Picture Perfect Cowboy: An Original Sinners Novel

by Reisz, Tiffany

  “Well, I might like to get a little rough with you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to torture you. Don’t want to torture myself either.”

  But maybe he did want to torture her—a little bit, anyway. He straddled her chest again and took her breasts into his hands. He pushed them together and thrust his cock between them. Her skin was smooth and hot against his cock and he nearly came all over her chest from that first thrust alone. He made himself calm down, if only so he wouldn’t embarrass himself. But it wasn’t easy. Simone arched her back underneath him again, offering her breasts to him. He held them firmly in his hands, squeezing as he rubbed his erection all over them. Simone closed her eyes and her head fell back on the bed in total surrender.

  “There’s nothing I can’t do to you, is there?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she breathed.

  “I could fuck every inch of your body and you’d want it.”

  “I want it,” she said.

  “I could tie you to the bed and leave you there the rest of your life.”

  “I could live in your bed the rest of my life,” she said. “As long as you keep doing that.”

  That was Jason rubbing her nipples over and over with his thumbs. They were hard and bright red from how hard he’d sucked them. He smiled when he remembered they were on camera now, and he’d get to see them whenever he wanted. But what he wanted right that second was to fuck her, the sooner the better.

  Jason moved off her and issued an order. “Turn over.”

  Simone obeyed at once. She knelt on her elbows and her knees. Jason got behind her and eyed the view. “Hope the camera’s getting this,” he said as he opened her pussy with his fingers and stroked her inner folds.

  “I can take pictures of my pussy for you, sir,” she said.

  “You should probably do that then,” he said. “A whole goddamned album of your pussy.”

  He put a finger inside her and his eyes rolled back in his head at the feel of her wet, hot, silky vagina. He stroked her with two fingers, long strokes all the way into her and out again. She groaned in pleasure and opened her legs even wider for him.

  “That an invitation?” he asked.

  “You don’t need one, sir.”

  “That’s right, I don’t. A man doesn’t need an engraved invitation to come in his own house.”

  He grabbed the condoms off the bedside table and when he had one on, he rose up on his knees and pressed the head against her entrance. With a slow hard thrust he pushed into her and with a second harder thrust he sheathed himself all the way inside.

  Jason had never seen a sexier sight than his own big roughed-up hands wrapped around her narrow waist encased in her pink corset. He took control of her body, pulling her back against him when he wanted to go deep, pushing her away as he pulled out. He loved seeing his cock disappear inside her and then reappear a moment later, slick with her wetness. He wanted to come but he thought he ought to slow down and wait for her sake. Then he remembered she was his to do with as he pleased, and if he wanted to come right then and there he would come, right then and right there.

  Jason thrust into her faster, then harder, then faster and harder. He pounded her from behind and she panted and grunted and groaned as he let go and gave her everything he had to give. Her cries mixed with his own as his orgasm built to a fever pitch. When he came it was so intense he thought he was going to black out from sheer pleasure. The muscle spasms were deep, reaching all the way into his back. As the climax crested and faded, Jason hung over Simone’s back, still gripping her waist and breathing until he was in control of himself again.

  He pulled out of her and rolled up the condom in the wrapper. The entire time Simone stayed on her knees, awaiting his next order. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down and back against his chest.

  “Touch yourself,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her and took her breasts in his hands again. “Make yourself come for me.”

  She didn’t hesitate, his sexy, sweet and utterly shameless little slave. She moved her hand between her legs and found her clitoris with her fingertips. She rubbed it and he watched the show, and if he hadn’t come a minute earlier he would have been rock hard. Simone dipped her middle finger inside herself and then spread her own wetness over her clitoris. As she stroked it, she moved her hips in slow circles. Jason massaged her breasts and whispered encouragement in her ear. You’re so sexy…so fucking sexy…so beautiful…come for me, baby girl…I want to hear you come…

  In no time she was panting again, gasping and groaning. Her hips rose off the bed and she let out a hoarse cry. He held her through her climax and held her after she finished and collapsed back against him.

  “God damn," Jason said with a long breath.

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” she said then giggled, wiggling around to lay her head on his chest.

  “How do you know exactly what to do to make me feel so good?”

  “I don’t know,” Simone said. “Just glad I do.”

  He stroked her back with his fingertips, happy to simply hold her and touch her. And he better do it, too, hold her and touch her as much as he could, since she would be leaving soon. Unless he ordered her to stay. No, he couldn’t do that. You couldn’t order someone to stay with you, could you? That wouldn’t be right. He couldn’t force Simone into staying with him. That wasn’t fair to her. But he could ask her to stay, couldn’t he? Maybe he could. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d never get invited home for Christmas again, either.

  It shouldn’t be this hard to fall in love with someone.

  “Master Jason…”

  “Yes, Spanky?”

  “Nothing. I just like saying that.”

  He kissed the top of her head.

  Maybe it wasn’t so hard to fall in love after all.

  Fifteen

  Simone spent the next morning wandering around Jason’s house in a sort of daze. They’d had sex as soon as he’d woken up, but he’d let her stay in bed afterwards to sleep some more while he’d gone out to check on the horses.

  He was out there now. Every few minutes she’d peek out the west-facing window and see him in the paddock with one horse or another. She wished she’d brought the telephoto lens for her camera. She would have loved to get some shots of him with his horses to keep with her after she left.

  Tomorrow.

  She left tomorrow. And not tomorrow evening or tomorrow afternoon, but tomorrow morning. And she was definitely leaving. She had to go. She had a packed schedule the next two weeks. A christening. A Sweet Sixteen party being thrown for the daughter of a New York district attorney. A big wedding in the Hamptons and then another wedding reception to shoot next weekend, which she could not miss for anything in the world since she knew the couple. She couldn’t back out of all her commitments just because she’d met a guy.

  So she had to leave.

  Unless Jason ordered her to stay?

  No, he wouldn’t do that. He respected her too much to make her miss work. The last thing Simone wanted was for things to end badly with Jason. She was his first kink partner and that was a big deal for anyone. One bad early experience could turn someone off for life. She wanted him to look back on their week together with pleasure, not anger, frustration, or shame. She wanted to leave him with nothing but good memories. He’d been a wonderful master—possessive but understanding, tough but fair, playful even as he punished, and so sexy she was certain she’d never find a man who could compete with him. After her shower that morning she’d stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror, admiring the black and blue bite marks he’d left all over her. An even dozen. She’d counted.

  She sighed another deep sigh as she stood at the window watching while Jason and Rusty trotted the paddock with one of the horses being trained for trail work. She was wrong. She’d thought the last thing she wanted was for things to end badly between them. The truth was, the last thing Simone wanted was for things to end between them, period.


  Simone collapsed onto Jason’s bed, which she’d made that morning after finally getting up. Such a comfortable bed, she could live and die in it. Or could she? Really? Could she, New Englander born and New Yorker bred, really live happily on a Kentucky horse farm with the nearest town—its population roughly equal to one city block of Brooklyn—half an hour away?

  An image from the morning flashed across her mind—Jason on top of her, his mouth at her ear as he described in impressive detail just how good her pussy felt wrapped around his cock.

  Yes, she decided. Yes, she could.

  Simone sat up straight. “No,” she told herself and then slapped the back of her left hand with her right hand. “Bad girl. Sane women do not fall in love with random cowboys after spending only four days with them.”

  Or did they?

  Simone found her phone and sent a quick text message to her Mistress Nora. If anyone could put Simone’s head on straight about Jason it was Nora.

  “Do sane women fall in love with random cowboys after spending only four days with them?” Simone asked Nora.

  She waited.

  A few seconds later a reply appeared.

  “Depends on the cowboy,” Nora said.

  “He trussed me up in a corset last night and fucked me—on camera.”

  “Marry him,” Nora replied.

  “You’re supposed to tell me ‘no,’” Simone replied.

  Even though it was a text message, Simone could sense that Nora was sighing somewhere. She waited tensely for the reply.

  “I have fallen in love at first sight,” Nora wrote. “I have fallen in love slowly over a period of weeks and months. They both ended the same way—with me having ungodly amounts of kinky sex. There is no right way to fall in love. If he’s happy and you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

  “I’m not in love with him,” Simone said. “I just keep thinking about how nice it would be to spend the rest of my life with him and be his cookie-baking slave forever. That wasn’t a euphemism. I baked him cookies and he loved them and it made me happier than it should have. Also, he smells really good. And he spanks like a god. And he bought a therapy horse for a little girl who has speech problems after brain surgery. And I keep almost crying every time I think about leaving because I want to spend the rest of my life with him. That’s not love, right?”

  Nora replied with an emoji—a face with staring eyes and a straight line for a mouth. It was the one you sent when someone said something so patently foolish all you could do is stare at them in silence.

  “Okay, so maybe I’m in love with him,” Simone replied. “HELP!”

  “You’re in his house. He’s fucking you constantly. Seems like you have it under control.”

  “I have to leave tomorrow morning,” Simone told her.

  “Good. Absence makes the cock grow harder, or whatever that saying is.”

  “But I’ll miss him.”

  “You’ll survive.”

  “I’m not sure I will. He’s the best master I ever had.”

  “I’m telling you-know-who you said that.”

  Simone giggled.

  “Doesn’t count. Mister S and I never…”

  “Poor you. He’s very good at…”

  “Nora, please, help me.”

  A long pause followed. As did a “…” which meant Nora was typing her message. Simone waited with baited breath.

  The message finally arrived.

  “You’re smart. You’re capable. You’re 29 years old. Translation—you’re on your own.”

  Simone nearly threw the phone across the room before she remembered it was an expensive phone and this was not her room.

  Well, she couldn’t blame Nora for not wanting to get involved. Simone was an adult woman. Jason was an adult man. They really should be able to figure things out together. And they would. Jason had proven to her already that he was a good man with a good head on his shoulders and an even better heart. She had to trust that if he wanted to see her again, he would say something to her. Wouldn’t he?

  She had to believe he would. He was the master in the relationship after all. She had to let him take the lead. Even though it was torture.

  “You like torture,” she reminded herself.

  Not this kind of torture.

  Desperate to take her mind off leaving in the morning, Simone decided to go ahead and take the photos Jason had requested of her. She could spend all day on that if she wanted. She could set up her backdrop, her lights, her timer, and make a really fancy digital photo album for him. That way after she was gone, he’d have the pictures to look at and remember how good they were together, which would then, of course, compel him to fly all the way to New York to tell her he was madly in love with her, then propose marriage, then throw her over his shoulder and carry her all the way back to Kentucky.

  That last part might be a little farfetched, she knew. And maybe the marriage proposal. That might be a bit too sudden. They should probably know each other for at least a week before getting engaged.

  But it was worth a try anyway.

  With nothing else to do except pine for a man she hadn’t even left yet, Simone went to work setting up a little photo studio in Jason’s spare bedroom. She slipped out of her clothes and into her corset again. She couldn’t get it quite as tight as Jason had but at least it would look nice in the pictures.

  After two hours Simone had a few dozen very nice photographs of all her love bites plus a few bonus photos for Jason’s eyes only. She threw her jeans and t-shirt back on and borrowed a flannel shirt of Jason’s to wear for an extra layer of warmth. It was barely lunchtime, and it would probably be a few more hours before Jason finished with the horses. She wanted to help, but she also didn’t want to get in his way. He’d asked her to come out around four to take another long ride with Cupcake. But what was she going to do until then?

  She returned to the spare room to tear down her makeshift photo studio, but paused when an idea occurred to her.

  Hadn’t Jason said something about his trophy collection? That he wanted to put it away or donate it but his sister would never forgive him if he got rid of it?

  What if…

  What if Simone took really nice photos of all his awards, got them printed on high quality photo paper, and put them in a nice leather-bound album? Then he could donate all his rodeo trophies to his high school or a rodeo museum or something (apparently they existed), and yet still display them but in a very classy sort of way.

  “I’m a genius,” Simone said to herself. Best idea ever.

  Until she tried picking up one of the cups.

  “I’m an idiot,” Simone said to herself. But she managed, finally, to heft the big cup and carry it into the spare room photo studio. Prize by prize, Simone set it up against her backdrop, took a photo, and carried it back to the bedroom where she’d found it, until she had them all captured inside her camera. A big undertaking but worth it. After all, for three nights she’d gotten to live in Jason’s old white farmhouse, eat his food, ride his horses, and generally have the time of her life. Whether they decided to see each other again or not, Simone thought giving him an album would be a nice way to thank him for the excellent hospitality he’d showed both her and her pussy.

  While Simone was thinking about her pussy, she texted Jason a picture of it.

  Five minutes later he walked into the house.

  Simone sat on his sofa in his living room drinking a cup of tea and trying to look very, very innocent.

  “Hello, sir,” she said smiling at him. “You’re back early.”

  “Are you trying to kill me?” he demanded.

  “What do mean?” she batted her eyelashes.

  He held out his phone. “Ahem,” he said.

  “Have you never had a woman text you a picture of her pussy before?”

  “No!”

  “Oh. I thought that was standard procedure these days. Want some tea?”

  She held out her cup to him, still half ful
l. She smiled. He didn’t.

  “You’re in so much trouble, little girl,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said again. “That a ‘no’ to the tea?”

  “Up.” He snapped his fingers and jerked his thumb at the door. Simone set her teacup and saucer on the table. She stood up and walked to the door to the kitchen.

  “Are you going to spank me in the kitchen?” she asked.

  “No, you’d like that too much.”

  He was right. She would like that too much.

  “Are you going to spank me in the barn?” she asked as he held out her boots. Apparently they were leaving the house.

  “I’m not telling you what I’m going to do with you,” he said. “I’m keeping you in suspense.”

  “That’s psychological torture,” she said. “Good idea.”

  With a hand on her arm, he escorted her from the house toward the barn. She was having a very hard time not laughing or smiling. She could tell he was, too, though he was doing his level best pretending to be furious at her.

  “So I guess I’m not allowed to send you pussy pics?” she asked. “I’m only asking for future reference, sir.”

  “You can send them when I ask for them, and I promise you I’m not going to ask for them when my farm manager is standing two feet away from me.”

  “What? Does Franco not like pussy pics, either?”

  “You’re gonna get cropped so hard tonight you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

  “I don’t really need to sit. Being sedentary is bad for you, I hear.”

  “I should have known better than to let a pink-haired menace into my house.”

  “You really should have, sir. Haven’t you seen the public service announcements?”

  “You could at least pretend to be sorry, Spanky,” he said.

  “I would if you could pretend to actually be mad about it, sir.”

  That got him to smile. And not just smile—he stopped dead in his tracks, grabbed her around the waist, pulled her hard against him, and kissed her. It was a good kiss, a hard kiss, the kind that ended with one of his hands in her hair and the other on her ass. When he released her from the kiss she pretended to faint just so Jason would grab her and hold her tight.