Free Burn for Cowboy (Stampede Sizzlers) by Jenna Howard Page B

nodded, her voice getting trapped in her throat when he began to toy with the piercing. When she had revealed her birthday present to him, he had tied her to his headboard and spent the night admiring it. So many orgasms that night.
    “How wet you are now,” he said as a finger teased her, lightly teasing back and forth over the spot she wanted him to fill. “This gorgeous pussy that hungers for my cock.” Both of his hands disappeared and she whimpered at the loss. She wanted his hands on her, needed them. He lifted her hips and slipped out from beneath her.
    A sharp slap landed on her ass after he repositioned her: arms stretched above her, head lowered and her ass in the air. She listened to his bare feet on the carpet, her body screaming with awareness of the man. The bed dipped and she looked between her legs to see him brace a knee between hers. A hand caressed her ass then down to her pussy. She cried out as he slowly pressed the egg into her. Another slap on her ass and he thumbed the toy onto a low setting. The soft pulsations inside her made her back dip more while the orgasm he had begun to stir throbbed hotly, just out of reach.
    “I want you to remember that night, little love.” Another spank and he walked away, the remote between her knees.
    How could she not remember it?
    Halfway through dinner, he had taken her hand and turned her wrist over. While he had scraped his fingernail back and forth over her racing pulse, he asked, “Do you know what I am?” All night, Meri had become more and more aroused and aware of the dynamic man before her. His dark eyes, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her: hand on the small of her back as he guided her through his spacious and expensive home. Fingers tucking back a strand of hair the wind would catch, his legs on the outside of hers beneath the table when they sat outside.
    How could she not know what he was when every inch of her had wanted to submit to this man? She had answered the only way she knew how to answer him, truthfully. Yes, she knew what he was. Yes, yes, yes.
    “I fuck downstairs but I play upstairs. I have a St. Andrew’s cross. Do you know what that is?” Even when she had nodded yes, he had continued in his low voice, his finger on her wrist. He drew an X that made her belly tighten and her panties wet. “It’s a cross that the willing are bound to.” She was shaking as he seduced her on his patio. “I will stretch you wide, my little submissive, with your arms bound.
    “And as you stand there, arms in iron shackles, legs spread apart and your ass taking a fake cock deep, I’ll eye my shelf. Want to know what’s on my shelf, my little submissive?”
    She had nearly come right there as his words painted a picture and his finger traced the racing pulse in her wrist. “Yes.”
    “Master,” he whispered against her wrist. “You call me Master when we’re up there.” Then with her hand still in his, he left their half-eaten dinner outside and took her up to that room with the large wooden M and the walls decorated with erotic pictures, whips and paddles. She was shaking as he stripped her out of her dress.
    There had been no logical thought that she had just met him that morning and now she was naked. Need. That’s all that had been pulsing in her body. Need for what he had told her, need for what he was. He braced her hands on the two inward slants of the M and before she could process that she was naked with a stranger, he spread lube on her ass and pressed a dildo deep inside her. She orgasmed then. At the erotic penetration but also at the fact that she was in the presence of such a dominant, sexual force.
    “I’ll give you one,” he said against her ear, “but the next one is mine.” Then he shackled her to the wood, leaving her there with her ass filled for the first time ever. He returned with his dinner and wine and he sat on the leather couch, eating and watching her. Dominating her without a touch but with the