house was in a different league.

  "This has to be the work of paparazzi. I'm callin' the sheriff," he said solemnly, "and I'd like to take a look at these spots myself."

  "You should."

  "Why?"

  "So you can see what he sees."

  "I get your point," Brett muttered. "I need to get home and make that call."

  "I'll take care of your mare."

  "Thanks. By the way, how did you know I'd want to use Millie?"

  "You went to Chips with Amber," he replied, seeming confused by the question. "Excuse me. I'll get Millie."

  As Steve walked past him, Brett had to smile. Steve had correctly surmised the trip to Chips was to buy Amber the correct riding clothes, and he'd figured she'd be eager to try it out.

  "I swear, you're a Native American Sherlock Holmes," Brett said under his breath as he followed him.

  "Thank you." Steve called without turning around. "I also have excellent hearing."

  The comment made Brett laugh out loud, and he quickened his pace to catch up.

  "Amber, Steve's takin' Millie back to the barn," he declared as he reached her. "I need to get back to the house."

  "Is everything all right?"

  "The paparazzi are takin' pictures from the hill across the canyon. I have to call the sheriff."

  "Photographs can be taken from that far away?"

  "There are some powerful telephoto lenses on the market these days. Come on, fellas," he called to the dogs. "We're leavin'."

  "Brett, wait a second. How do you know it's the paparazzi?"

  "Whoever was up there took photographs. Steve found cigarette butts where the cameraman had his tripod."