10. Brynne

Chapter 10

Brynne

C rickets chirped out in the fields as bugs darted around the spotlight above the barn. Austin had given me a quick rundown of how to feed the horses, then he'd disappeared inside the house, muttering something about needing a stiff drink after the day he'd had. Working on a ranch day in and day out had to be hard, but I could tell the three of them loved it. I wasn't sure if anyone else helped them or not, but they seemed to have things under control—not that I knew anything about ranching, though.

I used the pocket knife sitting on one of the bales to cut the bailing twine, then set it on a shelf so it didn't get lost in the mess of hay. I filled the wheelbarrow to its max, then headed down the aisle, tossing a flake in for each horse. The barn had to be twice as long as the house, holding about twenty-five stalls. Only ten of them were occupied, the others out in the pasture.

After I finished feeding the horses in the barn, I refilled the wheelbarrow and headed outside. Over a dozen horses waited by the fence, making various noises as they awaited their dinner. Unlatching the gate, I squeezed inside with the wheelbarrow, making sure to close it behind me. The horses swarmed, but I pushed it about ten feet in, then started tossing the flakes around, spacing them about two to three feet apart, like Austin had instructed.

I grabbed the wheelbarrow, but right as I did, a clang rang out, like a chain hitting the fence. I looked over my shoulder, searching the pitch black field for any signs of an animal or person, but it was quiet again. My mind was most likely still reeling from the man at the diner. There was nothing out here besides a few livestock animals.

Leaving the horses to eat their hay, I slipped back out the gate, making sure it was latched properly, then pushed the wheelbarrow back to the barn. The wheel crunched over the loose rocks in the dirt, then went silent as it moved onto smooth concrete inside the barn.

I wheeled it back to where I found it, then flicked the floodlight off on my way out. Once the beam disappeared, that same clanking sound came from the field, and I whirled, squinting my eyes in an attempt to see better. Only pure black stared back at me, which was expected.

"Just the wind, Brynne. Calm down," I muttered to myself, continuing on my way toward the house.

But then the sound came again, and I froze. My heart beat in my ears, and even the crickets paused their song.

I wasn't alone.

"Hello?" I called into the void.

I should keep going. Get into the house and lock the door.

Footsteps on dirt sounded, and then my eyes focused in on a body by the barn. In the dim light from the moon, I recognized the mask before anything else.

My body should have relaxed even a fraction, but every nerve stayed on high alert, fear overtaking my senses in a rush.

His hand moved, a glint of light reflecting off whatever he held, and then the clang sounded again as he hit the object against the hitching post.

"You can run from your fear, Brynne. But if I catch you, I have my way." Even from where I stood, I heard him loud and clear.

"What are you going to do to me?" I hated the uncertainty in my voice. I wasn't sure what he was trying to do, or why my body was lit bright like a sparkler at the idea.

He casually prowled forward, the item in his hand jingling with every step. "Would you like to find out?"

I swallowed. Did I? I should say no. Go inside and lie back in that heaven of a bed. But a part of me wanted to know. Wanted to experience firsthand what he'd do to me if he got his hands on me again. If it was anything like the first time, I had no reason to object.

"Maybe," I answered, realizing how stupid my response sounded.

"Then run, Darlin'."

I hesitated, which wasn't the smartest move, because he was already running, and I was still frozen in place. I spun, darting in the direction of the house, but he was taller, faster, and was gaining fast. My shoes pounded on the gravel as I booked it toward the corner of the house, speeding around the side. One glance over my shoulder told me I had no hope of getting away, but I could try. My chest heaved, my heart pounding dangerously as I made it behind the house. But then, Booker's boots sounded directly behind me, and I screamed.

Large arms wrapped around my waist, and I was lifted from the ground mere feet from the first step of the porch. We were both breathing heavily, but for different reasons. His was from sprinting to catch me, and mine was from the anticipation of what was to come.

He threw me over his shoulder, landing a slap to my ass through my loose shorts, then hauled me back to the barn, not bothering to turn the light on as we entered. The slight sting sent a surge of heat through my core, and I silently wanted his hand on me again. He carried me like I was barely more than a paper weight, an attestation to the muscles toning his arms. His hand wrapped around a bundle of bailing twine, and then he set me down, pinning me between his body and a stall.

He grabbed my hands, forcing them together, and wrapped the twine around them multiple times, tying the ends in a knot. The frayed string bit into the soft skin of my wrists, but I barely felt it as he lifted my arms above my head, hooking the string on a metal hook above me. With the position, I was forced to keep my arms up. My thighs clenched together as I swore heat dripped from me.

Between the dark of night, his mask, and the black cowboy hat, I could barely see him, but it only fueled my fear and excitement more. His hands gripped the top of my baggy t-shirt and pulled down. The fabric tore easily, straight down the middle. I wasn't wearing a bra, assuming I would be going to sleep after I finished feeding the horses, and even with the low visibility, I could tell my exposed breasts made him feral.

"You didn't run very fast, Brynne," he said, seduction and hunger caressing every word that rolled off his tongue.

His finger hooked in the band of my shorts, and in seconds, they were pooled at my ankles. I only wore my light purple underwear now, and he was staring straight at them.

"Why is that?" he asked. "Did you want to be caught?" He came closer, to the point my nipples brushed his black t-shirt. The slight friction sent flickers of flames through my body. "Did you want me to have my way with this pretty little body of yours?"

I could only breathe, and I pushed my chest out further, aching for my breasts to press against his body.

With my silence, he grabbed one of my nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, pinching slightly. "Answer me."

"Yes," I whispered.

I didn't have to see his face to know he had the slightest smirk pulling at his mouth. He wanted me at his mercy, and I was here willingly.

He released my nipple, tearing my shirt off the rest of the way and tossing it to the ground. He unbuckled something from his belt loop, the object clinking.

"You remember our safe word?" he asked, voice low as he situated the strap on whatever he held.

"Yes."

"Good." Then, he brought his hand forward, and tiny pinpricks of pain needled my skin, right over my left breast, and my breath hitched .

He was trailing a spur along my bare skin.

He brought the rowel down, the spiked edges coasting over my nipple. A small moan escaped my lips, and he brought it back over the peaked bud.

"You like that, don't you, dirty little slut?"

I nodded, biting down on my lip as he trailed it over to the opposite breast. Every tiny spike that bit into my skin made my clit throb, and I wanted so bad to reach between my legs as he had his way with me.

He brought the spur lower, gliding it along my belly. The sensitive part, between my belly button and my pussy, jumped as he drew a figure eight in my skin. His other hand came up to my breast, gripping it just hard enough to where it felt blissful, as he brought the spur lower. He dragged it right along my clit, over the fabric of my panties, and I moaned again, my head falling back.

"Such a needy thing." He pinched my nipple between his fingers, rolling the rowel up and down, right over my swollen clit. He applied just the right amount of pressure, and I never wanted it to stop.

Bringing the spur back up, he circled my opposite nipple with it, gliding it over the bud every few passes. "Please don't stop."

His other hand gripped my breast even harder. "You're fucking begging for it, Darlin'. That's a dangerous thing."

"I don't care." My voice was more breath than anything.

"You should."

He tossed the spur to the ground, releasing my breast, then grabbed my hips, spinning me around so that I was facing the stall. My arms twisted as the twine stayed perched on the hook above me.

His hand smoothed over my ass before a crack split through the silence of the barn, his hand leaving a delicious sting on my skin.

"You want to be fucked like a bad little slut, don't you?"

I hummed my response, perking my ass higher. "I'm on birth control."

His hand gripped my waist, fingers digging into my skin. Then, he glided his rough palm along my ass, sliding a finger past my hole over my underwear to slide the material aside, sinking the digit into my soaking pussy.

"Fuck, Brynne," he hissed. "You fucking love this."

There was no hiding it. I wanted him inside me more than I thought possible.

He yanked my panties down my legs, letting them sit around my ankles along with my shorts. Then, I heard him pull down his zipper. I waited in anticipation as he ran his hand along my ass again, gripping the skin, then glided his thumb closer to my hole, pressing against it. He let spit drip from his lips, the saliva dropping right on the spot.

I fought my thighs as they threatened to clench, and he landed another slap on my cheek. "Keep these legs wide open." His thumb increased pressure as he circled, wetting the area before slowly inserting the digit. I bit out a moan, a gasp escaping my lips. I'd never gone there with Chase, or any boyfriend for that matter, and I was almost thankful for Booker being the first. He was considerate of the way it might feel for me, making sure the area was wet and he slid in slowly .

With his thumb about an inch inside my ass, the head of his cock slid along my slick center. "You want me to fill you like a dirty little slut, Darlin'?"

I nodded, humming my response.

He spanked me again, the crack ringing through the barn. "Use your words like a good girl and maybe I will."

"Yes," I breathed.

I let my weight hang from the hook above me as he glided his cock inside my pussy. I bit down on my lip as his free hand grabbed my hip, keeping me steady while he pulled in and out at a tortuously slow pace. Then, his speed quickened, and he was pounding into me, my body swinging forward with each thrust.

The sounds our bodies made together as he pressed deeper into my ass with his thumb should have been vulgar, but instead, it soaked me further, and I felt drops of my arousal falling down the inside of my thighs.

With my hands tied and latched to the hook above my head, I was completely at his will for whatever he wanted to do to me. I was quickly finding it was exactly where I wanted to be—under his control. Outside of sex, I wasn't sure if I'd be okay with it. But like this? He could have his way. I fucking loved it.

"So fucking wet for me," he ground out. "You like being all tied up for me. What a dirty fucking girl."

Hums and moans rolled into one another as pressure built in my core, the length of him hitting my sweet spot just perfectly as his thumb worked my other hole. I was blissfully full of him, and the thought made me want to explode.

Gently, he pulled his thumb out. Then, in the span of a breath, he was unhooking my arms from above, all while keeping his pace inside me from behind. A flash of metal glinted in the dim moonlight, and the bailing twine snapped as he ran a pocket knife through it seamlessly. He tossed the blade to the ground along with the string and grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my back. He eased us forward slightly, pressing my front to the stall with my cheek squished against the wood.

He fucked me like that, holding my hands behind my back so my ass was perked higher and my breasts were bouncing against the wood slats, creating friction against my peaked nipples.

"You want to come, Darlin'?"

A whimper passed my lips before I said, "Yes. Please."

He dropped one of my arms, keeping his grip tight on the other. "Rub your clit for me. I want to feel you choke my cock when you come."

I reached my hand between my legs, rubbing circles over the swollen bud. He increased his pace, thrusting into me with a speed I wasn't sure I could handle. But Booker pushed me to my limits, and my entire body was tightening.

My core clenched as my fingers quickened, then I was screaming out his name as fireworks exploded behind my eyes. Every coherent thought turned into pure pleasure as my orgasm flowed through me. Then, he was pounding deeper, harder, and exploding all the same.

I slackened against the stall as he let go of my other arm, leaving himself inside me as we caught our breath. Placing my palms against the wood, I stood straighter, feeling a slight ache in my back from where I'd hit the counter earlier, and the position I was just bent in. It was nothing compared to the heaven I just felt, not for the first time, because of Booker.

I froze as Booker's lips grazed the back of my shoulder, moving my hair out of the way to ghost his mouth over the crook of my neck. He was gone a second later, footsteps receding. "Clean yourself up and head to bed."

I spun, not giving a shit that I was naked. "Excuse me?"

He'd just fucked me like there was no tomorrow, and now he wanted to dip out?

He stopped in his tracks, facing me. He'd already situated himself back in his jeans, but he still wore his mask. "Don't fucking start, Brynne."

I grabbed my clothes from where they sat on the ground, my shirt completely ruined, and stomped toward him. "You don't get to just fuck me and then tell me to clean up."

He met me halfway, leaning close to my face. I wouldn't stand down—no matter how intimidating he was trying to be. "I'm not your bitch little boyfriend. You want nice and sweet? You go fuck men like Chase."

My pulse thrummed as his words hit me right where I didn't expect them to. "I want respect."

"You didn't want that while my cock was buried so deep in that tight pussy of yours, you couldn't even remember your own name."

My lips pressed into a thin, tight line. "It wasn't even that great."

He chuckled, the sound lacking any humor. "Yeah. That's why you came all over me."

Fuck, I wanted to slap him .

"You're just hiding from how you really feel," I shot out.

His teeth ground together, then he was taking his cowboy hat off and setting it on my head. I was confused for the briefest moment, until he was pulling his shirt off and shoving it at me. I took it as he retrieved his hat, my eyes fused to the tattoos and scars littering his chest and stomach. He was beautifully sculpted, like the ranch was imprinted into every divot and crevice that shadowed between bulging muscles and battle-worn skin. "Wipe yourself with it. Wear it. I don't give a shit. But that's as sweet as you're getting from me."

And for the third time, I watched Booker walk away from me without a worry in the world.

Maybe that was the way he was taught to deal with things—to just leave them behind him—but I wouldn't stand for it.

If he didn't want to admit his feelings, fine. He didn't have to. Sex didn't mean we were dating or anything. But while I lived in his house temporarily, he'd treat me like a human fucking being. I wasn't to be used as a fuck toy, no matter how appealing the thought felt at the moment. I didn't need strings, just pleasure, but already, my emotions were out for the world to see, and it was all because of Booker.