Man Candy by Tia Siren (59)

CHAPTER ONE: Miranda Carson

 

I hated my life.

Okay, hate was probably too strong of a word to use, because my life was not all horrible all the time. It was just mostly horrible most of the time. So maybe I should just say I hated parts of my life at different times. And this moment was one of those times when I pretty much hated everything all at once.

And I blamed it all on my dad. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be in the spot I’m in today. My life would be a hundred and ten percent different. Then again, I probably wouldn’t be the person I am today, but honestly, I didn’t think that would be such a bad thing. I was certainly nobody’s idea of a prize.

Please don’t get the wrong idea about my relationship with my dad. He was never anything but kind to me. The truth is, I loved my father, more than anything. I still do. He was a great guy, the best dad a girl could ever ask for. He worked hard to support his family, taking as much overtime and as many weekend shifts he could get working as an oil driller in our hometown of Fort Worth, Texas. Even though he worked his ass off to keep us fed, he never missed a dance recital or a softball game or a school play.

We remained close even after he got married again two years after my mom died of cancer. And the fact that he married Mom’s best friend, Helen Anderson, didn’t bother me a bit. Helen was great. I loved her. She had been like a second mom to me all my life. If Mom could have picked Dad’s next wife, she would have picked Helen.

Okay, maybe Dad getting remarried bothered me a little. Not because it was Helen, but because I had always been daddy’s little girl and having to share him with a woman other than my mom just took a little getting used to.

Hey, give me a break. I was just eighteen years old when they got married, and I was your typical, selfish teenage girl. It was bad enough that I had to share my dad with my younger brother, Scotty, who was thirteen at the time. I understand it now, but at the time it was just hard for me, watching him open his heart to share all that love with someone other than me.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Helen, who was nearly forty-five at the time, got pregnant a year after they married and gave birth to TWINS!

Can you imagine that, at her age? Twin boys named James and Josh. Thank god I was heading off to college by then, so I didn’t have to put up with two screaming babies in the house like Scotty did. He says it was pure torture.

They turned my old room into a nursery and all seemed right with the world for a while. I’d never seen Dad so happy, and I had to admit, those had been some pretty cute babies. They still were.

Then, when the twins were two and Scotty was fifteen, Dad and Helen were killed by a drunk driver on the way home from a cookout at Helen’s sister’s house in Lakeview.

They were less than a mile from home when the guy veered into their lane and hit them head on. Scotty and the babies were in the backseat asleep and somehow walked away without a scratch. Scotty says he doesn’t even remember the crash. He just remembers waking up and seeing blue and red flashing lights and wondering why the babies were crying. They say our brain blocks out the most traumatic moments of our lives to keep us sane. For Scotty’s sake, I pray that’s true.

A few days later, we buried my dad and Helen. I had to drop out of college without finishing my degree to take care of Scotty and the twins. I came home just two semesters away from earning my physical therapy degree. All I had to show from three years of college was a grungy Texas A&M sweatshirt and a shit-ton of student loans that I didn’t know how I’d ever pay back.

At the ripe young age of twenty-two, I became the legal guardian to two-year-old twins and a fifteen-year-old boy who was pissed at the world because it had taken his father from him. We had to sell the house at a loss and move into a tiny apartment, because on my paycheck as a waitress at Red Lobster, it’s all we could afford. The place was a shithole, but it beat living in a cardboard box by the railroad tracks. Or having my brothers taken away from me. That would be the last straw on an already-breaking camel’s back.

It had been two years now and things had just gone from bad to worse. Or from horrible to even more horrible. I spent eight to ten hours a day, six days a week, waiting tables at Red Lobster while my neighbor, Sheila, watched the twins. Scotty just ran amok. I gave up trying to keep up with him long ago.

If it wasn’t for food stamps and government assistance, we’d all be living in the street.

I loved my three brothers with all my heart, but like I said, at this moment, I hated my entire life and I blamed it all on my dad.

Thanks for nothing, Dad…

Wish you were here.

* * *

“Come on, guys,” I pleaded, waving the pair of Winnie the Pooh onesies in the air as I chased the twins through our tiny apartment. As usual, Scotty was plunked down in front of the television with headphones covering his ears, seemingly oblivious to it all. That was what he did every night if he wasn’t out with friends. He just put on those damn headphones and shut out the real world. I wished I could do the same, but I was the adult, the responsible one, the one determined to hold this family together no matter what.

The twins ignored me and continued to run stark naked through the house, dripping bath water along the way. I finally cornered them in the room they shared with Scotty. I managed to hem them in and lock the door. I swear, it was like herding cats, dealing with those two.

I had just gotten their pajamas on and tucked them into the little bed they shared when Scotty pounded on the door.

“What?” I screamed, jerking open the door. For some reason the twins didn’t irk me nearly as much as Scotty did with his pissy teenaged attitude. I didn’t know what he had to be upset about. All he had to do was go to school and keep his grades up so he could get a scholarship someday. God knows I didn’t have the money to put him through school. I didn’t even have the money to finish out my own degree.

“Wanda Jean is on the phone,” he said, giving me the “go fuck yourself” look that was his usual expression these days. I was pretty sure if he showed up to get his picture taken for the school yearbook, that was the face you’d see. He shoved the phone at me. “Here, she says it’s important.”

He started to turn away, but I grabbed the cowl of his hoodie and pulled him into the room. The twins were lying in bed, watching us. I picked up the Cat in the Hat book I had been about to read them and shoved it at Scotty in the same manner he had shoved my cell phone at me.

“Read this to them,” I ordered. “I have to take this call. It’s important.”

“I’m not reading this crap,” he said, tossing the book onto the bed like a frisbee.

He gave me a defiant look that let me know I had no control over him. I could not make him do anything, and we both knew it. He was an angry seventeen-year-old, a head taller than me, who was always pissed at the world, starting with me.

“You’re not the boss of me!” was Scotty’s motto. “Fuck you, Miranda!” was his other one. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

I took a deep breath and let the anger drain from my body. I told Wanda Jean to hang on and tried a new approach.

“This is Wanda Jean about that temporary job in Amarillo I told you about, the one at Big Sky Ranch & Spa, the one that could pay our bills for months. I have to take this.” I picked up the book and held it out to him. “Please, read them a story, and if I get this job I will get you your very own cell phone.”

I thought I saw a spark of excitement flash through his eyes. It had been so long since I’d seen anything but a scowl that I couldn’t be sure. He bit at the inside of his cheek and stared at me.

“Seriously? My own cell phone? Not one that we have to share and you always take with you?”

“Your own phone,” I said with a smile.

I knew I was lying to him, but I had no choice. We would need every cent of the money I could earn in the month I would be at Big Sky Ranch & Spa, but if I had to lie to get him to read the twins a fucking Dr. Seuss book, then brand me a liar.

“Okay,” he said, taking the book and frowning at the cover. A rare smile crossed his lips. “This used to be my favorite. Dad read it to me every night.”

“I know,” I said, tears coming to my eyes. I put my hand on the back of his neck and drew his forehead down to mine. It was a rare moment of solidarity. “Don’t worry, little brother, we’re going to be all right.”

“How can you be sure?” he asked, staring into my eyes.

“Because we’re due for a little good luck,” I said, pulling back and wiping my nose on the back of my hand. “In fact, we are way overdue.”

 

CHAPTER TWO: Conner Blackstone

“This is bullshit!”

I wadded up the DNA report and threw it across the table at Wesley, my best friend since kindergarten and my corporate counsel since I took over as CEO of Blackstone Enterprises from my father five years ago.

We were flying at 30,000 feet in the air in the corporate jet somewhere over Nevada. I usually found the serene landscape below and the quiet hum of the engines to be soothing, but not today. Not with the news I was getting.

“It’s not bullshit, Con,” Wesley said calmly, picking up the report and smoothing it out on the table with the back of his hand. “I had the lab run the report twice just to make sure. Like it or not, you have a five-year-old half brother.”

“I still don’t believe it,” I growled. “DNA reports can be wrong.”

“Like I said, I had the lab run it twice because I knew you wouldn’t believe the results otherwise,” Wesley said with a long sigh. “The report is not wrong. Hell, you can tell by looking at him that he’s your brother.”

Wesley opened the folder that was resting on the small table between us and flipped through it. There were two tumblers of Jack Daniels whisky on the table between us. I picked up the one closest to me and drained it dry. Then I held it up so the flight attendant could see that I needed another. I really needed another.

The flight attendant, a blonde with blow-job lips and big tits whose name I couldn’t recall until I saw it on her nametag—Patsy—sauntered over with the bottle of Jack and refilled my glass.

As she poured the whiskey I let my hand slide up the back her thigh and up under her short skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties. I caressed the curve of her tight ass and dipped the tip of my little finger into her cooch. She was warm and moist. She just looked down at me and smiled.

The last time I used the corporate jet, Patsy and I fucked like mile-high rabbits in the sleeping quarters at the rear of the plane. I had planned to give her the same pleasure this trip, but then Wesley ruined everything by telling me about this kid that was supposedly my half brother.

“Thank you, darlin’,” I said, watching her sashay away. I put the tip of my little finger into the whiskey and swirled it around.

“Con, focus,” Wesley said, waving a hand in front of my face to get my attention from the girl’s ass as she walked away. “Can you please stop thinking with your dick long enough to address this? This could be a real problem for you.”

“Fine, whatever. Go ahead.”

From the file, Wesley brought out a photograph of a little boy with dark hair and dark eyes. He was looking at the camera with a big smile on his round face. The old man holding him was smiling, too. The old man had ghost-white hair and a bushy white beard. He was wearing a plaid cowboy shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a straw hat pushed back on his head. He looked like an old cowboy who’d just come in from the roundup. He had his cheek resting against the boy’s head.

The old man was my father, Jefferson Davis Blackstone, one of the richest men in Texas. He died of a heart attack eight months ago at the ripe old age of seventy-five. He was fucking a hooker in the back of his Cadillac when his ticker stopped. He was on the way to a charity event at a children’s hospital. Reckon the rotten apple doesn’t fall very far from the crooked tree.

“The boy’s legal name is Jefferson Davis Blackstone, Junior, named after your father. They call him Jeffie. He’s been living in Galveston with his mother, a woman named Pearl Ramirez, since birth. Have you ever heard the name? Ever hear the old man mention anyone named Pearl?”

I stared out the window at the dark night sky and twinkling lights below and shook my head.

“Pearl was a secretary at Blackstone Oil in Galveston. I assume that’s how they met.” Wesley pulled out a sheet of paper covered in columns of numbers. I barely glanced at it.

“Your dad put his name on the boy’s birth certificate and did everything but marry the mother. He bought them a house in Galveston and set her up with bank accounts with regular deposits from his personal holdings.”

“So the company wasn’t supporting his whore and their bastard child,” I said after taking a sip of the whiskey. “That’s one good thing, I suppose.”

Wesley gave me the look he always gave me when he felt I was being a dick—which was most of the time. “God, Con, how can you be so fucking cold? He’s just a little boy.”

“Someone has to be cold, Wesley,” I shot back. “My old man would have bankrupted this company if I hadn’t taken over when I returned from college six years ago.” I shot back the rest of the whiskey and shook my head. “What was wrong with that old bastard?”

“That old bastard, as you call him, was one of the nicest, most compassionate men I’ve ever met,” Wesley said. “Unlike you, he cared about people. He wasn’t a self-centered prick who only thought of himself.”

“Careful, Wesley,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “You work for me now, not my old man. I’m a self-centered prick who would fire his best friend if he had a reason to. You’d do well to remember that.”

“You wouldn’t fire me, Con,” Wesley said, meeting my gaze without an inkling of fear in his eyes, “because I’m the only friend you have.”

I waved at him like he was a pesky fly. He still didn’t shut up.

He said, “Everybody loved Jefferson Blackstone. Very few people love his son. And it’s your own damn fault.”

My blood began to boil, as it always did when someone intoned the virtues of the great Jefferson Blackstone. I leaned forward and growled at him.

“All I know is the old bastard was never there when I was growing up,” I said, spitting the words at him. I held out my fingers to tick off all the ways the old man had disappointed me.

“He wasn’t there when my mom died of a blood clot when I was six. He wasn’t there when his second wife was beating the shit out of me for spilling Kool-Aid on the fucking carpet when I was nine. He wasn’t there when I broke my back riding the horse he gave me as a token gift for my thirteenth birthday.” I wiggled my fingers at him. “Should I go on, Wesley, or do you get the picture?”

“I get the picture,” he said, holding up his hand. “He was building this company and was never there for you. I get that. But, that does not change the fact that you have a half brother who now has a Dallas lawyer suing for half of everything you own.”

The flight attendant was standing at the bar, waiting, giving me the eye. I wanted to shove her into the bedroom and take my frustration out on that sweet ass of hers, but Wesley wasn’t done getting on my last fucking nerve.

“Why is this coming up now?” I asked, forcing my attention back to the topic at hand.

“When your dad died, he left the boy and his mother set up so they wouldn’t want for anything,” Wesley said, closing the file and resting his hands on it, probably so I couldn’t sling it across the plane. “She got a monthly allowance and the boy has a trust fund that will make him a very wealthy young man when he turns twenty-one.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Pearl Ramirez died two weeks ago,” Wesley said, his eyebrows raised. “Complications from diabetes.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, meaning it. “And the boy?”

Wesley took a deep breath and opened the file again. He took out a thick document and turned to a page he’d marked with a pink Post-it. He set the document on the table and slid it toward me. He tapped a finger at a short paragraph containing my name.

He said, “When the boy’s mother died, that activated a clause in your father’s will. The clause concerns the legal guardianship of the boy.”

I read the paragraph without touching the document. “In the event of the death of Pearl Alice Ramirez, biological mother to Jefferson Davis Blackstone, Junior, all parental rights and guardianship of Jefferson Davis Blackstone, Junior, shall be assumed by…” I looked up at Wesley. He looked like he was about to bust from holding back a smile. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Guardianship shall be assumed by Conner Blackstone,” Wesley said, spinning the document around and tapping the finger to my name. “You’re the boy’s legal guardian now, Con. Like it or not, he is now your responsibility.”

I sat back and blew out a long whiskey-scented breath. Wesley closed the file and his mouth, knowing this was news that was going to have to sink in for a moment.

The flight attendant came back with the bottle of Jack to refill our glasses. She put her hand on my shoulder and asked if there was anything else I needed. We both knew what she meant, but I just shook my head. Not even a blow job from those lips would have put me in a good mood.

I know. I had no right to complain. I’m Conner Blackstone, the thirty-year-old billionaire CEO of Blackstone Enterprises, a company that produces more oil and beef cattle than any other privately-held company in the state of Texas, if not the world.

I have more money than I could ever spend, more cars and houses and stuff than I could ever use, more women than I could ever fuck, and a little brother I could never love because he reminded me of my old man and all the baggage that came with him.

I fell back in the plush leather seat and rested my cheek on my fist. I stared out the window at the darkness. “So what now?”

“The boy is in the care of his aunt for the moment,” Wesley said, “but the attorney expects you to take custody of him as soon as possible. If you refuse to assume custody, then you’ll be sued for half of your inheritance. We’d fight, of course, but odds are we’d lose. The kid is your father’s son and is entitled to his birthright, whether you like it or not.”

“Great,” I sighed. “Why couldn’t the old bastard just keep his dick in his pants?”

Wesley glanced over his shoulder at the flight attendant and gave me a knowing smile. “Why can’t you?” When I didn’t answer, he tapped his knuckles on the table. “I’ll talk to the kid’s lawyer in the morning and buy us a couple of weeks. In the meantime, why don’t we get away for a little rest and relaxation? You look like you could use it.”

I gave him an apathetic shrug. “What are you thinking?”

“The fall season at Big Sky Ranch starts next week,” Wesley said. “Why don’t we go for opening weekend? Get a massage or two. Eat some fresh-cut steaks. Fuck some cute tourists. Ride the range like real cowboys rather than corporate dandies? Like we used to when we were kids.”

“Not a terrible idea,” I said with a heavy sigh. I hadn’t been to Big Sky Ranch in years. It was a working cattle ranch south of Amarillo but was open to tourists in the spring and fall to help allay the costs of running the place year-round.

I called it a “dude ranch” once in front of my dad and I thought he was going to deck me.

“It’s not a fuckin’ dude ranch, boy,” I remember him saying. “I grew up on that ranch. That’s where I learned all the things I needed to know to be a man. You wouldn’t last a day working a saddle there, so watch your mouth.”

The ranch covered 75,000 acres and had a main house that was over 38,000 square feet, with twenty-five guest rooms, a five-star restaurant, an indoor pool, a theater, a game room, a gym, and all the amenities you’d expect at the finest hotels in New York City.

There were also bunkhouses for the twenty or so employees that lived there year around, and room for another thirty or so that came in to work just for the tourist seasons.

Guests could ride the horses, help round up and brand cattle, shoot guns, learn to rope and ride, and play cowboy and cowgirl, all for just two-thousand dollars a day.

“Con? What do you think?”

I shot him a quick glance as I pushed myself out of the chair and smiled at the flight attendant. Maybe a blow job would make things better after all.

“Make the arrangements and we’ll go on Monday,” I said, giving his shoulder a pat as I passed by. “And we’ll worry about dad’s little bastard later.”

I knew Wesley was probably shaking his head in disgust behind me as I walked toward Patsy with my hands unbuckling my belt, but I didn’t care.

All I could think about at that moment was shoving my cock deep into Patsy’s pretty mouth and coming on her pretty face.

Dad’s little bastard, the lawyers, the entire world outside this plane could kiss my rosy red ass.

Conner Blackstone was in charge.

And there wasn’t anything that was going to change that.

Nothing.

 

CHAPTER THREE: Miranda

 

While Scotty read the twins the story, the false promise of a cell phone still ringing in his ears, I took my cell phone outside to sit on the tiny patio out back of the apartment.

The patio was a six-by-six-foot slab of cracking concrete that held two rickety lawn chairs I’d found on the side of the road. I usually sat out there late at night, after the twins were asleep and Scotty was god knows where, just taking in the warm night air and staring up at the stars.

“Hey, Wanda Jean. Sorry about that,” I said with a long sigh. “I was getting the twins to bed. What’s up?”

“I have amazing news for you!” she said, doing her best Oprah impression. “How would you like to accompany me to Big Sky Ranch & Spa for a month of fun, sun, and manual labor?”

I felt the breath catch in my throat. “Wanda Jean, are you saying I got the job?”

“I just got off the phone with my friend at the staffing agency,” she said excitedly. “I told her that you were getting your degree in physical therapy in the spring and would make an amazing masseuse for the fall season that starts on Monday!”

“Monday?” The breath I’d been holding whined from my lungs like air escaping from a balloon. “That’s in three days.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, first of all, I’m not getting my degree in the spring because I can’t afford the tuition. And second of all, I don’t know if I can find someone to watch the twins on such short notice.”

“You’ll have the tuition to finish the courses online if you work at Big Sky for a month,” she said. “The pay is amazing and the tips are incredible. You’ll make more money in a month than you would make in six months at the freakin’ Red Lobster!”

“But the boys. I don’t have anyone to watch the twins.”

“Leave them with Scotty,” she said seriously.

“Wanda Jean, Scotty can barely keep himself alive. Do you really think I’d leave the twins in his care?”

“Miranda, stop making excuses!” she yelled. “When I told you that I would be working at Big Sky as sous chef again this year you asked if there was any job you might do. I told the staffing lady about you and she said they were all full except for this one masseuse position, which pays twice as much as housekeeping or waitressing.”

“I know, but—”

“There ain’t no buts here, girl,” Wanda Jean said, her thick Texas accent drawing out the words like a melody. “You took all those massage classes when you were in school. You could be a masseuse with your eyes closed and you know it.”

“I know, but—”

“And you need the money. I know you do.”

“But the twins…”

“Didn’t you tell me that the twins had an aunt somewhere close by?”

“Not that close by. Helen’s sister lives in Lakeview.”

“That’s perfect! Lakeview is on the way to Amarillo, which is where Big Sky is located,” Wanda Jean said merrily, as if she’d just had an epiphany. “Call her and ask if you can drop the twins off for a month on your way.”

I blinked at the night sky. I could see the twinkling red light of a plane high above. Helen’s sister had told me several times that she and her husband would be glad to take the twins outright. I would never give up custody of my little brothers, but if she would just keep them for a month, that could be the answer to all my prayers.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll call her tomorrow and see if she can keep the twins. Scotty will just have to survive here for a month.”

“I need to tell the staffing lady that you’re definitely coming,” Wanda Jean said. “She’s going to hire someone else if you can’t do it.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, more to myself than to her. “Call her back and tell her that I’ll take the job.”

Wanda Jean squealed into the phone. “Awesome! Okay, we can drive up together. It’s about seven hours, so we’ll need to leave early Monday morning to drop off the twins and be in Amarillo by Monday afternoon.”

“Sounds great,” I said. I thanked her profusely and hung up the phone.

I sat with my eyes closed for a moment, just listening to the sound of my own breathing.

For the first time in a long time my heart was beating in my chest and it wasn’t from anger or frustration.

It was because, for the first time in a long time, I had something to actually look forward to.

Big Sky Ranch & Spa, here I come!

 

CHAPTER FOUR: Miranda

 

Oh my god, what an exhausting ride! Four hours in the car with the four-year-old twins screaming from the backseat would have worn anyone out, but I thought poor Wanda Jean was going to just open the door and leap from the car by the time we dropped them at Helen’s sister’s house in Lakeview.

Wanda Jean stayed in the car, smoking a much-needed cigarette, while I took the twins inside and got them situated. Honestly, I would not have been surprised if Wanda Jean had taken off without me. I was used to the twins’ noise, but in her words, “It was like driving for four hours with your head in a blender!” I was pretty sure Wanda Jean would never have kids.

The last two hours of the trip were heavenly. Wanda Jean and I rode with the radio blasting and the windows down and the wind in our hair. We drank Cokes and ate peanuts and chatted like two girls who didn’t have a care in the world. There was no one barking orders at me or tugging at my pant leg or threatening to fire me if I didn’t get the fucking shrimp out to table three. It was one of the best times I’d had in a long time.

“Did you Google the place like I told you to?” she asked as we veered off Interstate 287 to take the exit to Goodnight, Texas, the nearest little town to Big Sky Ranch & Spa.

“I did,” I said excitedly, as if I was going there to relax rather than to work my ass off. “It looks amazing.”

“It is way more than amazing,” she said. This would be Wanda Jean’s third season working at Big Sky, which, in her mind, made her an authority on the subject. “You will work your ass off, but there’s lots of downtime, too, and they let you ride the horses and use the pool and eat for free. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get laid every night you’re there by a different cowboy!”

“Wanda Jean, stop,” I said, rolling my eyes. She just cackled at me. I wasn’t sure how we got to be such good friends, because we were absolutely nothing alike.

I was a good Southern Baptist girl from Fort Worth who’d never even had a man’s hands under my shirt, and Wanda Jean was always the life of the party. With her black hair and dark Latino features, not to mention her huge boobs, Wanda Jean never failed to catch a man’s eye, or open her legs to him.

She had told me stories of her previous stints at Big Sky. She’d had sex with the head chef, a couple of cowhands, a bartender, and one very wealthy guest who had bought her the car we were riding in. I was pretty sure Wanda Jean loved to work at Big Sky not because it looked good on her resume, but for the sex and the benefits that came with it.

Personally, I was a little horrified at the mere thought of having sex with anyone. I’d never been with a man before and was not the promiscuous type. That was not to say that I didn’t have urges I satisfied myself some nights when I was alone in my room.

I was like most other women my age. I was a sexual being, maybe even more so than most. Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I didn’t have desires and fantasies.

I longed for a man to put his hands on my body, to massage my breasts and squeeze my nipples, to taste the juices that flowed from between my legs, to press his naked body to mine.

I longed for the feeling of a man’s cock in my hand as I guided him toward the cherry that waited deep inside me. Just the thought of it made me wet.

But that was not what going to Big Sky was about for me. This was about working my ass off and making enough money to finish my degree so I could get a good-paying job as a physical therapist.

I had three brothers to raise, brothers who depend on me because they had no one else they could depend on. The last thing I needed was a man to complicate my life.

My brothers always came first.

That was how it had always been and how it would always be.

Period.

 

CHAPTER FIVE: Conner

 

Fuck, I was tired of travelling. It seemed like I spent my entire life on airplanes these days, travelling from one business meeting to the next, or in the back of a car stuck in traffic jams for hours.

I spent so much time in hotels that I didn’t even remember what my luxury penthouse in Dallas or the beach house in Malibu even looked like.

Wesley and I touched down at Amarillo Airport just after noon on Monday and immediately climbed onto the helicopter that would ferry us to Big Sky Ranch & Spa fifty miles away.

My old man would have shit a brick if he knew the marketing people had tacked on the word “Spa” to his beloved Big Sky Ranch. He would have shit an even bigger brick if he knew we now rented the place out to city slickers two months out of the year.

Wesley tried to talk to me again about my dad’s little bastard, but I shut him down quickly. I didn’t want to think about the kid, not this weekend. I was coming to Big Sky to decompress and relax for a few days. I didn’t want to talk business or think about the price of beef cattle or the price of crude oil coming out of the Gulf. I just wanted to forget who I was and shrug the weight of the world off my shoulders for a little while.

And if I got to stick my big cock into something strange and sweet while I was there, all the better. I was tired of fucking groupies and socialites and party girls and flight attendants.

I wanted to fuck someone who didn’t know who I was.

I wanted fuck someone who wasn’t looking for a payoff.

I wanted to fuck someone who didn’t know Conner Blackstone from Adam.

The problem was, I didn’t think that girl existed.

And if she did, I seriously doubted I’d find her at Big Sky Ranch & Spa.

* * *

“I forget how breathtakingly beautiful this place is,” Wesley said as we stood on the balcony of the private chateau where we’d be spending the weekend. The chateau was 4,000 square feet of logs and natural woods built into the hillside looking down on Big Sky Ranch and the surrounding grounds. From his vantage point, Wesley could see the lodge, the stables, the bunk houses, the corrals, and the wide expanse of pasture land covered with beef cattle. That was one of the differences between Wesley and I. He saw heads of cattle. I saw stacks of hundred dollar bills.

“So, do you want to just rest for a while before the employee orientation, or do you want to go for a ride?” Wesley asked, turning to face me. I was sitting at a marble table on the balcony with my legs stretched out and my face turned toward the sky. I had my eyes closed behind my expensive sunglasses.

“I’m actually thinking about getting a massage,” I said, leaning forward with my elbows planted on my knees. I let my head hang and rubbed the back of my neck, which felt like it was in knots. “What time’s the staff meet-and-greet thing?”

Wesley looked at his watch. “The employee orientation is scheduled for three to give everyone time to get here. I told Max, the general manager, to have all the employees together so you could officially welcome them. You have plenty of time.”

“Okay,” I said, blowing out a long breath. “Hopefully there’s a masseuse here already.”

“Want me to call over and make sure?” Wesley asked.

“Nah, I’m a big boy,” I said, pushing myself out of the chair. I stretched my arms toward the sky and blew out a long breath. “I’ll just mosey on over and see if there’s someone in the spa with big tits and strong hands who can work out these kinks in my back.”

Wesley shook his head at me. “Which is more important? Big tits or strong hands?”

“Normally I’d say big tits,” I said with a grin, “but at this point I’d settle for the strong hands.”

 

CHAPTER SIX: Miranda

 

Wanda Jean and I arrived at Big Sky Ranch just after lunch on Monday. We hurriedly stowed our things in the women’s bunkhouse, which was a hundred times nicer than my little apartment.

The bunk house was basically a huge log cabin that had an open living area with saddle-leather couches in the shape of a “U” set facing an enormous stone fireplace that had the head of a longhorn steer over the mantle. The sheer width of the horns was a little disconcerting at first, but I grew up in Fort Worth, so seeing the severed head or just the horns of a steer was nothing new to me. Heck, half the Cadillacs in Texas had steer horns mounted on the hoods.

There was a fully stocked kitchen and dining room combo, three full bathrooms with tubs and showers, and ten bedrooms that each held a set of twin beds and a large dresser for storage.

“Okay,” Wanda Jean said, looking at her watch as we stepped across the wide, plank porch of the bunkhouse. “There is an employee orientation at three, so I’m going to go to the kitchen and see if anyone is there yet. You should probably check in at the spa to get yourself acquainted with the manager and the other masseuses.”

“That sounds great,” I said, feeling more than a little nervous. I didn’t realize that I was wringing my hands. Wanda Jean saw the look in my eye and reached for my hand.

“You are going to do great,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze. “Just remember, be nice to the guests, especially the rich older men. They’re the ones who tip the best.”

“Got it,” I said with a grin. “Uh, can you show me where the spa is?”

She held on to my hand and we literally skipped like little girls across the dusty yard and into the employee entrance at the back of the massive lodge. Wanda Jean pointed me in one direction and she went in another. I took a deep breath and didn’t let it out until I saw the words “SALON & SPA” etched into a thick glass door down the hallway ahead of me.

This is your chance, I told myself. Try not to screw it up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Salon & Spa manager was a super-nice, older lady named Carla, who welcomed me with a hug and gave me a tour of the facility. I was the first one there, so I think she was just happy to have someone to talk to.

“The hair salon is through there,” Carla said as she led me down a long hallway off the lobby. She pointed to the large open area beyond the glass. There were six stylist stations with barber chairs, six sinks for hair washing, and three old-style hair dryers. The walls were covered in mirrors. It almost looked like the Cost Cutters where I got my hair cut, only a thousand times nicer and much more expensive.

“The mani-pedi area is there,” Carla said. “And the massage rooms are down here at the end of the hall.” She opened a door so I could look inside. “There are three identical rooms, each with a massage table and a station with oils, lotions, that sort of thing. There’s a CD player and an assortment of CDs with relaxing music. There are scented candles in the drawer. Guest can book thirty, sixty, and ninety minute massages.” She glanced down. “Can I see your hands?”

“Sure,” I said, holding out my hands with my fingers outstretched. She took my hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. “Good, strong hands. You’ll need them in this job. You will probably have ten to twelve clients a day. Some will want deep tissue massages; others will barely want you to touch them.”

“I understand,” I said with a smile. “I’m used to being on my feet all day, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she said, patting my arm. “There is one more thing I have to warn you about. Some of the male guests may come in with the wrong idea and get a little frisky on you.”

I frowned at her. “The wrong idea?”

She peered down the hallway to make sure we were alone. “Some of the men may want you to, you know.” She curled her fingers into a circle and made a pumping motion with them. “Give them a happy ending.”

“Really?” I sucked air in through my teeth. “Oh my god, what do I do?”

“You politely tell them that we don’t offer that level of service here,” Carla said with a grin. Obviously, she was amused by my reaction. “If there’s a problem, just come get me.”

“Wow, okay,” I said, probably much more shocked than I should have been. I wasn’t a prude. There had been an abundance of happy ending jokes in every massage class I ever took. But to be faced with such a reality…well…it was just a little scary to me. And maybe even a little exciting.

Carla turned toward the table that held the bottles of lotions and oils. There was a red button on the side of the table. She tapped a finger to it.

“If, for whatever reason, you can’t get out of the room, just push this button and I’ll come running.”

I stared at the button as if it would launch a nuclear strike. “Has anyone ever had to push that button before because a guest got out of hand? No pun intended.”

She smiled. “It’s happened a few times, sweetie, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle whatever comes your way…no pun intended.”

 

CHAPTER SEVEN: Conner

 

I shucked out of my Armani suit and pulled on a pair of old jeans and a torn Nirvana T-shirt that had probably hung in the closet at the chateau since my college days.

I left the two-thousand-dollar alligator cowboy boots in the closet and slipped on an old pair of sneakers I’d left there sometime before. I had to grin when I looked in the mirror over the dresser. I did not look like a billionaire cattle and oil baron. I looked like a punk kid about to go to a rave. I found an old Dallas Cowboys cap in the closet. I set it on my head and pulled the bill down low over my eyes.

I went down the path that led from the chateau to the lodge. The place wasn’t officially open to guests until the next day, but it was buzzing with employees arriving and vendors trucking in the ton of food we’d need for the next two weeks.

A few of the ranch hands recognized me and waved. I just gave them a bob of my chin and went around to the employee entrance in the back of the lodge, knowing that if I came in through the lobby, Max, the manager, would have to make a big deal about it.

I found the Salon & Spa easily enough, though it had been a long time since I’d visited the place. The last time I was here I fucked a masseuse in the ass on one of the massage tables in the middle of the afternoon. It was a hell of a rush. Who knew, maybe I’d get lucky again.

I pushed through the thick glass door and entered the salon’s lobby. There was a tall counter and a few chairs for guests to wait in. One wall was covered in shampoos, conditioners, lotions, and oils, all with the Big Sky Ranch logo on them. I had to hand it to the marketing people; they did a great job of taking the guests’ money.

There was no one in the lobby, so I went around the counter and stood in the doorway that opened to the long hallway that led to the various spa treatment rooms.

I called out “hello” a few times and was about to leave, thinking that the staff had not arrived yet, when I heard music coming from the last room at the end of the hall.

I walked down the hallway, peering into the unoccupied rooms as I went. When I came to the last door I saw that it was a massage room and there was someone there.

It was a girl with a long blond ponytail that went from the crown of her head to halfway down her back. She was wearing a tight T-shirt that stopped above the small of her back and a pair of yoga pants that showed every perfect curve of her hips and her bubbly ass.

I let my eyes drift down her long legs, to her muscular calves and perfect ankles. I felt my cock starting to grow, pushing against my tight jeans like a cobra struggling to get out of a burlap sack.

She was facing a table covered with lotions and oils, humming to the soft music coming from the CD player as she examined the labels. I didn’t want to scare her, so I tapped on the door to let her know I was there. When she turned around, I came face to face with the most natural beauty I’d ever seen.

She wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup. She didn’t need it. Her skin was naturally tanned by the sun. Her eyes were cat-like, like two pools of blue water that nearly took my breath away. She seemed startled for just a moment, and then she gave me a smile that burned into my memory like a brand on cow’s hide.

“Can I help you?” she asked. She was holding a tall bottle of lotion. Her fingers were wrapped around it. For a split second I saw those same fingers wrapped around my cock.

“I’d like to get a massage,” I said, mustering up a smile. I took off my cap and used it to hide the growing bulge in my jeans.

“Oh, well, I don’t think we’re open yet,” she said with a concerned look. “Was the manager not out front? You could make an appointment to come back later.”

I put on a face like I was in pain and lied as easily as I breathed. “She wasn’t out there, but I called ahead when I got here a few minutes ago. I’ve spent the last six hours on the road, and if I don’t do something soon, I’m afraid my back might just give out on me.”

She stared at me for a moment and then darted her tongue across her plump lips and smiled. “Okay, well, I guess it’ll be all right.”

“Awesome,” I said, grinning on the inside. I never said “awesome,” but it had seemed like the right thing to say. I pulled the T-shirt over my head and tossed it onto the floor. Then I started to unbutton my jeans.

“Oh my god, uh, wait,” she said, holding up her hands. “Um…just give me a second…” There was a stack of large towels under the lotion station. She tugged one of them free and shoved it at me.

“Exactly what do you want me to do with this?” I asked, playing dumb. I think she noticed the huge bulge in my pants, because her eyes quickly darted up to mine and stayed there.

“Yes, um, get undressed and just wrap that around your, um…”

“My waist?” I offered. Oh my god, was she really this naïve? This was gonna be fun. I felt my cock growing harder by the minute.

“Yes. Wrap that around your waist,” she said, directing me with her hands. “I’m going to find a smock and wash my hands. Then I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” I said, grinning as she went out the door. She was as nervous as a brood mare in heat, and I was as horny as a stallion.

This was going to be the best massage I’d ever had.

And a great way to kick off my weekend.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT: Miranda

 

I heard the knock on the door and turned to find the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen standing in the doorway. He was tall and muscular, wearing a ratty T-shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders like a glove and a pair of jeans so tight that it looked like he had been melted and poured into them.

I could see the outline of his package through the faded denim. It made me tingle a little…down there…

He had a David Beckham face, if you know what I mean, with short dark hair and deep brown eyes and a mouth full of perfect white teeth. His lips were curled into a sheepish smile.

He took off his cap and covered his crotch with it and asked if I would give him a massage. I was holding a big round bottle of lotion. I had to stop my fingers from sliding up and down on it subconsciously as I stared at him.

I just assumed that he was a guest, so I said yes. Then he took off his T-shirt and started to take off his pants, and I was thinking, oh my god! I nearly fainted because I thought he was just going to drop his pants and fling that big thing out at me!

It took a moment for me to regain my composure. I gave him a towel and used the excuse that I had to go find a smock. I went down the hall to the restroom and stood with my hands braced on the sink. I didn’t know why, but I was breathing heavy and was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

“Snap out of it, girl,” I told myself. I spoke to my reflection in the mirror. “You trained for this. You’re really, really good at it. Now wash your hands and get back in there. You have a client!”

I found myself smiling as I washed my hands.

Wow, I had a client. I was actually going to get paid for doing something I had trained for rather than taking orders and clearing tables at the freakin’ Red Lobster.

I had a client.

How cool was that?

 

CHAPTER NINE: Miranda

 

When I came back into the room, he was lying on his stomach on the table with his hands tucked under his cheek and his eyes closed. Even though he had draped the towel across his round rump, I could tell that he was naked underneath because I could see the dimples just above his ass cheeks and the top of his crack.

The only thing I could think about was how uncomfortable it must be if he was laying on top of that big thing I’d seen in his pants. I was not too familiar with how those worked, exactly. Maybe it just sort of flattened out when it was not…uh…hard…

He had already used the dimmer switch to turn down the lights and had selected a CD for background music. It was Michael Bublé, I think. Slow, soft, deep. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was setting the mood for something more than just a massage. That would be my luck. The first day on the job, the first client of the day, and I got a guy who expected way more than I was prepared to give.

“So, uh, your back is bothering you?” I asked, rubbing my hands together to warm them.

“Yes,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, sounding half asleep. “My lower back especially, near the top of my ass.”

I went to the table and got a bottle of massage oil and set it in the warmer for just a minute. I took the bottle and stood next to the table. When I squeezed the oil into my palm, it was warm and slick. I rubbed my hands together and then slowly massaged the oil into the thick muscles on his back.

“You’re in knots,” I said, working my fingers hard into the stiff muscles across his shoulders. He moaned and said something I didn’t understand. I filled my hand with oil again and worked my way down the muscles along his spine until I came to the cute dimples above his ass.

Okay, this was going to sound nuts, but as I rubbed his lower back I felt myself getting wet. And I was not talking about sweat, even through the air in the room seemed to be getting thicker by the moment. I was talking about wet down there, in my…pussy. I could feel warm juices flowing into my panties. I squeezed my thighs together to try to stop the flow.

My hands went across the top of his ass. His muscles were hard as rocks. I let my fingers go under the towel just a bit so I could hit the top of his glutes where they met the small of his back. That was where a lot of people stored the tension in their bodies. That was why so many people had back problems.

As my fingers pressed into his flesh, he gave off a low moan that told me my magic fingers were doing the trick. I squirted the oil directly onto his back and worked my way up and across his shoulders, then back down again.

I felt a heat building in my pussy, heating the juices that were flowing out of me like I had heated the massage oil. As my hands went over his skin, it was as if his body was sending little tingles back into my hands, up my arms, and straight down to my pussy. This must have been what foreplay felt like.

“Your shoulders are nearly as tight as your back,” I said, making small talk just to break the tension I felt building in my own body. The crotch of my panties was completely drenched now as I dug my fingers into the muscles along the tops of his shoulders and neck.

I could smell the scent of my aroma mixing with the scent of the rose oil in the air. I wondered if he could smell it, too. I wondered what I would do if he said something. What would I do if he reached out to touch me like I was touching him…

“God, you have amazing hands,” he said with a sigh. “Have you been doing this long?”

“Actually, you are my first paying customer,” I said as my palms pressed circles into his back. “I’m going to school to be a physical therapist, so I’ve taken a lot of massage classes.”

“Well, you get an A plus from me,” he said, smiling up at me. “Would you mind doing my leg muscles? My thighs feel like bricks after all that driving.”

“Um, sure, I can do that,” I said. I took a step back with my oily hands held up at the elbows.

“Great. Just let me flip over,” he said, pushing himself up with one hand while the other held the towel in place. He settled in on his back with his hands behind his head.

And there it was.

Standing up beneath the towel like a tent rod. He was literally pitching a tent with his penis. Or cock or whatever you called it.

Was I supposed to massage his thighs with that thing sticking up in the air?

Surely he didn’t think I was going to touch that, even though the site of it had my pussy flowing like Niagara Falls.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there with my mouth hanging open and my hands in the air.

Then he tugged off the towel and, finally, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, I saw my first cock.

And it was magnificent.

 

CHAPTER TEN: Conner

 

The look in her eyes almost made me laugh. When I pulled the towel off and she saw my ten-inch cock rising in all its glory, hard as a rock and sticking up in the air like a veiny flag pole, I thought she was gonna faint.

Her eyes went wide and she moved her lips back and forth, but she didn’t grab my cock with her oily hands, which was exactly what I wanted her to do.

“What are you waiting for, babe?” I asked. I had my hands behind my head and a shit-eating grin on my face. I tensed my ab muscles and made my cock wiggle for her. “Go on, you know you want it. Take it. It’s all yours.”

She stared at my cock, blinking like she was coming out of a trance.

“Go on, my little whore. Use both hands to make daddy come.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “You know you want it. I’ve been smelling your pussy juices for ten minutes. I can taste your pussy on the tip of my tongue.”

I waited for a moment, but her hands did not go around my cock. I opened my eyes and looked up at her. She hadn’t moved. She was standing there like a deer in headlights. I bounced my cock at her and shrugged with my eyebrows.

“Hey, if you’d rather wiggle your hot ass out of those wet yoga pants and climb on for the ride of your life, that’s okay, too. Just slide your hot little pussy right on there. I don’t care how you do it; just make me come and fast, because I have places to be. You can tug me, suck me, or fuck me. It’s all the same to me.”

I chuckled at myself and closed my eyes. I flexed my muscles again to wiggle my cock, which felt like it was about to burst.

Then, nothing…

I opened my eyes to see her standing at the lotion table rubbing her hands together on a towel. She did not look amused. Or horny. She looked disgusted. She was looking at me like I was a bad smell, like I was a lump of dog shit on the bottom of her shoe.

What the hell?

Didn’t this bitch didn’t know who I was?

I was her fucking employer.

And she was gonna look at me like that?

I didn’t fucking think so.

She finished wiping her hands on the towel and then casually draped it over my withering cock and opened the door. She stood with her arms crossed, glaring at me with a look of disgust in her eyes.

I was ready to come unglued.

Nobody looked at Conner Blackstone like that.

That was how my old man had looked at me most of the time.

I’d taken it from him, but I wasn’t going to take it from this bitch, no matter how beautiful I thought she was.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Miranda

 

I stood there with my mouth hanging open and my oily hands in the air, staring at that huge thing protruding into the air like a power pole on a Texas highway.

It was nearly a foot long, thick and veiny, with a bulbous, crimson head that looked like it was going to just pop open at any minute and spray the air with his seed.

I didn’t know whether to scream or run away or wrap my fingers around it so it wouldn’t get away until I could scream for help. I didn’t do any of those things. I just stood there like a dog watching a ceiling fan while he lay on the table somehow making the thing bounce around without even touching it.

Then he started talking shit to me, like I was some cheap whore he’d paid to do his bidding. Some of his comments were just downright vile, and others were a little funny. Then they just got ugly.

I shook myself back to reality and picked up a towel to clean the oil from my hands. Once that was done, I draped the towel over his thing and opened the door in case I had to run.

He sat up and started ranting, yelling about didn’t I know who he was and who did I think I was and how I should be honored to suck his dick. Really? Honored? I didn’t think so, cowboy. If this was his first rodeo, he was about to be trampled by the bull, because Miranda Carson did not play those kinds of games.

I folded my arms over my chest and gave him the stony look I gave the twins whenever they did something bad.

“Has that move ever worked for you?” I asked calmly. “I mean really, tug me, suck me, fuck me? You sound like one of those terrible porno movies I caught my brother watching online.”

He stopped ranting and pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the table. He was gawking at me like I was speaking a foreign language. It was if his brain was resetting.

“Well?”

He blinked at me. “Well what?”

“I asked if that move has ever worked for you. Have you ever whipped that thing out like that and invited a girl to tug and suck and fuck and she jumped to it?” I smirked at him. “Because if that worked, cowboy, you need to go find that poor girl and try it on her again, because that shit does not fly with me.”

He stared at me for a moment, and then the anger seemed to ebb from his handsome face and he gave me an embarrassed smile.

“Maybe I misread the signals,” he said quietly.

“I wasn’t giving you any signals,” I said, knowing that probably wasn’t entirely true. I may not have been giving him signals, but I’d been signaling like crazy to myself. The fact that I was standing there with the crotch of my cotton pants as wet as a sea sponge was proof of that.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just gave me a nod and said, “You’re right. I apologize.”

His unexpected apology caught me a little off guard. He looked truly sorry, and he was so damn good looking it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

A little bell sounded in the hallway, signaling that someone had just come through the lobby doors. I could hear multiple voices coming from the other end of the hall. It sounded like Carla was back and had other people with her.

I said, “Apology accepted, but I think you need to reel that thing in and get dressed before my manager comes back here and sees you…it…”

He covered his crotch with the towel and gave me the apologetic smile once more for good measure. I put my hand on the doorframe and started to leave but then turned back to say, “I won’t say anything that would get you tossed out of the lodge. Just charge the massage to your room and we’ll be square.”

He gave me a grateful look. “Thanks. I will.”

“And just to make yourself feel better,” I said, “make sure you leave me a generous tip. You nearly scared me to death with that thing.”

He said, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”

He smiled at me and all was forgiven.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE: Conner

 

I didn’t mention the disastrous massage to Wesley. He would have gotten a kick out of the famous Conner Blackstone getting shot down by the lowly masseuse with a hot-tempered Texas drawl.

I’d given Wesley more than enough ammunition to use against me over the years with my cocky, arrogant behavior with women. I didn’t see the need to add to his stockpile with this one.

Wesley used to ask me why I shot my mouth off like I did when I was having sex with a woman—or trying to have sex with her.

We’d known each other all our lives. There were no secrets between Wesley and me.

He’d heard me through the walls on more than one occasion and had been in the room with me and the girls a time or two for a good old-fashioned Texas gangbang. He says my alpha male bullshit is almost comical, that I sound like a character out of a porno movie. And I reckon he’s right, but I could never just close my eyes and fuck a woman like Wesley does. Jesus, what would be the fun in that?

Sometimes I did sound ridiculous, I guess, though I’d never had a woman complain after the fact. To the contrary, I had never had sex with a woman who didn’t want to do it again and again and again, so I guess my alpha attitude works with women, or at least some women. It didn’t do me much good in that massage room this afternoon.

I must admit, sometimes I wondered where the alpha attitude came from. I mean, it was not a switch that I just turned on and off. When my dick got hard, it just seemed to come out of me. I figured it was engrained in my DNA because my old man was the same way. Maybe that was where I got it. Maybe that apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Or maybe it never even let go of the branch.

My old man had been married four times, but he’d probably fucked four thousand women over the course of his long, debauched life.

I could remember being a little boy, crouched down in the hallway outside his bedroom door late at night, listening to him fuck a different woman every night.

Most of them were Texas road whores he’d picked up at some bar or off a street corner earlier in the night. Some were “escorts” that he kept on call just to come in and fuck him before he went to sleep and to wake him up in the morning with a blow job.

He used to say, “Fuck alarm clocks. I wanna wake up with a woman’s lips on my pecker!”

Hell, I’d said the same thing myself many times. Wesley just shook his head at me, but he knew I was right. A good blow job beat an alarm clock any day of the week.

Sometimes the woman the old man was fucking would be an actual girlfriend or some socialite that he’d met at a charity event or a business meeting. The old man was a good-looking son of a bitch in his prime and always had money to burn. It was a combination a lot of women found hard to resist.

But most of the time, the women I heard moaning on the other side of that bedroom door were just good old-fashioned Texas road whores, the kind of gal that could fuck an entire bunkhouse full of cowboys and suck the leather off their saddles. That was the kind of women they were, and that was how the old man treated them and every other woman he screwed.

“All women like to be treated like whores,” he’d say. “You gotta talk dirty to them. Tell them what to do and how to do it. You also gotta tell them how they make you feel. If a woman thinks she’s got your dick so hard it’s gonna pop like a weasel, it’s a complement to her. She made your dick hard. Now you’re gonna take that hard dick and do things to her that are gonna make wax shoot out of her ears. Women love that shit, boy. Trust your old man on this one.”

I not only trusted him, but in this regard, I tried to be just like him. I’d never met a woman who’d had a problem with it.

Until today.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I took a quick shower and dressed in black jeans, snakeskin boots, and a fitted black polo shirt that had the Big Sky logo on the left side of my chest. I strapped a gold Rolex Submariner around my wrist and stood checking my reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

I saw myself, but I was thinking about her. That face, those eyes, those lips, the aroma of that sweet pussy filling the tiny massage room like the sweetest incense on earth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could still smell her. My tongue went across my lips. I could taste the tang of her on the tip of my tongue.

Never—NEVER—had a woman gotten me so hard without so much as touching me. I had to have her. I had to have…shit…what the fuck was her name?

Wesley tapped on the bedroom door and stuck his head in. “Hey, you ready to go to the employee orientation?”

“I am,” I said brightly.

“You’re sure in a good mood,” Wesley said, leaning against the doorway and cutting his eyes at me. “Good massage?”

“It was a very good massage,” I said, leaning into the mirror and brushing back the hair from my forehead with my fingertips.

Wesley grinned at me. “Did you have a happy ending?”

I chuckled. “Let’s just say that I had a very promising ending.”

His grin became a confused look. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we need to go,” I said, tapping a fingernail to the Rolex. “Can’t keep our employees waiting, now can we?”

“I guess not,” he said as I brushed past him to head down the hall.

Good old Wesley. I loved it when he didn’t have a clue what was going on with me.

Come to think of it, I didn’t have a clue what was going on with me either.

I just knew that I couldn’t wait to see her again.

Whatever her name was.

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Miranda

 

The Big Sky employee orientation was set for three o’clock in the lodge’s grand dining room. The entire staff that would be working for the next month, keeping guests happy and the place running, were on hand. There were probably fifty or sixty people there, seated at circular tables that held six chairs each. I checked my watch. It was two minutes till three.

I leaned over to Wanda Jean, who was seated to my right, and whispered. “What’s about to happen?”

She whispered back. “Max, the general manager, will greet everybody, talk about hospitality and customer service, read off a few rules, and then tell you all the things that will get you fired. That sort of thing.”

“I heard someone say that the owner was here,” I said, craning my neck to look around the room. I didn’t see anyone who looked like a billionaire. Not that I’d know what a billionaire even looked like.

“I heard that, too,” she said, her eyes going dreamy. “Conner Blackstone himself. He’s like this cowboy god; handsome, sexy, supposedly hung like a horse. What I wouldn’t give to have him drill my well this weekend.”

“What does that even mean?” I asked with a grin.

“Darlin’, I would let Conner Blackstone drill for oil in me any time he wants,” she said with an evil smile. “And he can deep drill in any hole he wants.”

“You’re awful,” I said.

“And you’re a tight ass,” she said. She nodded at the front of the room. “Okay, here we go.”

The general manager stood at a podium at the front of the room and introduced himself. He welcomed everyone and then said, “Before we get started with the actual orientation, we have a very special guest with us today. He is the man responsible for all of us being here. Please, give a warm welcome to CEO of Blackstone Enterprises and the owner of Big Sky Ranch & Spa, Mr. Conner Blackstone.”

As everyone stood and clapped, a door behind the podium opened and in walked a tall man with broad shoulders and dark features, dressed in tight black jeans and a tight polo shirt that hugged his muscular frame.

He strutted to the microphone and held up his hands to quiet the crowd. He let his eyes go around the room for a minute as everyone sat down, and then his eyes settled on me. The instant our eyes met, I knew I was probably going to be fired.

The dusty cowboy with the big cock and obnoxious attitude, the one who had wiggled his cock in the air and told me to tug it, suck it, or fuck it, was Conner fucking Blackstone, owner of Big Sky Ranch.

I literally felt myself melting in the chair, in more ways than one.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Conner

 

When I spotted her sitting there in the crowd at the back of the room, my balls literally did a little happy dance in my pants.

I had not scared her off with my alpha male bullshit after all. That was good. She was a strong one who could give as good as she got. I liked that in a woman. I hated girls who wilted when you talked dirty to them or tensed up when you commanded them to suck your cock. I liked girls who could take it and dish it back out.

I liked being in charge, but I also liked it when a girl took control and bossed me around a bit. I loved it when a girl ordered me to lick her pussy or shove my big, fat cock into her cunt. That shit was like poetry to my ears. And I was pretty much game for anything that didn’t result in a trip to the ER. And I do mean anything.

I had a strong feeling that my alpha-ness would stoke a fire in this girl if she would just give me the chance to prove it to her. I saw the way she was looking at my cock. She was licking her lips. And I could smell her pussy juicing from a foot away.

Maybe she was the play-hard-to-get type. Maybe she wanted a gentleman like Wesley, who believed in the old school “wine and dine” method.

Fine. Whatever I had to do to get my big cock inside her sweet pussy, I’d do it, even if I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

If I had to walk over hot coals just to stick my tongue in her cooch and a finger up her ass, it would be a small price to pay for that conquest.

She would be my bitch and I would be her stud before the weekend was through, no matter the cost.

I stood there behind the podium, smiling at them, not because I was happy to be there, but because I had a boner in my pants with her name on it.

Whatever her name was.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Miranda

 

I held my breath the entire time Conner Blackstone was speaking to the room full of his employees. I kept waiting for him to call me out and slut shame me right there in front of everyone, even though I’d done nothing slutty or shameful…other than the thoughts I’d been having about him since our encounter in the massage room just an hour before.

Every time I closed my eyes I could picture that big thing standing at attention like a wooden soldier, bouncing at me, its big round head seemingly ready to burst. I felt the seat beneath me getting warm and realized that I was soaking my panties again. Damn this guy! What was with his ability to turn on my water works without even touching me?

I heard him say, “Thank you again for all your hard work. Here’s to another successful season at Big Sky!”

Everyone shot to their feet and gave him a big round of applause. I was one of the last to stand and the last to sit down. I didn’t realize I was still standing and clapping, watching Conner exit through the door he’d come in just a few minutes before, until Wanda Jean tugged on my sleeve.

“I told you,” she said, whispering excitedly in my ear. “Is he a fucking god or what?”

I just nodded slowly and mumbled, “Uh huh.”

Everyone turned their attention back to the general manager, who was now talking over a PowerPoint presentation that listed all the ways we could be helpful to guests and increase our tips.

I should have been paying attention, but all I could think about was Conner Blackstone and his magnificent cock. I wondered if I would ever have the chance to be alone with them—I mean him—again.

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Miranda

 

Thankfully, the remainder of Monday was uneventful. Wanda Jean and I managed to stay awake through the entire employee orientation, and then we showered and changed and attended the employee dinner that evening.

It was basically just a big cookout so all the employees could mingle and get to know one another before the lodge officially opened the next day.

I’d never seen so much food in my life. Tons of barbecue, fresh-cut steaks, burgers, hot dogs, roasted pig, racks of lamb—you name it, it was there. I ate like it was my last meal. It was rare that I got this kind of free food, so I took full advantage of it by eating till I was ready to pop.

A dozen guys hit on Wanda Jean, but they left me alone. Wanda Jean said it was because I put out a vibe like a rattlesnake lying on a hot rock. Men were afraid to get too close out of fear that I might bite their heads off. She was right. I didn’t feel much like socializing, at least not with any of the men who tried to chat with me. My mind was set on Conner Blackstone, and he was nowhere in sight.

I went back to the bunkhouse before nine and was dead asleep by ten, with visions of Conner Blackstone and his magnificent cock dancing in my head.

I drifted into a dream. Conner was lying on the massage table with his hands behind his head and his thick cock jutting out of his dark pubic hair like the mast of a great ship. I was standing next to the table with my hands covered in warm oil. He looked at me with his beautiful, dark eyes. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. I knew what he wanted. I knew what to do, even though in real life I had never done it before.

I moved in close and wrapped my oily fingers around his cock and slowly began to rub the oil into the veiny shaft. His cock was so long that I could take it in both my hands and slide them up and down from base to tip.

Conner moaned as I worked the oil into his balls and around the head of his cock. The head was like a large mushroom that grew darker and rounder as my hands pumped the blood into it. The slit oozed clear juice that dripped across my fingers. Without hesitation, I leaned down and lapped it up with the tip of my tongue, and then I swirled my tongue around the head like I was licking an ice cream cone.

“Suck it, you beautiful bitch,” I heard him moan. “Suck my big, hard cock.”

I did as he commanded. I pumped the shaft slowly with both hands and pressed a kiss to the tip. I slowly spread my lips and let the entire head slide into my mouth. I slathered my tongue beneath the head and Conner moaned.

“Yes, that’s it,” he sighed. “Take my big cock in to that gorgeous mouth of yours. Take all of it. Suck my cock good and hard.”

I closed my eyes and let his cock slide into my mouth an inch at a time. My lips were tight around the shaft. The oil tasted sweet, like rose wine. I took him in until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I didn’t gag. I just kept going. I took in the full length of his cock until my nose was brushing his thick pubic hair. I let him slide out of my mouth, and then I took him in again, over and over, until his cock literally throbbed in my throat.

“Make me come, baby,” Conner moaned. “Pump my big cock until I come like a fucking volcano.”

I gripped his cock tightly in my right hand and started pumping the shaft while my left hand played with his balls. I slid my middle finger beneath his balls and across his taint, and then with one quick movement I slid my entire finger up his asshole. The second I did, his entire body tensed and he lifted his ass off the table with my finger clenched inside him.

I pumped him faster until the head seemed to blossom and the slit quivered. Suddenly, white, milky cum shot from his cock like a geyser, sending ropes of it a foot into the air for what seemed like minutes. It overflowed from his cock and covered my hands. I worked my finger in and out of his asshole, and each time I did, he came a little more.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Conner’s body went limp and he let go a long, satisfied sigh. I was still holding his cock in my hand, covered with his cum.

“Clean me off with your mouth,” he commanded, smiling down at me. “Lick that cum off my cock like it’s ice cream.”

I didn’t speak. Nor did I hesitate.

I simply leaned down and, with my lips and tongue, licked his cock clean.

When I woke up the next morning, I thought I’d wet the bed.

The sheets beneath my ass were soaked.

Then I realized that it wasn’t pee.

It was the juice that had flowed from me while I’d been dreaming.

My pussy was still dripping with it.

I had orgasmed multiple times in my sleep.

I glanced over at Wanda Jean, who was still snoring softly in her bed next to mine. I lay back and sighed.

What a wonderful way to start the day.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Miranda

 

To my chagrin, I didn’t see Conner Blackstone all day Tuesday or Tuesday night. It was probably for the best, because I was booked solid with clients from ten in the morning until eight that night. By the time I left the spa my hands were cramping and my back felt like it was going to break.

I didn’t know which was more tiring: a full day hoofing tables at Red Lobster or standing at a massage table and rubbing the kinks out of rich tourists’ backs.

There was certainly no comparison between the two in regard to the amount of money I made. On a good day at Red Lobster I might have made a hundred bucks.

On my way out of the spa that night, Carla told me I had made three hundred bucks just in tips. That was on top of my base pay, which was a hundred bucks for the day.

Four hundred dollars in one day. Sometimes I didn’t make four hundred dollars in a week. Wow! That certainly made the pain my body was feeling much easier to bare.

* * *

When I got to the spa on Wednesday morning, Carla told me that I had been booked for private massages at the chateau for the entire afternoon.

“You need to head up to the chateau at one and stay until you’re dismissed,” she said. “Be ready. It could be a long day, but the tips will be amazing.”

“Chateau?” I asked, giving her a confusing look. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I understand.”

“That’s Mr. Blackstone’s private residence on the hill,” she said with a thumb in the air. “He has personal guests coming today and wants to offer them all massages. He said he wanted you and only you.” She gave me a suspicious look. “Any idea why he’d do that?”

I had an idea, all right, but I was hesitant to share it with Carla. I just gave her a shrug and tried to look clueless. I knew it was all a ruse. There were no personal guests coming. This was Conner Blackstone’s way of getting me alone so he could try his bullshit alpha male crap on me again.

I wondered exactly what he was up to.

And I wondered if, this time, it just might work.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Conner

 

“You can’t be serious!” Wesley said as he stood in the bedroom door, watching me tug on the dingy pair of cowboy boots I’d found in my closet. They were working cowboy boots, not dress boots like the pair of two-thousand-dollar elephant skins he was wearing. They were old and scuffed and dirty. I used to wear them when the old man and I came here for roundups before he died.

“We were supposed to head back to Dallas today to meet with your brother’s lawyer,” Wesley said. “I told you, this is not going to go away.”

“You handle it,” I said with a shrug. “You’re my lawyer.”

“But he’s your brother!” Wesley said. “The kid is going to be there with his aunt, Conner. They expect you to be there to meet him.”

“He is not my brother!” I screamed at him. “I’ve already told you: Pay the little bastard off and get him out of my life! I don’t want anything to do with him. What don’t you understand?”

Wesley looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. I ignored him and put on a denim shirt and tucked it into the ratty jeans. I put on a belt that had a huge silver buckle and then stood looking at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. All I needed was a hat and I’d look like a real cowboy. Yee-fucking-haw!

I heard Wesley sigh, and from the corner of my eye I saw him lean against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

He said, “Throwing money at this kid is not going to make him go away, Con. For Christ’s sake, he’s your brother. DNA tests don’t lie. He is the only family you have now. How can you not acknowledge that? How can you not want him in your life?”

I fiddled with the pearl buttons on my shirt and stared at myself in the mirror. “Wesley, I’m going to say this once more. I don’t give a flying fuck about DNA tests. I don’t care who he is or what our connection is. I do not want my old man’s mistakes interfering with my life. Period. So handle it. And if you can’t, I’ll find someone who can.”

“You are the biggest fucking prick on the planet,” Wesley said, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll fly to Dallas and meet with them, but you have to face this at some point, Con. This little boy is not going away, but if you keep acting like the world’s biggest asshole, I just might.”

“You’ll never quit,” I said with a grin. “You love me too much.”

“I don’t love you nearly as much as you love yourself,” he said. “And that’s what’s gonna do you in, my friend. You’ll grow old and alone with nothing but your money to keep you company because you can’t love anyone as much as you love yourself.”

“Thanks for the psychobabble, Wesley,” I said with a dismissive wave. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to finish getting ready.”

“You’re an asshole,” he said.

“No argument there.”

He turned and disappeared down the hallway. He had a car waiting at the lodge to take him back to the heliport, and then on to Amarillo for the flight home to Dallas.

He’d figure this whole “little brother” bullshit out. He better. That was what I paid him the fucking big bucks to do.

Thoughts of my old man’s bastard child quickly left my head as I went through the house looking for a hat to wear.

I had a girl to woo, and according to the employee roster, her name was Miranda Carson from Fort Worth, Texas.

I just grinned and said, “Miranda Carson…come on down!”

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Miranda

 

“Are you sure? There must be some kind of mistake. I’m the masseuse from the lodge. Mr. Blackstone left instructions for me to be at the chateau at one o’clock. I’m supposed to massage his guests.”

The old cowboy who had met me at the foot of path leading up to the chateau scratched his whiskered chin and shook his head. His other hand was holding the reins of a beautiful black mare that was all saddled up and ready to go.

“Must’ve been a change in plans, ma’am,” he said, nodding at the mare. “Mr. Blackstone said to put you on this horse and tell you to ride west along that path.” He nodded toward the path that had been cut through a pasture for horseback riders. It disappeared over a rolling hill half a mile away.

“He’ll be waiting for you in the west pasture, just over that hill.” He narrowed his eyes to give me the once over. “You wanna change clothes first?”

I looked down. I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops and a tan smock from the spa. I was obviously not dressed for whatever Conner had in mind. The old man and the horse stared at me as if both were waiting for my answer.

“Okay, yes. I’ll change into jeans and boots,” I said. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Take your time, ma’am,” the old man said, tipping his hat. “We’ll be waiting right here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty minutes later I was on top of the mare, trotting along the path toward the west pasture. I grew up riding horses, but it had been a while since I’d been on one.

My butt bobbed up and down on the saddle until I finally settled in and started to remember how to ride.

I had no idea what was in store for me over the top of the hill, but my heart was racing at the thought of being alone again with the infamous Conner Blackstone.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY: Conner

 

When I spotted Miranda coming over the rise, my heart started beating a little faster in my chest. My pulse quickened and I felt my entire body tense.

My horse seemed to sense her presence, too, because he kicked the ground and snorted at her. Or maybe he just wanted to screw the mare she was riding. Obviously, I’d picked the perfect horse for me.

I smiled and gave her a wave as she approached. She smiled and waved back.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said as she pulled back the reins to stop her horse next to mine. “I’m glad you did.”

“I thought I was coming to work,” she said, giving me a suspicious look as she let her eyes go around the pasture. Other than a few stray head of cattle, we were alone. “I was told I would be doing massages for your personal guests this afternoon.”

I couldn’t help but gawk at her. God, she was beautiful. She had her long hair pulled back into a ponytail that accentuated the angles and lines of her face. Her eyes sparkled in the bright sunshine and her skin glistened with a faint film of sweat that I had to resist licking off.

I said, “I’m afraid I might have just made that up to get you out of the spa today. I thought we could take the afternoon to get better acquainted. My way of making up for my awful behavior the first time we met.”

“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Blackstone,” she said, her blue eyes narrowing, “but if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I’m not here to have a vacation. I have a family back home to support, so I can’t waste a day of my time riding around and playing cowboy with you.”

A family back home…fuck. I forced a smiled and said, “Family back home? You mean like a husband and a bunch of kids?”

When I saw her amused smile, I knew there was no man waiting for her back home. I had no problem banging a married woman on occasion, but for some reason a little voice in my head kept telling me that Miranda Carson might not be just another conquest. She might be—could be—something much more.

“I have three brothers,” she said. “Our parents are gone, so they depend on me. That’s why I have to work.” She tugged the reins to turn her horse around. “So, I better be getting back.”

“Wait,” I said with a touch of alarm in my voice. “What if I just pay you to keep me company then?”

She gave me an angry look. “You mean like the whores you’re used to being with?”

I blinked at her. “Whores?”

“The way you talked to me the first time we met,” she said. Her beautiful nostrils flared. “You called me a whore. I assume by the way you acted and spoke, that’s who you’re used to being with.”

“Christ, did I really call you a whore?” It was a genuine question. I didn’t remember calling her a whore. And if I did, shit, maybe Wesley was right. Maybe my cock took over and my brain shut down and shit just spewed from my mouth. I suddenly felt like a total heel.

“I’m really sorry,” I said, meaning it. “I guess I…well...when I get in certain situations I…fuck…. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“You are one fucked-up individual,” she said, her face softening into a smile. “I’ll forgive you, but I really do have to work.”

“How much did you make yesterday?” I asked.

She eyed me for a moment. “Around four hundred dollars.”

“Tell you what, I’ll make sure you’re paid that same amount for the day and you don’t have to put your hands on anyone to earn it.”

“Anyone?” Her eyes became slits as she studied my face. “Including you?”

Bingo. I had the fish on the line. All I had to do was reel her in. I gave her a big smile.

“Especially me,” I said as sincerely as I could. “Look, I just thought we could ride for a bit and get acquainted. No strings. No evil plan. There’s an old cabin at the base of the hills where the cowboys used to brand cattle a hundred years ago. I thought you might enjoy seeing it. We can come back whenever you’re ready. You’re completely in charge.”

It took her a moment, but finally she smiled and said, “Okay, Mr. Blackstone. Lead the way.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Miranda

 

I had my doubts at first, but the afternoon I spent casually riding around the ranch with Conner Blackstone was one of the most relaxing days of my entire life. There was nobody yelling orders at me or bitching because their scallops were overcooked or crapping their pants or giving me teenage attitude.

It was quiet, peaceful, with the blue sky overhead and the warm wind blowing through my hair. It was, in a word, wonderful.

And so was Conner. He was like a different person now. I started to wonder if it truly was him that I’d encountered in the massage room or his evil twin.

We talked about everything: life, plans, dreams, food, movies. The only time Conner seemed apprehensive at all was when the topic turned to family. I got the impression that he and his father hadn’t ever been close but he’d worshipped the old man like a god that constantly let him down. I didn’t press him too hard. If he wanted to tell me about it, that was fine, but I was not one to pry.

“There’s the old cabin,” he said as we came to a hilltop that overlooked a patch of flatland covered in saw grass.

It was a tiny log structure, probably a third of the size of the bunkhouse I was staying in back at the lodge.

There was a catering van with the Big Sky logo on the side parked at the back of the cabin. I could see Wanda Jean and another worker carrying platters of food inside. Crap. I knew she’d be waiting back at the lodge with a million questions for me later.

“My grandfather built that cabin with his own two hands over a hundred years ago. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” Conner gave his horse a gentle slap of the reins and started trotting down the hill. I clicked my tongue and my horse fell in behind his.

We got off our horses just as Wanda Jean came through the front door. When she saw me, her jaw literally dropped.

“Uh, hi, Miranda,” she said, her eyes bugging. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Conner’s eyebrows went up. “You two know each other?”

“Wanda Jean and I are best friends,” I said quickly, before she could say something totally embarrassing. “We drove up together. We’re both from Fort Worth.”

“Very cool,” Conner said with a smile. He turned to Wanda Jean, who was standing on the porch at parade rest, like a soldier awaiting orders. “Well, Wanda Jean, is our dinner ready?”

Wanda Jean looked a little like the cat that ate the canary. She said, “Yes, sir. Exactly what you ordered: flank steaks, baked potatoes, homemade peach cobbler. There’s also a cooler with an assortment of beer, wine, and soft drinks.” She gave me a smile. “Hope you both like it.”

“I’m sure we will,” Conner said, reaching into this pocket and bringing out a wad of cash that would choke a horse. He peeled off four one-hundred-dollar bills and held them out to Wanda Jean between two fingers. “For you and your helper. Y’all can go on back. I think we can handle it from here.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackstone. Thank you.” To me, she lowered her voice to say, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

It wasn’t great advice, because there wasn’t much Wanda Jean wouldn’t do if she were in my shoes.

She took the money, cut me an amused look, and then disappeared back into the house and out the back door.

I heard the van start up and Conner extended a hand to welcome me inside.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Conner

 

We sat at the little table at the center of the old cabin and feasted like kings. The food was perfect and the company was amazing. Miranda and I talked for hours. There was no agenda, no ulterior motive. We just liked each other.

Talking to her was easy. Looking at her was even easier. It was like reconnecting with an old friend you didn’t know you’d missed until they showed up. I couldn’t remember ever being so relaxed and unguarded.

“You mentioned your family back in Fort Worth,” I said as we sat eyeing each other across the table covered with empty plates. I was drinking Coors and she was nursing a glass of red wine. We weren’t drunk, but I didn’t think either of us was feeling much pain. “Tell me about them.”

“I have three brothers,” she said, holding up three fingers. “Scotty is eighteen and the twins are four.”

“And you’re raising them?”

She eyed me for a moment, maybe wondering if that was going to be an issue with me. She said, “Yes. When my dad and stepmom died, I became their legal guardian.”

“That must be hard,” I said. “Young woman, just starting outing out in life, suddenly burdened with three kids to raise.”

“It’s not a burden,” she said defensively. “I love my brothers and would do anything in the world for them.” She took a sip of wine and watched me from over the top of the glass. “Tell me about your family.”

I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. My mom died when I was six. My old man died a few years ago.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“No,” I said quickly, and then I gave her a shrug. “Well, I’m told I have a younger half brother, but I’ve never met him, so…”

“How old is he?”

I picked up the beer bottle and started peeling the label with my thumbnail. This wasn’t a topic I wanted to pursue with her, at least not now. I had other things on my mind. Still, I knew I had to play along if I was going to spend the rest of the evening exploring her magnificent body with my tongue.

I said, “He’s four or five, I think.”

“You think?” She was frowning at me. “How can you not know how old your little brother is?”

I bit my tongue and fought the urge to tell her to go fuck herself because it was none of her business. Instead I said, “I told you. I’ve never met him.”

“Where does he live?”

“Galveston.”

“With his mom?”

I forced myself to breath normally. “No. She died a few months ago.”

“Is he coming to live with you then? I mean, he is your brother and he’s only four. Surely you’re not going to let someone else raise him?”

“Why are we even talking about this?” I asked, no longer able to keep the anger out of my voice. I slammed the beer bottle down onto the table. “We’re not here to talk about our fucking families, for Christ’s sake!”

She set the wine glass on the table and sat eyeing me with her jaw set. “Then why are we here, Mr. Blackstone?”

“I’m really not sure anymore,” I huffed, pushing myself up from the table and knocking over my chair in the process. For some reason, I didn’t want to have sex with her anymore. I didn’t even want to be around her. I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

“Come on,” I said, moving toward the door. “It’s getting dark. We need to get back.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Miranda

 

I wasn’t sure why it set Conner off, but the talk of his little brother seemed to throw a switch in his head, and he went from smiling and happy to frowning and pissed off in the blink of an eye.

He slammed his beer bottle onto the table and headed for the door. I took a deep breath and followed close behind.

It had gotten dark out, but when I looked up at the night sky, I didn’t see stars. The sky was black as pitch. Low clouds rolled above us. Just off to the west the sky was suddenly ablaze with lightning, and a second later, a boom of thunder hit so loudly that our horses jerked away from the hitching post and hightailed it back toward the stables, as they had become programmed to do.

“Goddamn you, old man!” Conner yelled as a hard rain began to fall. He held up his fists like he was cursing God himself. I stood on the covered porch, watching him for a moment. I didn’t know why, but something inside me ached for him. I knew at that moment that a lot of his bravado and alpha male bullshit was just the wall he’d built to protect his true feelings. As he stood there getting drenched in the pouring rain, my heart went out to him.

Conner sank to his knees on the wet ground and covered his face with his hands. Without thinking, I ran across the yard and wrapped my arms around his head and let him sob into my breasts as the rain came down hard on us both.

I put my hands on his cheeks and forced him to look up at me. As the rain drenched us, I lowered my lips to his and realized that this man needed me as much as I needed him.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Conner

 

The feel of Miranda’s lips on mine seemed to wash away the anger I was feeling toward my father and a child I had never even met.

The image of the photograph Wesley had shown me, the one of my old man holding the little boy and looking happier than he ever looked when holding me, melted from my mind.

I somehow knew, as Miranda’s arms went around my neck, that everything was going to be all right.

I got to my feet and scooped her up into my arms. Our kiss continued as I carried her into the cabin and kicked the door closed with my foot.

We stood in the center of the room, peeling off each other’s wet clothes and dropping them onto the plank flooring. Once we were naked, I guided her to a cot that was set up in the back corner of the room.

Rather than commanding her to do so, I gently laid her back on the cot and put my hands on her knees to spread her legs so I could see my prize.

Her pussy was beautiful. The blond curls above her clit were trimmed short. The lips were pink and glistening with moisture as if they were dying to be kissed.

It was all I could do not to hammer my cock into her. It was already as hard as a rock and ready to go, but I wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

I was still the alpha male, the king stud to her queen bitch, but sometimes being the alpha meant knowing when to hammer it home and when to take your time and just enjoy the spoils of the conquest.

I wanted to take this slowly.

I wanted to make it last.

I wanted to burn every touch and smell and taste of her into my memory for all time.

And that was exactly what I did.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Miranda

 

I lay back with my eyes closed and my breath held. I had never been with a man before. Heck, no man had ever even seen me naked. That was why I was a little surprised that I had no inhibitions where Conner was concerned. I was willingly opening my legs to him, inviting him to do as he pleased, knowing he would be the one to take my virginity at last.

I had no schoolgirl notions about being a virgin. I had not been saving myself for marriage, but I had been saving myself for the right man. And I knew that I would know who that man was when the time came. Now, as I felt Conner’s fingers and tongue teasing my pussy, there was no doubt in my mind that he was the man I’d been waiting for.

I reached down and pulled back the hood of my clit so he could swirl his tongue around the nub. Shockwaves shuddered through my body. I felt myself gushing juices onto his face and into his mouth. I watched in utter fascination as Conner swept his tongue from my asshole, up my pussy lips, around my clit, and back again. I felt myself coming, the first orgasm I’d ever had that didn’t come from a dream or my own hand.

Conner put his hands on my ass and lifted me up to his mouth. He buried his tongue deep inside me and pressed his lips to my pussy like a French kiss. His thumb toyed with my wet asshole and his tongue worked its magic on my pussy hole. It didn’t take long for me to come again. Conner moaned as he sucked the juices from me, as if he were savoring a wonderful meal.

I reached for him, pulling him until he was straddling me with his balls resting on my breasts and his giant cock looming in front of my face. I reached around to clamp my hands on his ass and took the head of his cock into my mouth.

I was about to make my dream come true.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Conner

 

I almost blew my load the moment Miranda slid my cock into her beautiful mouth. She held on to my ass as she bobbed her head back and forth, taking nearly the whole ten inches down her throat. I reached behind me and found her drenched pussy with my fingertips. I rubbed her clit as she sucked my cock. She spread her legs wide and bucked her ass so my fingers could slip inside her.

“Christ, you beautiful bitch,” I heard myself say. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. “I love your wet pussy. I love the way you suck my big hard cock. I want to fuck your pussy. I want to fuck your ass. I want to pound my cock into your beautiful pussy until you come like a motherfucking tidal wave.”

She stopped sucking my cock. Fuck, what had I done? I opened my eyes and looked down to find her smiling up at me. She said, “Do you want to pop my cherry?”

My mouth must had dropped open, because she grinned up at me and teased the tip of my cock with her tongue.

“Your…cherry…” I said the words slowly, wondering if they meant what I thought they did.

“I’m a virgin,” she said, her right hand around my cock, slowly sliding her fingers up and down the veiny shaft. “I want you to fuck my pussy so hard with your big cock that you pop my cherry and send me screaming over the moon. Will you do that for me, Conner? Pop my cherry with this big wonderful cock of yours?”

I looked deeply into her beautiful eyes and said, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said with tears in her eyes. She let go of my cock and rested her hands on my chest. “Please, Conner. I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Please, take me and make me your own.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Miranda

 

Conner stared down at me with eyes not only filled with lust, but with true compassion and caring. He braced himself on his palms and moved from straddling me to positioning himself between my legs. I could feel the head of his stiff cock rubbing against my pussy, lubricating himself for the journey inside. He pressed the head of his cock to my pussy hole and paused for a moment.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“I’m positive,” I said, wrapping my legs around his ass. “Just go slowly until I say otherwise.”

He smiled and leaned down to give me a slow kiss. His tongue wet my lips for me and I felt the head of his cock slide into my pussy. My breath caught in my throat.

He pressed his lips to mine and I felt him slide in a little more. The walls of my pussy stretched to accommodate this wonderful, new thing it had never felt before.

Then both of us felt the tip of his cock press against the little wall of tissue protecting my cherry. He asked if I was ready. I held my breath and gave him a nod.

“Yeeow!” I screamed as he impaled me fully onto his cock. My eyes filled with tears and I choked back a sob, but I took another deep breath and told him to keep going.

Conner proceeded slowly. He pulled his cock almost all the way out and then slowly slid it back in. Quickly, the pain was replaced by the most amazing pleasure I could have imagined. With each thrust, little sparks shot through my body like the Fourth of freakin’ July. My nipples were hard as thimbles. Conner lowered his lips to my right nipple as he continued to slide his cock in and out of my sopping pussy.

I put my hands on his cheeks and brought his ear to my lips. “I love your fucking cock,” I said, my breath gusting in his ear. “Tell me what you love, Conner. Talk to me, stud. Tell me what you’re going to do to my tight little pussy.”

Conner’s eyes swept across mine for a moment, as if he was making sure he’d heard the words correctly. Then he kissed me again and said, “Do you love having my big cock in your tight little pussy?”

“I do,” I sighed. “Fuck me with your big cock.”

“I’ll fuck you with my big cock all I want,” Conner said, the pace quickening. “You’re my bitch and I’m your stud. I’ll do whatever I want to you with this big cock and you’ll love it. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Fuck me, Conner, faster…harder…”

“You love it when I fuck you fast, don’t you?” he said. He started pulling his cock almost all the way out of my pussy and then ramming it back in. Each time he did, the breath rushed from my lungs and I seemed to discover new nerve endings that spread shocks of ecstasy throughout my entire body.

“You’re mine now, Miranda,” Conner said, the words coming out in gusts. “You’re my bitch and I’m your stud. I will fuck you and suck you and do whatever I want to you and you’ll fucking love it!”

“I…love...it…”

“God, your pussy is so tight…. God, I’m coming, Miranda. Come with me, baby. Come with me…”

And with that, Conner slammed his cock into my pussy a few more times and then threw his head back and howled like a wolf. I wrapped my legs tighter around him and pulled him closer until his cock was fully in my pussy, filing me with his hot cum. I felt the heat radiating through my body as my juices mixed with his and overflowed from my cunt.

He collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him as we both struggled to catch our breath.

After a moment, he leaned up and kissed me. Looking deeply into my eyes, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“What do you think?” I said, giving him a dreamy smile. “Are you all right?”

Conner didn’t say anything. He just kissed my lips softly and then lowered his head to rest on my chest.

As I lay there cradling his head against my breast, listening to him breath, I wondered if we were thinking the same thoughts.

I closed my eyes and prayed that we were.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Miranda

 

Conner and I made love several more times before the sun came shining through the dusty cabin window. Some of our lovemaking was rough and tumble, lewd and loud, but some was also soft and slow.

I could tell that I had a lot to learn, and hopefully Conner would be a patient teacher. I reminded myself that one night of lust did not always lead to a lifetime of love.

We’d just have to see how things progressed once we were back home, if Conner was so inclined.

Conner built a fire and we hung our clothes on the backs of chairs to dry. We sat on the porch wrapped in old blankets and talked as the sun rose in the sky.

I did not bring up the topic of his little brother again, though I knew we’d have to talk about it if we were going to see each other again.

There was nothing more precious to me than my brothers, and nothing was more important than family. If Conner believed otherwise, I didn’t see us having much of a chance of a future together.

When the horses went back to the stables during the storm, the stable master had called Conner’s cell phone to make sure we were all right. Conner had told him to send a Jeep at 8 a.m., and it showed up precisely on schedule.

When we got back to the lodge, Conner told me he had to leave immediately for urgent business in Dallas. I asked if I’d ever see him again and he just looked at me and smiled.

“Just try to avoid me,” he said, brushing his hand against my cheek. “I’ll call you later in the week to see how you’re doing here.”

As I watched him go up the path to the chateau to pack, I prayed that the effect I seemed to have on him wouldn’t wear off.

He seemed calmer now.

Not as cocky.

His smile seemed genuine rather than forced.

Still, I knew how guys were.

They had the best of intentions when they were sliding in and out of your pussy, but afterward, well, I knew I’d just have to wait and see how things went.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Miranda

 

Wanda Jean was right. I made more money during the four weeks I worked at Big Sky Ranch than I’d made at Red Lobster in the previous six months.

It didn’t hurt that Conner had given me a ten-thousand-dollar tip for the time we’d spent together. I was a little offended at first, feeling like I’d been paid to fuck him, but then I let it go.

I had tuition to pay and three brothers to care for, and Conner had money to burn. If he wanted to give me an insane tip for the best night of my life, so be it.

I had only talked to Conner three or four times since the night we spent together. He was traveling a lot, he said, taking care of business all over the world. I asked about his little brother the last time we spoke, but he just changed the subject and moved on.

Honestly, I was wondering if I’d ever see Conner again. I mean, maybe I should have forced myself to accept the fact that it was just a one-night stand and I needed to move on.

Conner Blackstone was one of the richest, most-eligible men in the whole state of Texas, if not the world.

What the heck would he want with a dirt-poor girl from Fort Worth who had three younger brothers to raise and who scraped by waitressing at Red Lobster?

And yes, I kept my job at Red Lobster. The manager was a friend who held my spot for me. The money I made at Big Sky would pay for the online courses required to finish my physical therapy degree and help keep food on the table until I could find a good job, but that was about it.

Scotty was pissed that he hadn’t gotten his cell phone yet.

That was okay. He’d get over it.

I had to get over things all the time.

I hoped Conner Blackstone wasn’t one of them.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY: Miranda

 

I was in the kitchen, dumping two cans of ravioli into a pot, when Scotty came bolting through the front door in such a state that I thought someone was chasing him.

The twins were sitting at the table coloring, waiting for their healthy dinner from Chef Boyardee.

Scotty skidded to a stop and stood hunched over, trying to catch his breath. I grabbed a butcher knife out of the drawer and held it at the ready. “Scotty, what the fuck?”

“You’re not gonna believe who’s here,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. He fell into a kitchen chair and pointed toward the front door. “Go…for you…”

I put the knife back in the drawer and turned off the burner. “Watch the twins,” I said, picking up a dish towel and wiping my hands. I heard a knock at the front door. Scotty was still panting and pointing.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Conner

 

When I saw Miranda through the screen door, I exhaled the long breath I had been holding since getting out of the car. She was wearing cutoff jeans and a tank top and no shoes. Her hair was down and messy, as if she hadn’t bothered to brush it that day. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The teenaged boy who had spotted my Bentley stopping in front of the apartment was standing behind her. Next to him were two little boys who looked like carbon copies of one another.

“Hi,” I said when Miranda came to the door. “Happy to see me?”

“Sure, of course,” she said, pushing open the screen to greet me with a hug. She wrapped her arms around me and we stood there for a long minute with the door propped open. It was the first time we’d seen each other since I’d left Big Sky. Holding her in my arms again put a smile on my face. I felt like I was the king of the world.

She pulled back and gave me a frown. “Why didn’t you call me? How did you even know where I lived?”

“I got your address from HR,” I said. “And I didn’t call you because I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did,” she said with a smile. She turned to the boys still standing at the kitchen doorway and waved them over. “Conner, this is Scotty and James and Josh.” She looked up at me with hopeful eyes. “My brothers.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” I said. I took Miranda’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “There’s someone I want you to meet as well.”

I turned back to my car and gave my driver a wave. He got out and opened the back door nearest the curb. My little brother jumped out of the car like an escaped prisoner and ran to me with his arms out. I scooped him up and turned to Miranda. The look on her face was priceless.

“This is my little brother, Jeffie,” I said. “Jeffie, this is my friend Miranda, and these are her brothers.”

“Hi, Muwanda,” Jeffie said with a big smile.

“Hi, Jeffie,” Miranda said. Her eyes filled with tears and she traced a finger down my cheek. “Are you boys hungry?”

“We’re having ravioli!” the twins announced simultaneously.

“Will you boys join us?” Miranda asked. “We have plenty.”

“What do you think, Jeffie?” I asked. “Should we have some ravioli?”

“Yes!” Jeffie said, clapping his hands.

I set him down and he followed Scotty and the twins back inside. Miranda turned to me with a look of utter shock on her gorgeous face. Before she could speak, I leaned in and gave her a long kiss.

“This is all because of you,” I said with a smile.

“It is? How? Why?”

“We’ll talk after dinner,” I said with a nod. “Right now you have five boys who want some ravioli.”

She grinned and told me to get my ass inside.

I just smiled and said, “Yes, ma’am.”