Ride 'Em (A Giddyup Novel) (10 page)

She eyed the packaged robe, then him. “I should really just grab some food and head back to my cabin.” Another thunderclap nearly drowned out her words.

“Not until this dies down. I can just see the headlines. ‘Tragedy Strikes at Hilltop.’ ‘Local Homecoming Queen Meets Shocking End.’ ‘Area Man’s Dude Ranch Dream Struck Down by Lightning.’”

“Those are not good headlines.”

“I
know
.”

“I mean, they’re not well constructed for—oh, fine, just give me the robe.”

Then she
smiled
. Dammit.

He started to hand her the robe, but held on to it. “I don’t want you to leave.”

She tugged at the plastic. “I won’t walk back in the thunderstorm. You’re right, that’s not—”

“No, I mean
early
. I don’t want you to leave
early
. I want you to stay. Not just because of the rain.” Not just for sex, but he wasn’t willing to examine that part too closely yet. He certainly wasn’t willing to discuss it. But it had to be Mindy’s decision, anyway. All he could do was put it out there. This . . . very slightly open emotional door. He could just point out that it was there and it was open and she was welcome to come in for a visit.

Or something.

Her fingers curled around the pale blue ribbon. She tugged harder, finally freeing the robe from his hands. The smile was gone. “Look, I’m having a lot of fun with you, okay? I’m enjoying your company.” She held the robe against her chest like armor.

Logan squinted, trying to read her expression and failing utterly. Her mouth said “
fun
” and “
enjoy
,” but her face and body said “
miserable
,” and he couldn’t figure it out. “I’m having fun, too. We’re enjoying each other.”

“And that’s exactly why I can’t stay.”

* * *

She lingered in the powder room as long as possible, probably longer than was reasonable. After she used the restroom, washed her hands, stripped off her clothes, and toweled herself dry, she bundled into the robe and sat down to think and avoid facing Logan again. She knew eventually he’d come knocking, and that she shouldn’t wait long enough for that to happen. But he gave her more time than she expected.

She heard his footsteps, heavy on the stairs over her head, while she was changing. He came back down a few minutes later, thumping unevenly like he was taking the steps a few at a time. Still a gangly, dorky teenager inside. Of course, she was no better.

Washing her hands a second time bought her a few seconds more. She tested some of the vanilla-scented hand lotion from the brass-topped pump dispenser on the marble vanity. Admired the dark red flocked wallpaper—it looked delightfully like something from an old-timey bordello, which she suspected was the goal. Studied the three delicately tinted old photographs of ladies with Gibson girl updos and bee-stung lips.

Either Logan’s grandma had decorated this room, or
somebody’s
grandmother had, and it was perfect. If she could just stay in this tiny, carefully curated space, nothing bad could ever befall her, and she would never have to face life on the other side of the door again.

Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her this plan had flaws. Stress always made her hungry, and she’d gone light on lunch in anticipation of pie.

Cursing softly at herself, she scooped up her wet clothes in the damp towel, placed her hand on the crystal doorknob, and steeled herself for the confrontation.

She opened the door to an empty hallway and the sound of swelling violins. She followed it to the kitchen, where Logan was humming along to the classical music and putting food on a plate, complete with hand flourishes in time with the music after he placed each item. He’d changed into plaid flannel lounge pants that hung on his hips in an almost painfully flattering way.

“
Ba-dum-dum-dum!
” He flipped a piece of brisket onto the china and then pulled the fork away, waving it in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra while the music swooped into a particularly romantic passage. Outside, the sky flickered and boomed in perfect natural counterpoint. A branch was blown along the shuttered kitchen window just as the violins skittered into moody disorder. Logan had chosen the perfect soundtrack for the storm. It thundered again, and he echoed with a sound-effect
boom-crash
noise, twirling his fork to bring the flutes into play as the lightning flashed.

Finally she cleared her throat. “Nice music.”

Logan jumped back from the counter, whirling around. “Mindy!”

Were they doing that again? “Logan.”

He grinned, dragging his gaze slowly down to her toes then back up, as if the fluffy robe was the hottest outfit he’d ever seen. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “Mindy . . .”

She held her hands up in the universal back-off gesture, punctuating it with a stern glare. “Logan.”

“Fair enough. Uh, I put together some of the brisket and potatoes, broccoli. Sorry, no cheese sauce left.” He brought the plate and utensils to the island and set it down with another flourish, not quite as grand as his earlier display. “I figured you could eat while we talk.”

Her stomach gurgled at the sight of the food. There was no use resisting; she made for the stool and picked up the fork. “Okay. So I wouldn’t have pegged you for a classical music guy.”

He sucked air through his teeth, studying the lamp for a second. “I guess this would be a bad time to make a joke about how you wouldn’t have pegged me at all.”

“You just
made
the joke, though.” She sliced a piece of brisket.

“Right, right.”

“Wasn’t that funny.”

The first bite of meat melted in her mouth. It was
heaven
. That rarest of all things, a tender brisket. She had to concentrate to make sense of Logan’s response.

“You’re just hangry. So the music is, uh . . . what my granddad always used to play out here when the weather got bad. He had an LP. Probably still in the bookcase in the front parlor, come to think of it. It’s Mendelssohn’s
Hebrides Overture
. He thought it sounded like a thunderstorm rolling in.”

She nodded, too involved in the brisket to express any further surprise. The bathroom had been good, but this was better, this warmly lit kitchen with a plate full of delicious food.

Served to her by a handsome, problematic man she couldn’t let herself fall for.

Tracking her fork through the mashed potatoes, she considered a moment, framing her words. She had made a decision. She ought to stick to it. “So here’s my problem. I thought it could just be a few scenes. You know? We’d do that while I was here, it would be a kinky vacation, we’d both get some stress relief. No harm, no foul, no hard feelings about why I came here in the first place.
But
. I need to leave because I’m having as much fun building fire pits and listening to you talk about your grandfather’s rain music as I am getting my ass switched and rubbing off on you in the spider shack. Obviously you’re not somebody I can be involved with. For many reasons. But mostly conflict of interest, plus history and geography. And I feel like I’m really crossing the streams, here, in ways I normally am very careful to avoid.” She exhaled hard and finally took the bite, studying her plate to give Logan a chance to think about his response.

“So,” he started. Then he breathed out hard, echoing her, and took a long pause before trying again. “So my first instinct is to tell you, my dick’s not that magic. If you’re worried you’ll be drawn into my thrall if we actually fuck, and therefore be unable to leave when the week is up, I can reassure you that hasn’t been my experience with women in the past. I mean, I do
okay
.” He shrugged, then grabbed his crotch through his flannel pants like he was reassuring himself. “I do
just fine
. I’ve had no complaints. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s an okay size, disease-free, I’m fairly confident I know what to do with it. I’m just saying, it doesn’t emit magic spooge or anything.”

“I’ve met it,” she reminded him, once she’d managed to swallow the potatoes without snort-laughing them out her nose. “Fairly recently, too. I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

“Just saying.”

She put a hand on his arm and gave him an earnest pat. “I wasn’t concerned about becoming enthralled by your magic spooge.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He scooped a dab of potato up with his index finger and ate it, so quickly she almost missed it. “If that’s not a danger, then, what is it?”

The guy who makes me laugh about magic spunk, and the circus horse he rode in on
. “You’re a weird Dom.”

“I’m an awesome Dom. Answer the question, Melinda.” He brought the Dom voice into play, dropped into it just like that. Shot her the Blue Steel look and everything. Lethal. Did he have a license to concealed-carry that weapon?

She decided to go for something like honesty. Not the whole truth, but a big part of it. “It’s this place. Not the ranch, the town. Being back here’s just . . . It’s stirred up a lot of shit for me. And I don’t want to wallow in that. That’s not me.” That part was the lie. Because this
was
her, this diner-pie girl, this woman who’d kept those broken-in boots in the back of the closet for so many years. The dust from this place was in her blood. Even taciturn Bernie at the general store had sounded
right
to her ears. So she told another partial truth. “I’m homesick.” And if she stayed in Bolero, if she gave in to the homesickness that wanted to keep her here, she’d lose the life she’d spent so much time and energy and passion building.

Logan sounded right, felt right. Smelled and tasted right. But only because—she insisted to herself—he was the focal point for this wave of nostalgia. The living embodiment of Bolero, with kink on top as an added enticement. And it
was
enticing. So much so she could barely breathe when they made eye contact for any length of time. But that would fade once she got back to Dallas, saw her friends, hit the club, went back to the office.

He nodded, the stern face thawing into friendly sympathy. “And I’ve been kind of an asshole to you.” He returned the friendly pat, his big hand warming her arm through the robe. As he leaned in, she could still smell the rain on him. His bare chest took up her whole field of view. “You know, what with literally beating you and all.”

“So, are we even, then? For my sneaking around at the beginning?” She hoped it sounded light and casual, but she doubted it. Honestly, she wondered how she was even coherent. He’d left his hand on her arm instead of taking it away after the condescending gesture, and her heart had started to pound, and now her face and pussy were both buzzing with heat, and she was screwed, she was just absolutely screwed.

Logan slid his hand down to hers, smoothed his fingers around to her palm, and teased open her clenched fist so he could lace their fingers together. “I’d say we’re
nearly
even, sure. A little extra reinforcement couldn’t hurt, but I want to leave that up to you. So I can make up one of the spare beds—which, I’ll warn you, won’t be that comfortable, I still need to replace some mattresses—or the couch in the office, which is probably a better bet. Or we can get freaky for a while, and then if you want, you can sleep with me. Any combination of those things would be fine.”

She swallowed hard. It was one night. They’d already done so much—surely a little more wouldn’t make that much difference. It wouldn’t be any harder to walk away if she allowed herself one more round of playtime, and one night of whatever followed that. “I’m out of here tomorrow, though.”

“Understood. No strings. Just playing and sex. And sleeping.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?” He sounded brashly eager for a second, then seemed to recall himself. “I think you meant, ‘Please, sir, may I have a scene that isn’t just seventy percent blowies and frottage in the spider shack.’”

She giggled, glancing up at him. He’d smoothed his demeanor and was keeping it utterly deadpan. Dom skills, indeed. She needed to get on his level. “Please, sir, may I have a scene that isn’t just seventy percent blowies and frottage in the spider shack.”

“You
may
.” He nudged her plate a half inch closer to her. “So eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

H
e made Mindy wait an hour after eating. He wasn’t that subtle about checking the time while they talked—on the nearest clock, on his phone—and finally she called him on it.

“You have somewhere else you need to be?”

“Nope.”

“Are you making me wait an hour before I go in swimming?”

“Yep.”

“Well, okay then.
Sir
.”

“When you said that, it sounded like . . .
Ladies
.”

Mindy chuckled and wrapped the robe more snugly under her feet. She was tucked into the corner of the couch in the office, wedged between the arm of the couch and a big throw pillow with a needlepoint sunset on it, and cuddled down into the oversized robe as though the raging thunderstorm outside had actually made it colder inside, instead of just more humid.

She smirked. “
Gentlemen
.”

“Makes everything dirtier.” He turned back to his computer screen and pretended to continue casually checking his email. As if he wasn’t pressing the heel of his non-mousing hand against his thigh to keep his leg from tapping.

Behind him, Mindy stretched and sighed. The breathy sound was way too close to a sex noise. He figured she was doing it accidentally-on-purpose, but he was 100 percent okay with that.

The text in front of him swam. He couldn’t process anything but the mental checklist of what he had available to him up in his bedroom. His toy bag was in the closet, but most of his equipment was in secret storage in Houston. He’d told everyone he’d completely committed to the plan to restore Hilltop to its former glory. But that hadn’t kept him from maintaining an escape route. All his furniture, the few pieces of artwork he’d collected over the years, and the vast majority of his kink arsenal were all safely stored in a climate-controlled space near his old house.

He really could have used the hour to catch up on work. He was still building an inventory database for the ranch, and he had a list of point-of-sale systems to compare so Hilltop could start selling things like monogrammed robes and caps with logos and T-shirts and art from local artists. He also needed to research whether or not he could get a liquor license. So many things tugging his mind in different directions. So many concerns, more every day, about whether he could even make Hilltop viable again. But the strongest pull was right behind him; Mindy’s attention was a steady but gentle undertow in the current of information.

She’d already figured out his plan, so when the hour clicked over he gave up any pretense of trying to finish the inventory form he was tweaking, and swiveled his chair around to face her. Crossed his arms over his chest, put his Dom face on.

Mindy bit her lip and raised her eyebrows at him, then lowered her gaze to her lap. “Tick-tick-tick-tick-
ding!
”

He snorted, then kicked himself for it as he schooled his features back into sternness. Mindy wasn’t a brat
exactly
, but she wasn’t all that into roles. Usually he wasn’t, either, especially once he got to know somebody, but he’d intended to keep some distance tonight. Pretend it was a club scene with a relative stranger, with everyone on their best behavior.

Brisk. Businesslike. A transaction where everybody was up-front and got their needs met. That’s what was called for here.

“Let’s have the talk. Safe words?”

She glanced up then back down again. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down.”

“Clarify what you mean, with yellow.”

“Oh, well . . .” Playing with the ends of the robe’s sash, she pondered for a few seconds before answering with more hesitation than he’d expected. “Yellow means I want you to . . . pull back on whatever you’re doing and check in with me. So just give me a minute to decide if I want . . . if I can keep going or not? And talk it over. If that works for you?”

Frowning, he unfolded his arms and rolled his chair closer to the couch. “Why wouldn’t it work for me?”

She shrugged, flipping one of the sash ends back and forth over her wrist. Lashing herself with it very gently, Logan realized.

“Some Doms are kind of dicks about that,” she said with another shrug. “They don’t want a discussion, it’s just a chance to talk you into doing what they want. Spare me from people who see safe words as a challenge, you know? I assume you aren’t one of them, but I’ve made that assumption before and been wrong.”

“Jesus. A safe word is a safe word. Hey.” He leaned in, touching her knee gently until she looked up. “There are things I’m a dick about, but that isn’t one of them. If my partner isn’t into it, I don’t want to keep doing it. So obviously we stop and work that shit out.” He sort of wanted to ask who the fuck she’d been playing with in Dallas, but he knew it was none of his business. And he knew that the same things happened all over. People could be horrible; it wasn’t news. It wasn’t unique to kink, either. Dating was a bitch. He sat back and tried to resume his Dom pose. “As a baseline, let’s assume we’re both going to try not to be assholes to each other, all right? And that consent is always the hottest thing.”

She smiled enough to invoke a dimple on one side. “I’ve never been more attracted to you than right now. But at the same time I just realized how low I’m setting my bar? I’m getting it up for basic human decency. I don’t want you to think my standards aren’t higher than that.”

His comfy lounge pants felt a size smaller all of a sudden. “You’re getting what up, exactly? Can I see?”

Mindy giggled, and Logan’s plan to keep things serious started to crumble around the edges. “We haven’t finished having the important talk yet.”

“We can talk with the robe open. Being naked doesn’t keep your mouth from functioning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fiiiiine.” But the way she slipped the knot and parted the thick terry cloth to reveal herself made it obvious she didn’t have a problem with it. “I’m more concerned about how our brains will be functioning, but fine.”

It was a fair point. He hadn’t really expected her to do it, and the sudden sight of taut pink nipples and auburn bush made all the blood rush straight from Logan’s brain to his cock. Not to mention all that skin—smooth, as-yet-unmarked thighs, a blank canvas. Then he started wondering about the back view, and whether she might not have at least a
few
marks there already.
His
marks. Her left breast bore a deep, reddening bruise below the nipple where he’d sunk his teeth into it the day before.

He needed several seconds to breathe before he could remember what they were supposed to be talking about.

Limits. Equipment. Sex.
Right
. “I don’t have that many toys with me right now, but it’s mostly impact stuff. I’ll use either that or my bare hand.” She gave him a thumbs-up, so he continued, trying to ignore how even that small movement made her breasts jiggle enticingly. “Any areas off-limits? Any injuries I should know about?”

“You can touch whatever you want. For impact, my face and my arms are out. I have mostly T-shirts with me, so nothing that’ll leave marks that could show when I’m wearing a T-shirt.”

“Is slapping okay, as long as it’s not on the face?” He tried not to picture what it would feel like to slap the boob with the bruise on it, tried desperately not to imagine the noise she’d make.

Mindy squirmed, shifting her feet from under her. “Yeah. Fine. No humiliation, though, please.” Her voice had gone higher, softer.

The scene hadn’t officially started, but they were clearly in the warm-up. Logan propped one foot on the couch next to her legs. “Got it. Why don’t you take that robe all the way off.” Not an order. But not a question. He wanted to see what she would do with it.

She held up a finger. “Your front door is half glass, and the hall and stairway are in full view of that, where anybody at the door can see if I walk out of this room naked, so . . . no, I’ll wait until we’re upstairs, unless we’re gonna be playing in here the whole time?”

Logan resisted a facepalm. He really
was
thinking with his little head. “Right, right. Sorry. We might start in here, but you can keep the robe on for now. Ah, okay. Restraints? Gag? Blindfold? Any hard limits there?”

“Restraints are great. No gagging, no hoods. No total sensory deprivation or anything that blocks my nose or mouth, but a blindfold ... is fine.” She quirked her lips and squirmed again. Logan made a mental note to get her blindfolded as soon as humanly possible. “No edge play tonight. Sharps, blood, fire, electro, breath play. None of that.”

A double mention for breath play. It was clearly a rock-hard limit; the rest sounded more situational. The petroleum engineer in him wanted to start plotting all this information into a database, and mapping it onto charts. Figuring out the formulas, the variables, the tolerances. “Allergic to anything? Lube ingredients? Latex?
Crap
, I hope you aren’t allergic to latex, I don’t have any polypro . . .”

“Latex is fine. I don’t think I have any allergies. One time I got a rash after this thing with capsaicin cream, but . . .” She shrugged. “Oh yeah, please don’t use capsaicin cream.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” But now he was really curious about where that rash had been located. “Are we forgetting anything?”

Mindy studied the ceiling, poking her tongue into one cheek as she considered. “Uh, probably?”

He edged closer and lifted his other foot to the couch, bracketing her. Giving his balls and half-mast erection some breathing room, mostly, but also just asserting himself. “Do you have a scene name? Would you feel more comfortable with that?” He hoped she’d say no.

Mindy blushed—not a coy blush, a sheepish one. “It’s . . . Ariel. You don’t have to use it.”

“
Ariel?
As in
The Little Mermaid
?” Another piece of his childhood destroyed, but in the best possible way.

“I didn’t think it up myself,” she said defensively. “Two of my kink friends started calling me that and it just stuck.”

“I love it. But I won’t use it if you don’t want me to.”

“Mindy’s fine. Or . . . Melinda, if you want.”

Logan flexed his thighs inward ever so slightly. “You like the scolding thing, don’t you?”

She nodded, holding up a thumb and forefinger a half inch apart. “Little bit. Um, what about protocol? Do you want . . . Logan, or sir, or Master Something, or—uh, am I gonna have to do Gor poses or anything? I kind of suck at that vibe.”

You think?
He tried to picture her kneeling like a perfect submissive
kajira
, serving him tea or cleaning his shoes, and laughed out loud. “Not my jam, either.” It was so
not her
that the idea didn’t even really turn him on. Much.

“Phew. Okay, so . . . ?”

“‘Sir’ if you feel like it. If it’s not working for you, don’t force it.”

“So I’ll skip it,” she suggested, “if it’s gonna feel like ‘
Ladies
.’ Good to know. That’s refreshing.”

It wasn’t going to be a serious, businesslike scene. How had he ever thought it could be? But this could be more dangerous than expected, if they were friendly and informal with each other while they played. Because that dynamic was his favorite. More and more, Mindy was turning out to be a walking collection of his favorite things; he had to work to tell himself that didn’t mean
she
was his favorite.

He caught her shifting her eyes, glancing at his legs on either side of her, a quick look between. She was edgier about the situation than she let on. And it was time to put her directly on edge and keep her there for as long as they could both stand it.

“Okay, then. Last question. What’s your position on brinking?”

“Brinking? It can be hot, I guess?”

“Cool, cool. And you’re good with waiting for permission to come?” When she nodded, he pulled himself as close to the couch as the chair would allow, and reached out to nudge Mindy’s knee. She had scooted off her feet, but her legs were still folded up, her feet peeking out from under the robe to her side. “Open up.”

“Oh, we’re . . . we’re starting?” She looked adorably confused for half a second.

Logan pushed the robe out of the way, slid his hand from her knee to her hip, and gave her a fast, hard swat. “Yes, we’re starting.” He put his hand on her knee again, pushing more firmly. “So open up.”

She lifted her knee, spreading her thighs wide, giving him full access. Her leg trembled a little and he stifled an evil chuckle as he smoothed his hand down her inner thigh to the softest, plumpest part of it, inches from her pussy. When he squeezed there, the movement tugged her skin tight, pulled her pussy wider. Logan heard the soft, wet noise of her cunt lips spreading, just before Mindy breathed in sharply, masking the sound.

He pinched tighter, concentrating his effort on one spot until Mindy gave up a soft whimper. His cock responded to the noise. Mindy seemed to respond to the pain, as well, opening her leg still further and breathing faster.

Patience
. Logan eased his grip, soothing the spot with a stroke of his fingers before trailing them down to Mindy’s cunt. She was flushed, hot, and slick. So ready for his exploring fingers as he traced and spread the delicate folds then ringed her clit a few times with only enough pressure to tease.

When she started to relax into it, he pressed his thumb there more firmly, and used his other hand to attack the pinching spot again. “Don’t move.”

She trembled with the effort as the pain intensified, making a distressed noise in the back of her throat. He wasn’t doing anything major yet, and she still seemed entirely present. No subspace to mess with her perceptions or ease her tension. No transition from warm-up to real pain. It just
hurt
, and she showed that, which made him hard—but he wanted to find out what it did for
her
.