Molding Clay (10 page)

tight, a gloriously warm soft glove that pulsed on his dick, delivering sensations he’d

never experienced.

Rusty leaned close to his ear and whispered her chant again, finishing by taking his

earlobe between her teeth and biting gently. After that Clay couldn’t really say what

happened. All he knew as his existence was wrapped up in that moment, in the orgasm

that built slow and steady like a loaded freight train rolling down the track, getting

closer with each moment, building and building until there was nothing but release. A

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climax that was like a wave claimed him, pounding, driving and rolling. Capturing him

in the undertow and refusing to release him.

His knees buckled as his dick throbbed and his seed spilled deep inside her. Rusty

clung to him, her pussy milking him until he was dry and weak. He sank down into the

water with her still wrapped around him, his forehead resting against her shoulder.

Rusty cradled him against her. For several minutes they were frozen in place,

neither willing to break the union.

“Darlin’, I’ve no idea what just happened, but if that’s what a man gets by

surrendering then I damn sure want to surrender again—real soon,” Clay whispered

against her skin.

Rusty giggled and unwound herself to sink into the water. “And just how soon is

real soon, Mr. Russell?”

“Mr.?” he yelped and dived after her as she laughed and started wading for the

shore.

Rusty laughed out loud as he caught her and turned her into him. “Damn, woman,

what’s it take to get you to call me by my name?”

Rusty smiled and hugged him. “Time, cowboy. Just time.”

Clay’s face split in a smile as he guided her hand down to his erection. “Time’s a

wasting, darlin.”

“Nothing with you is a waste…darlin’.”

Clay smiled and scooped her up in his arms to carry her to shore. He placed her

down on the soft grass, lying beside her and running his hand down the curve of her

body as she stretched like a lazy cat under his touch.

Rusty reached for him, opening her mouth to speak a few words he didn’t

understand. He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Not this time. Mind-blowing as

that was, this time it’s my way.”

“Then have at it, big boy,” she encouraged before sucking his finger into her mouth.

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Clay never imagined that an index finger would possess so much feeling. But inside

her mouth, his finger literally throbbed with sensation.

“Damn, woman, you are a witch.”

Rusty released his finger with a chuckle and started to speak when a stricken look

came over her face. She pushed him away, scrambling for her clothes and screaming for

Koda.

Clay hurriedly rose. By the time he’d dressed, Rusty was disappearing into the

stand of trees at the top of the rise. He ran after her at full tilt, his heart pounding in his

chest, not from the exertion but from anxiety at the fear on her face and in her scream.

Even at a dead run it took him a couple of minutes to catch up with Rusty. She

didn’t acknowledge his presence directly behind her but continued to run as fast as her

legs would carry her toward the main ranch complex.

It took them nearly fifteen minutes to reach the pasture bordering the west side of

the ranch proper. Horses pranced and snorted anxiously in the pasture, pawing the

ground and dancing around a dark lump on the ground.

Rusty let loose a howl of pain and grief that struck Clay to the center of his soul as

she collapsed on the ground beside the prone body of a painted horse. It took only one

glance to see that not only had the horse been shot but gutted as well.

For several moments she screamed, tears streaming down her face as she stroked

the dead animal. Then she bounded to her feet and flew toward the house. Clay

followed, unsure what to do except stay close.

Rusty ran into the bunkhouse and emerged a few seconds later with a rifle. She

headed for her truck with a murderous gleam in her eyes that had the violet darkening

to the color of storm clouds.

Clay raced after her, grabbing her arm as she reached for the door of the truck.

“Hold on now!”

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“Let go of me!” she snarled and jerked her arm free of his grip. “Those bastards

killed my horse!”

“And you’re gonna what? Kill them?” he shouted back at her. “For the love of

might, woman, what the hell good will that do but land you in jail?”

“Shut up!” Rusty screamed at him.

“No!” Clay grabbed her as she moved to open the truck door.

She struggled against him, putting up enough of a fight that he had to exert more

force than he wanted to subdue her. She screamed and battled until finally his superior

strength won out and she collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“They…they…killed…killed my horse,” she bawled brokenly against his chest.

Clay didn’t know what to say so he held her silently, letting her cry. It took awhile

before the sobs turned to silent heaves and then to sporadic sniffles. When Rusty

pushed away to look up at him, her eyes were swollen and red, filled with such grief

that his heart nearly broke.

“Ah, darlin’.” He gathered her to him again. “We’ll find the bastards who did this

and make them pay.”

“I already know who did it,” she mumbled against his chest.

He pushed her back to arm’s length to regard her seriously. “I know you think it

was your in-laws, Fancy, but—”

“Not think. I know,” she interrupted. “This has the stink of Stikeleather all over it. I

can’t let them get away with it. I can’t.”

“We won’t,” he said with heavy emphasis on the word “we”. “But we’ve got to do

this by the law. Okay?”

She was silent for a long time. Finally she nodded. “Fine. We’ll try it your way, but

god as my witness, if the law doesn’t see justice done, then I’ll take matters into my own

hands.”

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As she spoke, her eyes began to dance with a wild light, like lightning illuminating

dark clouds. A breeze picked up, blowing uncommonly strong, and the sky itself

darkened with sudden clouds.

The horses in the corral snorted and danced as if in anticipation of a storm. Even

Koda, ever close by, let loose with an anxious string of barks and yips.

At the sound of Koda’s barks, Rusty seemed to snap out of whatever force bound

her. She turned to look at Koda. “They will pay,” she stated with utter finality.

Koda gave one bark in reply and turned away. Clay watched it all with

apprehensive curiosity. “Darlin’, please. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Let the law do

its job. If they can’t bring the guilty party to justice, then I promise you, I’ll use the

entire weight of my family to find them and make them pay. Just promise me that you

won’t…uh, you won’t do anything you won’t be able to undo. Deal?”

Rusty studied his eyes. “You give me your word on that, Mr. Russell?”

“God as my witness,” he promised.

“Then you have a deal,” she said, and added, “but fair warning. Anyone who

welshes on a deal with me doesn’t get a second chance.”

With that she turned and walked away. “Where are you going?” Clay called after

her.

“To prepare a goodbye for a friend,” she said over her shoulder.

Clay heaved a sigh and started for the bunkhouse to get his cell phone. Time to call

the sheriff.

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Chapter Nine

Davy slammed the thin door to the bedroom back against the wall as he entered,

rousing Stella from her sleep. She squinted up at him from the rumpled bed. “Mornin’,

sugah. Didn’t ’spect to see you so early.”

“Got a hankerin’,” he replied and started stripping off his clothes. “Get up on your

hands and knees, honey.”

“Can’t we do it regular this time, honey?” Stella whined.

Davy reached out and slapped her hard then grabbed her by the hair and dragged

her completely off the bed, across the bedroom and into the small den. He shoved her

over the arm of the couch, pressing her face hard against the cheap vinyl. “You stay

there, bitch, or I’ll whip your ass so hard it bleeds. You got me?”

Stella whimpered and nodded, remaining as she was, bent over the arm of the

couch, ass up.

Davy went into the kitchen and rumbled around for a few minutes. When he

returned he held a squeeze bottle of cheap margarine in his fist and a leather strap.

“Now, time for Daddy to punish his bad girl,” he said as he upended the bottle and

squeezed the rancid margarine all over her ass.

Stella had time enough to squeak before the strap landed on her rear. She yelped at

the pain and reached back to cover her ass. Davy grabbed her by the wrist and bent her

arm back so hard it felt like it was going to break. “You do that again and I’ll beat you

so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week. Now stretch your arms out over your

head and stick that ass up higher.”

She whimpered but complied. It was a game they both loved. He had a need to

possess and she a need to be possessed. Davy’s dick grew increasingly erect with each

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blow of the strap. When Stella was screaming like a banshee and her ass was

crisscrossed with rising red welts, he tossed the strap aside.

He squirted the margarine over his dick and then stuck the tip of the bottle into her

anus and, using both hands, squeezed hard. She cried out in protest but made no move

in fear of retribution. Margarine seeped out of her ass when he removed the bottle.

He stroked his dick, his mind transforming the cowering woman in front of him

into the likeness of Rusty. Now it was she who was bent over in surrender before him.

“Reach back and spread your cheeks, baby,” he crooned in the tone of a lover. “Beg

me to fuck you up the ass.”

Stella visibly winced as her hands gripped the flesh of her abused cheeks and

spread herself open as wide as possible. “Oh yeah, baby. Yeah.” Her breath was fast

and hard, letting him know that she wanted what he had to offer.

Davy punched her in the back of the thigh, angered that she had improvised her

dialogue. She knew what he wanted to hear but sometimes she forgot and acted on her

own need instead of his. “I said beg me, baby. Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please,” she whispered, pressing her ass higher, spreading as wide as possible. “I

want you, baby. Put your dick in me. Fuck me hard, baby. Please. I need you.”

The fantasy returned and Davy grinned as he rubbed the head of his dick against

her anus. “Want it, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

He pressed his pelvis forward, sinking the head of his cock into her anus. “Nobody

fucks you like Daddy, do they, baby?” he asked as he grabbed her hips and pulled her

toward him.

“No one,” she screamed as he impaled her on the length of him. “You’re the best.

The best.”

“Damn straight,” he groaned and pounded into her. “You’re mine. And you love it.

Want it. Can’t live without it.”

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“Yes!” she screamed. “Please, fuck me hard, Davy. Fuck me hard!”

Davy grinned and slammed against her in increasing speed and ferocity. Within

moments he felt the buildup begin. “You’re mine!” he shouted as he released himself

inside her, his body quaking under the force of the climax.

“Oh yes,” Stella moaned, still unaware that the man who’d just lost his load in her

ass was talking about another woman entirely.

* * * * *

It had been six weeks since the murder of the horse. Since that morning, Rusty had

become a different woman, a ghost of her former self. Clay had done everything he

could to snap her out of it, but she’d cut herself off from him.

Not even Koda seemed to have an effect on her, even though Clay had seen them

engaged in long discussions. Each one ended the same as the previous, with Rusty

taking off for the woods, not returning until dawn when she would set to work with a

vengeance.

Clay was worried. If the murdered horse wasn’t enough, the series of events that

had followed was enough to drive even the strongest person to madness. They’d had

cut fences that had them spending days rounding up stray stock, two horses that had

vanished without a trace, supplies that were never delivered and suppliers that claimed

to have received calls canceling orders, slashed truck tires twice when they went to

town and a poisoned stream in the east pasture.

Not even the resources of the Circle R would be enough to pull Blackhawk out of

the red if this continued. Already the family was starting to suggest that perhaps Clay

should discuss with Rusty the possibility of selling the land and transferring the stock

to the Circle R in Arizona.

He was loath to make such a suggestion to her. She’d barely said a dozen words to

him as it was, speaking only when there was something that had to be said concerning

work. Other than that, she avoided him.

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Clay couldn’t figure it out. “What the hell have I done?” he asked aloud as he sat on

the porch of the bunkhouse and watched her go into the barn.

You are not held accountable for what eats her soul, human
, a deep voice seemed to come