Branded (The Club)

“Where are we?” The words sounded weak from my lips, and I felt like Dorothy after the tornado trying to find her way back home.

“Welcome to Rocking Star Ranch.”

“I didn’t know it was so big.” I said, clutching his arms under my fingers and looking between him and the house.

“Everything around here is big, darlin’.”

My hand caught my cheek burning hot under his gaze. I was sure everything was big, and I had no doubt I would find out sooner rather than later this evening.

Sloan offered to put dinner together and sat me down on a stool at the kitchen bar, explaining that he had a housekeeper who cooked for him and cleaned most days. He assured me I wouldn’t see any of the staff unless I wanted to—at least not here at the big house as he called it because they knew his desire for privacy. He assured me I could roam naked if I desired. Yeah, I wasn’t ready for that.

In the meantime, we had a simple dinner prepared of something called Cowboy Casserole—this one made with beef medallions and homemade potato hash browns. It was comfort food elevated to gourmet level followed by salad greens and fresh bread with a crisp wine. Sloan promised a tour of the ranch tomorrow. Tonight was for relaxing, but the look in his eye suggested something else. I offered to clean our plates while he showered the grime from the barn off. Cleaning gave me something productive to do so I didn’t have to think about sex.

When I finished, I sat in the living room back on the couch and in front of the fire Sloan produced with the flick of a fancy wall switch. Despite the rustic look, the house had all the creature comforts imaginable. He’d explained the beautiful windows I’d admired earlier were designed so we could look outside but the mirror coating prevented people from looking inside. It was a strange feeling seeing everything and knowing anyone on the outside couldn’t be a voyeur.

My thoughts drifted toward the next day when Sloan finally reemerged from somewhere in the house. He came around the couch to stand directly in front of me buck-ass naked. The firelight danced on his caramel skin, highlighting all his dips and male curves. He wasn’t kidding about everything out here being bigger.

I tried looking anywhere but at his impressive length that was hardening before my eyes to rest at attention against his belly that caved inward from his abdominal muscles and ridges.

Sloan crowded me in on the couch, leaning over me to speak. “Strip, Langley.” He leaned back, waiting, watching me. Well, this was unexpected.

I stood up and backed myself nervously away from him, heading toward the fire. Warmth licked at the back of my legs, reminding me of his touch earlier that slowly ascended up my legs.

“Did we suddenly join a nudist colony?” Changing the subject didn’t seem to deter him as his head dipped down, and he looked me over.

Sloan looked as though he was close to cracking a smile. “Langley, a master doesn’t repeat himself. Now strip or I’ll do it for you.”

His body looked like he belonged in a museum—hard and smooth like marble. Despite his order to strip, I wanted to touch him and see if his skin was truly as smooth as it looked in the light of the fire. He cleared his throat, and I stood straighter and taller with the fire cracking and popping behind me.

“Any preference of where I should start?”

His eyes narrowed, heady with desire, and I licked my lips as I nodded. He clearly wasn’t going to be directing this show.

“Okay then,” I said, reaching down to untie my gold sandals to remove those first. I kicked them away in his direction.

He crossed his arms, looking impatient, and a sly thought crossed my mind. I reached behind my back, watching his eyes go wide thinking my dress was next. Instead I unhooked the bra and pulled the straps down slipping them off my arms and dragging the lace through grazing my breasts. The lace scratched against my nipples hardening them. I wasn’t sure who was more affected by that, but I snapped the bra out, and it flew, smacking him in the chest.

Sloan grunted and I cursed.

“Shit.”

“Langley Elizabeth Dawson. I ought to spank you for your language.”

I rolled my eyes and his narrowed making me wince. I knew once I was done stripping, he would probably torture me with some kind of orgasm denial I had researched this past week waiting for him to pick me up.

“Right, sorry.” I looked anywhere but at his face as I shimmied my lace panties down my legs under the dress. Attempting some kind of sexy move, I tossed them.

Sloan covered his mouth this time, barking out a laugh, and looked around seeing the pale peach lace hanging off the tip of the steer horn.

“Damn it, that’s awkward,” I muttered. There was little hope of getting out of a punishment now, and Sloan shook his head seeming to enjoy himself at my expense.

My lips smacked, and my hands went to my hips before I growled, “Oh what, like that’s never happened before?” I flipped my hand up.

“No darlin’, you must be the lucky one. Now get that dress up and over your head.”

I huffed out air, emptying my chest as I pulled the dress up and over, tossing it on the chair next to me.

“Happy now, master?” My hands crossed over my very naked and pebbled breasts, the tips aching as my arms covered them. Sloan merely wagged his head back and forth looking disapprovingly. Good because this was awkward as hell for me.