The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) (7 page)

I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but damn, I love it. Please, don’t stop!

They finished their meal, and though they’d both attempted light conversation about the logistics involved in setting up her new property in readiness for her horses, the sparkling energy between them had remained sparkling.

He walked her to her car, tipped his hat, and disappeared into the night. An hour later when she finally climbed between the sheets, though she had much to plan and organize, it was Clint who stayed with her as she fell asleep, coming alive in her dreams.

“Yes, of course I’m going to spank you. What did you expect?”

She saw his hand reach for hers, and as he spun her around and made her face the wall she held her breath. His hand traced across her backside, and as he spanked down, his palm sending a sparking heat where it landed, she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright in bed.

Holy crap! What the hell was that?

Heart hammering she stared around the still unfamiliar bedroom, the only light coming from the LED clock at her bedside. Panting, she slid back under the covers, and unable to ignore the need between her legs she sent her fingers to dance against her sex.

Closing her eyes she relived the dream, and his words from dinner echoed through her head.

If called upon, or if it seems like a good idea at the time, I’m happy to oblige…I suggest you think more about the cat.

Her finger rubbed her clit, swirling urgently, and her imagination took over; his lips were at her neck, kissing her as he spanked, and she was thrusting her bottom out for more.

“You are naughty, nosey girl,” he breathed, his palm landing smack after smack, “aren’t you, Amelia.”

“Yes, Clint, I am,” she gasped.

The orgasm was drawing near, and gritting her teeth she chased the moment, hearing his voice as clearly as if he were in the room with her.

“I’m going to spank you for a really long time, slowly, and hard, and when I pull these jeans down I’m going to see a very red backside, and then I’m going to spank you some more.”

The explosion rocketed through her, stars exploding in her brain, her fingers milking furiously until her spasms released her and she fell limp, utterly spent.

Damn, do I want him to spank me? I guess I must. Do I?

Breathing heavily she closed her eyes, and cloaked in her post-orgasmic bliss she drifted away.

On the other side of town Clint was not so lucky. Sleep had evaded him altogether, and standing in his living room slowly sipping a scotch he flopped down on the couch.

Amelia had tapped gently upon the door of his heart. Her impish grin had made him shake his head; her pointed interrogation had puzzled him, then angered him, then made him smile; her grey cells had intrigued him; her ability to handle a horse had won his respect, and the warm, pink, embarrassed flush that had crossed her face when he’d told her about spanking Cindy Newman had sent a breath of spicy life into his cock. In that moment he knew she wanted to experience what he had to offer.

Leaning his head back he closed his eyes. He had been living in a self-imposed exile, and the need to feel female flesh against his own was suddenly overwhelming.

I was doin’ fine till you came waltzing up my driveway, Amelia Anderson.

Not really. You weren’t doin’ fine, you’ve been like a car runnin’ on the smell of a gas rag. How’s the toe feelin’ after that dip.

My foot wants to follow.

Gulping down the last of his scotch, he wandered back into his room, tossed his robe, and falling back in bed he finally succumbed to a few hours sleep.

A
melia and Clint had fallen into a routine. For several days she had arrived at his ranch at precisely 2 p.m. to ride Jiminy. Clint would help her into the saddle, then loiter for a while, watching her until his cock would send him home. Locking the door to his bathroom he’d rub himself to a satisfying release, his imagination focused on bending her over his knee, spanking her lustily, then making glorious love to her.

After catching his breath he’d return to his kitchen window to drink a mug of coffee and watch her finish her ride, each day seeing her confidence grow as the horse understood her more, each day the pair looking increasingly as if they belonged together. Regardless of the antics of the other horses in the nearby paddocks, Jiminy was always a perfect gentleman, and it was clear he was thriving under Amelia’s attention.

He’d resist the urge to wander back down and say goodbye, doing his best to keep his distance, but as her car drove away he’d be filled with a bittersweet longing; from nowhere she’d dropped into his life delivering the warm female companionship he missed so much, but it was heavily laced with a growing need to bring her into his home and gather her into his arms.

Amelia quickly sensed his conflict. He wanted her; his attraction was evident, and though she couldn’t be certain she was sure that after he wandered away from the riding ring he would continue to watch her from his house.

Why he was holding back was a mystery, and Amelia’s insatiable curiosity wouldn’t let her rest. Determined to learn more she’d searched the internet, convinced there had to be something about the successful cowboy, and while there were hundreds of men named Clint Hogan, after hours of late night searching she found none that were horse trainers, or came close to matching the man she’d met.

Standing on the mounting block after her ride, as she’d groom the big, beautiful horse, she’d stare up at his home on the knoll silently willing him to come back down, but he would remain absent, and once Jiminy was taken care of she’d climb into her car and drive away.

Her afternoon could continue, she’d hear not a peep from him, but at Tom’s Tavern in the evening she’d settle into the quiet table, and Clint would arrive, smile sheepishly from the door, then amble over to join her.

She’d let him steer the conversation however he wished, and when she tentatively probed about his past he would fluff off her questions and change the subject. Clint Hogan remained a mystery, and clearly that was how he wanted it.

The week had flown by, and feeling guilty that he’d insisted on paying for dinner every night she decided it was time to reciprocate, and the minute she stepped inside the restaurant she handed her credit card to their usual waitress, Marlene.

“If Clint joins me, I’m paying,” Amelia declared. “I’ll just pretend to go to the ladies room and sign the receipt so it won’t get all weird at the table.”

“Are you sure? I think he’s kind of old-fashioned. I don’t think he’ll like that,” the young waitress frowned.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Amelia replied, but Marlene was so earnest Amelia found herself having second thoughts when she saw Clint arrive and saunter towards her.

“You’ve got a funny look on your face,” he grinned as he sat down.

“I do? Can’t imagine why,” she lied.

“Hmmm, not sure I believe you,” he chuckled, “I think I might have some of those fries tonight. Will you share ’em with me?”

“You bet,” she nodded.

The meal was as enjoyable as always, and she thought Clint seemed more at ease. He chuckled easily at a few of her jokes, and drank two beers, not just his usual one. When they finished their coffee she excused herself, surreptitiously took care of the bill, and returned to the table.

“Where is that girl with the check?” he frowned.

“She’s not coming,” Amelia grinned. “Tonight it was my turn.”

“Say what?”

“I took care of it,” she beamed. “You’re letting me ride that wonderful horse, and you made me feel so welcome at your ranch it’s the least I could do, besides, you’ve paid every night, it’s my turn.

He locked her eyes, staring at her intently, and she felt herself grow warm under his judicious gaze.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low. “You’re a sweet girl to do it, but that don’t hold water with me. If I didn’t wanna buy you dinner I’d be sittin’ somewhere else.”

“But you shouldn’t have to-”

“You can stop right there,” he said firmly holding up his hand. “Like I said, that was real nice, and I thank you, but it won’t happen again, is that clear? You wanna buy me dinner, you make it for me sometime.”

Amelia felt her toes curl. The gentle reprimand had brought the butterflies to life, and as he frowned at her across the table they began fluttering wildly.

“I’d love to make you dinner,” she managed. “Whenever you want.”

“I’ll figure that out,” he smiled. “You comin’ again tomorrow?”

“Yes, absolutely, if that’s okay.”

“Yep, sure is. I’ve got some thing’s to take care of right before you arrive, but I’ll be done by two o’clock.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she began, “I hardly ever see your cowboys, not since that first day. I hope I’m not chasing them away.”

“Oh, no,” he assured her. “We train in the mornin’ and trail in the afternoon. It’s a reward for the horses, they love to go out.”

“That’s why your ranch is called Train and Trail Farm?”

“Yep, I’ve always done it that way. We put ’em through their paces startin’ right after breakfast, then they get to go out in the pastures and graze. Around one o’clock or so, the boys tack up and head out for a ride around the property. Keeps their heads on straight, both the horses and the boys.”

“That’s great. I don’t trail ride much, never have,” she admitted.

“One afternoon we can join the ride,” he offered, “and when your horses arrive they can come too. Be great for them.”

“Can’t be soon enough,” she groaned. “I’m still having trouble getting a decent contractor to work on those shelters and get the fencing done.”

“Let’s you and I have a talk about bringin’ your horses to my place until yours is ready. Kills me to think they’re in cages, and I’ll put you on to Sam McKenzie. He’s the guy who did my work, and he got it done fast. He’s in the next county but he’s real good, worth the extra expense.”

“Really? That would be fabulous. I really am struggling to find someone decent.”

“Tomorrow, after you ride, you can come on up to the house and we’ll figure it out,” he smiled.

“Super, thanks again, and in spite of what you said I’m really glad I bought you dinner,” she winked.

“You are a sassy girl,” he remarked, shaking his head,
and one of these days I am gonna spank your butt.

“I’ve been called worse,” she giggled.

“I can only imagine,” he chuckled.

They left the table and headed into the parking lot, and as he’d done on previous nights he walked her to her car, holding the door open for her, but as she was about to climb in she paused.

“Clint,” she said softly, “is there any chance you could spare a hug?”
Please, I’m aching to feel those arms around me.

An unidentifiable glimmer crossed his eyes, and he smiled down at her.

“Sure,” he replied,
you have no idea how badly I want to hold you. No idea. I think about it all the time.

Resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder, she sank into his chest as his arms engulfed her.

Oooh, this feels even better than I thought it would. Clint, what is it that’s holding you back?

“That better?” he asked quietly, stepping back.

“Definitely, I needed that,” she answered, “thank you.”

“Any time,” he sighed.

The moon was resting low in the sky, its silver light washing across her face, making her emerald eyes appear to have been sprinkled with diamond dust.

“
See you tomorrow, two o’clock,” he said hoarsely,
and I wish you were climbin’ into my car and I was taking you home to my bed.

“Yes, you will,” she nodded.

As he ambled away, he paused, then turned to watch her drive from the parking lot.

This is goin’ somewhere.

Seems like it.

If you don’t want it to, you’d best end it now.

I do want it to.

You sure?

Nope.

But you’re thinkin’ it’s time?

Yep, I’m thinkin’ it’s time.

The moment Amelia walked into her house she stripped off, laid on her bed and dropped her fingers against her sex. Though she’d thought about him continuously, she’d not pleasured herself since the night he’d told her about spanking Cindy Newman, but the light scolding had tantalized her, and his hug had filled her with longing. Closing her eyes she let her mind wander, and the same fantasy that had floated into her mind the last time did so again; he had her hair wrapped in his fingers, he was pushing her against the wall, his lips were on her neck, and he was smacking her ass.

Fuck, why is this turning me on soooo much?

She could imagine him fingering her as he spanked, riding her on to an amazing climax, and a whispered threat that he would bare her bottom for the next round of smacks sent her tumbling into her climax. Drained and panting she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

I have to experience this. I have to know what it’s like to be spanked. No, that’s not true. I have to know what it’s like to be spanked by him.

At his house Clint was seated at his desk looking over his schedule for the next few days. Sam, his third cowhand, would be returning from a week long show late the following morning, and Clint was eager to see him.

Sam had taken three horses to the big event, two of which had sold and just needed to clear a vet check. Sam wasn’t just an outstanding horseman and rider, he was a natural salesman, knowing instinctively when to push and when to sit back and let the buyer ponder. He’d been with Clint for many years, and Clint regarded him not just as his right-hand man, but a close, trusted friend. Sam knew all his secrets, including the one that had forced his move, and Clint was eager to talk to him about Amelia.

His schedule also reflected his 1:30 appointment with old man Tate and his bratty daughter Anastasia. Tate was one of the town’s wealthiest citizens, and had married a woman, Colette, many years his junior. They’d been blessed with a baby girl who turned out to be their only child and Tate’s single heir.

Having been doted on by both her mother and father she’d grown into an impossible teenager, and had taken over the title left by Cindy Newman as the community’s hell raiser. In desperation Tate had called Clint, and after visiting Tate’s house on a pretense, Anastasia having no idea why he was there, Clint knew in five minutes his services were not only justified, but badly needed. He’d hesitated only because the girl was still under eighteen, but old man Tate drew up a hastily written authorization, so Clint finally agreed.