Bridled and Branded (5 page)

“It’s true,” Rhett assured her. “The decisions you make when circumstances are in your favor determine the kind of person you are and the new directions your life can take. If you don’t mind my saying so, you are at a crossroads that may change your life in a way most women would envy.”

Blaine smirked. “Should I applaud you?”

“Not yet,” Rhett said, holding up his hand.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Lynlee stated firmly.

“Keep playing around with Blaine and you might,” Rhett shot back, his statement loaded.

Blaine’s expression changed. “I hope you told Sanders he isn’t welcome here. Man has a loose screw or two if he thinks he can hold Lynlee against her will and we’ll play nice and forget about it. I didn’t want to kick a man when he’s down, but I’ll be damned if I want him around Lynlee after he held a knife—toy or not—to her precious throat.”

Lynlee pursed her lips.

“Are we stomping and snorting?” Blaine rubbed his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “And, yeah, I said precious.”

“Don’t you patronize me, Blaine. I can take care of myself. I didn’t want that man anywhere near me, but after what the two of you did, I sort of understand why he wanted to get even with the likes of you.”

Rhett narrowed his gaze and stared right at Lynlee’s lower half. “You can empathize with someone, darlin’, but sympathizing with that man—who is obviously a psychopath—could’ve gotten your pretty little pussy tapped by the wrong stranger.”

“How dare you speak to me in that manner!”

Blaine clucked sarcastically. “Yeah, Rhett. How dare you talk to such an innocent woman like that? Where are your manners,
stranger
?”

“You sure you want me to answer that one?”

“Don’t get yourself all worked up,” Lynlee informed. “And don’t even think about stripping like Blaine here ’cause you need to understand something from the get-go. I’m not a virgin. I cried virgin for the sake of hoping I could stop a rape.”

“Shit, honey, if you wanted to stop a crime, you shouldn’t have offered criminal rewards.”

She blushed.

“She’s a virgin,” the men chimed in together.

“What the hell does it matter?”

Rhett walked over to the refrigerator and made himself right at home, grabbing a cola from the door before turning back to them. “It matters, sweet thing. God help ya. The status of your tight little snatch may matter a lot by the time the two of us get through with you.”

Chapter Six

Lynlee thought she’d won. After Rhett’s crude comment, Blaine walked him out, and she felt somewhat victorious. She stripped down to nothing and slid one foot under the water pouring from the small faucet in the tiny shower stall.

She heard Blaine’s heavy footsteps on the other side of the bathroom door. “Please tell me some sensible cowboy came to call. I may need a big, strong man to later save me from the idiots around here,” she teased, latching the small hook in an attempt to lock him out. Blaine was out of his mind if he thought she’d let him join her.

“I’ll protect you, but it won’t be from me, doll. I’ll have to work on saving you from yourself first,” he said, close enough for her to hear the guttural, agonizing tone of his voice as the rasp nearly clicked off the last syllables.

Returning to the shower, she stretched her neck back. She dipped her face under the steady stream of warm water and waited for Blaine to leave.

She took a deep breath and yanked the curtain back, expecting to find nothing more than an empty bathroom, everything in perfect order just as it had been before she stepped into the shallow tub.

Lynlee grabbed the thin curtain and draped it over her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, she screamed, “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“For starters, I’m going to bathe,” he said, uncurling her fingers from the vinyl curtain.

“Not with me you aren’t! Oh, God! This is so embarrassing! Get out of here!”

“What’s embarrassing? I’ve seen your bare ass a few times.”

“Maybe when I was a baby and you were still in your Pull-Ups!”

He cupped her chin. “Lynlee, I want you to open your eyes.”

“No! Are you kidding me? Next thing you’ll want me to do is drop down on my knees or something and then that…thing, that god-awful
thing
you have hanging between your legs, is liable to peck my eyes out.”

She bit back a giggle and a smile.

He chuckled. “I see. Do you mind telling me how many women you’ve noticed walking around with patches over their eyes?”

“It’s not funny, Blaine. Out. I want you to leave.”

“You may be interested to know that my cock is pliable,” he crooned.

Her mouth formed an immediate O when she peered down. “You can’t be serious!”

“Sure I am. Want me to show you?” he asked, gripping his penis.

“I want you to go.” And she needed to slowly back away from her act. She’d given head a few times, and she’d seen a man’s cock, though never one quite so appealing.

“Come on, baby. We both know that’s not true. Let me show you. Glance down here again. Watch me.”

She looked at him dead-on. “You aren’t going to give yourself a hand-job right in front of me.”

“I might. Are you jealous?”

“You are so full of yourself, Blaine McCain. Really, I mean, how do you sleep at night? Are there mirrors in your dreams?”

“You’re changing the subject, Lynlee. We’re talking about my dick.”

“Naturally, we’re discussing you.”

His eyes darkened, and he pumped. Heaven help her, he stroked his cock hard and fast. She wanted to watch. She longed to see him fisting his dick, yanking for a quick release.

Dear Lord, she’d lost her ever lovin’ mind.

 
Lynlee stared at the man waiting to show her how to become a woman. She realized then that the passing moment would lead to an unforgettable night where she would sleep with the only man she’d ever loved.

“You see, sometimes, I wonder if the authors of the dictionary had a man’s penis in mind when they printed the definition of pliable.” He grinned and then wiggled his cock around to show her. “It’s supple, and as you can see, a man’s dick bends freely.”

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah, I have an illness with a name—yours.” Widening his grin, he continued, “My dick won’t break, by the way, and depending on the woman, it’s adjustable and yields—without a second thought, I might add—to others.”

Damn it. She wanted more than a vocabulary lesson. And she wasn’t sure her first time with Blaine should consist of a quick romp in the shower, sexy as the act may have been.

She wanted champagne and flowers, rose petals on the bed, and she wanted that bed to be located in a fancy hotel suite, not in the back of her 1982 deluxe, and certainly dated, camper. She didn’t want to lose her virginity at a horse show where everyone they knew would realize they’d spent the night together.

She desired more than this, so much more. And longed for nothing else except Blaine, anyway she could have him.

* * * *

Blaine watched Lynlee’s eyes fill with lust when she swiped that wicked tongue of hers over parted lips. She finally looked down, and Lord help him, he could’ve sworn an enhanced shade of pink kissed her cheekbones all at once. She looked about twenty times sexier than he’d noted five seconds before.

Her gaze held lust and lots of it. If she felt for him what he felt for her, years of pent-up angst had her weighing the pros against the cons of sleeping together. He’d be happy to sit down and show her the advantages found in doing things his way.

His heart started beating faster. Truth was, he couldn’t wait to make love with Lynlee, but he’d settle for holding her all night long if that was all she was ready to give him.

“Blaine,” she whispered, touching his lips.

He nipped at her fingertips, wondering if she realized they stood at that crossroads Rhett mentioned earlier.

The woman inside her needed to be free. Blaine wanted to free her.

The child still living inside her was hiding. She could stay hidden.

“Every year, you come to these shows,” she began. “You flaunt one woman right after the next in front of me, like it doesn’t matter what I think, or if I even have feelings.” Her hazy eyes met his. “And now, when your friend shows me a little interest, suddenly you’re ready to take me to bed?”

“That’s not the only reason,” he said, stepping inside the shower and yanking her against him in one fluid motion. “I’ve waited long enough, Lynlee.” He framed her face. “Look at me, you stubborn woman.”

Slowly, she raised her head. “I’m looking.”

“Are you afraid to stare?”

“No,” she retorted.

“Are you sure?”

“Fine,” she said, lowering her eyes and staring at his cock until the damn thing must have grown a few sprouts since it fully extended without further provocation. “Hmm,” she cooed. “It’s so nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he drawled proudly.

“Why, sure,” she said with amusement dancing in her voice. And then she shocked him in more ways than expected. The little vixen sank to her knees.

Chapter Seven

Women around the circuit used to talk about him. They’d tell their stories in the bathrooms or out in the barns while they were waiting to ride one mount or another. Heck, to hear some of them tell their wild and crazy tales, there was only one stud on the place worth riding—Blaine McCain.

Maybe she’d climb aboard. But by golly, she’d make him want a woman worse than he’d ever wanted one, first. Staring at the tip of the mushroom head, she noticed how the engorged crest took on a purplish tint when her mouth inched closer.

She had to admit, she’d never seen a penis quite so large. She’d always heard that a man’s size didn’t matter, only how well he used what he had. Whoever said such a thing probably never came face-to-face with a torpedo, something with the ability to damage a woman, and not in a destructive way, but certainly in a manner to leave an impression and ward off future visitors to the same place.

“Heaven and hell, baby, don’t just stare at it. Make use of a good thing.”

Lynlee would show him. She’d been on her knees several times and never heard the first complaint. She’d wanted sex so bad she couldn’t stand herself a time or two, but she’d always remembered Blaine.

She saved herself for him. Sometimes she thought of how ridiculous that all was in the first place. He damn sure didn’t return the favor and save himself for one woman. He shared with all of them.

Gasping when she saw the pre-cum form at the end, she swiped her tongue over the top. To delay the start made little sense. Besides, she couldn’t wait to taste him, to wrap her tongue around the shape of his cock and suck out his pleasure, the creamy taste he’d surely have when he let go of his release.

“Ah, hell, Lynlee,” he growled when her tongue whipped around him. She licked, determined not to move fast, and focused on the task at hand—driving one hot-blooded man out of his ever-loving mind. “Come on, doll. Suck. Take me all the way to your throat.”

“Not yet,” she whispered, licking her way down the shaft and cupping his balls in the process. His dick felt harder, and another drop of his excitement invited her while she gently squeezed his scrotum.

“When?” he asked, grinning. “Are you waiting for the end of time or something? You’re driving me crazy.”

“Soon,” she promised, finding her way to the head and flicking the end with the tip of her tongue. “Very soon.”

Tasting him was like sucking on a lemon drop first thing in the morning. The shock of having something so sweet and sour caress her senses made her pucker, and the need to suck, even though the taste was so unexpected, alerted her senses.

Lynlee knew Blaine would be her first, but before she allowed him to take her virginity, she planned to make him think she had plenty of experience. When it came to oral sex, Blaine probably didn’t want a naïve or frigid lover.

“You want me to talk you through this?”

“I can manage,” she said, glancing up. “Trust me.”

“Shit,” he said, reaching for the base of his cock. “Hon, please.”

Begging worked. Let him grovel.

Earning a trip to Blaine’s bed was like winning a blue ribbon, some sort of victory, if a gal paid close attention to the stories. According to the women around there, Blaine could have had the cream of the crop, and the land was always ripe for a picking. Apparently, Blaine didn’t realize others felt that way, and to make sure he didn’t spread himself too thin, he seldom limited himself by choosing a front-runner.

Rumors ran rampant on the circuit. Blaine supposedly didn’t care if he landed in bed with one woman or two, so long as he landed somewhere.

The stories used to bother her, and she’d once talked to her mother about them. Her mother, forever Blaine’s biggest fan, once explained that a woman didn’t want a man who lacked experience. Maybe a man felt the same way.

In the back of her mind, she knew better.