The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3)

by Maggie Carpenter

  “I wasn’t sure where you wanted me,” she said meekly.

  “At my desk, where I found you,” he said firmly.

  “Can I have a hug first?” she asked.

  “Nope, no hugs until after your punishment, young lady,” he frowned.

  A thrill shivered down her spine, and knees weak, she moved behind his desk.

  “Sit down,” he ordered.

  As she settled into his chair, she realized the top of the desk was empty but for a yellow pad of paper and a pen.

  “You’re going to write out, I will not snoop, one-hundred times, and you will write the word ‘not’ in capitals.”

  “That will take ages, and what about Jiminy, and my ride?” she protested.

  “You’ve ridden him, what is it, seven, eight days in a row? It’s time he had a day off, and if you give me any more lip you can make it two-hundred times,” he warned.

  She stared back at him in disbelief, and as much as she wanted to argue, to protest, to tell him his edict was ridiculous, she bit her tongue. The man kept his promises and she had no desire to make matters worse.

  “Good choice!” he declared, seeing the outrage in her eyes and knowing she’d quashed it. “After you’ve finished here you’ll be goin’ down to the tack room to do some cleanin’. Maybe by the time the afternoon is done you’ll have learned your lesson.”

  “May I say something?” she asked, gritting her teeth.

  “Sure, since you asked so politely.”

  “Don’t you think this is a bit, uh, over the top? I’m not twelve.”

  “What I think is over the top, as you put it, is sneakin’ into this office in the middle of the night. As far as bein’ twelve, doin’ somethin’ like that is exactly what a twelve-year-old would do. Think about it.”

  Sighing heavily, she stared down at the pad before her.

  He’s right. I was pulling stunts like that when I was twelve. Wait, I think I started earlier than that.

  “Amelia, I’m not holdin’ a gun to your head,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his, and when she saw his serious, caring, handsome face, she felt herself melt. Oh, man, I’m so in crush with you.

  “I told you,” he began softly, “that I’m in charge. If you do somethin’ unacceptable, or disrespectful, or if you cop an attitude, I’m gonna straighten you out. It’s just how I am. Is that gonna work for you or not? If it’s not, best tell me now.”

  “Uh, oh, it definitely works for me,” she managed, feeling the heat between her legs. “To be honest, it’s kind of shocking that it does, but uh-huh, it works.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he nodded, “now get to work. Like I said, there are some saddles that need cleanin’. Bein’ in the tack room should remind you what happened the last time you put your nose where it didn’t belong.”

  “Oh,” she mumbled.

  “I don’t see you writin’,” he scolded.

  “Right, sorry,” she murmured, and picking up her pen she began to write.

  As the sentences tumbled endlessly on to the paper her mind began to wander. She did want to know all about him, but he was right, she had no right to pry into his private life. Whatever his past it was his to divulge at a time of his choosing; he’d been nothing but kind to her.

  He was right when he said it’s how he is with me that matters, and with me he’s like no-one I’ve ever met. I’m sitting here writing lines like some moron, and why this is such a turn-on is beyond me, but it is, and he is, and shit, I’m still curious, but I don’t think I care as much.

  Counting the lines she discovered there were twenty-five to a page, and she pushed on, determined to finish them as quickly as possible. When the last word was written she leaned back, stretched her arms above her head, and headed to the kitchen for a little sustenance before leaving for the tack room.

  Clint kept a thermos of coffee on the counter, but finding it empty she began to brew a new pot. Staring out the window as she waited, she saw the cowboys hard at work extending Jiminy’s corral; they were adding a roof across the entire extension, tilted so the rain would run off into the back pasture. She smiled happily, and was about to turn and check on the coffee when she noticed a young woman coming out of the barn with Clint.

  She had long blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and dressed in blue jeans, and a long-sleeved clingy shirt, her voluptuous figure was obvious. Squinting, Amelia leaned forward to get a better look.

  Clint and the girl were chatting, and a moment later Sam wandered across to join them. They talked for a minute, then the girl kissed Clint on the cheek and walked back into the barn with Sam.

  What the hell?

  It was nothing, a peck on the cheek.

  I feel really weird right now.

  You’re jealous.

  You’re right, I’m jealous.

  Clint turned and stared up at the house, and startled, she jumped back from the window. She’d often gazed up at the house herself, and knew it was unlikely he’d spotted her, but immediately decided to talk to him about what she’d seen when she had the chance.

  I wasn’t snooping, I was just looking.

  True, but if you’re to be honest with him, you’d better be completely honest and tell him how it made you feel.

  Frowning, and trying to shake off the odd feelings, she poured the coffee into the thermos, and a moment later the sound of the golf cart pulling up to the back door announced Clint’s return.

  “You just make some fresh coffee?” he asked, sauntering in the door. “Smells good.”

  “I did, you want some?”

  “Yep, definitely.”

  “Clint,” she began as she reached for a mug from an overhead cabinet, “I was looking out the window and I happened to see you with a blond girl, but I wasn’t being nosey. It was just an accident.”

  “Yeah, what about it?” he frowned, watching her pour the coffee.

  “It made me feel weird,” she muttered.

  “You mean like, jealous weird?” he asked, taking the mug from her.

  “Yes, jealous weird.”

  “Hey, that’s so sweet,” he smiled placing the mug on the counter. “Come here, darlin’.”

  As he opened his arms she moved towards him, and sighing deeply collapsed against his chest.

  “I haven’t felt that in a long time,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and relishing the engulfing bear hug.

  “I’m glad you told me,” he muttered. “You’re right, it’s not a good feeling, and the last thing I want is for you to worry. That girl is Anastasia Tate, and she went off the rails a bit. I thought it’d be good for her to learn about horses, and spend time around some decent fellas. She’ll be here every Sunday, and Sam’s gonna be in charge of her.”

  “Sam’s like your deputy,” she laughed, pulling back and looking up at him.

  “I guess he is,” Clint chuckled. “He’s about to put her on a horse for the first time.”

  “Um, did you, uh, spank her?” Amelia asked tentatively.

  “I sure did, you jealous about that too?”

  “Kind of,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry about that. I get it. Would it help you to know I didn’t pull down the jeans of any of the females I’ve spanked here, except for you of course.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “That’s a big question,” he sighed, and maybe I should share a bit here.

  “A while back I, uh, got a bit carried away, spent too much time with too many women,” he declared. “I don’t need to be doin’ that again.”

  “Oh, I see,” she mumbled, hoping he was beginning to open up.

  “I’ll tell you more about that later, but right now you need to finish your coffee and get yourself down to that tack room,” he said firmly.

  “Yes, I will. I just wanted a little something to eat. Do you have muffins, or cookies, or-”

  “Yep, I have some frozen banana muffins from Tom’s,�
�� he answered, opening the refrigerator. “Just put it in the microwave for three minutes.”

  “What would you do with about Tom?” she laughed, taking the frozen muffin from his hand.

  “Simple, I’d starve,” he grinned. “Are your lines on my desk?”

  “Uh-huh,” she nodded.

  “I’m gonna go check. Be right back.”

  “Clint?”

  “Yep?”

  “It worked,” she said softly.

  “Course it did,” he winked, and disappeared into the hallway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It had taken Amelia almost two hours to clean the tack that she’d been assigned, and by the time she hiked back up to the house she was tired and hungry. Walking in through the back door she smelled something delicious, but Clint wasn’t in the kitchen, so she wandered wearily down the hallway aching for a bath.

  Entering his bedroom she found the bathroom door open, and hearing the sound of his shower she quickly stripped and walked in to join him. The stall shower was steamed up, and when she tapped lightly on the door she saw him jump.

  “Sorry,” she laughed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Hey, if you wanna join me in here you can scare me any time,” he grinned, opening the door and taking her hand.

  “I’m so tired,” she groaned, leaning against his wet body.

  “I’ll bet you are,” he murmured, rubbing some soap into a large sponge. “Turn around, I’ll soap your back.”

  Resting her elbows against the wall, she closed her eyes as the soft sponge moved across her aching muscles. He rubbed with some force, and as he reached her backside he pressed harder, moving the sponge vigorously across her cheeks.

  Surrendering to the hot, foamy attention, she spread her feet and arched her back; Clint didn’t need a second invitation, and running his fingers into her pussy he teased her as he scoured the sponge over her bottom.

  “That feels amazing,” she moaned, “soooo amazing.”

  Sliding the sponge between her cheeks he began to rub inside her crack, but she recoiled, shocked at such a private intrusion.

  “What are you doing?” she muttered.

  “Darlin’, just relax, it’s all good,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ve got all kinds of charms. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  The weariness of the day contributed to her surrender, and taking a deep breath she succumbed as he continued his decadent attention. His fingers toyed and teased between her legs as the sponge continued its salacious attention, and only when he could feel her relaxing did he move it away.

  “That wasn’t so bad was it?” he purred, kissing her neck.

  “It was strangely wonderful,” she moaned.

  “How wonderful would it be if I made you come?” he purred, slithering his fingers around her clit.

  “Very,” she sighed.

  “Stay right where you are.”

  Stepping from the shower he grabbed a condom from his drawer, hurriedly ripped open the wrapper, slipped it over his bursting cock and darted back to her.

  Taking her by the shoulders he turned her around to face him, and laying his mouth against hers he kissed her longingly as the hot water splashed across them, his strong sheathed cock pressing against her. Breaking the kiss he lowered his mouth to her nipples, hungrily sucking as the water cascaded over his face, and she arched her back, begging for more. He granted her wish, drawing her breasts into his mouth, slowly vacuuming, eliciting moans of gratitude and pleasure.

  Hastily he turned her to face the wall and traveled his hand over her full, round mons, then into her slit. Finding her soaked and swollen he grabbed his cock, placed it at her entrance, and plunged home.

  Leaning against the hard tiled wall she gasped and moaned as he rode her forward. His fingers deftly tantalized her clit, massaging her on to her moment as the steaming waterfall drowned out the sounds of their erotic joy. Grabbing the sponge from the small wall alcove, he slithered it into her crack, and she didn’t resist, but pressed back against it as she felt her moment looming.

  “I’m there,” she wailed, but to her great disappointment his thrusts slowed, and he paused his titillating hand, resting it softly against her sex.

  “Patience, it’s a lesson you must learn,” he purred as he kissed her neck.

  “I can’t stand it another minute, please, Clint, please let me come.”

  “Are you going to be a good girl?”

  “I’ll be so good, I swear, so good,” she swore wriggling against him.

  “On the count of ten,” he crooned. “Let see how obedient you can be.”

  Closing his eyes he began the count, letting his instinct take control, stroking as it commanded, directing his fingers to play against her magic nub. As he neared the number seven he could feel her pussy pulsing, she was panting heavily, arching her back; at eight she held her breath, and he twirled his fingers around her clit, increasing the tantalizing pressure; calling out the number nine he accelerated his thrusts, and when he placed his lips to her ear and with a hot, ardent breath proclaimed the number ten and ordered to her come, she exploded.

  His hands clutched her hips, holding her fast, and he rode out his orgasm with hers, milking the scintillating spasms, listening her to squeals, until limp and drained, they slid down the walls and on to the marble floor.

  “I think I’m going to drown,” she finally sputtered as the water cascaded around them.

  “Why?” he asked, nuzzling her.

  “Because I can’t get up,” she replied.

  Breaking their hug he took her hand and helped her to her feet, then turning off the faucets he reached outside the door, grabbed a towel and began to dry her off.

  “You’re so good to me,” she sighed, surrendering to the rub down.

  “Goes both ways, darlin’,” he smiled, and draping it over her shoulders he led her from the stall. “You go get dressed, I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Okay,” she replied, and giving him a long, warm hug, she ambled from the bathroom.

  As he watched her leave he thought about the endless months he’d spent alone.

  How did I do it? Havin’ her around I’m so happy. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.

  Quickly dressing he headed into the kitchen and pulled the casserole dish from the oven, then set about laying the table. By the time she appeared he was pouring them both a glass of wine.

  “What is that amazing smell?” she smiled.

  “That’s chicken and rice,” he replied.

  “Smells too good to be that simple,” she frowned. “What’s the magic?”

  “The magic is Tom’s gravy,” he grinned.

  “Of course, I should have known. That guy needs to branch out, sell his sauces or something,” she remarked.

  “I was thinkin’ about that myself,” Clint agreed handing her the glass of chardonnay.

  “Clint, you were right,” she said quietly as they sat down to dinner.

  “I was, about what?” he asked.

  “Everything. Your past is yours to tell me about when you want, and I’m sorry I pushed and I’m sorry I tried to find out things myself. I am impatient, I always have been. I promise I won’t ask you anymore questions,” she said firmly, “and I definitely won’t go poking around. I mean it, I really do.”

  “Thank you, darlin’. I will tell you all the sordid details one day, when it hits me. Right now let’s just enjoy what we’ve got. My door is always open, you can come and go as you please here, but don’t come to the guesthouse if you can’t find me.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I won’t,” she declared. “Absolutely not, and Clint, don’t think I’m not still interested in your past because I am, but that’s because I’m interested in you, but beyond that it doesn’t matter. We work, at least, that’s how I feel,” she added as she felt her face flush, “and that’s the most important thing.”

  “Yep, we do, and yep, that is the most important thing,” he repeated, and I don�
�t think I can tell you yet. I will, but not yet.

  When they’d finished dinner and cleared up, they curled up in front of the television to watch an old movie, but in a short time Amelia had fallen asleep curled up in his lap. He turned down the volume, and as he absently watched the silent screen and listened to the quiet peace of her breathing, he felt filled with a warm sense of serenity.

  I want this to stay like it is. I know thing’s have a habit of changin’, but this here is just about as perfect as life can get.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Clint stood in the back of his closet staring down at the two large wooden trunks. They each sported heavy combination locks, and as he trailed his fingertips across the smooth polished finish he sighed heavily. The trunks had not been opened for over two years.

  He had locked away the floggers, shackles, spreader bars, dildos, butt plugs, vibrators, feather dusters, chains, lubricants, and many other items of delicious decadence, with no idea when he might spin the dials and raise the lids.

  It had been quite some time since Amelia had walked up the driveway and into his life, and while he used the sleep mask to blindfold her, and occasionally used scarves to tie her hands, he had resisted the burning temptation take her further into his world of dark desires. He knew that once he started her on the journey, once he subjected her to the delights of pleasure and pain, either her heart and mind would fall at his feet, or she would back away; he wasn’t sure if he was ready for either.

  As the days had turned into weeks, which then flowed into months, he had unhesitatingly spanked her when she needed it, which was a frequent occurrence. Amelia was impetuous, had a flash of temper, and was far too impatient, many times expecting more from people than she should, but a quick trip across his knee or a visit to The Woodshed would light up the bulb of realization. She would apologize and hug him, promising to try to be better.

  When he suspected she was testing him he would deliver his discipline with a little extra spice, and cuddling her afterwards he could sense it had brought her peace, along with her stinging behind.

  She had been true to her word and hadn’t pressed him about his past, which had been a source of great relief. It was obvious she had accepted him at face value, cared for him regardless of what his secrets might be, and not only was he grateful, it had endeared her to him.