Her Cowboy In Charge Read online

  “There you go,” Bill said handing it to him, “and I’m always here if you want advice or need to talk.”

  “Thanks,” Clay nodded, and pulling out his wallet he slid the piece of paper inside, then withdrew some bills and laid them on the bar. “Can I ask you somethin’, and don’t feel obliged if you don’t wanna answer’?”

  “Ask away,” Bill nodded.

  “Do you know about this because you and Jeannie…?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For how long?”

  “We discovered it about eight years ago,” Bill said with a smile. “I reckon it saved our marriage.”

  “Is that why she’s always in a good mood?” Clay chuckled.

  “Could be,” Bill laughed. “Like I said, it’s not for everyone, but for us it works. It takes all the bullshit out of a relationship, but you’ve gotta have your head on straight.”

  “Huh. I’ll take a gander at the site before I turn in. This sorta thing has crossed my path in the past,” he admitted downing the last of his beer, “and it sure worked for me back then.”

  “You never said,” Bill remarked.

  “It was a while back, anyway, thanks again, I’ll catch ya later.”

  Sauntering out of the tavern and into the parking lot, he thought back to Emily Burns, a girl who had worked at the ranch a few years before. There were many times they’d sneak into the barn and she would invariably crawl over his lap claiming to have been a bad girl. He’d relished spanking her, and as he climbed into his truck he sat for minute, thinking back to those days.

  The sex he’d had with Emily had been incredible. There had been many times she’d asked him to tie her up and blindfold her, and she’d been happy to share her naughtiest fantasies. He’d cared about her, but she’d ended up reuniting with her high school sweetheart in Billings, and though she didn’t break his heart, he had certainly been disappointed when she’d told him they were over. As he’d dated others he’d attempted similar fun and games, but had been met with less than enthusiasm. He now wondered if Crystal shared his love of the kinkier side of things. She certainly enjoyed it when he’d pin her wrists and fuck her hard, and now it seemed she had responded to being spanked. Was it possible she’d like to explore further?

  Starting up his truck he headed to his cottage at the lake. It was his second home, a getaway. His main house was at the ranch, but the hour was late and the cottage was closer, and he was soon pulling into his garage. It was quiet as he stepped from his truck, and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion. His Australian Shepherd, Trooper, had passed away a few months before. He’d had him for fifteen years and still missed him every day. The house felt cold and empty without him, and walking through the kitchen and down the hallway into his bedroom, Clay decided it was time. There’d never been another Trooper, but he was ready to open up his heart and his home to a new four-legged furry friend.

  Unplugging his laptop he placed it on his nightstand, then retrieved the slip of paper Bill had given him. He studied it for a moment, dropped it on top of the computer, then ambled into the bathroom. He had a habit of taking a quick shower before bed, and as he stood under the hot stream of water and washed away the long day, he felt the shadow of the erection that had been raging when he’d left Crystal. Wishing he’d been able to spend the night with her, and wishing even more that she was there in the cottage with him, he stepped from the shower and toweled off, then slipping into bed he opened up his laptop and typed in the address written on the small piece of paper.

  After entering through the ‘Adults Only’ button, the first thing he found was the site’s definition of Domestic Discipline. It was wordy and sounded complicated, so he closed it down and typed the two words, Domestic Discipline, into the search engine. He wasn’t surprised to discover many sites offering varying opinions and descriptions. He meandered through them until his eyes grew tired, then powered off his laptop and set it back on his bedside table. He had read all kinds of advice, scanned stories and looked at photographs, and while the presentations varied, the theme was universal. The man was the head of the household. The woman agreed that she would take a subservient role and be subject to his discipline if he deemed it necessary.

  Switching off his bedside lamp he pondered what he’d read. The idea of taking Crystal ‘in hand’ as it was labeled in one of the sites, appealed to him greatly, but he could feel his desires related more to sexuality than to being simply a domestic disciplinarian. Regardless, the idea of spanking Crystal then ravaging her, had brought his cock surging back to life.

  Wrapping his fingers around his turgid member he began to massage, recalling how satisfying and arousing it had been to watch her cheeks turn a pretty pink as his hand had slapped her gloriously round cheeks. When he’d pulled her panties down to her knees he had glimpsed her glistening pussy peeking between her legs, and he had a strong feeling the wonderful wetness he’d seen was due to the growing sting in her backside.

  Closing his eyes he changed the image to one he’d viewed as he’d surfed the web. The woman was laying over some pillows, her ankles were tied to the posts of the bed, and her bottom was red. He imagined it was Crystal helplessly spread and at his mercy. He approached her with a vibrator and set it against her clit, then bringing her to the brink he pulled it away, and pictured himself teasing her mercilessly until his cock was ready to burst. He rubbed fervently as it jerked in his hand, shooting his essence over his fingers, and as the spasms passed he grunted gratefully and sank into the mattress.

  A few minutes later he padded into the bathroom, and as he yawned a heavy yawn and began to clean himself up, he made up his mind he was going to broach the subject with her the following day. How, he wasn’t sure, but it was going to happen. Spanking her, then perusing the domestic discipline websites, had woken up a side of him that had been sleeping since his relationship with Emily had ended. The word dominant had been prevalent in a couple of the sites, and though it rang a bell in him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted any kind of label. None except cowboy of course. He was a cowboy from the tips of his boots to the brim of his cowboy hat.

  “I wish you were here, Trooper,” he muttered, looking at the picture of his dog on the bookshelf as he headed back to bed. “I sure miss our talks, and I wish you’d known Crystal. You would’ve adored her, but then, she’s easy to adore. She’s got some problems, but don’t we all? I’m thinkin’ a regular dose of discipline might be just what she needs. What’d they call it? Maintenance? Yeah, that was it, maintenance.”

  As he closed his eyes and willed sleep to descend, he wanted her curled up next to him in his bed there in the cottage. His house at the ranch, that would come later.

  Across town Crystal was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. She could sense that something had changed between her and Clay. Some kind of invisible line had been crossed. She always had butterflies when he kissed her, or hugged her, or smiled his mischievous smile and sent her a wink, but the butterflies that were fluttering around her belly felt different, very different.

  She remembered the first time she’d met him. She’d been sitting at the counter at Duke’s Diner finishing a hurried dinner when she’d heard the door open. Casually glancing around she’d spied a rugged cowboy with a square jaw and a body out of a man’s health magazine. Swallowing hard she’d darted her eyes away as he’d walked towards the cash register. He’d been frighteningly close, only two counter stools separating them, and when he’d placed his take-out order for a cheeseburger and fries then sat down to wait, she’d tried desperately to think of something to say. The cute young waitress who had been shamelessly flirting with him had brought him a cup of coffee, and as she’d hurried away, the compelling cowboy had reached across the counter for the sugar jar.

  “Excuse me, miss,” he’d said, catching Crystal’s eye. “Would you mind sendin’ that sugar my way?”

  His eyes were the color of milk chocolate, and had warmly sparkled out from under dark eyebrows, and as she�
�d passed him the jar she’d noticed his lips; incredible lips…thick, moist, utterly kissable lips.

  “Clay,” he’d added, taking off his hat to reveal a mass of thick, dark wavy hair. “Clay Parker. Hope you don’t mind me sittin’ here.”

  “Uh, no,” she’d managed. “Crystal. Crystal Morrison.”

  As he’d tipped the sugar shaker into his coffee mug, she’d glanced at his hands. They didn’t look like a working man’s hands, but everything else about him reeked cowboy. She was a city girl, born and bred, and cowboys had always held a romantic appeal. She’d seen plenty of them around the small town, but none that looked like him, not even close, and her pulse was racing as she’d studied him. She’d found herself wishing she could sit on the stool next to him. She’d wanted to be closer, much closer.

  She’d managed to retain her composure as they’d chatted, but it hadn’t been easy. He possessed a great sense of humor, and had an off-beat, sexy charm, and when the brown paper bag was placed in front of him, she hated that he was about to walk out of her life.

  “Hope you don’t mind me sayin’ so, but it’s a crime, a pretty girl you eatin’ alone. Mind if I stay a while and keep you company?”

  That’s how the whole thing had started, and the memory was so clear it could have been yesterday.

  You’re still as sexy as you were then, no, you’re even sexier, but I can’t believe I agreed to drive out to your cottage tomorrow. What possessed me? I hope I don’t make a total fool of myself. Oh, Lord, don’t let me cancel, please don’t let me cancel.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When Crystal woke the following morning she did so with a flurry of nerves. Not only had she committed to joining Clay for lunch at his cottage, which by itself was enough to make her jittery, but the memory of the swift spanking was fresh in her mind. She was already embarrassed at the thought of facing him, but she couldn’t ignore the deliciously wonderful feeling of the butterflies in her stomach, nor how the spanking itself had totally tantalized her. It had left her aching to see him again.

  “Good grief,” she muttered as she ambled into her bathroom. “Have I lost my mind? This is…jeez, I don’t know what this is, I just know I want more?”

  As she stepped into the shower, and the water turned from warm to hot, she felt a slight sting on her backside, and a fresh flurry of excitement tingled through her body. Would this be a regular thing between them? Did Clay spank all the girls he dated? She knew of the infamous book and movie about Dominance and submission; who didn’t? She hadn’t seen the film or read the novel, but thoughts and ideas had certainly been percolating. Her mother was horrified at the very suggestion of a man’s subjugation of a woman, but Crystal wasn’t convinced that’s what it was, and from what she’d been able to garner, such things were completely consensual.

  Stepping from the stall and drying off, she wished she could just dress and leave, but it was still early. Wandering into her kitchen she made some toast and tea, and carrying it into the living room she plopped down on the couch and turned on the television set to catch the Sunday morning news.

  On the other side of town, Clay too had woken up feeling unsure. It was an unfamiliar state for him. He was a confident, well-educated and dynamic man, the first-born son of the third generation of the Parker clan, one of the oldest and most respected ranching families in the county. How had this brash, out-of-town girl been able to slip under his skin? Sure, she was more than easy on the eyes, and she was amazingly responsive in bed, but she wasn’t the most reliable young woman he’d ever met, and she was pouty, even petulant at times. There was just something about her that clicked with him, that indefinable something, that everyone searched and waited for. It was obvious to them both that they were an unlikely couple, but the attraction was undeniable, and so was their chemistry.

  Crystal had been born in San Francisco. Her mother was a sought-after artist, her father, though a successful entertainment lawyer, was a guitar player, and was part of a band that played regularly around the fashionable city. She’d grown up in a trendy home that saw many visitors and had been filled with the sound of music. Her older brother had inherited his father’s passion, and Crystal had also been born with a creative streak, but hers was putting pen to paper. It was what had sent her off to explore the country after she’d left college. She wanted to write while traveling, but when she’d landed in the charming, picturesque town of Whitefish, she found herself in absolute awe of the majestic mountains. Never having been through a white winter, she’d decided to stay there through the Spring, and had rented a house on the outskirts of the town.

  In comparison, Clay Parker had been born and raised in the great outdoors on a large ranch, and though times had changed dramatically since his grandfather’s day, his father had kept the business successful by moving with the times, and Clay had followed in his footsteps. He had his own home on the farm, but had purchased the cottage by the lake as a quiet retreat. He had it completely renovated to be sleek and modern, a complete divergence from his woodsy, western home on the farm. It was a place to reflect, to fish, and to completely unwind. He’d spent his college years in California, and as much as he’d enjoyed the carefree, sunny lifestyle, he missed the mountains at his back door, and the distinct change of the seasons.

  Staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the still, glossy lake always calmed him, and as he yawned and stretched he reflected on what he’d read on the internet the night before. It not only titillated him, it made sense. He had always seen a natural order to the man-woman relationship. He still believed in the old-fashioned roles, and he’d often wished he had a woman in his life who enjoyed the kinkier side of sex as Emily had. If Crystal was so inclined, and they discovered a mutual joy in a wicked life outside the norm, it would be a cruel twist of fate. They’d have a few months of delicious gourmet sex, then she’d leave him in the Spring. He frowned at the thought, but shaking it off he slipped out of bed, donned his robe and padded into the kitchen to start his coffee machine and put the chicken into his mother’s spicy sauce to marinade.

  He had a housekeeper that stopped in twice a month, and since he wasn’t there every day the place was almost always clean and tidy. The barbecue was set outside on the redwood deck, and as he passed through the living room he glided open the glass slider to check on his charcoal supply, but as he stepped outside he paused, and glancing across at the mountains he saw a familiar cloud pattern. Weather in October could be unpredictable, and though the last few days had been sunny, albeit on the cool side, the clouds told him a change was coming, and it was coming quickly.

  “Hmm, better not risk it,” he muttered.

  Making sure the cover over the barbecue was secure he headed back inside, and wandering into his bathroom he turned on the faucets in the shower stall, then stared at his reflection.

  “You are really lookin’ forward to her bein’ here,” he mumbled. “Make sure you don’t burn the chicken.”

  Chuckling at his own joke he dropped his robe and stepped into the shower, and as the hot water streamed over him, he started thinking about the best way to raise the subject of domestic discipline, but immediately decided he wouldn’t use that term. In spite of her penchant for pouting when things didn’t go her way, she was a light-hearted, free-spirited young woman, and he didn’t think it would appeal to her.

  Perhaps I should just go about tyin’ her up and see if she objects. Hmm, but spankin’. That’s different. Maybe I should warn her that I’ll spank her again if she acts up. Yep, that’s it. A dozen swats if she agrees to somethin’ then pouts about it later, and if she keeps me waitin, I’ll smack her for every minute she’s late, huh, maybe every second. I sure hope this goes the way I think it will. If she’d been upset about what happened last night, she sure wouldn’t be headin’ out here this mornin’.

  Feeling decidedly optimistic he stepped from the shower, toweled off, quickly dressed, and hoping she would stay over he decided to change the bed and put on his microf
iber sheets. They were luxuriously soft, and very warm.

  He had thought they’d be sitting out on the deck, sipping beers, and enjoying the smell of the barbecue, then taking a stroll around the lake, but that wasn’t going to happen. He knew the sky better than any weather forecaster, and it was going to rain, possibly even storm. He’d start a fire in the large rock fireplace in the living room, cook the chicken in the oven, and after they’d eaten lunch they could watch the turbulent weather sitting in the cozy comfort of his large leather couch, or even better, laying in his bed. He had just finished putting the comforter back in place when his phone jangled its tune of Sweet Home Alabama. Reaching to pick it up he sensed it was Crystal even before he saw her name on the screen. He felt his pulse tick up. Had she changed her mind?

  “Hey there’,” he said in a cheery tone. “How is my city girl this mornin’?”

  “Great,” she replied enthusiastically, “but I just saw the weather. Did you know there’s a big storm coming in?”

  “I just looked at the sky. It looks like it’ll be rainin’ pretty soon. When I’m here at the cottage I don’t turn on the weather channel much so I didn’t the see the forecast. We’re always tuned in at the farm so it’s good to have a break.”

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You don’t live at the lake full-time. When will you be going back to the ranch?”

  “Not sure, but watchin’ a storm from this place, it’s a kick,” he replied, returning the conversation back to her visit.

  He hadn’t told her about his family, or how large the ranch was. It was one of the things he was enjoying about their relationship. She didn’t know about his wealth and the prestige of the Parkers. She was going out with him because of him. There was no agenda.

  “Can you still use your barbecue?” Is it under cover?”

  “No, it’s on my deck, but I can use the oven, and I already have the chicken marinading,” he replied, then wondering if she was looking for an excuse not to come he decided to give her an out. He didn’t want to pressure her, especially if there was the slightest chance the unexpected trip over his knee had upset her. “If you’re worried about drivin’ in the rain, or you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay. Don’t come here unless you want to, and I mean, you really want to. You understand what I’m sayin’? Don’t do it for me, do it because you would genuinely like to come over here.”