Chapter Five
Cole is humming as he drives. We drove through a storm that dropped the temperature, so he’s opened the windows. The breeze blows through my hair as I nurse a bottle of grape soda he got for me about an hour after we left his folks’ ranch. I spent the first half hour of the trip fretting about his mother coming home to find the bed an obvious mess. Would she recognize the dried stain on the Crate & Barrel blanket for what it was? Then I decide it won’t matter. By the time the Pattersons come home, the week will be over and I’ll be out of their son’s life forever.
I’ve given myself a silent talking to as we speed toward Dallas. Winona has always said men think with their dicks, but I’ve decided men aren’t the only ones susceptible to being ruled by what’s between their legs. Sex with Cole is like a drug, and the key to surviving these next five days without succumbing to some unrealistic expectation of ‘us’ is to get as clean and sober as I can in between trysts. Nothing has changed. My daddy is in prison for what he did to Cole’s daddy. Cole’s parents will always hate me. For all his charm, Cole is still an arrogant man convinced he can get anything he wants. And then there’s the awful scenario Winona suggested, which is that this whole thing is a setup not to break me, but to break my heart.
“Need another one?” He’s looking over at my half-empty soda bottle sitting between my thighs. I glance down, flashing back to how I used wet gas station bathroom towels to clean away the dried cum from between them while he was purchasing snacks and drinks.
“I’m fine,” I say. I look out the window. We’re passing a bison ranch. The huge animals are lumbering around in the heat. I focus on one large bull kicking up a cloud of dust with his hoof.
“You sure?” he asks.
I turn to him. “Cole,” I say. “Can we stop pretending that this is normal?”
He doesn’t say anything, but his hands tighten on the wheel, and I can’t be sure but it looks like maybe the comment has hurt his feelings. I want to feel sorry for him, but I can’t. He needs a reminder that this is all exactly what I’m telling myself it is. A construct. A gamble he won’t win no matter what his motive.
“So tell me about this horse your daddy wants,” I say, changing the subject. “It must be pretty special if he’s sending you to check it out.”
“It’s a futurity horse,” he says. “Off of that Cowboy Dan line.”
I’m momentarily speechless. “You’re kidding,” I say. “That’s like… the top barrel racing line ever.”
“Yeah, he plans to get the daughter of one of his friends to ride her when she comes home from school.”
I try to ask the next question casually. “Will she be riding locally?”
“Knowing how my dad likes to win everywhere, probably,” he says. “But mostly he’ll focus on the futurities.”
I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is that I am about to get a look at the horse that’ll kill my chances of ever winning the local rodeo again. On a good day we could beat the horse that won two nights ago. But a Cowboy Dan horse? I might as well just put old Deacon out to pasture.
“And why are you taking me along?” I ask.
“Well, for one thing, I own you for a week. And for another thing, I want to see this horse in action. I want to see him run a pattern under a good rider.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Cole wants me to ride the horse his father is planning to buy? I’d laugh out loud if the irony weren’t so painful.
“And you know horses, too. You can have a look and see that she’s sound.”
I smirk at this. “For the kind of money your dad’s probably dropping on his horse, you’ll want more than the word of a vet tech, Cole. You’re going to want x-rays, a flexion test… the hooves checked…”
“You’re wasted as a vet tech, Gina,” he says. “You ought to be a vet.”
“You’re right, Cole,” I say. “I don’t know why I never thought of that. When we get back, I’ll just quit my job and pull out the two hundred grand it’ll cost to send myself to vet school. I’m thinking UC Davis. What do you think?”
He scowls at my sarcasm. “I meant what I said as a compliment.”
“And I meant what I said as a reality check. Not all of us can be trust fund cowboys, Cole. Not all of us have options. Count yourself fortunate that your daddy wasn’t a con man whose decisions left you stuck in a small town.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he says. “You can always find someone to run away with.”
“Right, because that’s what every little girl should aspire to—trusting a man to save her after the man she trusted to raise her ruined her life.” I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’ll save myself, Cole. It might take me longer, but at least I won’t be answering to somebody else.”
“And what’s so bad about that?” He’s pressing me on the matter, and now I’m pissed.
“Is that the life you want?” I ask. “If it was, you’d be back there running your daddy’s ranch instead of riding broncos. You charted your own course, Cole, and while you didn’t do it with your dad’s blessing, we both know you did it with his money.”
“Is that why you resent me so much?” he asks.
“I don’t resent you. I just…” But my voice trails off. Why do I resent him? I remind myself that guys like Cole often feel entitled, even if they don’t realize it. But it’s more than that. It’s so much more complicated.
“What?” he presses.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, and take another sip of my grape soda. I hold my breath, waiting for him to persist, but Cole’s gone quiet. He leans over and flips on the radio and now Taylor Swift is singing a song about a woman being saved by a man on a white horse.
Fuck you, Taylor. That only works in fairy tales.
About a hundred country songs later, we finally reach the farm, and it’s as close to perfect as a horse operation can be. I’ve given up my plan to look aloof. I’m like a little girl sitting forward in the seat of Cole’s Mustang as my eyes drink in the immaculate, cross-fenced paddocks, huge covered arena, professional hot-walker, and looming barn.
A barn manager greets us as we pull up, and it’s clear that he knows Cole. He introduces himself as Jacob West, and I shake a hand that feels too plump and soft to be that of a horseman, but soon enough I realize that West isn’t a hands-on manager, but more of an overseer-slash-stockman whose specialty is in breeding and pedigrees.
He leads us into the barn and I inhale deeply, breathing in the familiar smell of horses and hay and leather. Even the barn aisle is pristine; there’s not even a piece of straw on the stone floor. The stalls themselves are huge, and the name plates read like a Who’s Who of famous quarter horse bloodlines. I walk ahead, stopping here and there to look in the stall when I recognize a famous name.
“You know stock?” Jacob asks.
“I’ve studied it,” I say. “I work for a large animal practice over in Fort Stockton.”
“She’s a barrel racer,” Cole interjects, “and a good little horse woman. I brought her to try out the horse my father called you about.”
“Yeah, Lex. She’s down here.”
“A mare?” I don’t know why I expected a gelding. Most riders prefer them for competition, but Jacob is explaining that this mare shows excellent potential, not just for barrel racing, but as foundation stock for the breeding program Richard Patterson obviously wants to build.
He stops in front of a stall and when I look in, my heart twists in my chest. She’s the most beautiful animal I’ve ever seen. Her mahogany coat shines with good health, and when she moves, her perfect musculature makes her look like an art sculpture come to life. She walks over and sticks her nose up to the bars of the stall door. I put my hand up and she nuzzles it.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Jacob says, reaching for a halter on the hook by the door. “Lex doesn’t take a shine to just anybody. She’s kind of reserved.”
As if to affirm the barn manager’s words, she turns her broad backside to him when he walks in, but he just scolds her and walks around to place the leather halter on her head. Cole opens the door and steps back, and I watch in awe as he leads her out. She’s perfectly balanced, and has four white socks and a blaze. A ride with flash. I can’t wait to tell Winona about her when I get home.
“You said your girl’s going to ride her?” Jacob asks, and looks over at me, and I realize with disappointment that I’m wearing a dress. Then I remember my jeans and shirt are in his suitcase.
“I can change,” I say hastily. I look up at Cole. “The suitcase is still in the car, right?”
“Yup,” he says. “I’ll fetch your clothes. You can keep Jacob company.”
He walks away and I turn back to Jacob, who’s put Lex in cross ties. He hands me a brush and I run it over her sleek flank, not that she needs it. There’s not a speck of dust on this animal.
“So how does it feel to date a famous cowboy?” Jacob asks.
The question takes me by surprise. “Oh, we’re not dating.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Your clothes are in his suitcase and you’re not dating?” He grins.
“I… we…”
“It’s complicated?”
“Yeah. It’s complicated.”
“I’ve known his daddy for a long time. He’s never once bragged about Cole. If that was my kid, I’d be telling everybody.”
This reinforces what I’ve suspected, but I don’t say anything. I’m just glad that it’s not my daddy who’s the topic for a change.
“He’s got more money than God, though. This mare will put his rider at the top of her game. You’re a lucky girl.”
I smile wistfully. “Oh, I’m just riding her for Cole today. He’s got somebody else in mind to show her.”
Cole comes back down the aisle carrying my clothes in a bundle. Jacob points to a bathroom where I can change. When I enter, I can’t help but laugh. It looks like something you’d find in a fancy restaurant, with a sitting area and granite countertops. I change in one of the stalls and when I come back out, Lex is looking magnificent in a thousand-dollar saddle with silver conchos and matching bridle. If getting fucked by Cole fills me with excitement, this ride is going to be a close second.
Jacob and Cole are talking about futurities and breeding as we head out to the covered arena. The surface has just been dragged. It’s a flat sea of soft dirt, and the barrels are already set up in the pattern. Lex’s ears pitch forward when she sees them, and I’m reminded of Deacon. This is a horse that likes what she does.
“You ready to cowgirl up?” Jacob turns to me and smiles.
I nod, and realize I probably look like a nine-year-old with my wide, expectant grin. Cole is smiling as he gives me a leg up. This is a big horse, easily a hand taller than my 15.3-hand gelding. I stare between the mare’s perked ears at the open arena.
“Go,” Jacob says, and the mare takes off.
God, she is fast. And she doesn’t only know the pattern, but how to use the space around and between the barrels perfectly. I can barely breathe for the sheer pleasure of riding the best-trained horse of my life. Nothing against Deacon, but this horse doesn’t even need to be steered. I help, of course, by leaning into the turns. We work as a team, and she responds to the lightest aid. She rounds the second barrel and my knee rubs it all the way around; it’s the closest shave she can get without knocking it off balance. We head to the third one and she’s flattened herself out, but as we get to the final barrel, Lex collects herself and makes a ‘C’ of her perfect, muscular body. And in the straightaway she flies. I’m ecstatic, but sad as she crosses the finish line. This was the best ride of my life.
“So, what do you think?” Cole’s voice floats to me as I haul her to a stop. The mare turns, drops her head, and jogs over.
“She’s amazing,” I say.
“Put her through her paces around the ring,” Jacob says. “She’ll go pleasure, too.”
I’m even more impressed, but put the mare on the rail, allowing her to continue her jog. With the slightest pressure of my seat, she drops to a walk, and then goes into an easy lope when I ask for it.
I wait for the men to call me over, deciding not to end my ride until I’m told to. They’re both watching and talking. Finally, Jacob gestures for me to return. We ride out of the arena and back into the barn, where I dismount and lead Lex to a large wash stall. There’s a groom waiting, but when I ask Jacob if I can bathe her, he says he’s fine with that.
As I wash her down, I check out her legs, looking for any abnormalities. I pick up her feet. They’re perfect. I know this horse will vet sound. Richard Patterson is getting the perfect horse. I try not to feel resentful.
“You two are going to do well together,” Jacob says to me. “Cole, your daddy really oughta hire this girl to ride her.”
I glance over at Cole, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t think that’s going happen,” I say, unclipping the cross ties from the mare’s halter now that her bath is finished and picking up the lead rope. “Like I said, he’s got somebody else in mind.”
“Well, if you want my opinion, he needs to reconsider,” Jacob says. “Lex is a good horse, but she was the best today that I’ve ever seen her. And that was because of her rider.”
I pat the mare’s neck. “Thanks,” I say. “But I think this is the last we’ll be seeing of each other.” I almost want to cry as I say it. And I feel stupid. I’m a grown woman. I can’t go feeling sad over something I can’t have. I might as well be getting emotional over a Lamborghini.
I ask if I can take the mare back to her stall and Jacob says that’s fine. He says there’s a bucket with treats by the tack room, and I can give her two, but no more. Lex follows me on a loose lead past the other horses. She knows when we get to the tack room and whickers at the small bucket by the door.
“Is this what you want?” I reach in and pull out two apple-scented squares. Lex’s eye is soft as she snakes out her neck toward my hand. I try to imagine her in Richard Patterson’s keeping, being ridden by some spoiled college student who won’t appreciate her like I do. I know it’s petty and stupid, but it makes me so angry. It feels unfair. But life isn’t fair, and I’m acting like a stupid baby.
I take her back to the stall, walk her in, and remove her halter. I stand there for a moment, enjoying my last look at this perfect animal.
I hear Cole tell Jacob his father will be in touch to finalize the deal by the first of the week. I wince at the gentleman’s handshake that seals Richard Patterson’s claim to Lex. I’m almost glad to leave the barn. The sooner we’re away, the sooner I can put what I can’t have out of my mind and work on convincing Cole of that same lesson.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m about sick of this hot weather,” he says. “Seeing you ride that horse got me all worked up, but this heat is going to make it hard for me to perform up to your expectations.”
I roll my eyes. Even if he’s joking, I’m not in the mood. He ignores my expression as he turns on the car’s AC. He’s drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as if in thought.
“I know,” he finally says. “How about we go to Lake Clements. There’s some nice cabins up there.”
“Or you could take me home,” I say.
“Yeah, the lake sounds good.” He pulls the car out onto the highway, but takes the exit before the lake.
“You need a swimsuit,” he says, heading toward a shopping mall.
“I’ve got a swimsuit at home,” I say. “I don’t need to buy a new one. We can just…”
“You aren’t buying anything, Gina Louise. I’m buying it for you.”
“Cole…”
“I like dressing you. And you have to…”
“…do what you say.” I finish for him. “I know. But you’ve already spent enough with the dress and the nightie.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think about a swimsuit.” He’s pulled into a slot near one of the anchor stores. Ten minutes later we’re in a shop sporting rows and rows of suits. I follow sullenly behind as he selects several from the racks, turning to hold them up to me. “This one goes nice with your eyes,” he says of one. “This one will look so hot on that tight little body,” he says of another.
“You lucky, lucky girl.” The saleslady is fixing me with undisguised envy. “If you only knew how many women would give their eyeteeth to have that kind of attention from their man.”
“Well, she’s my sweet little sugar plum,” Cole says, pulling me to him. “I was just saying this morning… I said, ‘Honey buns, nothing makes me happier than seeing a woman shopping.’”
“Do you have a brother?” The saleswoman is making googly eyes at Cole.
“No, but he’s available,” I finally say, and she looks at me in shock.
“Damn,” she says. “If he’s treating you like this before you’re dating, how good is he going to be once it’s official.”
I take the suits. “We’ll never know.” I turn to Cole. “I think three is enough to choose from.”
“You’re modeling them for me,” he yells through the door. And I do just that, coming out in each suit. There are a whole group of girls now, all eating their hearts out as Cole, who’s in a chair one brought for him, sits like a king holding court. He has me parade back and forth and turn on command. He assesses my breasts and ass in each one, making lewd little comments that have the spectators giggling and reminding me—again—how lucky I am. He cements his reputation as The Best Boyfriend Ever by buying all three suits, along with a cute wrap and a pair of flip-flops I don’t ask for.
I’m fuming on the way back to the car.
“You could say thanks,” he says.
“For what? Being your prop? Face it, Cole. This is as much about making you look good as it is making me feel good.”
“No, it ain’t.” He tosses the bags in the back of the car. “I like doing things for you, Gina Louise. You just don’t know what’s good for you. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll pick up some groceries and you can cook me dinner to make up for it.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Cole wants to secure our cabin first, though, so we head to the lake and he rents one that is way too large for two people. It’s built like a chalet, with a glass front and a balcony overlooking the lake. There’s a gourmet market by the lake and this time Cole lets me sit in the car while he selects ingredients for dinner—free-range chicken, corn, salad fixings, and a fresh-baked rhubarb pie. I’m glad to get back to the cabin and cook. The kitchen is fully stocked and I put the chicken on to bake and the corn on to boil before going out to the porch, where Cole is carving a piece of wood.
“You whittle?” I sound surprised because I am.
“Yep. I’m making this for you.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise.” When I try to look, he turns, shielding his work with his body.
“Fine,” I say. I sit down in the rocking chair. It’s getting late and the trees are casting long shadows. The lake is flat and smooth as a piece of glass.
“So, you in love with me yet?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s joking.
“Sure,” I say. “Let’s get married and have six kids.” I make sure my tone leaves no mistake that I’m joking. “You can take them over to your mom and dad’s to visit every Saturday since I won’t be welcome, and on Sunday I can take them to prison to see their other grandpa.”
“Why do you keep bringing that up, Gina Louise?”
“Because it matters, Cole. We’re from different worlds, and if anything, the last two days have done nothing but reaffirm that, whether it’s seeing your fancy house or watching you buy me clothes without looking at the price tag or trying out a fancy horse for your daddy. I’m just another thing that’s supposed to come easy to you. If you’re in love with anything, it’s the idea of knowing you can have me. But if you had me, you’d realize real quick that it’s not worth the headache.”
He starts to say something, but I don’t wait. Instead, I go back in and check on the dinner. The chicken fillets are done. I brush them with some mesquite sauce and drain the tender white corn and then throw together a colorful salad. Cole comments that we should have remembered biscuits, since no dinner is complete without them. I tell him he’ll survive.
We eat dinner on the porch as the sun sets. Afterwards I announce that I’m going to take a bath, so I head upstairs. I lock the door of the master bath and am pleased when Cole gives me my privacy. There’s a window by the tub and I look out over the lake as I bathe. The sun is dipping behind the horizon and now the lake looks like molten glass.
I’m sleepy after my bath, but that’s not surprising. Then I realize that I didn’t retrieve my clothes and will have to ask Cole to bring up the suitcase. I wrap a towel around myself and walk out of the room. I hear his voice and stop. He’s on the phone. I start to duck back inside, but find myself stopping.
“I don’t see what it matters.” His voice is low. “It’s just a few more days. After that the score will be settled and I can cut ties.” There’s a pause and I see him turn around. I duck back into the shadows. Did he see me? I don’t think he did. “Listen. I’ve got to go. Just don’t worry about it, okay? And don’t worry that this is going to hurt my feelings. It’s been a long time coming.”
I turn and go back into the bathroom. I feel sick to my stomach. Winona was right. This is nothing more than a game. He doesn’t care about me. I was right to hate him. So why do I feel like I’m about to cry? I sink down onto the cool tile floor.
After a moment the door opens. Damn it. I forgot to lock it.
“You all right?”
I move away from him as he enters. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” He kneels down and reaches out.
I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
“What’s…” I know what he’s starting to ask, then he stops. “You were listening to my phone call.”
I eye him accusingly. “I’m not a fucking score to settle.”
“That wasn’t about you.”
“Fuck you, Cole.” I stand up. “I’m not playing this game.”
He reaches out and grabs my arm. “This is not a game,” he says, and his eyes are full of hurt and anger. But why? If anyone should be hurt, it’s me.
“Winona warned me,” I say.
“Warned you? About what?”
“She said this…” I wave my hand around. “All this is nothing but you setting me up to reject me for rejecting you.”
He steps back. “Well, I’ll say this for Winona. She’s giving me a hell of a lot of credit. Even if I was that kind of creative mastermind, my ego’s not big enough to motivate me to leave my place in San Antonio and give up two rodeo rides—and two big purses—just to torture the woman I want to be with.”
“So you didn’t plan this?”
“Did I plan making one last play for you?” He nods. “Yeah. I hadn’t been able to think of anything else since you dumped me, sugar. I feel like I had nothing to lose. But you aren’t the only reason I came back home.”
“So what’s the other reason?”
“It’s personal,” he says. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
I don’t know what to believe. “Why not?”
He sighs heavily. “Because this time with you is the only bright spot in my coming back.”
I’m angry with myself. I’ve told myself I was in control of my emotions—in control of the situation. But three minutes ago when I thought Winona was right, I was crushed, and now that he’s telling me I misunderstood, I’m feeling happy again. This is not how I’m supposed to be handling things two days into this.
And then there’s the possibility that even this is an act. I look up at him.
“I need some clothes,” I say.
“You sure?” He holds out his hand. “I like you better naked.”
“We’re back to that, are we?” I ask.
“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, we still have a deal. You’re in training, remember? And at week’s end, if you walk away from me, you’ll see how wrong Winona was because then I’ll be the one whose heart is broken. But for now…” He walks over and tips my chin up until I have to look into his eyes. “I’m still in control.”
It amazes me how he can move from boyish to dominant so smoothly. He pulls my towel away. I don’t stop him.
“So what now?” I ask.
“I could punish you for making assumptions about what you heard…”
“No,” I say, and I hear the fear in my own voice. “I don’t want you to spank me.”
“I don’t believe that,” he says with a slow grin. “You don’t want a punishment spanking. That don’t mean you don’t want me to spank you.”
I cry out in surprise as he picks me up. He carries me out of the bathroom and over to the bed, where he sits down and drapes me over his knee. His jeans are rough under my thighs. The juxtaposition of being totally nude while he remains clothed makes me feel vulnerable. Submission swells through me, unbidden. It softens me, inviting whatever he has in mind. I’ve never, ever felt like this with any other man. What magic does this cowboy work on me that no other has come close?
“Good girls don’t eavesdrop,” he says. His tone is mock stern as his large hand roams the surface of my bottom, stopping every so often to squeeze. “Bad girls do. And a good man will make sure they pay the price.”
“And what’s the price?” I ask. I already know, but I want to hear him say it. My pussy clenches in expectation of his answer.
“The price is a sore bottom, inside and out.”
Okay, so the outside part I was expecting. But inside? I’m wondering what he means by that when he starts to spank me. The slaps are just hard enough to tingle and sting, just hard enough to make me squirm.
“Bad, bad little cowgirl,” he says, smacking me smartly on the lower portion of my right cheek before cupping and squeezing it in his hand. As he does, he snakes a finger down to brush my pussy and I arch into the sensation.
“Ah-ah,” he scolds. “You keep that belly flat on my knees. Don’t be so eager.”
I groan in frustration, and the steady slaps and dirty talk only deepen my desire. He stops every so often to just brush my pussy with his finger. I keep my belly flat against his hard thighs, but I wantonly spread my legs, showing him what’s his for the taking. But he teases me with random touches as he describes how red my ass is getting.
The heat scorching my bottom cheeks is painful, but because it seems to have spread to the throbbing, greedy place between my thighs, it’s a delicious kind of hurt that has me all but crying for him to fuck me.
“Girl, you’re dripping,” he says. “You’re getting my jeans wet. That’s a bad pussy.”
“Please, Cole…” I’m whining as I look back at him.
“Not yet.” He shifts and I see him reach for something in his pocket. It’s shaped like a teardrop, but it has a wide, flat handle on the top, like a flange.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He grins broadly. “This, Gina Louise,” he says, “is a butt plug. I carved it myself and sanded it so it’s nice and smooth. And now I’m going to stick it in that tight little ass of yours.”
The announcement has me clenching my cheeks. “You can’t stick that in my butt!” I try to wriggle off his lap, but he catches me around the waist. “It’ll hurt!”
“Yeah, but it’ll hurt good.” He shifts his body so my upper torso comes off the bed and I’m forced to plant my hands on the floor. I’m literally ass-up over his lap and have to crane my neck to see what Cole is doing. A jolt of sexual electricity sizzles through my body as he slides the tip of the wooden plug up my slit, before sticking it past my slickened folds. He twirls it around, coating it with my honey. He moves it back and forth, and my hips follow the motion as my apprehension goes to war with my wanton desire for him to ease the hunger in my core.
“I’m going to fuck this sweet ass before the week is out,” he says. “But I want you to be ready. That’s why I made this little trainer.” As Cole talks, he pushes the rounded tip against my bottom hole. I wriggle under the pressure. My body knows this is taboo, and clenches tight against the invasion. Cole tells me to relax, tells me it’s going to feel so good, that he can’t wait to fill my ass and my pussy with his cock. It feels so dirty, what he’s doing to me. I’m flushed and sweaty even though the AC is blowing cold air through the room. He’s insistent, and I feel a stinging sensation as the slickened end of the plug breaches my resisting ring of muscles and begins to slide inside me.
“Ow-ow-ow!” The sting worsens as the plug widens toward the base, but even as I bite my lip against this unfamiliar hurt, my pussy is quivering with the desire to be filled, too.
“You’re doing good for a bad girl,” Cole says, and there’s one more burning sting before it recedes and I’m left only with an aching fullness in my bottom. I can feel the round flange spreading my cheeks apart where it’s pressed tight against my asshole. It doesn’t hurt, but I feel oddly full.
Cole lifts my upper body onto the bed and stands up. He positions me on all fours, and tells me to put my chest down to the mattress. He’s standing behind me.
“Damn, that’s purty,” he says. He’s looking at my ass, and I flush at the compliment. “Seeing those cheeks spread like that, seeing that ass plugged and that wet pussy just below?” He starts to unbuckle his belt. “I hope you’re ready, you bad little girl.”
Oh, I’m ready all right. And he’s right. I’m bad. Who other than a bad, dirty girl would be on the verge of begging for a hard cock to fill her pussy while her ass is plugged with a hand-carved wooden plug?
But I don’t have to beg. I moan loudly as I feel him slip into me. It’s the most amazing sensation. I can feel the plug as my pussy throbs around the invading cock. I feel so full, so completely claimed by him. Cole is pushing into me with hard, steady thrusts, nearly withdrawing each time before ramming into me again. As I start to come, he twists the plug as he pushes tight into me. I feel as if my entire core is clenching, and I cry out.
“You’re going to wear that plug all night,” he says. “You’re going to feel it inside of you with every motion. And every time you do, I want you to think about what it means.”
“And what does it mean?” I ask.
“That you’re mine,” he says. “No matter what, you’re fucking mine…”
This time, I have a hard time telling myself otherwise.