Burn for Cowboy (Stampede Sizzlers) (2 page)

“Let’s get you back to the hotel and tie you up.” He settled his hat in place then stood, withdrawing his credit card. “I’ll take them both. Ladies.”

The girls giggled at his words, thinking he was still playing the movie villain.

If they only knew.

****

Mike left Meri sleeping in their bed. She looked beautiful, her body relaxed and sated. He dug out the phone, checked the time, shrugged then called.

Time to do this.

“Give me Erica.”

“No. She’s mine. Fuck you.”

“You’re such an asshole,” he heard a feminine voice say and it made him smile. The phone was grabbed. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s a dickhead who calls at one in the morning,” Chance Bremner muttered in the background. “That’s what’s fucking wrong. Calling
my
wife at one? Dick. Head.”

Mike grunted as he shut his eyes. “Your husband is a douche.”

“You two need to have a fist fight.”

“We did. I broke his tooth. It was satisfying. I’m happy to repeat the experience. Anytime.”

“Stop picking on my husband. What’s wrong?” There was a little gasp. “Charlie? Is it Charlie?”

No one had heard from Charlie in years and Mike feared his younger brother was dead. Like Joey. Fuck. His family had fractured apart that summer twenty years ago. Joey, the youngest, had died. Originally they had been told Joey’s death was accidental: falling off a ledge then drowning in the Bow River. Not according to Charlie. Charlie had said there had been nothing accidental about Joey’s fall. That he had done it by choice. The family still didn’t understand the reasons behind Joey’s suicide because there hadn’t seemed to be anything wrong. The remaining twin couldn’t provide the answers either.

Charlie had been lost when his twin died. He had immersed himself in drugs. Then one day his parents had phoned. No one could find Charlie. Mike was still looking with the help of private investigators.

“No. Sorry.” He sighed.

“Is it your parents?”

“The Rossi clan is fine, Erica.” He, however, was apparently fucking up yet another important relationship. His ex-wife was quiet on the other end of the phone.

“Then what is wrong with Michael Rossi?”

He hadn’t told Erica about Meredith. No real reason why, he just hadn’t. “I’ve been seeing someone,” he finally admitted. The silence continued. He didn’t want to hurt Erica again. Their marriage had ended painfully for both of them.

He hadn’t talked to either Erica or Chance for years until one day Erica had shown up at his office. Until he had seen her standing there, looking nervous with a little baby bump, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed her in his life. A strange, yet necessary, friendship had built up over the past few years. He still hadn’t seen Chance, though there had been a few exchanges on the phone like now.

Both of them were too stubborn, too alpha, too dominant to suck it up and make the first move. But shit, he missed Chance. They had grown up together. Unlike Mike, Chance had loved growing up on his family farm. His dreams had kept him here.

How ironic life was. Mike had left here, found his wife, introduced her to his best friend, played some sexy threesome games then lost her. Now Erica lived here.

And for the first time in a long time, the three of them were in the same time zone. But neither of the Bremners knew it.

“What’s she like?”

“Beautiful. Sexy. She used to figure skate competitively.”

“And submissive?”

“Yes,” he said carefully, well aware this was his former sub he was talking too. “We’re here.”

“Here? Like on the farm?”

“In Calgary for the Stampede.”

“You’re here. In Calgary. With your new girlfriend. Were you going to tell me at all? Not just about her but that you’re here?”

He couldn’t lie to her. “No.”

“Give me that,” the phone was taken from her. “My wife is crying, dickhead. What did you do?”

“Fuck you.”

“No. Fuck
you
, Mikey. Why is my wife crying?”

Mike rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the carpet. “I’m in Calgary.”

One minute of silence. Two. “Fuck. You.” And his former best friend hung up on him. Not quite how he saw this phone call going. He set the phone down and spun it again. It rang and he recognized the phone number. “You are an asshole,” Chance said as a greeting, his voice hard. “You told my wife this shit was behind you. Did you lie to her?”

“No.”

“But you’re still punishing her. Fuck you, Michael. Let it go. It’s over. It’s done. We all fucked up. Whatever. Stop giving my wife shit because you were an asshole.”

He could practically see Chance pacing and jamming his finger in the air as if to poke Mike. “This isn’t about you. Or your wife, Chance.”

“The hell it’s not. You are here, Michael. No one knows you’re here because when I saw your mom the other day she sure as hell didn’t mention you were visiting. I get that you hate this place but that’s your family. You have turned into a grade-A, cock sucking bastard. And now you’ve made my wife cry. So…yeah. This is about me and my wife.”

Mike squeezed the back of his neck. “Chance–” The man, however, was on a roll and wasn’t going to slow down for any explanation Mike had.

“Bad enough nobody knows where Charlie is, if he’s alive or dead.  But you. You are alive. But nobody knows where you are either. They’re your family, Michael. I get our friendship is dead and gone, but fuck you. Calling here before the sun’s up and you make my wife cry? Because you’re a selfish asshole. You always have been. Stop hurting my wife. You may be bigger than me but I will bust your head open and end you.”

“You couldn’t end me if you were pointing a gun at my head, Bremner.”

“Well okay. I’ll make you fucking bleed and take great satisfaction in it. Now. What the hell is wrong?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Fuck you. Ric’s crying, the babies are up. You got me. Talk, dickhead. I got cows to feed.”

“I met someone.”

“Yes,” his former friend said slowly. “I figured as much. What’s wrong?”

Everything, Mike thought as he dragged a hand down his face. Bracing his shoulder against the window, he looked out at the night. A lot of drunk yahoos were down on the street. He rather wished he was one of them. That was easier than this phone call. “I’m working on it. I called for a reason.”

“I figured that too. Since it’s one in the fucking morning. Dickhead.”

“You still with Stealth?”

“Just a minute, baby,” he heard Chance say. “Yeah, you know I am. That’s why you phoned.”

Mike looked at the bedroom door and took a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

Chapter Two

Bondage and Meri were two of the most perfect things in the world. He sipped his beer and gazed at the woman on the bed. Hotels weren’t very accommodating with their lack of places to tie rope to on a bed. It hadn’t entered his mind to not involve bondage on their holiday, so he had purchased one of those kits where there was a long restraint under the mattress with a connector straps that came over the edge of the mattress. They certainly weren’t for spontaneous bondage since it took lifting a really heavy mattress then trying to make sure the fucking main strap didn’t get positioned out of place.

Give him his bed and headboard any day. This bondage kit business was shit.

That said, he still liked seeing Meri cuffed and helpless. Cuffs at her wrists and ankles held her in place.

One of his ties covered her eyes and another was tucked between her lips, the silk damp from her mouth. Her pretty little breasts were topped with silver strands looped over dark pink nipples while tucked into her luscious little pussy was a vibrating egg he controlled.

Fuck, she was breath-taking.

Her fingers clung to the restraints as if they alone could keep her from flying off the bed. He thumbed up the speed of the toy and she cried out, arching up as her body strained against her binds. His cock throbbed telling him to wrap this fun up and sink deep into her.

The first time he met Meri, there had been bondage. It was as if her flexible body, honed by years of ballet, dance and figure skating, was made for ropes. He could still easily envision that dainty, five-one figure stretched along his St. Andrew’s cross, a dildo filling her sassy little ass, and her bare pussy dripping cream onto his floor. So pretty and sweet. Perfection.

She had been his ever since.

He took a final sip of his beer, then he eased up to walk over to her. With the remote, he slowed the vibrations to a gentle hum. A jolt moved through her body as he caressed up her shin. “Look at you,” he said, following the line of her thigh. “So beautiful.” 

She gasped loudly for breath, her nostrils flaring as her hips shifted restlessly. She cried out, arching when he stroked her damp, swollen pussy. The tie did nothing to muffle her scream when he flicked the tiny ball that glimmered in her clit hood. The piercing had been his fortieth birthday present. It was the gift that kept on giving.

Reaching over, he tucked the remote in her right hand. “Make yourself come, little love.”

She almost dropped the remote. Finally she had it in her grip and the muffled rumblings of the toy resumed. Leaning down, he licked her swollen nipple then flicked the tie with his tongue. Her body jerked and convulsed as the remote fell to the bed, forgotten as she came. His fingers tugged the slick egg from her and he tossed it aside.

He wanted inside her. He needed to be inside her.

Quickly, he stripped himself of his jeans and moved between her open legs. Her breathing changed and her hips lifted in a silent plea. Mike gazed at her, taking a mental picture.

She was everything he had ever wanted in life.  He wished he were the same for her. He wished he had found her first as opposed to whomever it was who had broken her heart. That he had been the one to imprint upon her heart so that it was
only
him.

Selfish, but true.

Reaching up, he eased the tie from her mouth and heard his name in a raspy whisper. He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the ties. She moaned at the added pressure on her wrists. “Tell me what you want, little love.”

“You,” she whispered. “You.”

His gaze moved over her face, her eyes hidden from him. He wished he believed her. He wished it were him she wanted. “Then who am I to deny you anything?” Kissing her, he slowly eased into her. She was swollen and wet from the abuse of the vibrator and she came around him with a cry. He loved when she did that. As if the sensation of his cock was all she needed to orgasm. With his free hand, he tugged the clamps from her nipples then began to move in her.

Months after their first time, he had abandoned condoms. Coming inside her was beyond description. A savage part of him wished he had the power to impregnate her, but the horrific car accident that had ended her figure skating career had robbed them both of that.

Her tongue tangled with his, her fingers brushed over his wrist with the need to touch him while she rocked beneath him. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded again as he peeled the blindfold away.

“You,” she whispered, her dark golden lashes lifting so he could gaze into the soft grey of her eyes. “Michael. Please.”

Mike caressed her mouth. “Then come for me,” he murmured, claiming her mouth as he came inside her. She tightened around him and arched as much as the restraints allowed. She cried into his mouth, her squeezing pussy milking his dick.

Bracing his forearms on the bed beside her head, he eased up and gazed at her. He wished he knew what was wrong. How could she not trust him with everything? She trusted him to tie her up. She trusted him with a crop in his hand. But her heart seemed to be off limits. It was driving him nuts.

“Let’s get you untangled,” he said, easing out of the haven of her body.

Within minutes she was free of the padded cuffs. They wouldn’t be coming home with him. What would the cleaning crew think about finding the bondage restraint system in the trash can?

He teased one nipple then the other before working his way down to the piercing. By the time he reached that silver stud, his dick was ready to claim what was his again.

****

Meri spent more time worrying about Mike than watching the parade. Something was wrong. He sat beside her in the seats he had purchased in the VIP seating, but she wasn’t entirely sure he was with her. “Is something wrong?”

 His white dress shirt was bright beneath the July sun that had come out for the parade. The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, which was very distracting. She had teased him earlier about not having the proper western shirt or even plaid. If he had either kind of shirt in his vast wardrobe, she’d eat her new hat. Mike was not a plaid shirt kind of man. If he wasn’t wearing his power suits, he was kicking back in his beat up jeans and a sports T-shirt.

She loved his hands. They were broad and large, the fingers long and thick. They could deliver heady combinations of pleasure and pain, soothe and tease, and they gripped a hockey stick like it was a weapon. His forearms were like the rest of him, muscular, with thick wrists. Dark hair covered the bronze Italian skin and she went with her urge to touch the sun-warmed skin.

They both watched her fingers trace where the white fabric was folded then slide down to his wrist and over his palm. His fingers spread open for hers and she looked at the size difference in their hands.

He had intimidated her before that night at his house. She had heard of Mike “the Blade” Rossi. You didn’t live in the sports world and not know his name. He had the uncanny ability of getting his clients astonishing contracts, be it within an organization or as endorsements. Even thirteen years ago his name had been at the top of the food chain. Her father had been determined to get Mike Rossi to represent her because Mike was the best.

She’d have met him when she was fifteen, before the accident, before Adam. He’d have been her agent instead of Kyla Wilson’s.

What ifs…

Dangerous little bastards.

Instead of meeting him while she was on the ice, she had met him while coaching Kyla on the ice. The girl could skate. He had seen her at one of the junior competitions and came to a practice. So had begun the negotiations of representing a seventeen year old who dreamed of the ice.