Freed Page 6

  “Keep me company in the kitchen,” he calls over his shoulder.

  “OK … whatcha up to?”

  “Just making some lunch. Hungry?”

  Not for food. “No, thanks,” I murmur, and he throws me a knowing look. I barely stifle the groan that threatens to escape. We chat about classes and the mundane for a few minutes while he whips up some tuna salad. When he sits to eat, he rewards me with tales of the two of them growing up together. And it’s not even my birthday.

  “Yeah, so,” he laughs around his almost-finished sandwich, “my sister puts me and Ransom both in pink, frilly dresses and then gets mad as hell when we end up in the mud with them. I mean, what did she expect? That was the last time she got us in dresses.” I wipe tears from my eyes, imagining two, four-year-old boys like Pete and Ransom being coerced into donning his big sister’s dresses and pretending to be her little sisters for an elaborate tea party. After snagging my hidden stash of Hershey’s Kisses from their cupboard, I had hopped up on the counter, somewhere between the bucket of dead toads that Ransom and Pete had cried over, and the sabotaged tea party. My earlier tension all but oozed from me, courtesy of the affable Pete.

  “Did she give you girl names too?” I barely manage, as laughter bubbles up.

  “Yeah, and you’ll never get them out of me. Torture that little nugget from Ransom,” he jokes with a wink. I still as I recall Ransom’s promise of torturing me, but will that fly with him?

  “Anyway, we were always up to no good, the two of us. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.” His expression gets serious, and he locks me in with his gaze. “He’s my brother, Denver. And I have to say I’ve never seen him care about any girl the way he cares about you.” He emphasizes that with a nod of his head and throws his hand up before I can say a word. “Ransom’s a big boy and capable of handling himself, so I won’t go warning you off or threatening you about hurting him. But you need to understand that even though he’s tough as nails, he also feels … deeply. My advice, if you give a shit, is to bear that in mind. I know it can seem like nothing affects him, but that’s just not so. As a matter of fact, I think the more controlled he seems, the more out-of-control he actually feels inside.” He shakes his head. “If that makes any damn sense whatsoever.”

  I shoot him a grin and a nod. “It makes perfect sense. And this is all new for both of us, so I can’t make any promises. But you should know that I’m dead set against causing either of us any pain. I think we’ve both had enough of that.”

  “That’s all I can ask. Did he tell you anything about me?” His eyes drift to the table.

  “Umm … just that y’all grew up together and are close. That’s about it.”

  “He’s damn generous,” he says with a mocking laugh. “He saved my life.” His eyes meet mine again, and they shimmer with honesty and heartbreak. “After my dad died, I spiraled out of control quickly. Cutting school, drinking too much, gambling, borrowing money from bad people to pay off my debts … you name it. There I was—sixteen, didn’t know shit, and I was riding the fast train to oblivion, in one form or another. Long story short, Ransom put his foot down in a big way. I mean, I couldn’t scratch my ass without elbowing him in the stomach. I hated it. Cursed him and everything he stood for, tried to get him to turn his back on me. He kicked my sorry self back into shape.” He laughs at the memory. “He and I worked our tails off to cover my debts, I got back in school, and now here we are on the road to fame and fortune,” he finishes with a sweep of his arms and a shit-eating grin that makes me crack up.

  “It never fails to amaze me how men settle their issues with fists and then get up and move on—no back-biting, no sabotaging the other, and no passive-aggressive bullshit, like the other half seems to thrive on.”

  “Yeah, thank God for being a guy. And thank God I found me a girl who doesn’t do that shit.” He runs a hand through his already-mussed hair and grins. “I think that’s why I pretty much claimed her that very first night. Her honesty and gentle nature just shines through. That’s so fucking rare. Matter of fact, I’ve been here four years and have only seen it a handful of times. Maggie just happened to have the misfortune of being damn attractive to me too, so I couldn’t miss out.”

  “Ah, Pete, I think Maggie’s a lucky girl. You’re one of the good ones,” I say with a wink.

  Keys jostle in the door, and the unwrapped Hershey’s Kiss lies forgotten in my palm. I contemplate hopping down from his counter, but I’m not quick enough. Pete shoots me a grin and pats Ransom on the back before heading toward his room.

  When Ransom rounds the corner, his gaze falls immediately on mine, and the flash of worry I see in his sea-green eyes disappears and is replaced with hunger. “Yeah, you’ve checked her numbers?” he murmurs into his cell. Nodding at the caller, he slides between my legs and runs one palm up my thigh ever so slowly. “No, I think that’s to be expected, don’t you?” That doesn’t sound good.

  His eyes dart down to my palm, and grinning at my treat, he closes his fingertips lightly around it. Cradling his cell between his jaw and shoulder, he allows his other hand to run up my arm and over my collarbone. I keep eye contact as long as I can until his finger pushes my chin up, and I’m staring at the ceiling. I try to swallow but can’t get my throat to work. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on steadying my breathing. “Mmm, hmm,” he agrees with the caller before his finger traces my bottom lip. My tongue darts out to sweep across his fingertip. He inhales sharply before pushing my lip down.

  His hand leaves my mouth, and the foil wrapper crinkles before the warm chocolate replaces it. Just how I like it—melted and decadent—how did he know? He pushes my mouth closed, and I savor the taste, letting it melt completely before swallowing. Cupping my jaw with his palm, he guides my head so that I’m able to meet his intense stare. I want to smile at his thoughtfulness. I want to bite my lip at the heat pouring from his gaze. But I’m frozen.

  “Will you let me know first thing?” he asks. He cups his free hand over the receiver, his eyes burning into mine. “My room. Now.”

  I can’t help but bite my lip in anticipation. He takes one step back so that I can slide from the counter. Scooting around him, I head into his bedroom, but once I’m there, I’m not sure what he wants me to do. We had talked about positions, but he’d never gone into depth, only that he would teach me how to wait for him, how to ready myself for him, and a couple of other tantalizing details.

  My nerves claw and scratch at my throat, leaving it dry and raw, while Ransom calmly wraps up his conversation. I can hear him talking, but my heart beats so loudly that I can’t make out the exact words. I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing pulse. His boots resonate heavily along the hallway as he makes his way to me. I realize I’m clenching my hands into fists. I force myself to relax them and hope that I present a calm façade when he enters the room. Instead, I hear the bathroom door open and close and breathe a sigh of relief at my brief reprieve.

  All too soon, the door opens and closes again, and he’s standing before me. My mouth drops as I take in his bare chest, tattooed arms, and naked feet. I snap it closed and move my eyes back to his inferno of a gaze, my entire body heating just from his eyes. I feel lightheaded and am grateful I didn’t eat before I popped over because even the few chocolates I had, sit like lead in my belly.

  “What a nice surprise,” he breathes, finally breaking the silence.

  “I had to see you. I hope that’s OK,” I offer.

  He gives me a bemused smile. “It’s more than OK,” he promises. “You are always welcome here, Denver.” I wonder if he needs me as much as I need him.

  “Thank you,” I whisper brokenly. That means so very much to me.

  He finally slides the rest of the way into the room and closes the door behind him, the lock clicking into place. “Are you ready to begin?”

  Ready and willing, I want to say, but I only nod before remembering he wants my words. “Yes, John,” I rush out.


  “Come here,” he orders softly.

  I take the few steps to stand before him, fear and excitement each jockeying for position and threatening to rip my very bones apart. I clench my jaw tight.

  “Relax,” he soothes. “Take a deep breath in.” I breathe deeply. “Release it slowly.” I do. He tells me to do this a couple of more times before he moves to stand behind me. Running his lips up my neck, he commands quietly in my ear, “I’m going to teach you the waiting position. Turn around, strip down to your bra and panties, fold your clothes neatly, and place them on the dresser.”

  His warmth leaves my back, and I hear him lower himself into the chair behind me. I want to make this good for him, so I turn to him, still my trembling fingers, and slowly unbutton my shirt. He gives me an appreciate smile. He’s already told me that I’m to maintain eye contact unless otherwise told, so I keep my eyes trained on his. I open my shirt up and let it fall to the sides of my breasts, but still he doesn’t look away from my eyes. Taking another deep breath, I unbutton and unzip my pants before sliding my red flats off. I’m so glad I didn’t wear boots. I don’t know that I could sexily remove those. I slide the jeans over my hips and shimmy them down until I have to bend to remove them. My eyes back on his, I fold the pants and place them on the bed. Before I lose my nerve, I ease the shirt from my shoulders and fold it quickly before turning to place the clothes on his dresser as he’d asked.

  Turning back to him, I brave a small smile, let my arms fall to my side, and straighten my back. “Very good, Denver. Your movements were graceful and unhurried.” Ransom finally lets his eyes glide down my throat, over my breasts, over my stomach, and all the way to my toes. “You are so beautiful,” he praises, my body blushes at his assessment. His eyes find mine again. “Do you have any idea how stunning you are?” he asks.

  “Stunning?” I ask, and it sounds like I’ve been chewing on nails.

  “Absolutely stunning,” he confirms, his voice turning husky too. “The point of your waiting position is to get you in the proper head space and demonstrate that your sole purpose is to please me and present me with what I long for most—complete control over you and only you—my submissive. The way in which you perform that is a direct reflection of your respect for both yourself and for me. Do you understand?”

  My hands bunch up again, rife with nerves over this “complete control” bit and the self-respect he says my willing submissiveness shows. I know two things for certain at this moment: I have every desire to please him, and I respect him with every fiber of my being.

  He doesn’t miss my tensing up. “Denver, if you don’t understand or are uncomfortable, now is the time to let me know.”

  Words tumble from my mouth before I’m able to stop them. “I’m nervous about the complete control you’re after. Nervous that I won’t be able to follow your orders, and I don’t want to disrespect you or displease you.” OK … that wasn’t hard to admit. Even though it makes me nervous, I trust him.

  “You’ll remember we promised to go slow. I’m not after anything crazy … yet,” he says with a wink and a light laugh. “And your nervousness or hesitancy will not disappoint me, remember?” I nod at the reminder. “Only your willful disobedience of the rules, which we’ve discussed at length.” He pauses, giving me a moment to collect myself. “What are you going to say if you’re uncomfortable?”

  “Yellow,” I reply.

  “What’s the word that will have me stop right away?”

  “Red.”

  “Why is stop or no not sufficient for what we’re doing?”

  “Because I may not mean it, and red makes it clear to you that I do mean it.”

  “Good girl. I would stop if you said no, of course, but I certainly wouldn’t want to stop if you didn’t really want me to.” He grins and winks again. “Remember: I’m trusting you to communicate with me, no matter how you think I might feel.” I nod again.

  “Earlier, I told you to meet me in here. Any time I do that, whether it be with those words, a look, a text, or a phone call, you will strip down to your panties and go into position. The way in which you will do that will be to ease yourself down on one knee first and then the other, slowly and steadily.”

  What is about the image of me being on my knees for him that sets me on fire? I don’t get it, but I’m not fighting it either. Nothing will make me happier. As gracefully as possible, I slip down to one knee and then the other.

  “Perfect. Now press your feet flat on the floor and rest your body on them, keeping your back straight.” He gives me a moment to do so. “When you’re in this position, your eyes are not to meet mine, but it’s important to me that your head is not completely bowed. Try that.” I shift my head a little so that it’s still proud, but cast my gaze downward. “You’re very good at this,” he praises. “All right, usually you will only be in your panties, but I want the pleasure of removing your bra for the first time. Now without moving your upper body, spread your knees wide for me.” I shift them outward. “More.” I bite my lip to contain a groan of need. “Perfect. Finally cross your hands over your heart, making sure to keep your breasts exposed to me.” In order to do this, my back has to be completely straight, so I can see the appeal of the position. I glance down, and with my arms at my side, my breasts are framed and pushed up.

  He rises from his chair to stand over me and runs his hand over my hair. I focus on his sexy feet that rest under the fray of his worn jeans. “You look breathtaking. You’re to hold this position until I come back for you, yes?”

  Until he comes back for me? Where is he going? For how long? I swallow all my questions, placing my trust in him once again. “Yes, John.”

  “Good girl,” he murmurs, bending to place a soft kiss on my forehead.

  Again, my body is at odds with itself. My desire ratchets up to molten, while my nerves throw a cold blanket over me to keep from incinerating. And I wait.

  Chapter Six

  Ransom

  CLICKING THE BATHROOM door behind me quietly, my hands find and grasp the counter, as I close my eyes and recall every fall I’ve ever taken in my bull-riding career. Thinking about the pain and disappointment for a couple of minutes has the desired effects of bringing my raging hard-on under control and keeping me from rushing back into my room to ravage my beautiful, strong girl. I’ve played with a few girls, showing them control and pleasure, but never have I taken it to this level and felt this kind of euphoria. And over something as simple as teaching her the waiting position? Holy shit! What would it be like for us when we took it to the next level and the one after that? I can’t even wrap my brain around how amazing that will be. A jaded little laugh escapes me when I recall my mentor, Lucas, explaining how I would feel when I found my perfect submissive. It’s not that I didn’t believe him, because I had already experienced the thrill of the small things I’d tried, so I understood the potential. I just thought that I would go years and have more experience before finding the one—my little fighter. So perfect.

  Jesus. It was everything I could do not to rush over to her and feel for myself her racing pulse, her hot breaths, her goose-bumped skin … the amount of control we’d both displayed was award-worthy. The only thing that kept me from breaking was knowing how sweet the reward would be in the end. Damn, now I’m getting hard again. OK … back to getting my ass bucked off the beasts.

  After a couple more minutes, I force myself toward Pete’s door to instigate part two of my impromptu little scene, since Denver forced my hand a little. And God was I happy about walking in and seeing that hot little thing sitting on my counter looking at me as if I was her beginning and her end. I’d had a complete shit day, and while there’s nothing anyone could do to make the pain disappear, I knew she could dull my ache.

  I knock quietly at Pete’s door and ask him if he wants to watch some film. My mind wanders to Denver, and if she’s paying attention, I can picture her what-the-fuck face clearly. I barely resist chuckling.

  Pulling his door
open, he frowns and runs his hand over his chest. “Dude, I thought you were hanging out with Denver.”

  “Yeah, she’s gonna lie down for a bit. Long day and all,” I hedge.

  “Oh, all right.”

  He grabs us a couple of beers while I cue up our competition reel. I let him do most of the talking for quite a bit since my mind is firmly on my girl. On her knees. Waiting for me. Trusting me. Anticipating me. And here I am. The mirror image of her—only mine is mental supplication. I finish my beer and glance to the clock. Twelve minutes. I need to wrap this up. I finally interject some more enthusiastic comments, knowing that my voice is carrying to Denver and wondering exactly how she feels about me casually sitting here, discussing technique and flair and dismounts while she kneels, waiting for my next command. And I’m hard again.

  I sigh heavily and stand up stretching before nudging Pete and making a motion with my head toward my room. He gives me a sly grin. “Don’t do anything I would do, cowboy,” he jokes, waggling his eyebrows.

  I toss him a wry look and make my way down the hallway. Excited. Nervous. Hard. Hungry.

  Cracking the door open, I almost to expect a fired-up Denver standing with her arms crossed, pissed that I’d left her alone and worked-up while I hung out with my friend and shot the shit. If she had been, then I could finally have an excuse to bend her over my knees and pinken that pretty, pert behind of hers. But no, there she is, exactly as I’d left her. Proud, beautiful, strong … waiting for my command. Fucking hot.

  Popping open the top button on my jeans, I shift my now fully erect cock to a more comfortable position before locking the door and moving around her. Mmm … she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look up. She doesn’t steal glances. I only see her tongue dart to wet her lips and a tiny smile form.

  Offering her my hand, I remind her to stand up as she lowered herself down. She wobbles a tiny bit but is still fluid and graceful. Like a good girl, she keeps her gaze trained on the floor.