The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (7 page)

She rubbed her wrists, her shyness reminding him of a girl much younger than her age. Good girls usually made him run the other way, so the protective instincts surfacing in him were unexpected. They demanded he shelter Rachel from the world. But she wasn’t his concern.

“She’s backpedaling, Wyatt.”

“I know.” He wasn’t sure what to do next, having never dealt with a woman giving such mixed signals. She’d come hard and fast. It should have been enough to keep her uninhibited for the rest of the night. Rachel was different, as if playing a role she wasn’t meant to play. “I think she needs training and a lot of it.” Why had she come to the Iron Spur Ranch? Was it for a taste of the BDSM lifestyle as Ethan believed, or was she genuinely looking for work? He was beginning to think the latter. She’d come to the wrong place. Or maybe she
could
benefit from a few private lessons. The girl certainly needed to come out of her shell. Wyatt didn’t like her unfounded insecurities. Women with bodies like Rachel’s usually flaunted their goods, knowing their every move made men drool. Not her. She needed a real man to show her just how desirable she was. He imagined it would take some hard convincing, but that was half the fun.

“I–I shouldn’t have come here,” she stammered.

“Didn’t you enjoy yourself, little lamb?” Wyatt could feel the war playing within her. She wanted what they offered but was programmed to refuse anything unconventional. The classic good girl. Or was there more to her than met the eye? Did she have secrets? Most of the staff at the ranch were running away from one thing or the other, finding a sense of family amongst the crew.

“I shouldn’t—”

“Hush,” he said, shifting to his hands and knees. His urge to spread her legs and fuck her flared inside him, testing his restraint. Should he take what he wanted or hold back? He battled a war of his own, one he usually never bothered to fight. “You think too much. Just close your eyes and enjoy the journey. I promise it’ll be the best trip of your life.”

* * * *

Rachel stared at the hulking, dark-haired male hovering over her. She could practically feel the heat radiating off him. If he lowered those impressive biceps a few more inches, they’d be pressed together, chest to chest. She yearned to reach out and touch him, to feel the muscles bunched up around his shoulders or run her hands through his hair. There were so many things she wanted to do, but as always, those desires stayed locked up in her head.

At least she knew she wasn’t abnormal. She’d just reached a peak so high she thought she may never float back down to reality. But knowing what her body was capable of was dangerous information. It made her feel reliant on these two men to bring her the same satisfaction over and over again. One sample and she was addicted. How could she return to a life of celibacy now?

Still, she was certain this one a one-time deal, whether she liked it or not. Men of Ethan’s and Wyatt’s caliber didn’t settle for anything less than perfection. So it was best to forget about orgasms and dreamy men and focus on why she’d come to the ranch in the first place. She had to start over, reinvent herself. To contemplate jumping back into something with little stability was a stupid move on her part, fuelled by insecurities and a desperate need for love and attention. The cowboys cast some sort of spell on her, making the world disappear, along with its consequences.

Wyatt leaned down and tongued the shell of her ear, the echo of his breath soothing her as it canceled out all other sound. “You need to stop hiding yourself from me, sweet thing. If I say I want to see it all, you need to obey.”

Obey?
Why did the word turn her on rather than aggravate her? Comparing him to Jason was like apples to oranges. Wyatt attempted to peel her arms away from her chest and succeeded. Once she was exposed, he lowered his weight over her, keeping the majority propped on his forearms. He continued to kiss and nip her ear and the side of her neck, the intimacy making her spineless. Somehow Wyatt hit every erogenous zone, including ones she never knew existed. The pleasure lulled her back into submission, her tense muscles starting to unfold.

“Good girl,” he praised. His words fueled her, as if they had the power to sustain her longer than food and water. “But too shy.”

She glanced to the side of the bed. Ethan had completely undressed and now stood stroking his cock. It was huge and thick, a hard length of darkened flesh. He was so much larger than Jason, and the sight both intimidated and fascinated her. Did she dare to let him fuck her? Both of them?

“I think it’s cute,” said Ethan, joining them on the bed. “I’m tired of loud-mouthed cowgirls.” She briefly felt his erection graze the side of her leg. Her pussy instantly flooded with warmth, the liquid heat leaking down the inside of her leg. How many times could she become aroused in one night? Her energy was returning as if she hadn’t just had the orgasm of a lifetime.

“I’ll rid you of this shyness soon enough. But not tonight,” said Wyatt. He kissed her temple one time and then pulled off her body, the mattress rocking as he moved. “Let her have the blanket.”

Ethan looked as confused as she felt. She was certain Wyatt was only after one thing, so why back down in the heat of the moment? Rachel hadn’t said no. Was she that repulsive that he couldn’t even go through with fucking her? She felt like a prized heifer under an array of spotlights. All Rachel wanted to do was coil into herself and become invisible.
This is my fault.

The cool descent of a sheet snapped her out of her dark thoughts. Ethan had covered her, and she was alone on the bed. “You best get some sleep. Work starts at first light around here.”

Yeah, like I’ll be able to sleep with the two of you feet away.

She’d just have to suck up her pride. She was used to men looking the other way and not paying her notice, so why did she care so much now? This was the first time she’d had a sexual experience outside of her long-term relationship with Jason, plus she was sinfully attracted to the two cowboys. It made perfect sense that she’d feel disappointed they were no longer interested. Or had she actually fallen for their charms and believed they were both genuinely attracted to her? For a twenty-eight-year-old woman she was more delusional than a psych-ward patient. Love took years to evolve, not hours or days.

The lights went out. Rachel rolled to her side and secured the cool sheet around her body. It smelled masculine, like rich, spicy cologne. The scent surrounded her just as the men had not long ago. Now she was alone and achy.

She wanted to go home, but where was home? She was too old to crawl back to her mother, and running back to Jason stopped being an option the moment she had decided enough was enough.

“Psst…” The bed creaked above her as Wyatt shifted on the upper bunk. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll make sure to recommend you to Damien.”

At least he wanted her around, which was more than she expected at this point. Ethan was likely more suspicious of her qualifications as he’d seen her perform firsthand. If she failed miserably on the roundup tomorrow, she may be heading back to the city sooner than she thought.

The trailer was so dark and quiet, the drone of crickets outside the only sound reminding her she was somewhere other than her apartment. This was the first night she’d slept elsewhere since moving in with Jason. It was scary, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. Why did she continually worry about his feelings after what he’d put her through? It was time to worry about her happiness, her future. A tear slipped down her cheek. She needed stability like a boat needed an anchor. Part of her felt dirty for what she’d just done with Ethan and Wyatt, but another part was excited for what tomorrow would bring. She was so confused, not sure what she was supposed to feel after being programmed for so long. Rachel had been told what to like, what to feel, and what to do for years. She felt like an empty shell with no substance, afraid to make a choice for herself.

Starting over would be so much easier if she was thin and attractive. There weren’t any fairy tales where the white knight whisked away the ugly duckling with fifty extra pounds. It was always the princess or the beauty. Where did that leave women like her?

She fell asleep, the sound of rhythmic breathing above her a comfort in the void.

* * * *

“There ain’t nothing to worry about,” said Wyatt. He led her across the large yard between buildings, gravel crunching under his boots. Trucks were parked along one side and a fleet of horse trailers were stored in the distance.

The morning air was fresh and smelled like sweet barley. Morning dew darkened the edges of her shoes. There wasn’t a lot of activity as the sun had just risen on the horizon, casting a warm glow on the property. She couldn’t remember waking up so early in a long time. Rachel trudged behind Wyatt, still groggy and wearing the same clothes as the day before. She hadn’t even asked about her suitcase, too dazed to think clearly.

Damien Holt’s name was spoken with a sort of reverence by the cowboys, but she could tell he wasn’t the most amiable boss. What if he decided to set her loose? She didn’t have a backup plan. She was going purely on faith.

“Cat got your tongue?” Wyatt turned and leaned his back against the wall when they reached the large manor. The door beside him appeared ominous, the oversized arch elaborately carved with rearing stallions. It would lead her to a fate she wasn’t certain of.

“A bit nervous, I suppose.”

He looked so handsome with the early morning light making the flecks of gold in his green eyes stand out. He must have showered before he woke her because his dark hair was damp and haphazardly brushed back off his face.

“He’ll be worried about your qualifications. Maybe that you’re a woman, too.”

Great.
He continued to stare at her. She didn’t know where to stick her hands, so began to fiddle with a lock of her hair. Wyatt’s thumbs were locked in his front pockets, bringing his jeans down too low to be holy. If it weren’t for his white T-shirt, she imagined she’d be able to spy a dark trail of hair leading lower. Remembering everything that had taken place last night made her stomach cramp. Was he thinking about that right now? Why hadn’t he mentioned anything? It was as if nothing had happened. She was more confused than ever.

He pushed off from the wall, suddenly gaining a few inches when he stood up straight. Wyatt entered through the ornate doorway without knocking. She followed behind him.

“Is this his house?”

“Yes, ma’am. He lives on-site. The ranch has been in his family for generations.”

The wooden floors creaked as they walked. All the wood was stained a deep mahogany and the lighting was minimal in the hallway. The wainscoting covered half the walls and the upper section was painted a dark plum color. It was big and empty. Lonely.

Wyatt stopped in front of double doors with stained-glass inserts. She couldn’t see anything through them besides the cast of light from a lone lamp to the right of the room.

“Don’t look too happy. He’s not exactly playful.”

Are you kidding me?
If he wanted solemn, she’d pass with flying colors. Rachel was used to putting on a poker face when she wasn’t sure what mood Jason was in one day to the next. If he was angry for something, he was likely to slap her if he thought she was mocking him with a smile. If he was happy, he’d cuss at her for appearing depressed and ruining his good mood. She was so tired of walking on eggshells, her nerves exposed and vulnerable. Miles from home, she was reliving the same scenario now.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in.” The voice that came from within had a deep baritone. She clenched her fists and followed behind Wyatt.

“Mornin’. This is Rachel Price. She’s applying for one of the handler positions.”

Damien wasn’t what she’d envisioned as she played this moment over and over in her head. She’d pictured a much older man with mostly gray hair and a weathered face. He’d be sitting at a fancy desk in a pin-stripe suit, possibly smoking a cigar. Her imagination was usually quite vivid, especially when playing out her X-rated fantasies.

This man, the owner of a billion-dollar equine empire, was very easy on the eyes. He had pitch-black hair and eyes as dark. Instead of a suit, he wore a navy T-shirt over a white long-sleeved shirt. He looked like he was one of the workers, not the owner. He had a strong jaw and narrowed eyes, no hint of expression.

“She qualified?”

“A regular handler. Ethan started showing her the ropes last night. If you give her the all clear, he’d like to take her on the roundup for those Arabians.”

Damien stared at her, first raking his eyes up and down her body as if judging every inch of flesh, her clothes, and maybe what was beneath. Then he focused on her face. He had the most intimidating gaze, the kind that made her want to jump hoops just to avoid it.

Wyatt continued. “I’m sure Bella would love another woman on staff.”

“
Isabella
,” Damien corrected, not at all impressed.

He threw up his hands and clapped them. “Right. Keep forgetting.”

Damien shifted in his leather seat, rolling a pen back and forth atop his massive oak desk. “Tell me, Ms. Price, do you think you can handle the job?”

“I love horses.”

You fucking idiot.
Had she really just said that? She might as well turn around and start hitching a ride back to the city.

“That’s a good start,” he said, surprising her. “Wyatt, you said she arrived yesterday?”

“I know you don’t like to be disturbed after dinner hour. I thought it best to bed her for the night and introduce you at first light.”

Damien cocked a brow, looking to each of them with a suspicious glance. “You show her the private stable?”

“No, sir. She’s looking for work, is all.”

The owner nodded thoughtfully, now tapping the pen against his full lips. Her stomach cramped uncomfortably as her nerves took control.