Their eyes locked and held, hers slumberous and languid, his dark and smoky, swirling with a whole slew of emotions she couldn’t identify. With tremendous effort, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek, trying to jump-start her brain to form a coherent sentence.
‘I—you—”She tried again. “That—”
Clay chuckled. “That good, huh? Your command of the English language is astonishing, Dr. Stanhope.”
“Guh.” She sighed and snuggled closer. She felt his cock throb against her mound through the denim of his jeans. “Um…aren’t you—I mean, don’t you—you know—“She broke off again, exhausted. Wow. Who knew talking could be such hard work?
His arms tightened briefly. “Later, love. After you’ve recovered a bit.”
Gulp. “Okay.” She felt him pressing kisses against her hair.
“This is more than just sex between us, Leah. You know that, don’t you?”
The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. “Yes,” she said, relieved to finally admit it not just to him but to herself as well.
“This is for keeps. I know this seems awfully sudden, but it’s not for me, and I don’t think it is for you, either. When I held you on that beach three years ago, our souls connected in a way that told me I had found the one I’d been searching for all my life. But then you ran and I despaired of ever finding you again. But I did find you. And now…having you here, in my arms, in my bed—it’s meant to be, Leah. This. Us. I know you have a life back in San Francisco, friends, responsibilities, a career you love. But you could have that same career here, only here you’d be running your own gallery, not someone else’s, a gallery showcasing your own works instead of the works of others.
“We can buy a portable classroom and put it out behind the house for your work studio. Or you can turn one or more of the bedrooms into a studio. I know what I’m asking is a huge risk. I’m asking you to give up everything you know. To uproot your entire big city life and move to the country. You don’t have to make up your mind right away,” he added hastily, when she drew in her breath to speak, “just promise me you’ll think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking right now. For you to think about it.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
He let out a relieved sigh.
“But what about Richard?” she asked. “What if he finds me?”
“If he finds you, he will be dealt with swiftly and harshly,” Clay said in a tone that forbade further discussion. “That I can guarantee.”
She thought about it for a minute, then nodded.
“All right, baby, I’m going to get up for a minute. I want you to stay right here and don’t move, okay?
Reluctantly he rolled away from her and slid out of bed. He went into the bathroom and Leah heard splashing before he came back out carrying a wet washcloth, a hand towel, and a glass of water. He placed the glass on the night stand. Kneeing up onto the bed, he twisted his hips and sat beside her. “Roll over, baby,” he said, putting the towel down on his thigh. “Spread your legs.” Accurately reading her hesitation as embarrassment, he added soothingly, “I’m just going to clean you up a bit.”
A high flush stained her cheeks and she put her hand out to stop him. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I can do it myself.”
He just smiled and pushed her legs apart for her. “And here begins your first lesson in Dominance/submission. Your second, actually. The first was that you are now to keep your pussy clean-shaven. This is now my body, Leah. Mine. Mine to pleasure, mine to worship, mine to torment, to tease, and especially to fuck.”
Leah’s breath hitched and her lids lowered to half-mast at the raw carnality of his words.
“As your Dom, it is my duty and responsibility to take very good care of you. It is also my very great pleasure. You are my most highly-prized and valued possession. And make no mistake about it, love, you are my possession. That’s something else you’re going to have to come to terms with while you’re deciding what to do with your life.”
She bit her lower lip, watching him as he washed her inner thighs from the knees up with the warm, wet washcloth before spreading her pussy lips and carefully cleaning her sex. If her winces, hisses, and squirming attempts to avoid his touch were any indication, that particular area was still highly sensitive.
“Do all Doms do this? Clean up their subs like this? I mean, isn’t that supposed to be the submissive’s job?”
Placing the washcloth in a dish on the nightstand, he picked up the hand towel and proceeded to dry her off just as gently as he’d washed her. “Some Doms don’t. Most of the ones I know do. It’s all part of what we call ‘aftercare’. It’s a time for the emotional bond between a Dom and his sub to deepen. A chance for the connection between them to strengthen and grow.” He placed the towel on top of the washcloth and picked up the glass of water. “Here, baby, sit up and drink this.”
She struggled to her elbows and let his broad hand against her shoulder blades lever her up to a sitting position. She took the glass of water and took a sip. “Wow. That’s really cold for tap water.”
“We have a very deep well. Drink all of it, you’re probably dehydrated.” He watched while she drained the glass. “Now, you have ten minutes to take a quick shower before I show you around the ranch.”
“And we make a grocery list,” she reminded him.
“Right. Grocery list. Scoot. Oh, and Leah?” She stopped and half-turned back toward him. “Wear jeans, tee shirt, shoes and socks. Nothing else.”
Huh? Wait. No bra? No—Holy crap! “Clay, you can’t ask me to do that! I’m way too heavy to go without a bra. You can’t just—”
He ducked his chin, one eyebrow hiking upward, stopping her mid-protest. He didn’t say a word, just looked at her from beneath that soaring, raven’s wing of an eyebrow and she backed down, biting her lip. For some strange reason, instead of being incensed at his instructions, she was turned on. Oooookay. He’s a Dom. I’m a sub. Might as well get used to this. Without saying a word herself, she went into the bathroom to take her shower.
Half an hour later, grocery list made and delivered into the hands of Mark Austin, Clay and Leah were standing in the mud room by the back door. She was trying on hats, he was laughing as each one slipped down over her eyes. “Looks like we’re gonna have to get you a proper cowgirl hat,” he said, lifting the last one off her head. He looked down at the sneakers she was wearing. “And some proper cowgirl boots. In fact, we’ll just go into town tomorrow and get you fitted out in proper cowgirl gear from head to toe. In the meantime…”He opened a drawer in the small chest that was against one wall of the mudroom and pulled out a tube, which he uncapped, squirting something onto his fingers. The scent of pineapples and coconut wafted up into her nostrils. “We’ll just have to put some proper cowgirl sunscreen on you.”
“I’m going to smell like a fruit salad,” Leah protested, laughing, but she lifted her face so he could smooth the cream into her skin, including her neck and her chest above the scoop neck of the purple tee she was wearing. He didn’t bother with her arms because they were covered with the chambray shirt of his that she was wearing over her tee. It was so long, she’d left it unbuttoned, tying the tails in a knot around her waist. And, as per his instructions, she wasn’t wearing panties or a bra. At first she had thought she would feel self-conscious, knowing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. And knowing that he knew it, too. Instead, to her surprise, she felt…sexy. And desired. And somehow…free. Feelings she’d never felt in her life until Clay Nighthorse had come into it, exercising his dominance. Feelings, she realized, that she would feel all the time if she stayed with him. She sighed. Just another complication in an already complicated situation.
Clay led her out the back door and walked across the driveway toward the paddock. He was carrying a burlap sack with something lumpy inside. As soon as they reached the fence, he gave a sharp whistle and the small group of stallions looked up from their grazing. The minute they saw Clay and Leah, they came t
rotting over to inspect them.
Leah had never been around horses before, and while she had known they were big, knowing something intellectually and experiencing it in real life were two completely different things. As the enormous animals approached, she was swept away not only by their power and beauty, but also the sheer size of them. She stepped back, stopped only by Clay’s body behind her. “They’re really…big,” she said on a note of apprehension as their sweet, slightly pungent scent enveloped her, a combination of sweat, hay, grain, and dust.
“Here,” Clay reached into the sack and pulled out an apple. “Step up on the bottom rail and hold out your hand. No, palm up, nice and flat.” He placed an apple in her palm. He held her wrist steady. “See? Here comes Negro. Just stand still and hold out your hand to him.” Holding onto the top rail Leah did as Clay instructed. “Relax, baby, he’s not gonna hurt you.”
The beautiful black stallion came forward and Leah would have backed off, but Clay kept her hand nice and steady. She felt the animal’s breath on her arm as he gently lipped the apple out of her hand into his mouth and began munching placidly. In similar fashion, a large chestnut brown horse with black mane, tail, stockings and ears took an apple from Clay’s hand.
Clay released her wrist and Leah gave a nervous little laugh. “Wow that was amazing.” She reached for another apple and held out her hand. By now the horses were pushing and shoving and head-butting each other to be the first to get each new treat.
“They’re all Arabians,” Clay reached beneath a white horse’s head to pat him on the neck. “The black one is Negro. The bay—that’s the brown one with the black points—is Al Batal, Arabic for ‘Champion’.” He jerked a step back from a dapple gray horse, who had stuck his head through the railings and was snuffling at Clay’s pockets in a search for more apples. “Mr. Greedy here goes by the exalted name of Laird Ewen McCleod of Inverness.” He grinned. “But we just call him Nessie. The chestnut is Hap, short for Happily Ever After—I know. It’s a stupid name for such a bad-ass, alpha-male horse. And last but not least”…he reached out his hand to pat the neck of a beautiful snow-white horse…“this handsome lad is the appropriately named Snow.”
Snow blew through his nostrils and nudged his nose against Leah’s hand, looking for another treat, making her draw her hand back with a laugh. “He’s beautiful. They’re all beautiful. Not to mention the aforementioned big.”
Clay laughed. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can mention it.”
She laughed.
“They each weigh a little over half a ton. They’re all former champions at race tracks around the world. In the past eight months, since I bought them and brought them here, these stallions have covered over thirty mares. As a matter of fact, we have three mares in residence right now in a separate paddock, waiting for them to come into estrus. Eventually we plan to have our own cryo facility so we can draw the semen ourselves and freeze it.”
“How long before you know if they beget any champions?” Leah asked.
Clay scratched his head. “Well, the gestational period for a horse is around three hundred and forty days, so not even the first of the mares we bred has foaled yet. Then it’s another full year before the offspring are auctioned off at the yearling sales. That’s when their race training begins in earnest.” He shrugged. “It’s a crap shoot. Not all of the offspring will become racers. Some will become show horses or jumpers. Nessie was the winner of England’s Grand National Steeplechase two years in a row. Once he starts producing winners, his stud fees will go through the roof. Same with these other guys. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Yeah, but” she paused and looked around at the house, the barn, several outbuildings, extensive fencing…”this…all of this…it must be costing you a fortune! I know you have a good financial advisor, but…” She spread her hands in an encompassing gesture.
“Yeah, it’s true that right now the income is quite a bit smaller than the outgo. But thanks to Adam’s Uncle Joe, I’m still making money hand over fist in the stock market. And my accountant assures me I’m solvent.” He chuckled. “So we’re not ready to apply for food stamps quite yet.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her away from the paddock. The five stallions, realizing no more treats were forthcoming, lost interest and wandered away.
“Have you ever ridden before?” he asked, leading her toward the barn.
“Sorry, no. Not much chance for riding horses in San Francisco,” she laughed.
“Actually, there’s more than you would think. There are over half a dozen excellent riding academies in San Francisco. But don’t worry. We’ll have you riding like a cowgirl in no time.”
As they approached the barn, Mitch looked up from forking hay into the end stall. Leah could smell its clean, sweet scent from where she was standing. “Hey, boss, you headin’ out?”
“Yeah. Thought I’d show Leah around, take her to see the falls.”
“One horse or two?”
“She’ll ride with me this time. We’ll start her on lessons in the morning.”
“I’ll volunteer for that,” Mitch said.
“Me, too,” Al said, appearing from the gloom of the barn. “What’re we volunteering for?”
“Teachin’ Leah to ride,”
“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely up for that,” Al said, nodding briskly. “When do we start?”
“Easy, big fella,” Clay said wryly, “You can all take turns.”
Mitch handed Al the pitchfork and loped into the barn to saddle Clay’s horse. He returned a few minutes later leading a beautiful bay gelding, much darker than Al Batal and bigger than any of the Arabians, if that were even possible. Leah’s eyes widened. They expect me to get up on that? Pigs will fly first.
CHAPTER NINE
“Don’t mind Hercules,” Mitch grinned. “He only looks big and scary. Inside, he’s nothing but a big, gooey marshmallow.
‘Hush,” Clay admonished, “you’ll give him a complex.” He bent down and made a platform with his hands. “Here, baby, give me your left foot and I’ll boost you up.” She put her foot on his interlocked hands and he lifted her so fast and so high, she made a mad grab for the saddle. She let out a shriek, terrified that she’d go flying right over the horse and land on the other side. Relieved when she didn’t, she laughed at herself. “Okay, now swing your right leg over his back. Hold onto the saddle horn. Move as far forward as you can. Atta girl.”
He put his booted foot into the stirrup and quickly swung himself up into the saddle behind her, pulling her hips back slightly to cradle her ass against his groin. Taking the reins from Mitch, he held them loosely in his right hand, putting his left arm around Leah’s waist, feeling the tension in her body. “Relax, baby, I won’t let you fall off. Lean back against me. Good girl.” He clucked his tongue, tapping his heels against the animal’s sides and Hercules moved forward, his powerful muscles moving smoothly beneath Leah’s thighs. His iron horseshoes clopped on the concrete.
Leah held her breath until she realized that she was as safe atop this enormous beast as she was on the ground
Clay walked the horse off the concrete and onto a packed dirt road that led around the right side of the barn. Five horse trailers and six pick-up trucks of varying makes, sizes, colors, and vintage were parked in a large graveled parking area behind it. The stream they’d splashed through earlier wandered along beside the trail on the right. They passed another fenced-in, grassy meadow where three more horses were grazing close to a line of trees. The pasture was the last bit of open land before the terrain became hillier, wilder, and more wooded. As they entered the woods, the trail plunged down a hill and Hercules began to tilt forward. Leah let out a little cry, but Clay just said, “Lean back with me, baby. And trust Hercules. He knows what he’s doing.”
She leaned back with Clay, redistributing their weight to help the horse negotiate the downward slope. As soon as they were at the bottom of the hill, Clay urged the horse to a canter. They rode for ar
ound fifteen minutes through deep woods, dotted with flowering bushes and trees in varying stages of spring splendor. The deeper into the woods they went, the deeper the stream became, the faster the water rushing and tumbling noisily over huge boulders. Even as the trail rose upward, the hillsides on either side of them rose even higher, eventually becoming rocky cliffs, turning the trail and the stream beside it into the floor of a deep ravine. A ravine filled with blooming azaleas, mountain laurels, and rhododendrons.
Clay slowed Hercules to a trot, then a walk. The trail curved to the right, the sound of rushing water getting louder and louder. Ahead, Leah could see a break in the trees and they emerged into a small grassy glade full of sunlight and bird song. The cliff to their left ended abruptly in a sheer drop-off. To their right was the source of the water sound—a waterfall tumbling down the rocky cliff face and cascading into a deep blue pool.
Clay brought the horse to a stop and dismounted, then reached back up to help Leah dismount. As he put his hands around her waist, she braced hers on his shoulders and let him slide her off the saddle. Unaccustomed to having her legs spread so wide for such a long time, she nearly fell when she tried to take her first step. “Whoa.”
“Easy, love. You’ve been using muscles you forgot you had.”
“Didn’t forget,” she muttered. “Just didn’t know they existed.”
“Just stretch a bit and they’ll loosen up.”
Leah did some high kicks and a few deep knee bends. Until she noticed Clay’s accelerated breathing and the growing bulge between his legs and she stopped. “No wonder so many cowboys are bow-legged,” she remarked.
“We’ll put you in the hot tub when we get back.” Clay’s hands were back at her waist as she took her next few faltering steps. “The jets will help loosen you up. Then I’ll rub you down with some horse liniment so you don’t stiffen up.” He walked her over to a flat rock and sat her down. “You okay, baby?”
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