“God!” I yelped, grabbing bark, shuddering at the man’s violent blow.
“No better way of taming a woman, I’ve found,” Colt sneered, smacking my ass again, and again.
I groaned with a strange mixture of pain and pleasure, trembling from head to toe. As Colt rippled, reddened my one butt cheek, then the other, spanking me.
“I’m not hurting you, am I, Mrs. Burton!?” he hissed in my ear.
I jerked my head side to side, gasped, “No-no!”
He slapped my right cheek, the left, searing the gyrating flesh. I bowed my head and pushed my bum back, my hair falling over my face, fingernails clawing into the tree. Colt set his hand into a rigid, horizontal paddling position and bent his knees and whaled the both of my blushing, battered cheeks at once.
The crack of his hand split the stillness of the meadow, the shriek from my lips even louder. I was consumed with a kind of violent pleasure I’d never experienced before. It rocked me, like the man’s hand.
Colt drew back that battering hand yet again. The air crackled, I shook, waiting for the next savage, sensual blow. But the man had needs of his own that had to be met, on his schedule. He turned me back around, gripped his slickened cock and speared it into my sex, plowing full-length inside of me without warning. We both groaned, our bodies locked together, Colt’s long, hard cock buried in my pussy.
He kissed me, tongued me, thrust into me, ruthlessly fucking me out there in that stand of trees on the edge of the meadow. I grasped his clenching ass, spurring him on with my fingernails, my own blistered bottom pressing back against the tree in rhythm to his pumping. Our moans, the hot, wet smacking of flesh against flesh, filled the heated air. Almost blocking out the sound of distant hoof beats.
“Fuck, you’re wet — juicy!” Colt growled in my face, pounding into my tunnel. Too absorbed in his own savage pleasure to hear the approaching horse and rider. “You really needed a man, didn’t you, woman!?”
“No! No! Please stop, Colt!” I cried, writhing in the man’s arms as if to get away. But squeezing his pumping cock with my pussy muscles.
He loved it, fucking me harder, slamming me against the tree. He ravaged my mouth, churning my pussy.
“No!” I screamed, beating at him with my balled fists now, driving him wild.
Just as the rider pulled up and flung himself off his horse, drawing his heavy Colt dragoon out of his holster as soon his feet hit the ground.
As Colt Sever snarled, “Fuck, yes, sweetheart! I’m coming!” He jerked, on the cusp of shooting inside me.
A bullet smashed into the tree trunk above our heads, the heavy thunder of the blast sounding a split-second later. That got Colt’s attention. He pulled out of me and spun around, his cock spurting.
“Blackguard!” my husband roared, firing again, the bullet whistling past Colt’s ear.
The terrified man turned tail and ran for the bushes, his cock bobbing obscenely in the sunlight as he took flight.
It’d been close timing — when Colt got back from the spread for lunch, when my husband got back from town for his lunch — but I’d timed it just right. I even had time to finish myself off with a quick rub on my throbbing clit, disguised as a gesture of cover-up. Then I collapsed into my husband’s strong arms, sobbing and shuddering against him. He soothed me with comforting strokes and words.
Colt Sever was slick, but there was no way I was going to let him ruin what my husband and I had spent so many years building together — our love and our land.
Chapter 7 — My Boss’s Husband
Oh, I knew he’d come.
All night he’d been eyeing me off, filling up my glass with more and more alcohol and flirting with me. I had no choice but to sleep over; there was no way I’d be able to drive. Melissa, my boss, had passed out on the couch earlier. We’d been working long hours and had finished a huge account.
Melissa was the nicest person and a great boss. There was not a chance I’d ever think of doing her wrong; she’d given me a job when no one else even gave me the time of day and I was so appreciative of her. But now this: her husband coming into my room unannounced. What should I do?
She’d invited me to her house to celebrate: well, me and the rest of the staff. She lived in a ritzy part of town and I was curious to see what her home was like. Her husband’s name was Ronnie. Not bad for an old guy. Had a good body, probably worked out, grey flecks in his hair. Oh, and his eyes. They were hypnotic.
When he shook my hand he held it just a fraction too long, staring at me as though undressing me. It was as if something passed between us. So when he came and spoke to me, asking me all about my life and how I enjoyed working for Melissa, I knew it was only pretence, that what he really wanted was sex. You can tell the way his eyes roamed over my body and I must admit I was flattered.
It was because I knew what he wanted that I foolishly thought I had the upper hand. I thought I could have a bit of fun, keep him at arms length and boost my ego with the attention. But as the night wore on my feelings for him grew, until having sex with him was the uppermost thought in my mind.
Anyway, after plying me with drinks, to the point I could barely walk a straight line, he insisted I stay the night. He assured the others he’d drive me home the next morning and helped me to the spare room. I staggered as we walked, accidentally brushing my breast against his arm, wondering if I read the signs right, if he was really interested or if I’d just imagined it. After pulling down the doona he left me there and said good night.
I must say I was disappointed but stripped down to my g-string and jumped in between the cool satin sheets. So this was how the rich live, satin sheets even in the spare rooms. I could hear him helping Melissa to their room and the distinct sounds of her throwing up.
Guess she wouldn’t be getting up early tomorrow.
I peered about the room. Mirrored ceiling, very kinky. Floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the marina, antique furniture, half nude prints on the wall. Staring up at the mirror I threw back the doona and looked at my reflection. I ran a hand over my breasts, enjoying the feel of my nipples as they hardened and wondered what Ronnie was doing in his room, if Melissa was passed out or if maybe they were making love.
I imagined them naked and it certainly turned me on. I imagined his body, his toned legs, his cock. In my mind’s eye I could see him mounting her, his broad back above her as he positioned himself between her thighs. It has been stupid of me to think he’d be interested. Now I’d have to face him in the morning and I blushed when I thought about how stupid I’d been.
When I heard the door handle turn I went still. My heart thumped and my stomach fluttered. I’d only managed to pull the doona half way up and my breasts were exposed. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing shallow, wanting him to think I was half unconscious, almost asleep due to the alcohol. In reality I was now so wide-awake and desperate for a good fuck.
He pulled the doona down exposing my almost naked body. For moments he just stared but when his rough hand stole down between my legs, I moaned and tried to roll over, you know, move away from him. It was only a half-heartened attempt and he quickly rolled me back.
‘Hey,’ I murmured still pretending to be out of it.
He dropped his robe to the floor and stood there naked staring down at me. Through half opened eyes I saw his silhouette in front of the window and from what I could see he was very fit, with a large, erect cock.
‘Very nice,’ he murmured, running his hand down my torso, and I flushed at his compliment.
He placed his hand ever so lightly on the side of my face and for a second I thought he might leave, but then his fingers trailed downwards, over my breast, causing goose bumps to appear.