Until I saw the focused look on your face and your partner’s sated, contented expression when you had finished with her. Tamara knew better than to reveal that thought aloud. Instead, she maneuvered his arm up and down, back and forth as she replied with a careless shrug, “We haven’t seen each other in a while and I’ve changed. Besides, that’s not something a person would know until they’re confronted with the possibility. You’ve done well; you’re much looser this week.”
“You’re the one who refused to speak to me for so long. Tam, that lifestyle isn’t for you,” he returned, his gentle voice and the fondness reflected in his eyes coming close to unraveling her.
“You don’t know that, and neither do I. I’m curious and want to find out. Come on.” Letting go of his arm, she stepped back before he could touch her again. She would be defenseless against both that look and his hands on her. “I think you can handle an increase in weight, as well as repetitions on the pulleys.” She heard his sigh but when he didn’t comment further, she hoped that would be the end of it.
“I can handle that. The question is,” he stated as he took hold of the pulley and went to work, “can you handle what the Doms want to dish out? I don’t think so, and I don’t want to see you hurt, and I’m talking about emotionally. No one there would cause you intentional, physical pain.” He gave her a wry smile. “Unless you want them to, that is.”
“I’m a big girl, but thanks for caring, and for warning me.” She turned her back on him and the way his jaw went taut and his eyes flashed with frustration. He’d always had a knack for coaxing her into behaving herself, but she refused to cave to his cajoling this time. His sudden nearness as he came up behind her and spun her around caught her by surprise and her heart pounded with sudden expectation.
Exasperation flashed in his eyes. “Damn it, Tam, I doubt you’ve ever even been spanked.”
“I might have been if you hadn’t interrupted me the other night,” she shot back, equally frustrated with his obstinance, no matter that it stemmed from caring and concern.
“Really?” A calculated gleam entered his eyes as he ran his hands down her arms in what she could have sworn was a caress designed to soothe. Whatever it was, she enjoyed the light touch. “Well, since it was my fault you didn’t get to experience that aspect of BDSM, let me make up for it.”
Before she realized his intention, he grabbed her hand and tugged her over to the desk, maneuvering her in front of him. With a hand between her shoulders, he pressed gently, bending to whisper in her ear. “Lean on the desk. Show me you’re willing to experiment with this side of my lifestyle.”
His warm breath fanned the side of her neck, raising the tiny hairs on her nape, his words conjuring up all kinds of scenarios. Her voice shook as she whispered, “We’re not at the club. This is where I work, where someone might come in.” The next appointment wasn’t for an hour but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t pop in. The very thought sent a flare of heat up her core. When had she become such a pervert? The silent question accompanied her descent over the desk as she braced on her forearms, her only thought to show him how serious she was about continuing with her submissive education. His sudden indrawn breath followed with the brush of his palm over her buttocks. She trembled, thinking maybe it was just Connor who turned her into a promiscuous deviant wannabe.
“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he bemoaned as he palmed her right cheek. “This is wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to count. Remember, this is your doing.”
The sudden impact of Connor’s hand smacking her bottom jarred Tamara into an acute awareness of the minor discomfort, and how it seemed to feed the lust she harbored for him. Another spank followed the first, this one on her opposite cheek, delivered with a touch more force. She jerked, a small whimper escaping at the startling warmth spreading across her backside.
“This is just a taste of what subs are subjected to if they agree to play with a Dom.” Two more swats, each a little harder, jiggled her buttocks and built on the heat now expanding from her butt up between her quaking thighs. “Think long and hard, little one, because trust me, I’m being very,” smack! “very,” smack! “nice.” He ended the teasing torment with an almost casual exploration of her cheeks and then squeezed each throbbing globe, the tight grip emphasizing the ache and stirring her arousal.
Shaken, Tamara tried to lean back against Connor as he helped her straighten, but he shifted away too fast, leaving his hands on her upper arms until she steadied and turned to face him. With her face burning, her heartbeat thumping like a crazed bat and her warmed buttocks pulsing softly, she knew her face reflected the desire she couldn’t deny.
Connor dropped his hands as if burned and stumbled back a step, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. I’ve got to run. We’ll talk later.” Without another word or backward glance, he pivoted, snatched his hat off the hook and dashed out as if the hounds of Hell were after him.
“I’m impossible?” she muttered in frustration, ready to pull her hair out over the blind spot he refused to look past. If he thought that little demonstration would deter her, she’d give him something else to think about. If anything, her response reinforced her determination to move forward without him, one way or another. It also left her wondering how much more potent those swats would have been if delivered on her naked flesh.
Connor drove away from the clinic trying to erase the image of Tam bent over, those taut buttocks softening under his hand, surprising him yet again with her acceptance of a new kink. How was he supposed to keep her at arm’s length and save their friendship if she continued to respond as expected of a true submissive? He was beginning to wish she’d stayed in Boise. A pang clutched his chest at that thought, and he knew it wasn’t true.
Immersing himself in hard, sweaty work was what he needed to distract him from the difficult position Tam put him in. Branding was already underway by the time he returned to the ranch and made his way to the largest cattle barn. Behind it, the attached corral was teeming with activity, ranch hands and distressed calves making enough noise to wake the dead. Without giving it a second thought, he bounded over the rail and jumped in to help one of the younger hands wrestle a young male to the ground. He barely missed getting kicked by flailing hooves before he and Tyler managed to get the legs lassoed together.
Heart pounding with a surge of adrenaline, he jumped to his feet, snatching his hat off the ground. Slapping the dust from it against his thigh, he grinned at Tyler’s red, frustrated face. “You just have to show ’em who’s boss, Ty. Don’t be afraid to get rough, you won’t hurt them.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Connor realized how appropriate they were for his situation with Tam. Maybe taking her in hand at the club would be the quickest, and safest way to subdue her interest.
“Got it, Boss. I came on right after branding season last year, so I’m still learning the ropes with it. I’ll let the blacksmith know we have another ready.”
Tyler gave him a two-fingered salute before jogging into the barn. Connor bent down and ran his hand over the stressed calf’s head. “You’re okay, little fellow.” The Dunbar Ranch had switched to the more humane method of using liquid nitrogen to cool a branding iron before applying it to a flank and altering the hair follicles. The whitened fur would be in the shape of a D, labeling the animal as their property and making it harder for thieves to unload their stolen cattle.
“No wonder all the girls have been missing your attention,” Grayson said from behind Connor.
Strolling over to the fence, Connor leaned his arms on the top rail next to the sheriff’s. “What brings you out here today?” he asked, ignoring Grayson’s reference to his bouts of celibacy in the past few months.
> “I wanted to let you know we have a bead on the rustlers. Law enforcement in the next county came across an abandoned trailer.” Grayson’s eyes turned flinty as he ground out, “Bastards crammed twelve head into a trailer only big enough to hold six, maybe seven. Four dead, two more likely to be. They abandoned the haul when a tire went flat and they didn’t have a spare.”
Connor shook his head, disgust tightening his throat. “Fucking bastards. Were any of them from the Barton spread?”
“One of the deceased and two of the better-off ones, so they lucked out. They’ll be returned in a day or two. I stopped here first, on my way to tell them.”
Connor wanted to rush over and relay the good news himself, but knew he needed to keep his distance until he decided how to handle Tam Friday night if she showed up at The Barn. “They’ll be glad to get back whatever they can.”
“I hear Tamara might join us again this weekend.” His friend sent him a shrewd look.
“Back off, Sheriff. We’re friends, nothing more. I might show her a few more aspects, just to make sure she doesn’t get into something she’ll regret, but that’ll be the extent of it,” he insisted.
Grayson straightened, tipped his hat and said, “If you say so. I’ll catch you later.”