Rustled (9 page)

“You’ll stay
where you are. If you truly don’t want me to come to you there, I’ll stay in my
own room. But, Kitten,” he added with a dangerous look in his eye, “don’t
forget I can read your mind.”

Turning my
face away from him, I answered coolly, “I think I’d like that apple pie, now.
I’m going to see if Janet is still in the kitchen.” As I walked away, I whirled
and said, “And you tell her to let me help around here. I want to earn my
keep.”

I could have
sworn I heard him say as I passed through the door, “As you wish, Buttercup.”

When I walked
into the kitchen, I was muttering,
“Really? He’s
quoting the Princess Bride?” What surprise was this man going to throw at me
next?

Janet was just
finishing up the clearing away. I asked meekly if I could have the pie, now,
and with her usual good cheer, she served me a piece, along with a large
helping of vanilla ice cream and a cup of hot tea. “Did you have a nice talk
with the boss?”

I regarded her
with suspicion. Had she heard any of our conversation? “Janet, what did he tell
you about me?”

“Just that he
found you in a ditch. He came riding back here hell bent for leather and yelled
at Hank to take care of Hurricane, jumped in the pickup and tore back out of
here like a pack of wolves was after him. We didn’t know what the hell was
going on until you two showed up yesterday afternoon. What happened?”

I supposed it
would do no harm to tell her. My situation was going to be well known before it
was over with, anyway, there was no getting around it. “I hit some black ice
and went into the ditch. I guess he saw me and pulled me out. But he did say he
was on a horse and had to come for the pickup. Janet, how could that be? He
said it took him a couple hours to make the round trip, but I’d swear it was
more than two hours from the cabin where we took shelter to here, even in the
pickup.” My earlier curiosity returned in spades. I hoped Janet would answer
truthfully, no matter how loyal she was to her boss.

“Was it a
little line cabin, nothing but a bed and a cook stove?” she asked.

“That sounds
like the one.”

“Where did you
go in the ditch?”

I wasn’t sure,
but I thought I had just passed a sign saying Rawlins was twenty miles ahead
when it happened. I told her that.

“He must have
known he couldn’t make the ranch. That cabin is back on a dirt path, maybe
another ten miles in the opposite direction from here. He had to have ridden
cross-country to the ranch, then circled back on the road to get you out of the
ditch. Not sure why he headed to the cabin, though. We’re only fifteen miles
out of Rawlins, and eight of them are the ranch road.”

“Oh.” That
meant it was only about thirteen miles, or maybe less as the crow flew or the
horse went, from where I had gone in, to the ranch. I didn’t know exactly how
fast a horse could go over desert with a man Russ’s size on its back, but
thirteen miles in an hour or so didn’t sound unreasonable. Well, I had my
answer about the time frame, but now another mystery needed an answer, and
every time I tried to talk to Russ about my questions, it degenerated into an
argument about our relationship before I could remember to ask. Why had he
taken me to the cabin, instead of to Rawlins? I would have received better care
in an emergency room, I was sure.

I combed my
memory for any hint of the reason, without success. The heavy snowpack would
account for some of the delay in the thirty-some-odd-mile trip from the cabin
to the ranch, but would it have taken hours? Or was my sense of time completely
out of whack? Setting that question aside for the moment, I asked Janet how
long she had been at the ranch.

“Thirty years,
miss. Ever since the Hendersons bought the place. I was here when the Whites
first brought that little tyke over to show him off.” The image of Russ as a
baby entranced me for a moment. Janet was smiling fondly, her eyes unfocused as
if staring into the past.

“Tell me about
Russ as a little boy,” I said, impulsively. This brought Janet to her senses,
and she gave me a sharp look. “Another time, miss. It’s time for me to get to
bed. I have to be up at five-thirty to start breakfast.

“I’ll help,” I
said firmly, though she shook her head. This time I wasn’t going to allow her
to put me off. Janet may scare the cowboys, but she didn’t scare me. She wasn’t
anywhere near as scary as Sister Nielsen. If nothing else, I would set the
table.

§

If I was going
to get up at five and be in the kitchen by five-twenty, before Janet got there,
it was time for me to go to bed, too. Russ wasn’t in the library when I went in
to say goodnight. I was unaccountably disappointed. Even though I had told him
to stop making advances, I would have enjoyed a goodnight kiss. What a mess I
was! The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted. Or rather, I did, but it was
impossible.

I took a wrong
turn or two on the way to the bedroom I had slept in the night before. This
house was truly a maze. I figured it was at least 8000 square feet, based on
the large, multi-family houses in Bethel City. Some of the men kept their wives
in separate houses, but the Prophet and three or four of the patriarchs had
chosen to house their families in one sprawling, multi-wing home each. If I
hadn’t known better, I would have said this was one of them. After a couple of
false starts, though, I found my bedroom. The bed had been made, by whom I
didn’t know. I had seen no other staff besides Janet and the cowhands.

One side of
the coverlet was turned down, and a beautiful, filmy nightgown was laid out,
along with a fluffy full-length robe and some slippers. Whoever had been so
thoughtful earned my gratitude as I quickly showered, toweled my hair dry-ish
and slipped on the lovely nightgown and robe before searching the bathroom for
a hair dryer. Fifteen minutes later, I deemed my tresses dry enough, found and
set a quaint wind-up alarm clock, and slipped beneath the covers, thinking it
would be a miracle if I could sleep after my long afternoon nap.

Slumber
slipped up on me, though. I knew I had been asleep when I awoke with a start to
Russ’s spicy masculine scent and his arms around me. The man couldn’t follow
directions worth a damn, I thought, but he was breathing heavily and I knew he
was asleep. There was nothing to do but go back to sleep myself, cradled in his
arms.

At five, both
of us jumped in fright as the most awful racket woke us from peaceful dreams.
At least, I was having peaceful dreams. But, the adrenaline surge that came on
the heels of the racket had me ready to do battle. I jumped out of bed,
panicked. After a moment, I remembered the alarm clock and groped for it in the
dark, pressing on various protrusions until the racket stopped and I breathed a
sigh of relief.

“What the fuck
was that?” came Russ’s indignant voice from the bed.

“It’s known as
an alarm clock,” I answered, my annoyance with him remembered. “What the fuck are
you doing here? I told you to leave me alone.” I was fumbling in the dark for
the clothes I had discarded the night before, too disoriented from my abruptly
interrupted sleep to remember that there was a closet full just steps away.

“I couldn’t
sleep, wanted to be with you. Why did you set your alarm for five a.m.? Kitten,
stop whatever you’re doing and get back in bed.” His authoritative ‘boss’ voice
reminded me of the first time I awoke in the cabin, to see him stoking the
fire, gorgeous body in full side view with that heavy cock half-engorged. A
rush of lust swept through me, which I ruthlessly suppressed.

“I’m going to
help Janet with breakfast. Go back to sleep.”

“You’ll do nothing
of the kind. In the first place, she’d flatten you in seconds. You’ve seen the
woman move in that kitchen. In the second place, you owe it to me to help me
get back to sleep. I almost had a heart attack when that alarm went off.” Still
authoritative. Now I tried to suppress a giggle. The image of him staggering
around the room, clutching his heart, tickled my funny bone. I couldn’t help
but laugh.

A menacing
growl came out of the dark. “Are you laughing at my narrow escape from death,
woman?” I giggled again. Russ’s arm snaked out and grabbed mine, causing me to
shriek with alarm. He pulled me into the bed with him, and stripped the
nightgown up above my waist. “I seem to remember you like a spanking now and
again,” he said.

“No,” I
gasped, but to no avail. Before I could react, he had me pinned across his lap,
holding my head down with one hand while the other delivered the stinging blows
that both hurt and stimulated me deep inside. Then, his big warm hand was
circling on my inflamed buttocks, and he planted a kiss there before he pulled
me around to meet his lips. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I don’t want
you,” I managed. His lips covered mine, and he bit my lower lip, which was
stuck out in a pout.

“Liar,” he
whispered.

I couldn’t
deny it, even though it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the truth in my
face. My heart was racing, pounding in my chest as if it would break out and
run away. Not a bad idea, actually, because I knew that what was about to
happen
was
a bad idea. And I wanted it, oh, how I wanted it! Still, I
tried to stop my own response to his hands, now pulling the nightgown all the
way off. His hands, stroking my back and still-stinging cheeks, and moving
around to cup my breasts, now one, now the other, with a little tweak of the nipple
for good measure.

My chest
heaved with ragged breaths as he pressed his assault on my senses, and
inevitably, moisture gathered where I wanted him to touch me the most. With a
groan that matched my own heat, Russ rolled me over so that his weight pinned
me on my back, and sought the moisture, first with his hand and then, scooting
down, buried his face in the furnace of my desire. No longer capable of trying
to stop him, I opened fully to him and knew myself damned for the sinner I was.

All thoughts
of immediate or future departure from the ranch left me in the interlude that
followed. Russ played my body like a virtuoso, bringing me to orgasm time after
time until I was literally screaming for him to fuck me, please, just put it
inside. I understood finally that he was angry when he denied me. Instead, pulling
me roughly to a sitting position, my back resting on the pillows piled high
behind me, he offered his rock-hard erection to my lips. Driven by need as well
as the salacious knowledge that this was punishment but would give us both an
exquisite pleasure, I moaned as I took him deep into my mouth.

Russ made an
adjustment of our position that tilted my head back and allowed him even deeper
into my throat without causing me to gag, his breath grating with the effort of
not thrusting too hard. I reached with both hands to stroke him, in the crease
between his thigh and groin, run my fingernails lightly across his sac and up
the shaft any time it wasn’t buried to the hilt in my willing mouth.

The act of
sucking the silken-covered steel brought me to the brink of orgasm again, and
was accompanied by a constant whimpering that I realized was coming from me.
The sensations of his hands caressing my breasts, rolling and tweaking my
nipples at the same time drove me mad and I prepared to swallow every rich,
viscous drop that he could give me. I didn’t care if it was  punishment for
whatever had angered him, I wanted it.

Before he
came, though, he pulled out of my mouth to a whimpered protest from me. He was
gone from me only a moment before I heard the now-familiar rip of paper, and
tensed for the sweetest pleasure of all, to be pierced by his manhood and feel,
at last, the fulfillment of my deepest wish. Roughly, he took his pleasure,
pounding into me like a jackhammer, squeezing my breasts. Each thrust, each
twist of my nipples or bite on my neck as Russ lost himself in frenzy wrung a
gasp or a muffled shriek from me. As frightening as this was, it was also
somehow a fulfillment of something I had been missing for years. My orgasm was
massive, bringing me to tears of gratitude and relief as Russ also came with a
heart-rending grinding out of my name.

I wasn’t sure
what had just happened, and was afraid to ask. We lay in silence, my
contentment overcoming my better judgment, until Russ rose and went into the
bathroom. Bringing back a warm washcloth, he cleaned me and himself, then
tossed the cloth on the floor and rolled into the bed beside me to engulf me in
his arms. I toyed idly with his spent manhood, marveling at how this soft
thing, for which I had the utmost affection, could become the god-like weapon
of love that gave me such exquisite pleasure. To my amazement, Russ began to
harden again as I played.

“You’re
causing hard feelings,” he drawled. I giggled and continued my play. In for a
penny, in for a pound, I remember my mother saying. “We should get up,” Russ
continued. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

That reminded
me of my curiosity about the made bed and the nightgown that was laid out, so I
asked. “Russ, does Janet do everything around here?”

“No,” he said,
“But, she’s the only one who lives here. She’s practically a member of the
family, like a third mother to me, after my own and Eliza Henderson. A couple
of women from Rawlins come out every day to keep the rest of the place tidy.
Really, one would do, but in the Hendersons’ day there was a lot of
entertaining, and both of them have worked here since they were old enough to
drive. I can’t see choosing one over the other and putting one out of a job.”