Passion's Dream (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 1) (17 page)

A high flush stained her cheeks and she put her hand out to stop him.  “No, no, that’s not necessary.  I can do it myself.”

He just smiled and pushed her legs apart for her.  “And here begins your first lesson in Dominance/submission.  Your second, actually.  The first was that you are now to keep your pussy clean-shaven.  This is now my body, Leah.  Mine.  Mine to pleasure, mine to worship, mine to torment, to tease, and especially to fuck.”

Leah’s breath hitched and her lids lowered to half-mast at the raw carnality of his words.

“As your Dom, it is my duty and responsibility to take very good care of you.  It is also my very great pleasure.  You are my most highly-prized and valued possession.  And make no mistake about it, love, you
are
my possession
. 
That’s something else you’re going to have to come to terms with while you’re deciding what to do with your life.”

She bit her lower lip, watching him as he washed her inner thighs from the knees up with the warm, wet washcloth before spreading her pussy lips and carefully cleaning her sex.  If her winces, hisses, and squirming attempts to avoid his touch were any indication, that particular area was still highly sensitive.

“Do all Doms do this?  Clean up their subs like this?  I mean, isn’t that supposed to be the submissive’s job?”

Placing the washcloth in a dish on the nightstand, he picked up the hand towel and proceeded to dry her off just as gently as he’d washed her.  “Some Doms don’t.  Most of the ones I know do.  It’s all part of what we call ‘aftercare’.  It’s a time for the emotional bond between a Dom and his sub to deepen.  A chance for the connection between them to strengthen and grow.”  He placed the towel on top of the washcloth and picked up the glass of water.  “Here, baby, sit up and drink this.”

She struggled to her elbows and let his broad hand against her shoulder blades lever her up to a sitting position.  She took the glass of water and took a sip.  “Wow.  That’s really cold for tap water.”

“We have a very deep well.  Drink all of it, you’re probably dehydrated.”  He watched while she drained the glass.  “Now, you have ten minutes to take a quick shower before I show you around the ranch.”

“And we make a grocery list,” she reminded him.

“Right.  Grocery list.  Scoot.  Oh, and Leah?”  She stopped and half-turned back toward him.  “Wear jeans, tee shirt, shoes and socks.  Nothing else.”

Huh?  Wait.  No bra?  No—Holy crap!
  “Clay, you can’t ask me to do that!  I’m way too heavy to go without a bra.  You can’t just—”

He ducked his chin, one eyebrow hiking upward, stopping her mid-protest.  He didn’t say a word, just looked at her from beneath that soaring, raven’s wing of an eyebrow and she backed down, biting her lip.  For some strange reason, instead of being incensed at his instructions, she was turned on. 
Oooookay.  He’s a Dom.  I’m a sub.  Might as well get used to this. 
Without saying a word herself, she went into the bathroom to take her shower.

Half an hour later, grocery list made and delivered into the hands of Mark Austin, Clay and Leah were standing in the mud room by the back door.  She was trying on hats, he was laughing as each one slipped down over her eyes.  “Looks like we’re gonna have to get you a proper cowgirl hat,” he said, lifting the last one off her head.  He looked down at the sneakers she was wearing.  “And some proper cowgirl boots.  In fact, we’ll just go into town tomorrow and get you fitted out in proper cowgirl gear from head to toe.  In the meantime…”He opened a drawer in the small chest that was against one wall of the mudroom and pulled out a tube, which he uncapped, squirting something onto his fingers.  The scent of pineapples and coconut wafted up into her nostrils.  “We’ll just have to put some proper cowgirl sunscreen on you.”

“I’m going to smell like a fruit salad,” Leah protested, laughing, but she lifted her face so he could smooth the cream into her skin, including her neck and her chest above the scoop neck of the purple tee she was wearing.  He didn’t bother with her arms because they were covered with the chambray shirt of his that she was wearing over her tee.  It was so long, she’d left it unbuttoned, tying the tails in a knot around her waist. And, as per his instructions, she wasn’t wearing panties or a bra.  At first she had thought she would feel self-conscious, knowing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.  And knowing that he knew it, too.  Instead, to her surprise, she felt…sexy.  And desired.  And somehow…
free
.  Feelings she’d never felt in her life until Clay Nighthorse had come into it, exercising his dominance.  Feelings, she realized, that she would feel all the time if she stayed with him.  She sighed.  Just another complication in an already complicated situation.

Clay led her out the back door and walked across the driveway toward the paddock.  He was carrying a burlap sack with something lumpy inside.  As soon as they reached the fence, he gave a sharp whistle and the small group of stallions looked up from their grazing.  The minute they saw Clay and Leah, they came trotting over to inspect them. 

Leah had never been around horses before, and while she had known they were big, knowing something intellectually and experiencing it in real life were two completely different things.  As the enormous animals approached, she was swept away not only by their power and beauty, but also the sheer size of them.  She stepped back, stopped only by Clay’s body behind her.  “They’re really…big,” she said on a note of apprehension as their sweet, slightly pungent scent enveloped her, a combination of sweat, hay, grain, and dust.

“Here,” Clay reached into the sack and pulled out an apple.  “Step up on the bottom rail and hold out your hand.  No, palm up, nice and flat.”  He placed an apple in her palm.  He held her wrist steady.  “See?  Here comes Negro.  Just stand still and hold out your hand to him.”  Holding onto the top rail Leah did as Clay instructed. “Relax, baby, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

The beautiful black stallion came forward and Leah would have backed off, but Clay kept her hand nice and steady.  She felt the animal’s breath on her arm as he gently lipped the apple out of her hand into his mouth and began munching placidly.  In similar fashion, a large chestnut brown horse with black mane, tail, stockings and ears took an apple from Clay’s hand.

Clay released her wrist and Leah gave a nervous little laugh.  “Wow that was amazing.”  She reached for another apple and held out her hand.  By now the horses were pushing and shoving and head-butting each other to be the first to get each new treat.

“They’re all Arabians,” Clay reached beneath a white horse’s head to pat him on the neck.  “The black one is Negro.  The bay—that’s the brown one with the black points—is Al Batal, Arabic for ‘Champion’.”  He jerked a step back from a dapple gray horse, who had stuck his head through the railings and was snuffling at Clay’s pockets in a search for more apples.  “Mr. Greedy here goes by the exalted name of Laird Ewen McCleod of Inverness.”  He grinned.  “But we just call him Nessie. The chestnut is Hap, short for Happily Ever After—I know.  It’s a stupid name for such a bad-ass, alpha-male horse.  And last but not least”…he reached out his hand to pat the neck of a beautiful snow-white horse…“this handsome lad is the appropriately named Snow.”

Snow blew through his nostrils and nudged his nose against Leah’s hand, looking for another treat, making her draw her hand back with a laugh.  “He’s beautiful.  They’re all beautiful.  Not to mention the aforementioned
big
.”

Clay laughed.  “It’s okay,” he said. “You can mention it.”

She laughed.

“They each weigh a little over half a ton.  They’re all former champions at race tracks around the world.  In the past eight months, since I bought them and brought them here, these stallions have covered over thirty mares.  As a matter of fact, we have three mares in residence right now in a separate paddock, waiting for them to come into estrus.  Eventually we plan to have our own cryo facility so we can draw the semen ourselves and freeze it.”

“How long before you know if they beget any champions?” Leah asked.

Clay scratched his head.  “Well, the gestational period for a horse is around three hundred and forty days, so not even the first of the mares we bred has foaled yet.  Then it’s another full year before the offspring are auctioned off at the yearling sales.  That’s when their race training begins in earnest.”  He shrugged.  “It’s a crap shoot.  Not all of the offspring will become racers.  Some will become show horses or jumpers.  Nessie was the winner of England’s Grand National Steeplechase two years in a row.  Once he starts producing winners, his stud fees will go through the roof.  Same with these other guys.  It’s just a matter of time.”

“Yeah, but”   she paused and looked around at the house, the barn, several outbuildings, extensive fencing…”this…all of this…it must be costing you a fortune!  I know you have a good financial advisor, but…”  She spread her hands in an encompassing gesture.

“Yeah, it’s true that right now the income is quite a bit smaller than the outgo.  But thanks to Adam’s Uncle Joe, I’m still making money hand over fist in the stock market.  And my accountant assures me I’m solvent.” He chuckled.  “So we’re not ready to apply for food stamps quite yet.”  He put his arm around her shoulders and led her away from the paddock.  The five stallions, realizing no more treats were forthcoming, lost interest and wandered away.

“Have you ever ridden before?” he asked, leading her toward the barn.

“Sorry, no.  Not much chance for riding horses in San Francisco,” she laughed.

“Actually, there’s more than you would think.  There are over half a dozen excellent riding academies in San Francisco.  But don’t worry.  We’ll have you riding like a cowgirl in no time.”

As they approached the barn, Mitch looked up from forking hay into the end stall.  Leah could smell its clean, sweet scent from where she was standing. “Hey, boss, you headin’ out?”

“Yeah.  Thought I’d show Leah around, take her to see the falls.”

“One horse or two?”

“She’ll ride with me this time.  We’ll start her on lessons in the morning.”

“I’ll volunteer for that,” Mitch said.

“Me, too,” Al said, appearing from the gloom of the barn.  “What’re we volunteering for?”

“Teachin’ Leah to ride,”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely up for that,” Al said, nodding briskly.  “When do we start?”

“Easy, big fella,” Clay said wryly, “You can all take turns.”

Mitch handed Al the pitchfork and loped into the barn to saddle Clay’s horse.  He returned a few minutes later leading a beautiful bay gelding, much darker than Al Batal and bigger than any of the Arabians, if that were even possible.  Leah’s eyes widened. 
They expect me to get up on
that
?  Pigs will fly first.

CHAPTER NINE

“Don’t mind Hercules,” Mitch grinned.  “He only
looks
big and scary.  Inside, he’s nothing but a big, gooey marshmallow.

‘Hush,” Clay admonished, “you’ll give him a complex.”  He bent down and made a platform with his hands.  “Here, baby, give me your left foot and I’ll boost you up.”  She put her foot on his interlocked hands and he lifted her so fast and so high, she made a mad grab for the saddle.  She let out a shriek, terrified that she’d go flying right over the horse and land on the other side.  Relieved when she didn’t, she laughed at herself. “Okay, now swing your right leg over his back.  Hold onto the saddle horn.  Move as far forward as you can.  Atta girl.”

He put his booted foot into the stirrup and quickly swung himself up into the saddle behind her, pulling her hips back slightly to cradle her ass against his groin.  Taking the reins from Mitch, he held them loosely in his right hand, putting his left arm around Leah’s waist, feeling the tension in her body.  “Relax, baby, I won’t let you fall off.  Lean back against me.  Good girl.”  He clucked his tongue, tapping his heels against the animal’s sides and Hercules moved forward, his powerful muscles moving smoothly beneath Leah’s thighs.  His iron horseshoes clopped on the concrete.

Leah held her breath until she realized that she was as safe atop this enormous beast as she was on the ground

Clay walked the horse off the concrete and onto a packed dirt road that led around the right side of the barn.  Five horse trailers and six pick-up trucks of varying makes, sizes, colors, and vintage were parked in a large graveled parking area behind it.  The stream they’d splashed through earlier wandered along beside the trail on the right.  They passed another fenced-in, grassy meadow where three more horses were grazing close to a line of trees.  The pasture was the last bit of open land before the terrain became hillier, wilder, and more wooded.  As they entered the woods, the trail plunged down a hill and Hercules began to tilt forward.  Leah let out a little cry, but Clay just said, “Lean back with me, baby.  And trust Hercules.  He knows what he’s doing.”

She leaned back with Clay, redistributing their weight to help the horse negotiate the downward slope.  As soon as they were at the bottom of the hill, Clay urged the horse to a canter.  They rode for around fifteen minutes through deep woods, dotted with flowering bushes and trees in varying stages of spring splendor.  The deeper into the woods they went, the deeper the stream became, the faster the water rushing and tumbling noisily over huge boulders.  Even as the trail rose upward, the hillsides on either side of them rose even higher, eventually becoming rocky cliffs, turning the trail and the stream beside it into the floor of a deep ravine.  A ravine filled with blooming azaleas, mountain laurels, and rhododendrons.

Clay slowed Hercules to a trot, then a walk.  The trail curved to the right, the sound of rushing water getting louder and louder.  Ahead, Leah could see a break in the trees and they emerged into a small grassy glade full of sunlight and bird song.  The cliff to their left ended abruptly in a sheer drop-off.  To their right was the source of the water sound—a waterfall tumbling down the rocky cliff face and cascading into a deep blue pool.

Clay brought the horse to a stop and dismounted, then reached back up to help Leah dismount.  As he put his hands around her waist, she braced hers on his shoulders and let him slide her off the saddle.  Unaccustomed to having her legs spread so wide for such a long time, she nearly fell when she tried to take her first step.  “Whoa.”

“Easy, love.  You’ve been using muscles you forgot you had.”

“Didn’t forget,” she muttered.  “Just didn’t know they existed.”

“Just stretch a bit and they’ll loosen up.”

Leah did some high kicks and a few deep knee bends.  Until she noticed Clay’s accelerated breathing and the growing bulge between his legs and she stopped.  “No wonder so many cowboys are bow-legged,” she remarked.

“We’ll put you in the hot tub when we get back.”  Clay’s hands were back at her waist as she took her next few faltering steps.  “The jets will help loosen you up.  Then I’ll rub you down with some horse liniment so you don’t stiffen up.”  He walked her over to a flat rock and sat her down.  “You okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Clay, really.”  She leaned out and put her fingertips in the water, only to jerk them back out instantly, shaking the water off.  “Oh, my
God
, that’s cold!”

Clay laughed.  “It’s fed by a spring farther up in the mountains.  This time of year, you get a lot of snowmelt.”  He paused, then suggested hopefully, “There’s a blanket in Hercules’ saddlebag.  Why don’t we spread it out on the grass over there by the trees so we can watch the waterfall without getting a crick in our necks.”

“Sure.”

While Leah stood and waited, Clay went over to the horse and withdrew a thin blanket.  Then he led her over to a grassy spot, spread the blanket, and sat down, spreading his legs and bending his knees.  “Here.”  He patted the blanket in front of him.  “Sit here and lean back against me.”

Leah fell to her knees at the edge of the blanket and crawled between his legs, turned around and sat down several inches in front of him.

With a sigh, he scooted his hips forward until his granite-like cock ground into her backside. He put his arms around her just beneath her breasts, and nuzzled his face against her neck.  “Much better,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her shoulder.

Leah relaxed and leaned back against him, turning her head so he could kiss her cheek.  She’d never been in a more peaceful or beautiful place.  Nestling against him, she sat there in the warm sunshine, beguiled by the sounds made by splashing water, buzzing insects, and singing birds.  Seduced by the heat, scent, and feel of the big male body holding her with such tenderness.  Such gentleness.  Such utter possessiveness.

As if to prove her point, he loosened his arms.  His hands went to the knot at her waist and quickly untied it, pulling the flaps of his shirt apart.  Sliding his hands beneath the hem of her tee, he smoothed them over her belly and abdomen, and up her rib cage to cup each heavy breast, lifting them up and down as if testing their weight.  His thumbs began to tease her hard, aching nipples, circling them, mashing them, flicking them, slowly at first, then faster until she was moaning with pleasure.  Noting with satisfaction Leah’s accelerated breathing, he grasped her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed.  She let out a shuddering cry and arched her back, shoving her breasts deeper into his touch, writhing in a beguiling mixture of pleasure and pain as he started tugging on them, first one, then the other.

Lightning bolts of pure pleasure streaked from her tormented nipples straight to her clit.  She moaned.

He chuckled in her ear.  “You like that, don’t you, little sub?”

She arched her neck.  “Yessss.”  It came out as a sustained hiss.

“Lean up.”  He released her breasts and quickly pulled his shirt down her arms and off of her.  She grabbed the hem of her tee and pulled it over her head, letting him take it from her and drop it on the ground behind him.  Resting his chin on her shoulder, he watched his hands playing with her breasts, plumping and kneading her supple flesh, pinching and pulling her nipples until they were hard, aching knots.  “Such lovely little titties,” he murmured, enraptured by the sight of his dark, calloused skin against the creamy pinkness of hers.  “So full and round and sensitive.  I love your nipples, baby.  They’re so responsive to my touch.”  He released her and put his hands beneath her elbows, tapping upward.  “Get up on your knees,” he commanded softly, “and turn around.  I can’t wait to taste those berry-like beauties.”

Dazed, Leah got to her knees and turned around, naked from the waist up.  The cool breeze blew across her nipples, hardening them even further.  Since she wasn’t wearing any panties, the copious flow of juices from her pussy had soaked the entire crotch of her jeans.

“Come closer, baby.”  He beckoned her forward, grasping her elbows and steadying her as she crawled toward him.  “Present your breasts to me, Leah.”  His voice was still soft, but an edge of steel had crept into it.

Leah’s breath snarled in her throat.  Her eyes darkened and her eyelids drooped.  So aroused it was painful, she put her hands beneath her breasts, lowering her head to watch as she obediently lifted them toward his mouth.

He leaned forward and took a nipple into his hot, wet mouth and she nearly lost her balance, kept upright only by his hands at her waist, hard and possessive, and the mouth that was latched onto her breast.  He began suckling, gently at first, then with more force, making her moan and writhe against him and toss her head.  Replacing her hands with his, he gripped her breasts mashing them together in the center of her chest.  Back and forth he went, from one taut nipple to the other, sucking, licking, nipping with his teeth then soothing with his tongue.

Her hands lifted to curve around his head, untying the leather thong and freeing his thick black hair, letting it sift through her fingers to flow down his back.  The breath shuddered from her lungs in a series of cries and mewls as he continued to both pleasure and torment her breasts.  Her nipples felt raw, as though someone had rubbed sandpaper across them.  But she absorbed the pain, as she absorbed everything else about him, his scent, his heat, his dark, compelling masculinity.

Releasing her nipple with a groan, he loosened his hold, slid his arms around her and up her back, and thrust his face into the valley between her breasts, his breathing ragged and choppy.  Leah clasped his head in her arms and held him close, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek to the top of his head.  They stayed that way for a long time until he finally sighed and dropped his arms.

“Sit back on your heels,” he rasped in a voice that sounded like gravel being pulsed in a blender.  “Keep your head down.”

As she lowered herself to sit on her legs, Clay unfolded his body and stood up in front of her.  His hands went to his waist and she heard the metallic clink of the buckle and the slide of his belt through the loops, followed by the rasp of his zipper.  She heard the rustle of fabric as he pushed his jeans off his hips and down his thighs, freeing the erection that had been strangled by the tight fabric.  It was hard and thick, nearly purple with engorged blood, and leaking pre-cum like a faucet.  Grabbing his cock around the base with his left hand, he stroked up and down his length, his breath hissing between his teeth.  He curled the fingers of his right hand beneath her chin and tilted her head up.

“Eyes on mine,” he ordered.

Her gaze flew upward and locked with his.  His eyes were black and smoky, filled with lust…and something else.  Something softer, something gentler.  Her eyes were the color or a deep, jungle pool, filled with apprehension.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“N-no.”

“Do you have any objection to taking my cock in your mouth?”

Her belly clenched, spilling even more liquid onto her already soaked jeans. 
God, the words he uses! 
Raw.  Carnal.  Taboo.  Sucking a man’s cock was not something she had ever even considered doing.  If Richard had asked, she would have flatly refused and walked out of the room, offended.  But Clay?  She desperately wanted to suck his cock.  More than anything, she wanted to give him that pleasure, as he had pleasured her with his mouth.  “No.”

“This is a scene, Leah.  Whenever we’re alone and about to have sex it’s a scene.  And during a scene, I expect you to call me Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So.  Let’s do this again.  Do you have any objection to taking my cock into your mouth?” he repeated, giving her the chance to respond correctly.

“No, Sir.”

He nodded.  “I expect you to swallow every drop of my cum.”

Holy crap! 
“Yes, sir.”

He cupped her cheek.  “That’s my very good girl.”

His smile and his words of praise sent another gush of creamy warmth cascading through her.  Every nerve in her body felt electrified, as if a current were zapping back and forth between them.

Simultaneously he released both his cock and her chin.  “Look at my cock.”

Lowering her gaze, she stared at his erection, her eyes filled with lust.  It was long and thick and heavily veined, with a flared purple head so shiny it looked wet.  It curved upward toward his belly button.  His testicles hung beneath like a ripe peach.

“Smell my cock.”

“Yes, Sir.”  Mouth dry, she leaned in and placed her nose against his heated skin.  His cock jerked away from her, so she grabbed it, wrapping her fist around the base and holding it still for her exploration.  She ran her nose up and down the length of his shaft, inhaling deeply, hoping his next command would be to lick it.  She circled the dribbling tip with the tip of her nose, spreading his pre-cum all around the shiny head.  He smelled musky and earthy and sweaty.  He smelled like exactly what he was, a pure, primal male.  He smelled, in a word, wonderful.  Slanting her head, she carried her quest lower, burnishing his wrinkled ball sac, lifting it with her free hand to explore the damp skin on the underside.  God, she longed to put out her tongue and taste him there.

Stifling a groan, Clay spread his legs.  “Lick my cock, Leah.  Taste all of me.”

With a sigh of satisfaction, she began to lick all up and down his shaft, nibbling at him like he was an ear of corn, exploring his varying tastes and textures, from the satin-smooth skin of his bulbous head, to the heavily-veined surface of his stalk.  She swirled her tongue around his sac, used it to palpate his balls.  She slid her mouth up to his cock head, closing her lips around it and flicking her tongue back and forth across the sensitive little knot on the underside, wrenching a groan from his throat.  He bucked his hips forward and threw his head back.  She glanced up at him.  His eyes were closed, his mouth open, his expression one of pure ecstasy.  With those slashing cheekbones, those full, luscious lips, that hair billowing in an inky cloud around his head, he looked like what he was.  What he’d always dreamed of being.  A warrior.  Savage, pagan, primitive.