Cowboy Doms Collection

by BJ Wane

  Between the time Lillian fixed dinner and turned in for the night, the answer to that question still evaded her. But as she drifted to sleep, there was no doubt how much time she spent that day craving to see Mitchell and hear his deep voice issuing more of those sexual demands she couldn’t resist.

  Bryan waited another fifteen minutes after the lights went out in both the house and garage apartment before making a stealthy return back up the side steps and crouching to work the flimsy lock again. Clamping his cigarette between his lips, he slid the credit card between the door and lock, grateful the people in this backwoods town were dumb enough to leave themselves vulnerable to such break-ins. At least something was going his way.

  A hall night light shed just enough illumination for him to make out the lowered Murphy bed and Lillian’s sleeping form, something he hadn’t counted on. His smoke might awaken her, but if he put it out, the ashes would leave evidence of his presence. Moving fast while keeping quiet wasn’t easy but he refused to back out now. He found her purse sitting next to the painting easel propped in front of the window. Keeping low, he searched the bag, gripped the phone and sidled back out the door, never noticing the ashes that dropped onto the turpentine-soaked rag next to the paints.

  A faint, familiar odor tickled Lillian’s nose and throat several groggy minutes before the crackle of fire and wisps of smoke awoke her other senses. Coughing, she blinked open watery eyes to see flames licking up the window curtains and spreading to the ceiling. Shocked terror galvanized her into action as she threw herself from the bed and stumbled toward the door. She was halfway there when Mitchell flung it open, bare-chested and barefoot, gripping a fire extinguisher in one hand as he yanked her out with the other.

  “Get downstairs,” he barked before entering the room with the fire-dousing spray already spewing from the canister.

  Lillian dashed down the stairs and was greeted with the wail of sirens disturbing the quiet residential street. Wearing nothing but a thigh length sleep shirt and panties, she stood to the side, shivering as a volunteer fire truck pulled to the curb and a sheriff’s cruiser behind it. One of the young firemen tossed her a blanket as the deputy approached her with his hand out.

  “Ma’am. Why don’t you sit in my vehicle while we get this under control and then you can give me a statement.”

  Too shook up and cold to say anything, she nodded and slid into the still running SUV, savoring the heat as she watched with dread. An hour passed in which firemen dragged a hose up the stairs and aimed another hose spray at the side of the garage, working to contain the blaze still sparking inside the apartment. At one point, one of them had carried out several of her paintings and stacked them on the front porch of the house before trotting back up. Sheriff Grayson arrived thirty minutes ago and joined Mitchell upstairs, her worry for everyone increasing the longer it took to get the fire under control.

  With a sigh of relief, Lillian finally saw the firemen rolling up their hoses and tromping down the stairs from the blackened garage. Mitchell’s soot darkened face looked as grim as Grayson’s as they came toward the cruiser. Opening the door, Mitchell took her hand, tugging her out as she noticed the plastic sack clutched in his other hand.

  “Come inside, pet. We need to talk.”

  That, along with the questions and concern crossing both men’s faces caused Lillian’s throat to clog with anxiety. Holding the blanket closed with her other hand, worry kept her silent until Mitchell opened the front door. “What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as she entered his house for the first time.

  “Sit down.” He led her into a living room and pointed to a leather sectional in front of a brick fireplace. Setting the bag on the floor, he said, “I managed to grab your purse, some clothing and the bank bag that was stashed under it. Everything left reeks too much of smoke to salvage.”

  “Thanks.” Flicking a glance toward the sheriff, whose rigid, arms-crossed stance made her nervous, she asked, “What happened? Was it the furnace?” The look they exchanged didn’t promise an easy explanation and spiked up her anxiety another notch. Mitchell leaned against the fireplace, his biceps bulging as he too crossed his arms. Before tonight, the only time she’d seen him bare chested had been at the cabin, when she eyed his complete nakedness as he turned from the fire and lust had tempered her grief for a short span. But right now, with her nerves shot, his overbearing, overprotective stance and intent gaze was working for her.

  “The fire started by your paint supplies, the rags next to your easel,” Grayson said. “Turpentine is highly flammable.”

  Lillian jumped to her feet, her body taut with denial. “Those are kept in a metal bucket and never near a furnace, or even a vent. And I don’t smoke. You have to be wrong.” Because if he wasn’t, that meant she was responsible for the destruction of Mitchell’s property, and she couldn’t bear that.

  “Lillian, you’re not to blame.” Mitchell’s sharp rebuttal drew her stricken gaze. “Before turning in, did you lock the door?”

  “Yes. I always do.”

  “Exactly. Like me, coming from a big city, we automatically lock our homes, coming and going. Your door was not only unlocked when I arrived, but not even latched. We,” he nodded toward Grayson, “believe someone entered after you fell asleep.”

  Remembering the indistinct odor she had caught the last two evenings upon entering the apartment and finding her computer on after she shut it down before leaving, she sank back down on the sofa wondering what they had been after. Shaking her head, she glanced from Mitchell to Grayson, confused. “I don’t have anything worth taking, except maybe the laptop, which was still there.”

  “Why don’t you tell us about your ex, his name for starters?” Grayson insisted, a hard glint in his eyes.

  “Brad?” Unable to help it, she scoffed at the idea. “Trust me, if he even bothered to go to the trouble of tracking down my whereabouts, he would confront me face to face. He was all about control.” She sent Mitchell a rueful grin. “A lot like you, but in a destructive way. Funny, he’s a well-established surgeon, his brother’s a cop.” Her eyes slid back to Grayson. “And now I find myself answering to another physician and cop. I gotta tell you, I don’t like it.”

  “Too bad, and don’t compare us to them. We both saw the evidence of your ex’s destructive control,” Mitchell reminded her, not at all amused by her comparison.

  “What’s his last name and I’ll judge whether he is worth checking up on. How long were you together and what was the catalyst that made you leave?” Grayson returned with cool insistence.

  Lillian recoiled from saying anything else about her relationship with Brad. She averted her face from Grayson’s probing stare and Mitchell’s unwavering gaze, afraid they would see the shame she couldn’t shake since she didn’t regret willingly sharing Brad’s bed after he would hit her. She couldn’t bear to have them judge her, not any of these people who had welcomed her into their intimate group and friendly community. Brad’s threats to cause Liana pain if Lillian didn’t go along brought her more angst than letting him rut on top of her for ten minutes a few times. The sex with him before she broke off their initial relationship had been good, making it easier to tolerate his touch again without enjoying it.

  “McCabe, and I’m not discussing our relationship. It wasn’t Brad, that’s all I’ll say.” She shivered again, unable to dispel the chills still racking her body. It was hard to wrap her head around finding herself a victim of a crime here in this peaceful, small town after avoiding that fate living her entire life in the big city. “It must have been kids or a random attempt at theft, not realizing someone was occupying the space.”

  Grayson cut his gray/green gaze to Mitchell, his shadowed jaw taut. “I’ll wait for the fire inspector’s report later this week.” His hard tone signaled he would return at that time to continue questioning her.

  Pushing to her feet again, guilt over his damaged property prompted her to apologize even though she wasn’t at fault, and there was
no way Brad was involved. “I’m sorry, Mitchell. I’ll pay…”

  “Fuck that, Lillian,” Mitchell snapped out with an angry slice of his hand as he gave in to the urge to go to her. He never imagined anything could scare him as much as reading Abbie’s test results confirming stage four cancer until he’d seen smoke obscuring the window of the garage apartment. As he tore out of his house with his abdomen knotted into a painful twist of fear, one thought kept repeating itself; he couldn’t lose another woman he cared about. Now, after admitting and accepting that revelation, seeing Lillian turn away from their astute gazes, looking ashamed and refusing to answer their probing questions about her asshole ex, then hearing her apologize and offer to pay for some intruder’s careless destruction prompted him to act.

  Surprise erased the guilt on her face as he gripped her arms and hauled her up against him. Instead of changing in a flash to irritation, which was her usual reaction when he pressed the control issue, her eyes went dark with arousal, an ache tightening her face as she leaned into him. Neither paid attention as Grayson walked out.

  “Whatever is going on is not your fault. We will get to the bottom of it, but until then, it’s time for both of us to quit dancing around what’s going on between us.” Without giving her a chance to answer, he swooped down and covered those soft lips with his mouth, kissing a woman for the first time since Abbie. And damned if it didn’t feel right, regardless she was all wrong for him and he for her.

  The blanket dropped to their feet as her low moan echoed from her mouth into his when she opened for him. Her breasts flattened against his chest, the rigid nipples a sharp contrast to the plump softness cushioning his tense muscles. Exploring her mouth with tongue-stroking thoroughness, he slid his hands down and under the nightshirt to palm her buttocks, grinding his cock against her mound. Demanding need born of fear and frustration overrode any lingering doubts about going down this path with a woman he had thought unsuitable for his desires. As her arms squeezed his shoulders and one long, smooth leg wrapped around his thigh, it was obvious her current needy state burned as hot and fast as his. For now, that was enough.

  Letting go of her right cheek, Mitchell gripped a fist full of Lillian’s deep red hair and tugged her head back as he released her mouth from the hard pressure of his possession. “Now,” he demanded. Spinning her around, he pushed against her shoulders, urging her to bend down to the couch. “Brace your hands on the seat.”

  “Mitchell.” She groaned his name, swaying her hips as he shoved the silken top up and yanked down the black panties to bare her lily-white ass.

  A hard swat left behind a bright red imprint and drew a shudder, but she didn’t move from the position. “That’s Sir, or Master Mitchell when I have you naked.”

  She whipped her head around and gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “You’re doing it again.”

  He cupped her damp pussy. “Want me to stop?”

  “No way.” She huffed and turned back around, muttering, “Sir.”

  Another smack reddened her opposite buttock. “That’s what I thought.” Fingering her wet pussy, he released his cock and sheathed himself, the urgency to take and possess riding him hard. Slick, swollen muscles clamped around his pumping finger, the rucked-up top giving him an enticing view of her dangling, hard-tipped breasts. Nudging her feet further apart with his foot, he stepped between her spread legs and replaced his finger with his shaft, sliding smoothly between her plump labia.

  “Yes.”

  Lillian’s breathy acceptance coincided with the tight clutch of wet vaginal walls around his cock, drawing him deeper inside her. Mitchell leaned over her back, reached around and filled his hands with her breasts as he said into her ear, “Fast and hard, pet. Brace yourself.”

  As promised, or threatened, depending on how she took that warning, he tweaked her nipples, straightened and held her hips still for a deep, carnal fucking. Her grunts and heavy breathing matched his as he rammed into her quivering depths over and over, the spasming clutches of her pussy pulling his climax forward too soon but with irresistible force.

  “Shit, Lillian,” he ground out as she splintered in orgasm around him with a cry and tight squeezes. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head as her elbows gave out and she lay facedown on her bent arms emitting softer mewls.

  Mitchell saw stars as he exploded into the latex with faster, harder strokes, as if he couldn’t get enough. He hadn’t come that hard in years, and as Abbie’s image filled his head, he prayed she approved because there was no going back for him. Now, as his head cleared and he pulled out of her still gripping body, he had to figure out how to get Lillian on board.

  “You’ll stay in my room, with me, while you’re here.”

  Okay, I can do this, Lillian decided as Mitchell tossed her over his shoulder and carried her toward the back of the house. Calling him Sir hadn’t been difficult, not with her lust skyrocketing with that purposeful look on his face as he’d hauled her against his wide, warm chest, ridding her of the body-numbing cold. As soon as she’d come into contact with his body heat and his mouth, it had been so easy to give in to his control, let him take her over and not have to think, just feel.

  She laughed as he tossed her on his bed and whisked her night shirt over her head. “This he-man stuff doesn’t work for me,” she insisted, her heartbeat going haywire as he ripped her panties off.

  “Prove it.” Mitchell spread her legs, his eyes traveling from her gaping pussy to her face, nailing her with one of those fixed gazes that said he was focused solely on her and no one or nothing else.

  Her humor fled as he trailed a finger up her slit then down her crack to dampen that taboo orifice, drawing her attention to the pinprick tingles from those slaps still racing across her buttocks as she shifted on the bed. She still struggled with understanding how one man could cause her pain she wanted nothing to do with and another make her burn and ache for the blistering sting of his hand connecting with her bare flesh.

  “You’re thinking too hard.” Mitchell kept his eyes on hers as he continued to glide up and down between pussy and anus while stroking his semi-erection into a steel rod.

  His salt and pepper hair hung in disheveled thickness around his face and neck, soot still stained his cheek and chest and those firm lips were set in a tight line as he waited for acceptance. Arousal replaced conflicting thoughts and she arched into his hand. “You’re right.” Reaching up, she gripped his forearms and pleaded, “Fuck me again, please.”

  “Please what?” he asked in a silky steel voice as he dragged his cock up between her cheeks and through her slick pussy lips.

  Lillian gave in with a shudder. “Sir.” He filled her with a single, womb-bouncing plunge, wrenching a cry from her constricted throat and abolishing all thoughts except one. More.

  Bryan couldn’t believe it. Letting himself into his motel room, he grabbed the bottle of bourbon on the desk and poured himself a hefty swallow. He still shook inside, unable to comprehend how he could have been so careless. With disgust, he stubbed out the cigarette. He’d barely made it back to his car around the corner from the doctor’s residence when the wail of sirens came screeching up the street. When the fire truck and cops pulled in front of the garage he’d just broken into, he noticed the smoke drifting out of the open upstairs door as Lillian came running down the stairs. Nervous sweat still ran down his back to pool at the base of his spine.

  Lifting the bottle, he skipped the glass and took the next long pull from the container as his wobbly legs gave out and he sank down onto the bed. B and E was one thing, and in this case, the ends justified the means. But causing a fire that could have taken a life was something he never would have attempted intentionally, not even for his brother. He fished her cell phone out of his back pocket, swearing when he couldn’t find any pictures. Jesus, all for nothing again. Tossing the phone on the bed, he reached for his and pressed Brad’s hospital number, hoping he was awake, and if so, he would have his cell.

 
“Where the hell are you?” Brad’s tired voice came through the line and relief eased Bryan’s tension.

  “In Billings, Montana, and it’s nice to hear from you, too. You gave me quite a scare, little brother.”

  “Sorry. I guess I’m not infallible after all. Why the hell are you in Montana?” he grumbled.

  “Because this is where I tracked your assaulting ex to. I managed to search her computer and now have her phone, but can’t find any pictures of herself with bruises. I think she lied to you.” Exasperation colored his tone as he took another swig of alcohol, his earlier blunder still haunting him.

  There was a long pause and some cursing before Brad snapped, “I told you to let it go. Why didn’t you listen?”

  “Because I’m not letting her get away with landing you where you’re at now. Fuck that, Brad, you could have died from her jealous assault.” And that still scared him, even more than coming close to causing real physical harm to Lillian tonight.

  “She takes pictures with a high-resolution camera that she usually keeps in her car, but, seriously, Bryan, leave her be. I’ll recover and be back on my feet in no time.”

  Brad’s tired voice reminded him how close he’d come to dying, and made it difficult to nix his plan to bring Lillian in. “Get some rest. I’ll head back and be there before you’re discharged,” he replied, but not before he got that camera. He couldn’t risk her or the cops connecting him to the fire tonight, leaving him no choice but to set aside his desire for justice, like Brad wanted. But the least Bryan could do was ensure she didn’t return with her blackmail threat in the future.

  Chapter 11

  Lillian had slept like a baby spooned in front of Mitchell, her buttocks nestled against his groin, his bearded chin resting on her head with his arm wrapped around her waist. It was a shame she awoke alone, she thought as she slid out of bed. She would have enjoyed going another round with him. From the first moment they’d met, he had known exactly what she needed to get through whatever phase of grief or adjustment she was struggling with and it still baffled her how she could accept and enjoy his sexual dominance when everything in her rebelled at giving a man, any man, an ounce of control over her. Living under the strain of Brad’s depraved threats for a month should have soured her for good against all men. She was honest enough with herself to admit something had changed and clicked that last night at Mitchell’s cabin when he unselfishly set aside his desire to spend that time alone to deal with his own loss to aid her in coping with Liana’s death.