Own Me, My Love

by Reese Gabriel

  "Was it good for you, too?” He asked when she had regained her composure.

  "No, silly,” she taunted. “It was horrible. You'll have to try much harder next time."

  "Fine, I will. Tonight at my place. Seven o'clock sharp. And don't be late."

  "And if I am?"

  "I'll take it out of your hide."

  "Oo, I hope so."

  Jake was silent a moment. “So what about Jenny? And her new man?"

  "Oh, I'll see them, what the hell."

  "Good girl. You have nothing to lose."

  "On one condition, though."

  "Condition? I'm not sure I'm really in a position to meet conditions."

  "Oh, you'll be able to meet this one, all right. My condition is that you see them with me."

  "What about your husband?"

  "What about him?"

  "You're not worried about scandal? If you want anything out of the divorce settlement, you'll have to keep yourself squeaky clean."

  "No more playing by Robert's rules,” she declared. “We've all been trying to do that for too long. Look at what it does—Kyle's dead, Jenny's a stranger to me. Hell, the bastard is the biggest hypocrite on the face of the planet anyway."

  "You sure Jenny's up for it, though?"

  That one made her laugh. “I think turnabout is fair play. We can shock each other."

  "We'll see how I stack up against this Dominant of hers."

  "You're not stacking up against anybody,” declared Marlene with a hint of jealousy in her voice. “You're my Dom and nobody else's."

  "So much for my having any hopes of being in control of this relationship,” he laughed.

  "Sorry if you got your hopes up, Jake. You never did stand a chance, you know."

  "Well, you can at least pretend every now and again."

  "When it comes to sex? Sure thing. The rest of the time—all's fair in love and war."

  "Am I hearing a consent to marriage?” Jake asked.

  "You're hearing a big fat we'll see. Now are you coming over here to pick me up for dinner or do I have to go out and find me a nice delivery person to buy my supper?"

  "You might get that woman again,” he pointed out.

  "Considering I gave her a hundred dollars, that'd be fine; she owes me."

  Jake laughed. “I don't know why I love you,” he confessed. “Honestly. But I do. More than anything in my whole life."

  "And I love you ... as much as I will ever be able to love anyone or anything again.” She turned suddenly sober as she thought of Kyle. “I hope that will be enough for you."

  "You're enough,” he insisted. “Just as you are. I want nothing else, ever."

  Tears dotted her eyes. She'd found her lion. At long last. Her shoulder to cry on, her shaggy mane to tease, her man to love and cherish. And not a moment to soon, because now, at long last, she could be free to see and treasure her duaghter's happiness, too.

  And also to let go of Kyle.

  She could almost see him smiling, looking down on her, quietly strumming that guitar, that enigmatic smile on his face. No more pain ... no more anguish. Forever and ever.

  PORTRAIT FOUR

  ELISIA

  CHAPTER ONE

  Elisia was at The Eliminator to find a husband. Not a man to date and fall in love with, just someone with whom to make a temporary business arrangement.

  A classic marriage of convenience.

  Not that this precluded her from enjoying a bit of hot and nasty sex in the bargain. As far as Elisia was concerned, there was nothing hotter and nastier than a rodeo cowboy. She was determined to have the best—just as she did with everything else in her life—and she found him standing at the long, worn out wooden bar, a daredevil in tight jeans and a button down checkered shirt, lean and hard muscled, square jawed.

  All man, every single inch of him. That ass in particular was scrumptious. She could only imagine what it would look like in the buff, not to mention the rest of that tanned, work hardened body.

  With any luck, she'd have a deal struck and have him stripped down to his boots and Stetson hat before midnight. In all modesty, Elisia knew she was easy on the eyes, a shapely five foot five inch blonde with blue eyes that had been melting men's hearts ever since she'd turned legal.

  To keep her edge, even at twenty-five, she worked out every day, took her vitamins and paid religious attention to her carbohydrate intake. More often than not she just nibbled on salads and drank designer water, making sure she was always able to fit into her sexy wardrobe.

  Elisia liked to garner male attention, and though she'd grown up in one of the richest families in the state, she had an incurable habit of trying to turn each and every male head she encountered. Mrs. Butler, her divorced mother's longtime housekeeper and one-time nanny called it a nasty addiction, but Elisia saw it as natural. Just part of being a woman.

  Of course Mrs. Butler would have a fit if she knew what Elisia was up to tonight. Trying to find a phony husband to honor her deceased grandfather's will, which required she be married by her upcoming twenty-sixth birthday or else forfeit her entire ten million dollar trust fund.

  Elisia scooted up to the bar in her brand new turquoise cowgirl boots with matching leather skirt and fringe Western style shirt. Bonnie Weathers, her best girlfriend said she looked cute as hell in the outfit. Elisia had purchased it special for the occasion. She'd even gotten a little blue ribbon to hold back her long, silky gold hair.

  There was no way this cowboy would resist her. Pretty as a picture she was, and rich as sin.

  "What'll you have?” The balding bartender in the black shirt with pearl white buttons wanted to know as she sidled in next to the mystery cowboy.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the half full beer mug next to the man. There was an empty shot glass, too, and a bottle of whiskey, right in front of him on the bartender's side. Clearly he was taking his drinking seriously tonight. “How about a Chardonnay?” She asked the bartender.

  He wrinkled his handlebar mustache. “A what?"

  "It's a wine,” said Elisia, making sure to thrust her perfectly proportioned bosom outwards to catch the cowboy's attention.

  "We don't have no wine,” the bartender shook his head.

  "How about a Stoly on the rocks, then."

  "A what on the who?” He growled.

  Elisia could see she was fighting a losing battle. “I'll make do with a beer,” she condescended. “Imported if you have it."

  The man frowned heavily, filling a mug from the tap nearest him. “This little beauty here comes all the way from Milwaukee. That's pronounced Mil—wau—kee. That imported enough for you?"

  "Thank you,” she offered a blithe smile as he plopped it down in front of her. “Ever so much."

  Sipping from her foamy, bottled beverage, Elisia waited for the cowboy to say something. He didn't, which was all right, because she knew from visiting her father's ranch how the cowhands there could be pretty reserved, till they got to know you.

  Then there wasn't any shutting them up. Or keeping them off your case. It was always in fun, though. A more honest and respectful, hard working group of people you'd never find on all this earth.

  Clearly, she was going to have to start the ball rolling. He hadn't a wedding ring, and he was alone. That made for an excellent start. “Hi,” she smiled. “I'm Elisia."

  The cowboy took a long swallow from his mug, his hand gripping the handle with practiced ease. He set it back down again, not saying a word.

  Clearly a tougher nut to crack than she'd thought.

  "Do you have a name, too,” she inquired, “or should I make one up for you?"

  The cowboy turned in her direction. Her knees turned to rubber as she saw just how handsome he was, straight on. Deep brown eyes, a powerful jaw-line, the whole effect magnified by a faint, five o'clock shadow. This was no armchair warrior like the men of her family. No frat boy, legal eagle or finance man. He was the genuine article, she was sure of it. A rodeo man.
Probably a bull rider if that scar on his left cheek was any indication.

  The most fascinating thing was his age. He wasn't quite as young as she'd thought at first. Not a mere boy, but a man, barrel-chested, strong armed, pushing forty, though he had those kind of good looks that would make him better and better with each passing year.

  "Suit yourself,” he drawled. “Makes no difference to me."

  Almost as an afterthought he added, “Is there something I can help you with, Miss?"

  Elisia found herself at a loss for words, first time in her life. The movement of his lips had her mesmerized. As did that voice of his, raspy as sin, but ever so smooth to the ear, like hot, rich coffee cooked over a camp stove.

  The cowboy nodded, taking her silence for a no. “In that case,” he reached into the back pocket of his deliciously filled jeans. “I'll be moving along."

  Her mouth hung open. He was taking out money, for his drinks and hers. “I'll cover that beer,” he laid the bills on the bar. “Night, Sam."

  "Night, Dev,” said the bartender.

  Dev. His name was Dev.

  "Wait,” Elisia called out, his worn, pointy-toed boots having taken him halfway to the door of the saloon before she managed to get it out. “I do have something to say."

  Dev stopped, turned and pushed the Stetson back on his head. He had a beautiful forehead, expressive and bold. “If you can say your piece in five minutes,” he offered. “I'm all ears."

  "I can ... yes, I promise."

  "Over there,” he pointed to a table in the corner.

  She followed him eagerly, amazed at how quickly the tables had been turned on her. Usually the confident one, the one being chased, she now found herself in the awkward position of trying to woo another.

  Maybe this Dev wasn't the right one. If she wasn't going to be able to control him...

  He folded his hands in front of him, stone-faced, a clear indication that she was going to have to do all the work in the conversation.

  "Mr. Dev—if I can call you that,” she opted not to fritter away her precious five minutes. “I am prepared to make you an offer. One I think you will find very hard to refuse."

  "Don't tell me,” he smiled thinly. “You're in the mob."

  So he had a sense of humor after all.

  "No, but it may sound just as odd. I'm in search of a husband. A temporary one."

  Typical cowboy, he was unfazed. “A ready made marriage, huh? Don't most people go on the computer for that sort of thing nowadays?"

  "I'm not some kind of Internet whacko,” she insisted. “I'm a legitimate person, with a legitimate offer to make. A million dollars, in cash, in exchange for a few hours of your time and one month's use of your name."

  "Sorry,” he shook his head, no longer bantering. “My time isn't for sale."

  Elisia bit her lip. She should have known a man like this would have too much integrity. “But it's so little. You wouldn't have to do anything more than show up for a quick court marriage and then back in again for the divorce."

  He narrowed his gaze. “Is this some kind of TV spoof? One of those reality shows?"

  "No,” she assured him solemnly. “My life, joke though it may be at the moment, is anything but a TV spoof."

  Dev shook his head. “This doesn't make sense to me. I don't like things that don't make sense."

  Elisia's toes curled in her very cute, very expensive boots. The guy was adorable to her, more so with every passing second.

  "It's about money,” she went for the jugular. “Does that make sense? Quite a lot of it, and all I need to do is get married to collect it."

  "Ahh, so that's it. You have a trust fund, don't you? With a marriage contingency?"

  "That's right,” she said, unable to hide her surprise at how fast he'd figured it out.

  "Cowboys aren't as dumb as they look,” he winked, emphasizing the tiny crow's feet alongside his right eye.

  The gesture sent little tingles down her spine. This man was starting to affect her. From the outside in. It was a heating up from her cheeks down to the tips of her nipples and pooling down between her legs. Never had she been in the presence of a man this sure of himself, so seemingly certain of his identity.

  And yet he had none of the things of her world—status or vast wealth, the ability to move back and forth across the corridors of power.

  "I didn't mean to imply anything."

  "It's all right. People make assumptions about each other all the time. And they stick, if we don't take the time to undo them.” His eyes were piercing, seeing through her. Not judging, but probing nonetheless. “Mind if I ask you a question?"

  "I think it's only fair, given what I'm springing on you,” she said.

  "Why come to somebody like me? Looking to scandalize mommy and daddy, maybe?"

  "Now I think you're making assumptions. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I'd be worried that someone in my own circles might try and take me to the cleaners. Refuse to sign a pre-nup first or hire a lawyer later to try and get more than the one million I'm offering."

  "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

  Elisia frowned. “I'm afraid I'm getting a little confused myself."

  "Seems to me you better start getting yourself straight, then,” he declared. “For starters, aren't you concerned that you're cheating whoever left you this money? Pulling an end run on the terms of this inheritance, I mean."

  It was a brutal question, but one that deserved an answer. Even if was bound to be indirect.

  "Tell me something, Dev ... or isn't that your real name?"

  "Max Develin, actually, though folks seem inclined to call me Dev unless I happen to make a fuss at the moment."

  "All right, Dev. Tell me this—would you let someone tell you that you had to get married and would you let them withhold something that was supposed to be yours till you did?"

  He considered the matter. “I don't suppose I would. Then again, I think I'd give due thought to weighing out what a thing costs before I bought it."

  The cowboy was no fool that was for sure.

  "Dev, how about we cut to the chase. It's not just money I'm offering you. My body is part of the deal. However and whenever you want it for the duration of the marriage."

  "I see.” Dev's smile was razor thin, totally fucking unreadable. “And I assume we'd spell that out in the pre-nuptial agreement along with the money? Or would I get some kind of pussy alimony?"

  "If you're trying to shame me,” she informed him. “It's not going to happen. I know what I'm doing is right. I also know how desirable I am. There's plenty of men who would do this for the sex alone, without taking a nickel on the deal."

  "So find one."

  "Maybe I'm feeling generous towards you."

  "Quite the philanthropist, aren't you?” He quipped. “Rose,” he raised his arm. “Two beers, please?"

  A waitress in a tight black leather vest and blue jeans brought them promptly with lots of wiggle. She was a brunette, about forty, pretty enough for her age.

  "Thanks, Rose,” he winked.

  "Any time,” she winked back, her smile indicating she'd be happy to offer him quite a bit more than a beer. “Y'all need anything else?"

  Elisia decided she hated the woman. Not because she was jealous, but only because it made her sick to see women pandering to men like that. “How about if you go and check some of the other customers,” Elisia suggested with a cunning smile. “I'm sure they'd be interested in your services."

  The woman exchanged a knowing look with Develin. Now Elisia hated them both.

  "That was rude,” Dev said as soon as her back was turned. “Didn't they teach you any manners at whatever fancy school you went to?"

  "Maybe I didn't go to a fancy school,” she shot back. “You ever think about that, Mr. I'm Going To Lecture The Whole World About Making Assumptions."

  He inclined his head, conceding the point “You're right. I overstepped my bounds. But you were
still rude to Rose."

  "Stop acting like my father,” Elisia snapped. “I'm perfectly capable of policing my own behavior—or not. If I want to act like a bitch, that's my business."

  "That it is,” he acknowledged. “Though I doubt you'll make many friends with that approach."

  His nonchalance was driving her crazy. “Screw you, Develin."

  "Is that with or without the marriage contract?"

  "How about a free sample?” She licked her lips. “When was the last time you had your cock sucked, Cowboy?"

  Elisia was acting horribly and she knew it, but she didn't care anymore. She wanted to get to this man, put him off balance any way she could.

  "Probably about the same amount of time since you had your behind spanked for being a little brat,” he countered.

  Elisia's eyes blazed. “How dare you!"

  "I'd dare plenty,” he took a long draught off his beer. “If I were your husband."

  "And that,” she rose to her feet. “Is something I promise you will never happen in a million years. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Develin, good night."

  "You haven't apologized yet to Rose."

  Elisia snorted. “Why should I have to say anything to a common bar slut?"

  Dev's jaw line tensed. His eyes darkened, the tiniest bit. “Rose is my friend,” he said. “And she also happens to be a great lady. She's raised three kids on her own, put two through college. She'd give you the shirt off your back—even if you already had ten others. So I'm thinking you will apologize or else I am going to take you over my lap, pull up that phony cow girl skirt of yours and give you the tanning of your life."

  Elisia felt a warm and wicked glow across her backside. It was matched by another kind of warmth up front, all through her pussy and up to her nipples. “No one has ever dared laid a hand on me, my whole life,” she said haughtily.

  "That explains a lot about your behavior,” he said dryly.

  Her heart was beating like a rabbit's. Her eyes flicked from his hard, strong hands to his lap under the table. She'd be against his cock, her crotch pressed to his, her breasts against his denim-covered leg.

  "This is a public place,” she insisted, a bit less confident now. “You'd never get away with it."