The Cowboy's Revenge (Ride Hard Series Book 1)

by Zoe Blake

  He had no problem forcing that pleasure on her.

  Taking his thumb and forefinger, he pinched her clit as he forced a third finger into her impossibly tight passage.

  Annabelle screamed as her back arched off the hard, smooth surface of the rock. Holding her breath as wave after delicious wave of pleasure flowed over her. It was if she had been dropped back into a warm pool of water. The tides spinning her around and around. She felt lightheaded and almost nauseous from the rush of sensations.

  Mason waited for her to relax back against the rock before gently pulling out his fingers. She looked like a wild creature of nature. Bare breasted. Her hair in wild disarray as it splayed around her. The golden strands among the tawny brown more pronounced in the lingering sunlight. Eyes closed. Her small pink mouth open as she softly panted.

  “Now you know what happens when you listen and are a good girl,” he murmured as he stood to tower over her replete frame.

  Without even opening her eyes, she declared, “I hate you,” but without her usual fire.

  Chapter Eight

  She fell asleep. On a rock. It was going to be amusing reminding her of that fact the next time she complained of the lack of luxury his place afforded.

  Mason wrapped Annabelle in his discarded shirt, carrying her back to the homestead. He was not concerned with anyone seeing them. He had several farmhands and their families on the property but they all lived down in the valley. They would have seen him ride up and cleared out to afford him privacy. They learned quickly he was a fair boss but a private one. He was confident the farmhand’s wife he paid to look after the place would have seen the pantry stocked and the fire stoked both in the fireplace and in the stove before departing. It was late fall and the evenings were starting to get cold.

  Walking into the dimly lit cabin, he strode to the back where the large bedroom was located. Placing Annabelle on the quilted bed. He turned to discard his own clothing. He placed his gun belt over the back of a wooden spindle chair before tossing aside his shirt, boots and pants. Strolling out of the room in his low slung drawers, he made his way to the kitchen. Lifting the large copper pan onto the wrought iron surface of the warm stove, he turned the small brass spigot. Steam rose as the first stream of water hit the bottom of the basin, quickly filling it. Mason carried the full basin across the room to the large copper hip tub placed in front of the low fire. After several trips, he dropped his drawers and stepped into the heated water. Leaning back with a sigh as he stretched his legs out as far as they would go in the tub, his knees rising above the water. After that ride, it felt good to sink into the steamy water. He reached for the bar of soap. Imported from Europe it had a rich lather and smelled of sandalwood.

  He had finished bathing and was enjoying the still steaming hot water with his head tilted back, eyes closed, when a shriek shattered his calm.

  “You low-down, dirty, crow bait, bastard!”

  Annabelle was awake.

  Without even bothering to open his eyes, he quipped, “Well darlin, I’m not dirty anymore!”

  Standing there, wrapped only in the blanket from the bed, Annabelle could not believe what she was seeing. After forcing her to bathe in a cold stream in the middle of the woods, he was relaxing in a hot bath! A steaming hot bath! Damn the man!

  Annabelle opened her mouth to fire back a harsh retort but thought better of it. Turning without another word, she disappeared back into the bedroom. Mason sat up in the tub, listening. Silence. A silent Annabelle probably did not bode well.

  Moments later she reappeared. The brazen woman was dressed in his discarded shirt and Cavalry boots. Both were obviously way too large for her. He admired the flash of thigh as his boots reached above her knee and how the unbuttoned opening of his shirt exposed a generous curve of breast. He was so busy admiring her charms on display it took him a moment to see his gun in her hand.

  “Whoa, Calico. Put that damn thing down before you actually shoot something…like me!” he demanded as he started to rise out of the bath.

  “Stay right where you are,” snarled Annabelle as she struggled to hold the weight of the gun. Men made it look so easy. Always twirling the things and practicing quick draws. The darn things were actually really heavy.

  Mason took in the situation. The gun wasn’t cocked. By the way she was holding it, she probably had never handled such a weapon in her life. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be a quick learner. Once again, he tried to rise out of the water, he was at an extreme disadvantage sitting down in the now cool water.

  “I said stay where you are,” she ordered, starting to tremble.

  “Easy, Calico. I’m just stepping out of the tub. You don’t want to shoot a man in his bath do you?”

  “Don’t call me Calico!” she yelled. She was quickly losing control of the situation.

  Mason stepped free from the tub. He was now standing buck naked in the middle of the room. Annabelle could not help but look him over. While having ample opportunity to observe his chest, she had less so beyond his hips. After her initial frightened glance at his cock before he forced it in her mouth, she had kept her eyes closed the rest of the time. Now she had an unguarded view of every inch of his body…every inch. His cock jutted forward, erect and proud. Unfazed or aroused by the apparent danger? His bronze skin glistened from the water. Even the bullet holes could not take away from the pure, masculine beauty. Most men would look thin and weak if caught without their pants in such a situation. Not Mason. He looked robust and dangerous. His muscles tense, ready to strike. She was the one with the gun but he looked to be the one with all the power.

  “What are you doing?” she nervously asked as she saw him reach for something. “Don’t move!”

  “I’m just going to dry off,” he responded softly, not wanting to alarm her. Swiping the linen over his arms and chest, he knew it would make her relax her guard over his movements. Giving her a once over, taking in her dubious attire, his tone conveyed his skepticism. “So is this a thought out plan or just a spur of the moment kind of thing?”

  Annabelle shook the gun in his direction. “Shut up! I…I…don’t…just shut up!”

  She wasn’t sure what she was doing. She had seen him in that nice inviting bath and she just got so angry. If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t just the bath. It was her reaction to his touch down by the stream. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was her abductor! Once again, she lamented why he had to be so handsome and charming…in his way. Villains are supposed to look like villains. Damn the man! She had stormed into the bedroom, dropped the blanket she had wrapped around herself and grabbed the only clothes available…his. Then she saw the gun.

  In her confused agitation, she lowered her arms.

  Mason pounced.

  Throwing the linen over the gun, he wrenched it out of her hands. Using his free arm, he wrapped it like a band around her small waist, forcing her up against his side. Lifting her so high off the ground, her feet slipped out of the massive boots as he tossed the gun aside.

  Bringing her face close to his, he darkly whispered against her lips, “You were a very bad girl.”

  Mason’s mouth fell on her own, forcing his tongue between her lips. She tasted like the wild blackberries they had shared on the trail. His tongue swirled around her own, imposing his will. Claiming her.

  Annabelle had never been kissed like this before. She didn’t even know men and women kissed like this. His tongue in her mouth should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. His hard lips bruising her own. The feel of his tongue as it slid along her own. No! She wasn’t going to fall for this. She clamped her teeth down on the tip of his tongue, tasting the sick metallic tang of blood.

  Mason jerked his head back. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he drew it back to inspect the small drop of blood on his fingertip. Annabelle watched as his gray eyes turned a dark silver. His jaw tensed as his shoulders rolled back.

  “I’m sorry!” she rushed in. “I didn’t mean it.”
/>   A slow smile spread across his face that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Too late.”

  Annabelle started to struggle but she was no match for his superior strength. Mason carried her back into the bedroom.

  The moment Annabelle’s back hit the bed she flipped over and tried to crawl to the other side. She felt a warm hand wrap around her ankle. Crying out as he pulled her back, she tried to kick him but her blows left him unfazed. Crawling up her body, he easily straddled her. Pulling his shirt over her head, she was left as naked as he.

  Mason stretched out his arm to pick up his discarded belt which was in easy reach.

  “No! No! Let me go! You brute! Let me go!” screamed Annabelle, as he looped the thick leather around her wrists, pulling it tight through the buckle. He then knotted it around the one of the small tree trunk posts that made up the headboard. Palming both her breasts, he tested their weight. Rolling the nipples between his fingers. Pinching them. Watching her reaction to the spark of pain.

  Annabelle could feel his rigid length press against her stomach as he straddled her. His thighs pressing along her hips and torso. The feel of his hands on her breasts. The pressure. The caress. The pain. Then he braced his hands on the headboard and he leaned in close. Caging her in. Dominating her.

  “It’s time for your punishment, bad girl.”

  Annabelle started to scream and buck but she couldn’t dislodge him.

  Mason slid down her body, capturing her kicking legs between his strong thighs. He took one perfect pink nipple into his mouth. Sucking deep. Annabelle was so shocked she stopped fighting for a moment. He swirled his tongue around the bud, lightly scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin. At her groan, he moved to her other breast. This one he laved with his tongue before lightly blowing on it. The peak became achingly hard. She arched her back, pushing it deeper into his mouth. Instinctively knowing he could take the ache away. Mason pulled the nub between his lips, soothing the building pressure.

  He moved lower, kissing and tasting her skin. Running one hand down the smooth skin of her side, he wedged it between their bodies to feel her sweet cunny. The tips of his fingers slid along the seam, testing her arousal. Applying pressure, they slid inside, caressing her clit and teasing her entrance. She was slick and ready…and he had waited long enough.

  Rising onto his knees, he fisted his hard length. Staring down at the soft glisten of dew on her cunny, he positioned his cock at her tight entrance.

  “No! Wait! You can’t!” Annabelle called out.

  Mason took a deep breath to restrain his already raging need. Looking from the head of his cock, poised at her entrance, over the creamy expanse of exposed skin, her arms stretched above her head forcing her back into a small arch. The way her tangled honey-brown hair spread out over the pillows. Her pink lips swollen and bruised from his kiss. Her violet eyes full of fear and desire. And she wanted him to wait?

  “Calico, I’m not waiting another minute to sink my cock into this tight little body of yours,” he ground out.

  Annabelle closed her eyes. This time when he said Calico, it was almost as an endearment. Still she couldn’t.

  “Please, you can’t take my virginity. It is for the man I’ll marry!”

  Mason dug his fingers into her slim hips, bruising them. He was kneeling between her open thighs. His hard shaft in his hand, ready to plow into her and she was thinking of another man? He remembered her mentioning a fiancé. Did she love him? The thought sent a primal howl raging through him. A primitive need to dominate. To master. To claim.

  His lips in a tight line. His jaw set. He flipped Annabelle onto her stomach. The move caused the leather belt to tighten around her wrists.

  “Ow! Please! It’s too tight!” she complained. He didn’t care.

  Placing his hands under her hips, Mason raised her up on her knees. When Annabelle tried to turn around, he gave her a resounding slap on her right buttock.

  “Ow!” she cried out.

  He watched as the perfect imprint of his hand appeared on her pale skin.

  “You will get a matching one on the other cheek if you move again.”

  Duly chastised, Annabelle stayed in the half kneeling position, her head buried among the covers.

  Mason reached over to the table by the bed. In a drawer there was a small mason jar filled with a golden yellow salve. It was yarrow flower mixed with beeswax. Scooping a generous amount on to two fingers, Mason knelt behind Annabelle.

  Using his left hand to pry her bottom cheeks open, he pressed his two salve covered fingers right over her puckered rosebud. Annabelle howled in protest as she flattened her hips on the bed, clutching her bottom cheeks tight.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Not taking your precious virginity,” he harshly answered as he grabbed her hips and forced her back on her knees. Annabelle once again started to twist away. Mason raised his hand and delivered several stinging blows to her backside. She was crying into the pillow by the time he was done. Her bottom a bright red.

  Annabelle whimpered. The delicate skin of her backside, seared with a pulsing heat. Her mind swam in confusion. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of making love to her…there?

  Once again, Mason pried open her cheeks, giving her a warning spank when she tried to squeeze them closed. Using his right thumb, he spread the now melting beeswax salve over her bottom hole. Feeling the soft ridges and how it quivered with his slightest touch. He dipped his thumb into the jar, coating it. Then placing the pad against her forbidden entrance, he pushed. Her body resisted. He pushed harder. Still her body fought him. Finally, his thumb popped in. Breaking through the tight muscle barrier. Her body tightened around the base of his thumb.

  “Oh god! Take it out! Take it out! Your cock is too big! Please!”

  “It’s not my cock yet, darlin. You’ll know when it’s my cock.”

  Annabelle sobbed in earnest as he punctuated his statement with another push of his thumb. Thrusting his thumb in and out of her tight hole, he worked the beeswax till it melted to a glistening sheen on her soft skin. Taking another dollop of salve, he fisted his cock. Working it onto the shaft. Mason groaned as his own hand crested over the sensitive head of his cock. He was more than ready.

  Placing the tip at her entrance, he pushed. Again, her body resisted. Annabelle’s cheeks clenched. He gave her one warning slap. Palming his shaft for more leverage, he pushed again, this time increasing the pressure. He watched as her bottom hole slowly weakened, allowing the head of his cock to slide in.

  Annabelle’s body bowed upwards as much as her secured wrists would allow. “Ow! Ow! No! No! You have to stop!”

  Mason shifted his hips forward. Her body was forced to stretch open, her rosy pink entrance turning white from the exertion. Still he pressed on. With slow deliberate thrusts, he buried his cock deep into her bottom. The wide girth opening her up an almost obscene amount. Giving one final thrust, he buried his shaft to the base. He had compelled her body to accept every inch of him.

  Annabelle whimpered after the final thrust. She could not believe the pain. It was as if he was driving a tree trunk into her body. She felt split in two. Her stomach twisted and clenched into knots. Her hips sore from straining to push back to somehow dislodge this foreign thing invading her body.

  “Is it over?” she whimpered through her tears.

  “Not even close.”

  Mason pulled back then thrust forward. Annabelle screamed from the sharp driving pain. He refused to relent. Thrusting again and again. Her body was so tight. He could feel it fighting his cock. Squeezing. Clenching. Trembling.

  Running his hands up her sides, over her chest. He grasped her breasts, their weight feeling heavy on his palms. Still he thrust. He swirled his palms over her nipples, stimulating the tight bud. Annabelle groaned, whether it was from pleasure or pain he didn’t know and refused to allow himself to care. This was revenge, he kept reminding himself.

  Still, his left hand stayed cu
pping her breast while his right moved down her body, between her legs. Using his three middle fingers, he rubbed her cunny, applying warm pressure. Still he thrust. He rubbed faster, increasing his thrusts to keep pace. Tilting his head down, he looked at their bodies, flush together. The rounded curves of her bottom framing the base of his cock. Leaning back, up on his knees, he watched as his thick shaft opened her, forced her to accept him. He kept his hand on her cunny, sliding through her dew.

  Annabelle bit the pillow, stifling her moans. Her whole body felt tense and sore but…there was an incomprehensible growing warmth. His hand…between her legs…this tingling growing ache. The pain from his thrusts made her extremely aware of everything…her breath, her skin, the feel of his chest hair as it brushed her lower back, the sandalwood scent of him. The feel of his hand on her…her…there. It was like by the stream but even more intense. She tried to fight it. Tried to focus on the pain but the pain blended with the pleasure. They intertwined. Weaving and waving against and towards one another till she could no longer distinguish one sensation from the other. She felt filled, dominated, controlled.

  Mason could feel the tension in her hips. Her body started to move, to shimmy, to sway. She was close. He increased his thrusts feeling his own release thundering down on him. Bracing a hand on her hip, he drove harder and harder, racing towards his finish. When he heard her indrawn breath, felt her lower back arch, he knew it was time. Taking her clit between his thumb and forefinger, he pinched hard. Annabelle cried out. Her whole body trembled then tensed as she held her breath through the waves of her release. Mason dropped the reins. Gripping her bottom so hard his fingers appeared white against her reddened skin, he buried his cock as deep as he could before releasing his seed with a primal howl.