Jane peered from the shadows as an old blue pickup pulled into the honky-tonk’s parking lot. Another Texan good ol’ boy ready to party whether she wanted to or not, or a white knight to rescue her before something worse happened?
So far it was Good Ol’ Texan Boys 12, White Knights 0.
Her pain and exhaustion were secondary to her need to escape this pit stop on the road to hell. She was dirty, bloody, and had little more than the clothes on her back, her determination to survive, and a chance at freedom. That chance might end right here if she didn’t escape.
Another truck roared into the lot, this one with a spray of gravel. One of the two lights that hadn’t been shot out lit up the license plate. It was not from Texas, thank God! She peered at the first truck. The plate looked similar. The air wheezed out of her lungs, allowing her shoulders to drop from the tense position by her ears. Would they be willing to help her?
The door of the first truck opened. The driver stepped out and stretched. He fit every description of the word “cowboy” with his well-muscled body, battered black hat, blue T-shirt, jeans, and scuffed boots. A calm sense of command radiated from him. Her shoulders dropped another inch. It allowed her to inhale rather than pant like a terrified rabbit.
This was a man who knew what he wanted, and was confident he could get it. A warm hum of appreciation trickled through her cold body. For almost twenty-five years she’d been surrounded by arrogant bullies in thousand-dollar suits with souls as bad as the maggots in the bar behind her. Her father had forced her to smile and be pleasant to them no matter what they said, or did. No more. She’d learned a lot since she’d escaped out her bedroom window. Little of it was good, but she was still alive, and free. For now.
The second driver opened the door, leaning to the side to push it wide. He grunted as if in pain, then took his time getting out. He shoved the door shut before approaching the other man. This one’s shirt was red and he was slightly shorter, but they resembled each other enough to be brothers. Blue Shirt started walking toward the bar with that cowboy-style roll of a man used to riding a horse. Not that she knew it personally, but she’d watched a lot of John Wayne movies.
Both men’s jeans hugged harrow hips. Light bounced off huge metal belt buckles. Broad shoulders flexed as they walked, perhaps working out muscles tight from driving. Red Shirt suddenly roared, rushed forward, and slugged Blue in the shoulder. Blue growled something, grabbed Red around the neck, and bent him over. Both hats fell off.
She jerked back into the brush. Wasn’t that just her luck. The first non-Texan vehicles to stop in hours and they were fighting!
But instead of punching back, Blue Shirt rubbed his knuckles over the top of Red’s head. Both of them laughed. She pressed her fist over her pounding heart. After some scuffling they both looked at each other, grinning. The main difference between them was Red Shirt had sandy-blond hair, while Blue had brown.
Another new bit of knowledge to add to her growing repertoire of people totally unlike the way she’d been raised. Grown men, play fighting and laughing openly, as if they actually liked each other. A man who could laugh and joke like that was surely safer than the furtive, ogling creeps in the bar. No matter what, she had to convince these two cowboys to let her ride with them. Maybe they could drop her off at a decent-size town, or even better, a city.
She automatically checked herself to ensure she was presentable. She choked back a cry, forcing it into a scornful laugh. Her ridiculously expensive boots were ruined. Her short black skirt was too tight to run in unless she hiked it higher. Her sleeveless ivory shell had survived without too much damage, though her raw silk black jacket was beyond repair. The dirt didn’t show too much on her skirt, but the jacket had protected her elbows when she was thrown to the ground. She would discard it, but not until she had something to replace it. Though it was ripped and filthy, it added a needed layer of warmth.
Over a thousand dollars of fashion, ruined. But if she used what she’d been taught and kept their attention they would see her cleavage and face rather than her ruined clothing. They don’t care who you are inside, so don’t let them see anything but what you want revealed. She tightened her glutes, straightened her back, and put on her mask.
The men, still grinning at each other, bent over and grabbed their hats. She focused on how their jeans curved over nice buns. It helped keep the fear back. They smacked their hats against their thighs to get the dust off, and stuck them on their heads.
“Let’s get it to go,” said Red Shirt. “We’ll stop a few miles down the road to eat.” Blue shirt nodded, and they headed toward the honky-tonk.
She fluffed up her hair, pasted on the serene welcoming smile of a society hostess, and stepped into the light. This was life or death.
“You rode a cowboy,” said Travis. “Time to find out how a stallion rides a mare.”
A deep thrill centered at the ache in her pussy. “As in?” she asked breathlessly.
“First, I’m going to put you on your hands and knees. Then I’m going to lick and finger you until you beg for more. Then I’m going to spread those pussy lips and find my way home.” He gave her a stern look, one that demanded she conform to his wishes. “You got a problem with that?”
His commanding authority made her need rise even higher. A touch of delicious dread hovered at the edges of her arousal. She yawned, knowing it would make him want to prove his worth.
“No problem,” she replied, as if bored out of her mind, “other than to ask what’s taking you so long. Eeek!”
The sound escaped when he flipped her and dropped her on her belly near the edge of the bed. He lifted her bottom, setting her down with her knees at the edge of the mattress, her feet hanging over. He moved her knees far apart and pressed her head into the mattress. A warning hand on her back told her not to move. It was glorious to have the power to hold a man in thrall. Being under his control was equally wonderful.
“You look good like that,” Travis whispered in her ear. “You like having your ass and pussy on display, ready for my cock. Don’t you, Jane?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She wanted this, needed it.
“I’ll fill your pussy today, but next time, I’ll take you anyway I want.”
A finger slid across her lower lips. She held her breath at the sensation. It slid back and up, then played with her anus. The tip invaded her. This one was thicker than the first. She automatically squeezed to keep him out. He chuckled, and twisted. Sensation from a thousand pleasure points rioted through her. Oh, my! She inhaled a gasp, then pressed back.
“You like my finger in your ass, don’t you, sweetie?”
“Tell me the truth,” he ordered.
“Yes,” she admitted. She pressed her hot face, and its furious blush, into the sheet.
“Good girl. I want you to tell me what you like.” He pulled his finger out, then patted her back cheek. “We’ll work up to it, but before this is over our cocks are going to fill you, Jane, front and back.”
Her pussy gushed even as she shook her head. He grabbed her hair, gently but with purpose, and pulled. It stung a bit, but felt good. She tilted her head, arching her back as he tugged harder. He had her in his power, but it was by her choice.
“You want that, Jane?”
She hesitated. A sharp pain erupted on her left buttock an instant before she heard the crack of his palm. She jumped and yelped. His hand rested on the spot he’d smacked. It burned, but had lit a fuse in her pussy.
“That help you to turn off that busy brain and listen to your body?” he asked. She nodded. He was right. The lingering sting kept her from thinking of anything else.
“I know you like the thought of taking both of us at once,” he continued. “Riding one cock, being pulled down so your butt sticks up like this, then having another cock sink deep into your ass.”
The bed shifted as he leaned over, his mouth by her ear.
“And,” he said with quiet determination, “you like being spanked. You want me to take control of you, Jane. That’s good, because I will determine your pleasure. You will have my hands, and anything else I choose, on your skin, and in your body. And you will enjoy it, Jane, even when it stings. I’ll get pleasure from it, but only if you do. I know what you want, and I will give it to you. Pain and pleasure. Denial and reward. All for you.”
“Don’t leave me out of this,” said Riley. “Jane’ll need both of us to keep her happy.”
Travis’s fingers slid over her skin, exploring. He circled her pussy with his fingertips. She screwed up her face, as if that would force him to touch her where she needed. He chuckled, and kept circling. She squirmed, but he didn’t get any nearer her clit.
“I’m not happy!” She jerked at the sharp tap on her back cheek.
“Our woman needs to learn patience, Rye,” said Travis.
“Why?” she demanded.
Riley dropped on the bed on his stomach. His grinning face landed a foot away. “Because waiting means you’ll come a lot harder, Duchess.”
Travis’s fingers found the slit between her inner lips. She shivered, unable to speak as he lightly swept over her folds. Her entire being focused on his tongue separating her lips, then flicking over her clit. She tensed, eager for another explosion. He pulled back, his breathing rough, then rolled off the bed. She whimpered at his absence.
“We won’t make you wait today,” Travis reassured her from across the room. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
“And you want to fill Jane’s pussy as much as she wants it,” said Riley.
Travis was grinning, but a hard look in his eyes warned Riley not to move toward her. Heavy feet padded back to the bed. Large hands grasped her hips. A hard cock slid over her pussy lips. How had she gone so long without feeling this? She closed her eyes to concentrate on his cock rubbing her clit.
“You want me to fill this sweet pussy with my hard cock, Jane?”
“This means you’re mine until we’re done. You understand?”