Free Bridled: Bitter Creek Doms #1 by Erika Masten

BRIDLED: BITTER CREEK DOMS
#1
     
    by
    Erika Masten
     
     
    SMASHWORDS
EDITION
    Copyright © 2012 Erika
Masten.
    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
     
     
    Erika Masten
    [email protected]
    http://erikamasten.com
     
     
    Published by Sticky Sweet Books. This
book contains material protected under International and Federal
Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of
this material is prohibited. Without limiting the rights under
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    This is a work of fiction. Any
similarities to actual persons or events are purely
coincidental.
     
    Warning: Explicit content. Intended for
mature readers only. All characters depicted herein are 18 years or
older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual
nature.
     
    This is a work of erotic fantasy. In
real life, please protect yourself and your lover by always
practicing safe sex.
     
     
    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    Bridled: Bitter Creek Doms
#1
     
    Excerpt From
    Valentine’s
Dom
     
    Excerpt From
    Dominated By Brothers:
Hot Hard Ménage #1
     
     
    BRIDLED: BITTER CREEK DOMS
#1

    My pulse has only just quit pounding
at my temples, in my ears, in my throat and the tips of my fingers,
when I hear the sound of tires on gravel behind me, outside the
barn. “Peterson, you just do not know when to leave it alone,” I
say out loud to myself as I toss aside the horse blanket I’ve been
folding and grab the nearest shovel. Another surge of adrenaline
floods my veins, sending an anxious tremor through my body. I grip
the shovel handle tighter so my hands won’t shake.
    I spin toward the barn door, my long
blond ponytail whipping over one shoulder and lashing the other,
and stalk toward the sound of footsteps on the driveway. When I get
outside, I plant one hand on my cocked hip and the blade of the
shovel next to me in the hard, summer-baked ground. This is not
what I expected, though I guess maybe I should have.
    Instead of a fancy, brand
new, black extended-cab with red-faced, barrel-chested Earl
Peterson behind the wheel, I’m looking at a green and white
four-by-four with a bright gold sheriff’s star on each side. So
Peterson called for the deputies, did he? And they had to send out
the pretty boys— detectives —to make matters worse.
Like I’d take one look at these two and go all weak and giddy and
promise not to bother poor Mr. Peterson anymore when he’s breaking
my fences and irrigation lines and trying to run my family off our
own property.
    Maybe I shouldn’t have scoffed when
Earl boasted that he owned the law around here. I’ve been gone
eight years, only just moving back three months ago to the Sierra
Nevada foothills and my hometown of Bitter Creek to help my mother
care for the ranch after Dad’s death in an accident. So I might not
have the handle on folks around here that I used to.
    It’s Zach Garwood walking toward me,
with the usual bad boy smirk curling one corner of his full, tanned
lips. And I do mean usual. He was two years ahead of me in school
growing up, and he’d already mastered that grin and the gleam in
his blue eyes by eighth grade. A heartbreaker from the day he
discovered girls, that one.
    He makes no attempt to hide the