Tethered (The Stables Trilogy #2) (13 page)

Guilt flashed over his face. It was quick and then erased, but it had been there. Knowing that he could feel guilty healed one of the many cracks in Maple.

“Step outside.” He didn’t wait for a reply, opening his door and exiting. It slammed shut, rocking the old Chevy.

Maple’s own door creaked as she opened it, unsure of what was about to happen. Fear slowed her movements. Was he going to hurt her? Leave her? She’d said to make a decision. What if the choice was to strand her near the New Mexico border?

Maple had said to let her go. She hadn’t meant right then.

He was on her side of the truck. It’s large metal frame shielded them from passers-by and the wind. There was a little bit of shuffling from the ponies in the trailer. J.B. hit it with his hand once, the ringing loud in the open Texas space. “Quiet down now, we’re fine.”

In their fight, Maple had forgotten there were five women along for this ride.

Then he approached her. Slow gait, but sure. His mouth was caught in a frown, and his blue and green eyes never moved from her face. Biting her lip, Maple backed away slowly. The truck stopped her. Before she could slide away from him, J.B. was on her.

His hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back. J.B. brought his mouth, still frowning, centimeters from Maple’s. The heat of his breath brushed her lips, and she inhaled, drinking it in like water. His thigh pressed between her legs, lifting a bit. She was practically riding his leg. The friction of the movement ignited her core, and her body responded in kind. It didn’t matter that it was cold outside, or that she wasn’t wearing a coat. Her body burned for him.

She rocked her hips a little, grinding into him, her pussy weeping with joy, her limbs shaking in trepidation.

J.B. rested his forehead on hers, his eyes squeezed shut. “Forgive me,” he whispered next to her lips. Then he kissed her. His mouth was like fire. When their tongues met it was searing, and she moaned, melting into him.

Unable to not touch him any longer, Maple wrapped her arms around his waist, her fingertips clawing at his chambray shirt.

J.B. sucked in a breath as she scored his back with her nails. He deepened their kiss, his body moving as if possessed. It bruised her lips, and she hungered for more. His hand released her hair, trailing down her cheek, clawing at her jaw. He gripped her there, holding her face immobile as his other hand grasped her breast. It squeezed, fingers digging in until she gasped into his mouth. He thumbed her aching nipple through her bra and shirt. Her hips squirmed on his thigh, grinding.

Maple felt like she was falling. If not for the strength of his grip on her face and the support of his leg, she was certain she’d have crumbled by now. Of all the ways she’d envisioned this trip going, or the outcome of the accusations she’d made in the car, this was not one of them. No, she’d imagined the pain of separation and a lot of his wrath. Certainly not her body ramping up into an explosive orgasm.

J.B. eased his leg from between hers. Maple whined her protest, but a squeeze of his fingers on her face silenced her. His other hand left her breast and slid into the front of her jeans. The chill from his fingers against her hot pussy made her gasp and wriggle. She wasn’t sure if it was to get away from them… or closer.

When he stroked her clit, though, she knew. Closer. Much, much closer. She reached between their bodies and unbuttoned her jeans. She didn’t care that they were on the side of the road. Knowing there were five women who could hear everything in the trailer next to her didn’t slow her a bit. She needed him.

J.B.’s hand slid in more easily. He pushed two fingers into her. Her thighs kept his palm practically glued to her clit. Maple moaned. It felt
so good
. There wasn’t pain. There wasn’t torture. There was just the press of his body against hers and his fingers deep in her pussy.

He pumped her wet channel, finger fucking her with sure, deliberately slow strokes. Maple simpered. She wanted more. Rough.

J.B. was in charge, though. The hand holding her jaw slid down to her throat. her pulse leapt under the pressure of his fingers. They clamped around the soft skin, tightening their grip. Her inhales became wheezes.

Her pussy clamped down, ready to detonate. Sensing this, J.B. smiled at her. It was cruel, but his eyes sparkled with delight. Keeping her anchored by her throat and still mercilessly stroking her, he bent head and licked her neck. The air immediately hit his hot saliva trail, chilling it, making her shiver. Her core was so hot, but he kept licking her exposed skin in slow, sensuous swipes, leaving frigid prickling in his wake.

Maple’s nipples were so tight from the cold and her arousal that they screamed in pain. She was shivering uncontrollably. Those shudders ran all the way down to her core, where J.B. worked her deep, stroking the spot inside her that made her cry out. That cry was strangled by the hand on her throat. It was an ever-present warning that he was in control. He had all the power.

She was okay with it.

This was his answer. He’d chosen her. She didn’t know what it meant for them. There was just so much of J.B. that was still secret to her. She didn’t know how this would affect life at the ranch, her job, any new ponies--

None of that mattered. What mattered was that he’d chosen her, and he was proving it in the only way he knew how.

His fingers sped up, rocketing her pleasure. She was so close to coming.

J.B. bit her nipple. His teeth snagged it through the fabric, and he bit down. Hard. The pain sliced through her, and she came, her body jerking and fingers clawing at him as the orgasm rippled through her. She felt the gush of her release on his hand.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Take off your pants.”

It was thirty fucking degrees outside. The metal of the truck was nipping at her skin. I-85 wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t deserted, either. Maple still kicked her boots off and dragged her jeans down her legs. Goosebumps rose on her skin. Her soaking pussy was instantly freezing.

“Turn around and place your hands on the truck.”

She did.

He spanked her ass. It stung so badly in the cold that tears leapt into her eyes on the first strike. “What is that for?” She screamed.

“For disrespecting me.” She moaned. Unbelievable. But he wasn’t through. “Touch yourself. Now.”

She kept herself braced on one hand while the other slid between her legs. Her pussy was sopping wet, her clit still sensitive from coming hard.

“Good. Rub yourself and count the spanks. I’ll stop when you come again.”

She peered over her shoulder, eyes pleading. J.B. shook his head. He meant it. Her fingers began to rub furious circles over a clit not ready to be rubbed. J.B.’s hand swatted her ass again, the biting sting fresh.

“O-one,” she counted in a shaky voice. Shutting her eyes, she tried to concentrate on coming. There would be no faking it with J.B. He’d know. Her fingers labored, trying to prime herself.

J.B. didn’t wait. Another spank. “Two!” she gasped.

It didn’t take long. Until the count of six, actually. She felt she should have at least made it to ten. Her ass cheeks stung like they had freezer burn. But her fingers knew what to do, and J.B. knew her. Too well. Pain beget pleasure.

He spun her around and unbuttoned his pants, letting his hard dick spring out. It was swollen, so hard it pointed up, the veins prominent. She wanted to fall to her knees and suck him deep into her throat.

Before she could, he reached around, gripping her ass, his finger brushing her tender sex. Maple knew what he wanted, and she hopped up, wrapping her legs around him. J.B. impaled her in one thrust, pinning her against the truck.

His cock was deep inside, stretching her. Maple quivered at the fullness. His fingers dug in, and she locked her arms around his neck, her ankles behind his back. J.B. pumped into her. He fucked her hard, each thrust making the tires squeak and the truck shudder and groan in protest.

Maple let her cries of ecstasy be carried into the desert. As J.B. ravaged her body, she screamed. Her hot pussy welcomed the abuse from his cock. He fucked her faster. She couldn’t even cry out anymore, just grunted as each thrust pounded into her, nailing her to the side of the truck.

Belatedly, she realized she needed to say something quick. “J.B.--” she huffed as he refused to slow his pace, “--I’m not--” fuck, he was so good with her body, “--I’m not on birth control!”

This triggered J.B.’s orgasm. He pulled out quickly, his come hitting the truck and the ground. His teeth caught her shoulder and he groaned, biting down. Relief washed over Maple. Her body slid off his. She could feel his semen smearing into her backside as she struggled to find her balance.

“Thanks,” she sighed.

“Was that definitive enough for you?” He growled, but he was smiling. “Get dressed, we need to book it.”

A horn honked at her as she danced in the dirt, hopping up and down to pull her pants up fast. Maple didn’t care.

There was a new feeling in her. Not just the post-orgasmic bliss, although she certainly had that as well. This was something more than hope, even.

It felt like… happiness.

She didn’t know what to do with it.

Chapter Eleven

“The 2014 Annual Pony Bazaar and Expo!”

The sign whipped by as J.B. pulled onto an off road a few hours before Albuquerque. Anyone passing it wouldn’t know what it meant. It looked like a normal horse show, complete with the picture of an elegant mare striking a bold pose on the front.

When the truck made the turn off, it was a surprise. There had been no more signs, no ‘this way!’ or ‘turn right for show!’ Just a long gravel road. The last time she’d been driven down a long, gravel road her entire world had been irrevocably altered.

This felt the same. The trepidation built as the windows of the Chevy shook and rattled, and the trailer they were pulling whined and groaned down the gravel path. Around them the Sandia mountain range made a stunning backdrop. Sandy and red mountains jutted from the earth like angry fists, their age lines marking time in a way Maple would never experience. Their tops were capped with white, and J.B. had mentioned it was popular for skiing.

Maple had never been skiing. West Texas, at least near Silt Springs, was flat. Wide, open, and flat. She’d seen snow, and all snow meant for her was trouble. It’d meant going out to help shelter the cattle as a girl, and now it meant giving J.B.’s horses extra care. Skiing was for people with money and time. She had neither.

They pulled up in front of a mansion. That was the only word appropriate for the freaking
castle
built on the monstrous piece of property. This was more of what she’d expected when she’d first been plucked from her parents’ house and carted to Deyton Ranch.

It was three stories of opulent stone. There were towers. More windows than Maple could count at a glance. Even the front door was larger-than-life, a massive ten foot tall set of double doors made from carved wood.

“Holy smokes,” she whispered.

“Peyton’s home is a little grand for my tastes.” J.B. sounded like he was trying too hard to be nice. When she stole a look at him, his mouth was grim and his brow furrowed.

There were men in tuxedos out front directing traffic. J.B. pulled up when he was waved over by one of them. His window squeaked as it rolled down, and the attendant frowned at the glass.

“Ticket, sir?” The request was issued in an unbelievably snooty tone. Maple wondered if this was actually a movie set or a prank T.V. show. It was
that
over the top.

J.B. reached across her lap to the glove compartment. When his arm brushed her legs, her scalp tingled in pleasure. She was still trying to process what had happened on I-85. They didn’t talk about it after, and she knew that if she tried to bring it up, it would ruin, well, whatever it was that they had.

So she was trying to stay calm and just be happy. Confused by his change of heart. Horny as she considered what this could mean for them. Fearful of all the unknowns, like his past with Rachel and the future of the pony girls. Horrified that if he let her get close, she’d forget to be careful, and he’d discover her secret.

That could
not
happen.

The ticket was in the glove box. It was printed on heavy, expensive stationary. Maple peeked at it as J.B. pulled it out and caught the looping, hand-drawn calligraphy.
Peyton Meyers, Esq., cordially invites you to attend his Annual Pony Bazaar and Auction…

The rest was written too small to read, and it wasn’t as if J.B. was holding it still for her. He handed it to the attendant. One look and he handed it back, his shoulders pulling straight and a smile finding its way to his face. “Are you here to purchase or sell?”

“Sellin’.” J.B. looked irritated. He tossed the invitation to Maple.

“Please pull around--” Maple tuned out as J.B. received instructions on where to go. She wondered how difficult it was for him to not be in charge. At Deyton Ranch, J.B. had the final say on everything. He left everyone to their own devices, but only because he’d already given strong and clear ground rules. The precision with which he ran his ranch and business was impressive.

The truck started to rattle forward, and Maple couldn’t peel herself away from her window. As they rambled along, she saw cars that cost more than a college education. Men in suits, their hair slicked back and their shoes shining. Women in long dresses and wrapped in furs, their hair meticulous and lips blazing red.

Maple looked at her own flannel and jeans, then at J.B., wearing an almost identical outfit. It wasn’t to be cute, just standard uniform for dirty work. Seeing the ritzy cars and glamorous people made her feel intensely uncomfortable.

She hadn’t had time to learn how to show the ponies before they left, and now she saw how much she already stood out. This wasn’t fish out of water; it was chum being thrown to sharks. “J.B., was I supposed to bring something nice to wear? Because I don’t have anything nice at all.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His soothing, raspy voice put her at ease. When other people said ‘don’t worry about it,’ they were being kind. When J.B. said it, it was an order. So she didn’t worry. “Besides,” he let his drawl in a little, playful, “check the glove compartment. There’s somethin’ in there I reckon you’ll be wantin’.”

She pursed her lips as she opened the compartment. J.B. wasn’t coy, and he didn’t play games, so this felt out of her comfort zone. Inside were a bunch of papers, his registration, a first aid kit and… a small box.

Her fingers gripped it delicately, as if afraid it would disintegrate at her touch. It was feather-light and something slid inside. “What is it?” Maple whispered.

J.B. didn’t answer. He didn’t slow the truck or even look.

She slid the top off.

Inside was the pearl necklace that she’d lost. It was on a new chain. This chain was much finer than the one before. It was gold, the links delicate and muted. The pearl pendant was the same. So small, yet meaning the whole world to Maple.

“I thought I’d lost it.” She let the chain slip back and forth through her fingers. It was unmarred, the metal feeling smooth like water.

“You did. Raúl found it. Bane had trampled on it in the pen. The chain was broken.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He’d even asked her about it, baiting her. He’d wanted to know if it was important and then reprimanded her for being careless. Her heart was so full with its appearance, though, that she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad.
It didn’t matter. J.B. was parking and getting out of the truck. “Time to show, Maple.”

She clasped the necklace behind her neck. It wasn’t much. Certainly not the diamonds and silks that the other women had on. But having something nice, something precious, bolstered her, and she stepped out of the truck ready to help the pony girls as best as she was able.

They were parked away from the main fuss. The mansion had several buildings behind it, including large, industrial-like stables. Here there were men who looked more like J.B. milling around.

And there were ponies.

Maple gasped as she saw all of the ponies. They were in various degrees of dress. Some were in head to toe latex, with custom-made horse masks and shoes that ended in hooves. This were frightening to her, looking too beast-like and occasionally demonic. There were fancy-dressed ponies, with plumes in their bridles and ribbons in their tales. There were some in full body harnesses, each limb wrapped in shiny leather, looking like the women in the BDSM club. It made her shiver with the memory.

There weren’t just pony girls, either. Pony boys stood tall and proud, stamping and snorting in the cool air. They were strong, built like models. They were handsome, too, with long hair brushed out or in ponytails, their chiseled abs and sharp jaws at odds with their gear.

“See something you like?” J.B. was behind her, and she jumped, her heart pounding from being caught staring.

“N-no,” she stammered, eyes downcast. “Just surprised.”

He wasn’t ready to let her off the hook. J.B.’s hand caressed her ass before sliding playfully between her legs. It was a soft touch and hidden from view. But it felt possessive. Like he owned her. Maple sighed in happiness. “I could buy you one if you really wanted.”

She looked over her shoulder, face incredulous. “What?”

“If you wanted a stud, I could buy you one. You could take care of him in the stable. There’s plenty of room.”

“What would I do with a stallion?”

He leaned closer, pressing his mouth against her sensitive ear. “Horses are for riding, Maple.”

The hand between her legs stroked her harder, pressing through the jeans, before tracing the seam of her ass, and then delicately moving up her spine, touching each vertebrae. She was breathless by the time he gripped the nape of her neck, her body buzzing with need for him.

“I don’t want a horse to ride, J.B.” she moaned, voice thick with lust.

“Good answer.”

I want to be your horse, J.B. I want you to ride me, hard. Everyday. I want you to whip me when I’m bad, and train me to be good. I want to be yours.

Maple kept her mouth shut, though, too afraid of ruining what was brewing between them.

She followed J.B. to the trailer. Inside, all of the girls looked rosy and eager. J.B. had been right-- the blankets had kept them warm. As they began to unload, guiding them into the padlock reserved for Deyton Ranch, Maple couldn’t stop blushing. Each pony girl gave her a knowing look. Several, especially Ashley, looked at her with envy as well.

It was a heady feeling. To be in control of them. Knowing that they knew, they’d
heard
J.B. fuck her against the truck. Maple’s day was strange. It was beautiful.

Maple’s first kiss had been a boy named Chad. It’d been behind the school, and there’d been witnesses. Her class size was so small everyone knew each other. Which meant everyone knew everyone else’s business. So when Chad had asked Maple to meet him behind the school after dismissal, she met him… and an entourage of eager gawkers.

Chad was good looking enough. When the dating pool is exceptionally shallow, a girl needed to open her mind a bit.

It was spring. No one had long to dawdle, because it was calving season. Half the class had left early for it, simply because their families needed help with the business more than they needed a degree.

He’d stepped up to her and bent at the waist, bringing their lips together. It’d been wet. Messy. Maple remembered she’d thought his lips felt too much like slugs. But with the audience, and this being her first kiss, she kept at it.

The kiss itself didn’t turn her on. She’d been in middle school, at the height of puberty, and it should have done
something
for her. Instead, it was when the kiss ended, and Chad announced loudly, “Oh, gross,” that she felt something. A reaction, her body heating to his words.

“I thought all good girls knew how to kiss,” he’d sneered. Her blush had deepened, and the onlookers had crept in closer, delight in their faces. Human melodrama was better than T.V. “You must be a bad girl, Maple Parsons, because that was nasty.”

Unable to defend herself, Maple had stood as the others had laughed at her. The voyeurism, as she learned later, and his shaming had turned her on more than the kiss had.

No one kissed her for the remainder of her school years. No one forgot, least of all her, that she was a bad girl.

Bad girls don’t kiss well. They don’t get nice boyfriends. Good things don’t happen to them.

Tony had managed to amplify this belief. The sex had been brutally humiliating and painful. But it had been
good
, too. There was a time when Maple had questioned whether Tony had broken up with her because she’d enjoyed it. That maybe because the sex had been good, she didn’t deserve him.

This day was a good day. It shouldn’t have been. She’d started it angry at J.B. Hurt and feeling powerless. But J.B. had admitted there was something between them. Hell, he’d shown her in the most fantastic way he could. Her pussy still throbbed.