The Cowboy (Montana Men Book 2) Read online

  "Up. It is time to for breakfast and then to find a cook." He held out his hand and I took it.

  ***

  As we walked toward the men's bunkhouse, my hand once again in his, I was grateful for it. I was a stranger in a strange place - a Montana ranch was nothing like Minneapolis - and his grip was reassuring.

  The sun was warm, a slight breeze tugged at my hair. There was no question I looked a little rumpled. My skirts had been bunched up during my spanking and subsequent fucking, and I'd been so wild my hair had come loose. I'd attempted to fix the pins, but I knew I must look as if I'd been tumbled and tumbled well. I certainly felt that way. My nipples were still hard, my pussy was swollen and a little achy and I wore no drawers, Wyatt having left them hanging over the porch rail. It felt strange walking with my pussy shaved, the skin smooth, the air, even from beneath my dress, cool against the newly exposed skin. And my bottom! It stung with a fierceness that offered no chance of my forgetting I’d acted dangerously. I was glad for the walk, as I didn't think sitting would be possible.

  Wyatt had pulled together a simple breakfast, but we were on our way to the bunkhouse to obtain a cook.

  "I'm fine with wearing no drawers, Wyatt, but is there a reason why I have to walk with your seed dripping down my thighs?" I kept my voice low even though we were the only two people about. The bunkhouse was down by a meandering creek, yet at a reasonable distance from the stables and barn.

  A non-committal sound came from his throat, which had me glancing up at him. He wore the expression of a well satisfied male and the sound was no doubt of possession. "You're mine, Emily. My seed will make you remember that."

  "I don't think that is something I will forget, but there's so much of it."

  There was that sound again.

  "Couldn't I have at least wiped some of it away?"

  He looked down at me, his expression stern. "We're going to meet all the men, some of whom haven't seen a woman for a spell. I can only imagine what they're going to think about when they see you. You look like you've just been fucked."

  I flushed hotly. "That's because I have, and you didn't give me much time to right myself," I replied dryly. "You shaved me directly after. Besides, my bottom is sore enough for me to remember."

  "Your ass, baby. It's not your bottom. It's your ass. Say it."

  "My ass."

  "You were concerned last night that I would send you back to Minneapolis. This will ensure you won't forget you belong to me...and only me. Every time I look at you I'll know my seed's seeping out of you. Christ, I'm hard again." He started to walk faster, tugging my hand for me to keep up.

  The bunkhouse was a plain wooden building similarly styled to the big house, yet with only one story. It was clean and well maintained. Wyatt knocked and requested the men come out to meet me.

  I was first introduced to the foreman, Mr. Pegg. He was an older man with kind eyes and a quick smile. "I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Blake. Surprised, too." Several other men joined us in the large patch of grass that made up the yard. A large vegetable garden was off to one side. "This is Green, Parks, O'Connell, Thomas and Borden. There are three other men who are tending to chores currently."

  The men looked at me with varying levels of interest and I wondered if any of them had witnessed my spanking and subsequent fucking. Like Mr. Pegg, they too were unaware that their boss had married.

  "Borden," Wyatt said.

  The man stepped forward. In perhaps his late twenties, he had scraggly blond hair that looked as if it had been cut with a knife instead of scissors.

  "I assume you are going into town today for supplies."

  "Yes, sir," he answered.

  "Please visit Mrs. Perrin and ask if she might be willing to come and stay here during the week. I would like to add the role of cook to her list of tasks."

  "Will do." The man's gaze raked over me, as if questioning my value as a wife if I couldn't even cook. The look was clear on his face, although Wyatt didn't seem to notice. I moved closer to my husband’s side.

  "Head to town and tell her the job is hers if she wants it. She can have the bedroom off the kitchen during the week when she stays." Wyatt looked to Mr. Pegg. "If Borden can be spared for the extra time for the stop."

  The older man nodded, then turned to Borden. "Go on with you. It would be best to make just one trip of it and bring her back today if she's in agreement."

  "Good idea," Wyatt replied.

  Borden nodded his head, gave me one more indiscernible look, then headed toward the stable, putting his hat on as he went.

  "I won't keep any of you from your chores. O'Connell. I'll meet you in the stable in thirty minutes to head out and check on that line of fence." The man he addressed was tall, broad and built like a whisky barrel.

  "I'll have your horse ready," the man replied. He nodded to me as he doffed his hat. "Ma'am."

  The other men who remained were looking at me and Mr. Pegg noticed. "All right, men." His clap broke them from their stares. "Let's not ogle Mrs. Blake or she'll think you a bunch of brainless clods."

  Embarrassed by their reverie, all of them offering polite goodbyes and went off to do their work. That talked quietly between them, and I had no doubt I was the topic of conversation. Their boss, yesterday a bachelor, was today a married man.

  Wyatt took my elbow and led me back toward the house. "I'll be gone most of the day. There's some more cold meat and cheese, some bread and fruit in the larder for your lunch. I'll tell Green to make an extra portion of dinner for the men and I'll bring it to the house when I return."

  Climbing the steps to the front porch, I asked, "What should I be doing all day?" He opened the door and let me enter first. "I can't cook, your home is quite clean for a bachelor and I refuse to do laundry."

  Wyatt's lip quirked. "A woman from town, Mrs. Perrin as you heard, has been coming to clean a few times a week."

  I wondered what other services the woman performed for Wyatt, what she looked like, and whether he punished her in a similar fashion when she made a blunder. I scowled at the very idea, and realized I was jealous. His quirk turned to a smirk but he didn't say more on the subject.

  "I suppose she has never warranted a punishment when she broke a dish or ruined a pair of your boots."

  His eyebrow rose at my tone. "Are you thinking I spank Mrs. Perrin as well?"

  I pursed my lips, not wishing to say the words out loud, as admitting it did seem quite foolish.

  He lifted my chin up with a finger so I met his gaze. "I assure you, I save such a consequence solely for my wife." He let that sink in momentarily before he continued. "As for laundry, be cautious when using a tone like that with me. You wouldn't want to find yourself over the porch rail again so quickly."

  I pursed my lips sourly at being spanked again. "If you wish to not go naked, then it would be best if you had a laundress as well."

  He backed me up against the wall by the door and I hissed at the contact of my bottom - my ass - against the hard surface. It was cooler inside, the heat of the day not making it around to the west side of the house, yet my skin warmed at the contact.

  "I like the idea of being naked with you." My body softened at his words, readying itself to be fucked once again. Was it always like this? Were all brides this...eager for their husband's attentions, or was it just me? Was it the whore in me that made me so eager? "Ah, I love that look in your eye when you are thinking about that idea. Mrs. Perrin also does the laundry, so my virtue is safe."

  I humphed once again, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

  "Jealous, Mrs. Blake?" Placing one forearm by my head, Wyatt pressed his body into mine and I felt his cock against my belly. "I assure you, this - " he shifted his hips, " - is all for you. Mrs. Perrin is a widow with three grown children and a grandchild due in the fall. I doubt she would be willing to offer any other kind of services. I also find myself quite attracted to my wife."

  My cheeks flushed in embarrassment that I had fel
t a hint of jealousy. It seemed, however, that Wyatt enjoyed my discomfiture.

  "Wyatt, please," I said, dejectedly and pushed against his chest.

  "Oh, I like to hear those words, but in a completely different tone. I would tend to you right now – again - if I didn't have to go and mend a broken fence. A few dozen cows wandered off, so we need to ensure they're kept on our land."

  I felt a keen sense of...something, knowing he'd be gone all day.

  "While I'm gone," he let that hang between us as he stepped back. "Come." He took my hand and led me upstairs to our bedroom. Retrieving the dildo from the bedside table, he went to a dresser drawer and pulled out a small jar, handed both to me.

  I looked down at the objects in my palms. "Wyatt, what am I--"

  "Your curiosity has gotten you in trouble, so I am letting you fill your need for answers. I give you permission to be as wanton as you wish."

  I looked up at him in confusion.

  "I said last night the dildo wasn't for your pussy, but you were too lost in your own pleasure to hear me. It's for your ass. To train your ass for my cock."

  My eyes widened at the words. I'd heard the girls at the brothel mention something of the sort, but I didn't believe them.

  "Train?"

  "Have you ever had something in your ass before?"

  I shook my head, appalled at the idea.

  "Then you will be tight. You need to train your ass to accept the small dildo and plugs that I have, then incrementally larger ones until you are stretched and pliant enough to take my cock."

  My mouth fell open.

  "You are speechless." He smiled. "I will fuck your ass, Emily. Frequently, too." He nodded toward the jar. "That's a lubricant so your ass will be as slippery as your pussy when I fuck you. You can use the dildo in either hole. Use your fingers. Whatever you desire. Make yourself come. When I get back, you will show me what you've learned. Show me how your ass can take the dildo."

  My mouth fell open at his words. He kissed me on the forehead, then left me alone with the task of learning how to fuck my ass.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I sat on the edge of our bed for a long time after Wyatt left, shifting frequently due to the smarting of my bottom. My ass. It only kept at the forefront the fact that I couldn't cook without the chance of setting the house ablaze. I doubted I was very good at cleaning and I did not want to do laundry. Yet I could fuck with complete abandon. Doing it outside where anyone could see was a perfect example of this. I was the most unusual of new brides, and I feared Wyatt would find me lacking. It seemed, however, that Wyatt didn't seem to mind. Except for the fire danger. I was perversely relieved he seemed to like me just the way I was, but alternately, I was ashamed and guilt ridden that I couldn't be the perfect wife. No matter how much he might say to the contrary, a man wanted a woman who was biddable, obedient and submissive.

  I was none of those things, except when I was beneath him in bed. I looked down at the wooden dildo and the jar of lubricant he permitted me to play with in the darkest of ways. Didn’t that make me a whore? That brought me full circle in my thinking. Thinking of the carnal things we’d done soon had me rising from the bed to flee the room.

  So I tried to settle into a comfortable chair by the fireplace and read a book, something a good wife would do. Wyatt appeared to be an avid reader based on his collection lining several bookshelves, which was a boon for me. I imagined him passing a long winter's evening by the fire with a good book. My ass hurt too much from the spanking to sit in one of the chairs, so I laid on my stomach on the rug before the cold fireplace, my head propped up in my hand, and read there instead.

  Possibly hours later – I’d had lost track of time within the pages of a good book - the sound of horses stopping had me stirring and going to the front porch. Wyatt was back! The eagerness I felt at seeing him was a surprise and hastened my steps. We'd only known each other only a day, after all. But it wasn't my husband. It was the man Borden and a woman who I assumed was Mrs. Perrin. She appeared to be close to fifty. Her dark hair was streaked with gray beneath her bonnet, her face lined. Once Borden helped her down from the wagon, she approached with an erect posture, calm demeanor and a warm smile.

  Borden pulled a satchel from among the ranch supplies, and then joined us on the porch.

  "I am Mrs. Perrin. It is so nice to make your acquaintance."

  I couldn't help but offer a smile in return, for she put me readily at ease. "Hello." I stepped back to let her enter.

  Borden placed her bag just inside the door as the other woman requested, and, with hat in hand, bid us goodbye as he had work to do.

  We were left alone in the coolness of the entry, where only a few hours earlier, my husband had me pressed against the wall as he’d whispered carnal things into my ear. Clearing my throat, I offered her a thin smile. "It would be remiss of me if I didn't offer you a cool drink after your journey, but you know more about the running of this household than I."

  "From what Borden has told me, you are in need of cooking help."

  I couldn't help but feel my cheeks heat with shame, wondering what the man had said about me. To hide that fact, I led her through the house to the kitchen. "Mr. Blake has decided it might be best if you took over that task, as I am not adept."

  I heard a soft laugh, although from the tone it did not sound to be at my expense. How I knew this, I wasn't sure, but Mrs. Perrin did not seem malicious. I stood, uncomfortable, in my own kitchen, while Mrs. Perrin checked the wood in the stove and tied the apron I'd left on the table about her waist. "You aren't the only new wife who's made a blunder or two at the start."

  I refused to share the reason for the swiftness of her arrival, but the scent of burnt biscuits lingered and I was sure she'd made a guess on her own. She tilted her head, looking me over.

  "Mmm, yes. Well…" I said with a hearty amount of fake cheer.

  "Where are you from? I know everyone from these parts and would certainly have remembered you."

  "Minneapolis," I answered.

  She raised a brow. "And you knew each other from his travels there?"

  I didn't know what Wyatt had shared with others. From the surprised looks from the men, it seemed not much. What did he want to share? Did he want to tell everyone I was a mail order bride? Did he have a story made up? I didn't want to speak out of turn, nor did I want my bottom spanked again for a social misstep, so I just responded neutrally. "Something like that."

  The older woman looked at me for a moment, assessing, then came over to pat my hand. I met her gaze at the surprising gesture. "A man isn't overly complicated. He might want food in his belly at regular intervals, not caring who made it. He wants his wife, and only his wife, in other ways. Just focus on that for now and you'll make Mr. Blake happy enough."

  I didn't think my cheeks could burn any hotter. Her subtle hint that I should please Wyatt in the bedroom was highly embarrassing. Shamefaced, I cleared my throat and looked away. "The...um...the larder is full and I'm sure Mr. Blake will return hungry, although he said Mr. Green will be cooking extra for us this evening."

  "His food could strip paint off the barn," Mrs. Perrin murmured, shaking her head in mild disgust. "I'll have dinner for you both when Mr. Blake returns."

  Based on the cleanliness of the house and her blatant competency, I had complete faith she'd turn out an amazing dinner. I left her to it, the sound of pans clanging, drawers opening and closing meaning she was occupied.

  I, on the other hand, was not, and felt idle and quite unsettled. I did not wish to avail myself of the dildo and lubricant as my husband wished. It may have been appealing to me to tend to myself in the past, but now, a cold wooden object and my own hand were not the least bit arousing in comparison to Wyatt's hot, thick flesh. I wanted Wyatt to touch me, although perhaps not there. The idea of him fucking my ass was overwhelming and terribly daunting. He was so large and I questioned the feasibility of the act. There must be pleasure to be found in it, but Wyatt would ne
ed to prove it to me. I just hoped it would be soon, for being with him and receiving all of his attentions was quite a difficult thing for which to wait.

  Looking out the window, I realized I didn't have to wait indoors. The weather was fine - too fine for me to remain cooped up. With the breeze softly billowing the curtains of the kitchen window, the outdoors was hard to resist. Eagerly finding a hat among my things, I set off on foot at a fast pace in the direction of the creek I’d seen earlier.

  It was neither wide nor deep, but the water ran strong, burbling and shifting around rocks and small boulders on its way downstream. The bank was grassy with tall trees along the edge offering some dappled shade as I walked along the bank Everything around me was so unlike Minneapolis that I lost track of time as I took in the chirping of the birds, the breeze loosening my hair from its pins, the clean scent of grass and earth. I had even become used to the feel of my newly shaved flesh where Wyatt's seed had finally dried.

  The sun had shifted to hang low in the west before I realized I had gone a fair distance. Turning around, I was too far away to see any of the ranch's buildings, but I wasn't lost. The creek had always been at my side, and I could just return the same way. I tipped my hat off my head, letting it dangle by the ribbon around my neck, eager to return, my stomach more familiar with the time away and it rumbled in hunger. Picking up the hem of my dress once again, I headed back.

  I heard the stomping hooves of the horse before I saw it. Looking up, I watched horse and rider approach, knowing immediately that it was Wyatt. He slipped from the animal before it even came to a complete stop, letting one rein dangle down to the ground. After blowing and snorting a moment or two, his horse walked over to the creek to take a drink.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Wyatt shouted, his long strides eating up the distance between us. His eyes were narrowed in anger, his skin coated with a sheen of perspiration, the sleeves on his shirt rolled up.