Wild One: 3 (Caden Kink) (7 page)

Bye had proved a more than adequate helper, which surprised him since he’d heard several comments around town to the effect that the Bar C heir was a playboy more interested in partying than in doing anything useful. “Thanks, Bye. Four, I believe that if somebody watches him 24/7 until you can get him to a hospital, Jorge will eventually be okay. He needs IV fluids, plasma, antibiotics and more pain medicine, which I can get from the office and bring back out here, assuming the road is passable.”

Four cleared his throat. “Bye, take my SUV. It has four-wheel drive. You’ll probably need the extra traction if the snow keeps coming down the way it’s doing now.”

“I’ll take him. Bye needs to stay here and do what he can for Jorge.”

Les hadn’t realized Deidre had come back into the room until she spoke. He turned and saw her looking wide-eyed at the bloodstained dressings in the basin next to Jorge’s freshly bandaged thigh.

“Okay. But I want you to let Les drive.”

Les remembered Deidre mentioning how overprotective her father was of her. Apparently she hadn’t imagined it. “You trust her flying a plane but not driving a car in a snowstorm, sir?”

“Yes, I do. I still was damn glad you were with her while you were coming back from Dallas. I knew you’d take care of her.”

* * * * *

Deidre was still fuming over Four’s attitude as she sat in the passenger seat of his Escalade and watched Les maneuver around a snowdrift on the outskirts of town. Yeah, Les was responsible to a fault, if that were possible. She couldn’t deny it after watching him get them back from Dallas in the worsening weather, never once panicking. He’d stayed calm and brought them home while the wind had tossed the Cessna around as though it had been a toy airplane. She was certain she’d have panicked and crashed in some desolate field if Les hadn’t been with her.

Once safely on the ground again, he’d calmly addressed a medical emergency that had everybody on the Bar C wringing their hands, not knowing what to do for Jorge. He’d calmed everyone down, even Maria, and he’d patched up Jorge’s leg with nothing but what he’d had with him in the small leather bag that hadn’t even strained her back when she’d brought it to him from his car.

Deidre reminded herself that she didn’t want responsible, she wanted exciting. Fun. She wanted a Dom.

But it was true that dominance took many forms and not all of them had to do with BDSM sex play. Being a dominant male didn’t only mean taking control of a submissive and bending her to his will. Even Deidre knew that much.

When the SUV came to a stop in front of his office she glanced over at Les and recognized the determined look on his face. Whatever it took, he’d get the supplies he needed and get them safely back to the Bar C so he could take care of Jorge until the weather cleared enough that they could get him to the hospital.

He looked at her as he opened the driver’s side door. “I’ll leave the engine running while I go inside and get what I need. I want you to stay warm.” He didn’t wait for a reply but got out and strode over a pile of newly fallen snow that the wind had piled up in front of the sidewalk. She watched him until he disappeared inside the office he shared with Doc Baines.

While she still couldn’t imagine Les playing BDSM games at the Neon Lasso, Deidre had to give him credit. He’d shown her he could take command when it mattered most—when lives were on the line.

Besides, when she looked back on their lovemaking last night, she had to admit Les had led her. He certainly hadn’t shown the slightest hesitation in taking her over the top not once but several times before they’d slept—and again this morning before they’d headed home.

Of course the sex had been pure vanilla, no toys or restraints or any of the accoutrements she’d always thought she needed to spice up the game. But he had made sure that she came each time, unlike some past lovers who had focused only on their own pleasure.

Les wasn’t stodgy—just vanilla.

Being vanilla is not a sin, Deidre. It’s just that you’ve always thought you’d prefer chocolate, or better yet Rocky Road.

But maybe Les wasn’t vanilla after all. She’d been with him less than two complete days. Not too many guys, even Doms, would go out on a first date and drag the woman to a dungeon or surprise her with his collection of dildos, floggers and handcuffs. And not all Doms looked the part, not even Bye, who took Karen to the Neon Lasso at least once a week but who came across in public as normal—even a little bit on the conservative side.

Unlike Jack, whose high-and-tight haircut and authoritative manner gave more than a hint that he was into BDSM in a big way. She’d have known even if Karen hadn’t let it slip that of all the players at the Neon Lasso, Jack was the most hardcore. Liz seemed to love the way he controlled her, even getting a tattoo on her mound that matched the ones on his arm and above his cock. Bye had mentioned that the slave collar around Liz’s neck was secured with a lock to which Jack held the key.

Folks apparently weren’t supposed to talk about what went on at the club, but Deidre knew that Bye and Karen had only been trying to persuade her Jack would have been too much for her to handle even if they hadn’t been blood relations.

Deidre was coming to agree that she and Jack would never have made a good match, partly because she realized that she now liked Les a lot. She wanted strength, and he was strong, a leader she thought could stand up to her often overbearing father and brother. Besides, Les was the only guy she’d ever fucked who shaved his pubes, though she’d seen subs and Doms who did when she’d observed at Club Rio Brava.

She figured that could be a sign he wasn’t so vanilla after all. Maybe…

He came back quickly, carrying a large cardboard box that he placed on the backseat. Then he shook snow out of his jet-black hair, slid behind the wheel and turned the SUV back toward the Bar C.

“Les, have you ever heard of the Neon Lasso?” she blurted before she could think better of it.

For just a moment he looked away from the road, straight at her. “Why are you asking me,
chéri
?”

He shifted his gaze back to the icy road before she could decide whether her question had shocked or amused him. For a moment she considered how to reply.

Oh well, I’m already in for a penny. May as well go for a pound.

“Because I’ve always wanted to go there and see if it’s anything like Club Rio Brava, down near San Antonio. It’s a private BDSM club I visited once while I was there. Bye won’t let me hitch a ride with him and Karen when they go there to play. He treats me as though I’m still in grade school.”

“I don’t blame him. If you were my sister I’d try to protect you too. I’m glad you aren’t. Would you like for me to take you there? I got a membership at the Neon Lasso right after I got settled in with Doc Baines.”

Les didn’t sound shocked or horrified. He didn’t pull off the road and look at her as though he thought she had lost her mind. As a matter of fact he sounded downright pleased, and the look he shot her way practically scorched her flesh through her heavy winter jacket.

“Yes, I would.” She wished he didn’t have to get the supplies in that box back to Jorge right now because she wanted to show Les just how submissive she could be. “I liked you a lot before you admitted that you’re into BDSM play. Now I can hardly wait to show you that a Dom is what I need. I’m already wet…and ready to serve my master.”

“You’re driving me crazy, but you know that, don’t you?” He slowed down, took one hand off the wheel and caught hers, molding her fingers around his jeans-clad cock. He was already half-hard and pulsing against her palm, obviously aroused. “How did you figure out I’m into BDSM play? I was being so damn careful to come off as the vanilla lover I’d thought until now was what you wanted.”

“From other members who’ve watched you play, maybe?”

“I doubt that,
chéri
. I always wear a hood at the club. It wouldn’t do my medical practice a lot of good in some circles if it got around that I like my women smokin’ hot and my sex a little kinky. Tell me how you knew.”

“I didn’t know. I hoped. I’ve seen you’re a take-charge sort of guy about everything you do. You tackle your work, having sex, even flying through a storm, not only with competence but also with the same sort of confidence I’ve observed Doms displaying in clubs.”

She paused and lowered her voice to a husky whisper she hoped would drive him insane. “When we fucked last night you assumed complete control over my pleasure as well as your own, though I didn’t think of you as being a Dom at the time.” She curled her fingers around his heat and hardness, rubbing her thumb over the tip of his cock head. “I think I’ll see how well you can concentrate on driving while I’m sucking this.”

He groaned. “Stop teasing or I’ll make you pay.”

“Your cock likes it,” she said, pouting but moving the offending thumb.

“The rest of me likes it too, but now is not the time for you to take my mind off getting us back to the Bar C instead of stuck in a snowbank. The snow is coming down so hard that I can barely see the road. Where I grew up snow was a rare phenomenon.”

She glanced outside, alarmed at the rate the road was disappearing in a cold, wet haze. “I can’t remember the last time we had a winter as bad as this one is shaping up to be. I’m glad it’s you driving instead of me and that we’re almost home.”

“So am I.” He chuckled. “If I didn’t have to get these supplies to Jorge and if the roads weren’t so damn treacherous, I’d take you to the Neon Lasso right now and give you all the kink you can handle.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Well, if you think you can handle it, I’ll promise to take you over there to play just as soon as this weather lets up and I don’t have an unstable patient who needs more help than I know how to give him.”

“Okay. I guess we’d better get this stuff back to Jorge. He needs you even more than I do right now—and I need you a lot.” She stroked his cock once more, then moved her hand back on her own lap. For the next few minutes she stared out the window at snowflakes whirling in the cold wind, melting on the windshield as soon as they came into contact with it.

They reminded her of the way Les made her doubts melt away with just his steadying presence…and the heat of sexual tension he had a way of stoking between them even at times like this, when they didn’t dare to ease it.

Once they got back to the Bar C, Les had to devote his full attention to keeping Jorge alive. The storm raged outside, gale-force winds whipping snow into random drifts that made Deidre think of the white-sand beaches on Padre Island where she’d spent many lazy days last summer. As night fell she heard the ranch’s big generator kick on and realized that somewhere between the Bar C and the electric company’s transfer station a line had come down. Mindful of the need to conserve electricity until the utility company got service restored, she turned off most of the downstairs lights and made her way to her room, switching off the lamp by her bed as soon as she got into her pajamas.

She hated the dark. Always had. Trembling more from fear than from the frigid bursts of air that no amount of heat could fully dispel, she crawled into bed and hunkered down under the covers. Her teeth chattered but she willed herself not to shiver.

God, but she wished Les would come up here and join her. He’d keep her safe from the storm. He’d promised to take care of her and she had no doubt that he could make her forget everything but the feel of his strong body on her, in her, his arms around her shielding her from all the pain that seemed to become more intense during the storm.

Now, though, he had a greater responsibility for Jorge’s well-being than for satisfying her sexual urges or easing her irrational fear of being alone in the dark.

It wasn’t as though she was totally helpless. She wasn’t. She could do things on the ranch alongside men that would make some other women quake, but she’d always had this fear of the dark, particularly during storms, probably because of stories about people being lost in them. Her mother had soothed her with stories, sitting and stroking her hair until she slept. She thought about Les coming up here now, making her forget everything but being safe in his arms. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to accept playing second fiddle to his highly demanding career. Though logic told her she couldn’t expect to come first all the time, that was what she wanted—almost as much as she wanted to become his adoring sex slave.

With determination she hadn’t been sure she possessed, Deidre made herself stop shaking. Les had a greater responsibility for Jorge’s well-being than for satisfying her sexual urges or easing her irrational fear of the dark. After his revelation in the car, she found herself having an odd desire to prove her worth, as if part of her submission was proving how strong she could be. Odd. She’d never had that desire before with a lover.

Still, when the wee hours of the morning came and Les slipped into the bed with her, muttering something about taking a fifteen-minute catnap in her arms and asking her to wake him before her brother or Four found him there and shot him, she found herself smiling and holding him close…and thinking she’d do anything he’d ask.

He had come to her. Everything else would be okay.

Chapter Five

He’d never needed this so much, never anticipated sex with a particular woman as much as he did tonight. Les tried to tell himself his eagerness had resulted from twelve days’ forced celibacy but he knew that was a lie.

You had plenty of time to jerk off while you were staying at the Bar C to make sure Jorge had no more crises. If you hadn’t been so concerned about Four or Bye catching you, you could have gone upstairs and worked off your pent-up sexual frustration—Deidre’s too. The past four days when you were on call at the office, you could have used the sounds to get off.

Truthfully he hadn’t just wanted sexual release, he’d wanted to have Deidre under his command the way he’d been visualizing in his head since she’d revealed that was what she wanted too.

He had no doubt that he could top her. He’d learned his lessons well as an observer of other Doms and as the recipient of a Domme’s intense exertions of control. The wild card in his mind was whether he wanted to exert that kind of mastery over a woman he cared about…and how far she was ready for him to go.

Les admitted he’d never before felt the emotional connection he felt with Deidre—the need to protect and cherish her that could easily overwhelm his compulsion to dominate her sexually.

He knew Deidre was inexperienced when it came to BDSM, that she wanted it without truly understanding what the lifestyle could entail. Nagging doubts stuck in his mind about whether she was really as submissive as she’d claimed. How could she know, since her only prior visit in a BDSM club had been an observer, not a participant?

Concentrating on the approach to the Bar C’s landing strip, Les put down Doc Baines’ Piper Cub and taxied to the hangar, where he spotted Deidre waving at him as she stood by her sleek Mercedes sports coupe. Her blonde hair blew in the wind, a pale cloud that reminded him of a halo.

Angelic? She looked it—all innocent and eager for a new experience—until he scanned the body that could easily be a Playboy centerfold in that dark-blue turtleneck, skintight jeans and a pair of hand-tooled cowboy boots that matched the oversize shoulder bag she hefted off the concrete.

When she walked toward him he opened the door above the wing and motioned for her to climb aboard. “You’ll have to dodge the medical supplies. Come up here and sit beside me.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss before securing the door and revving up the single engine.

Deidre dropped her bag on the floor and settled onto the cracked leather passenger seat. “You know, Doc, I could have come get you in the Cessna.”

He doubted that even the Bar C’s aged Piper Cub, which Deidre had mentioned having been taken out of retirement to drop feed to cattle during the big December blizzard, looked as decrepit on the inside as this plane. Doc Baines was fanatical about maintaining his work plane in top condition, but he cared nothing about how the inside looked. “Maybe I should have let you. This old girl is in better shape than she looks, though. She’ll get us there and back just fine.” Revving the engine again, he picked up speed until they lifted off the landing strip and achieved the proper altitude.

“I know. Want to know something, Doc? I didn’t believe you were actually gonna come and take me to the Neon Lasso until I saw you land a few minutes ago. I doubted you’d risk what Four and Bye would do to you if they found out you took me out to play.”

“We only live once, sweetheart. You want to play rough, so that’s what we’ll do.” He’d never play that rough with Deidre—the idea of hurting her tore him up inside, not to mention that he knew firsthand what getting too deep into the lifestyle could do not only to the participants but also to their loved ones. “I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to, though. If anything should get too heavy, just say ‘stop’. That’s a safe word you won’t be able to forget.”

“Bye and Karen won’t be there tonight. They went to Lubbock to see her father. All we’ll have to worry about is Four, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go to the Neon Lasso—not that he’s above having some down-and-dirty sex, it’s just that I don’t think he’d want to do his fucking around right out in public.”

Les wouldn’t even have considered the probability of Four Caden being in the Neon Lasso. From what he’d observed it was a club that catered to members under forty. “What do you mean?” From the tone of Deidre’s voice Les guessed she must harbor some sort of resentment toward her father.

“Just that I’m pretty sure Daddy likes to keep his affairs secret. For more than thirty years he managed to keep everybody from finding out he had a mistress stashed away in Lubbock.”

Les tried to hold a neutral expression but he was sure the shock registered on his face as he descended and began to line up with the miniscule landing strip at the Neon Lasso. “You’re sure? Thirty years is a long time for a guy to keep a woman under wraps.”

“Yes, it is. Long enough for Four to have raised Bye and me…and long enough for our old man to have fathered another son who’s a few years older than Bye. The woman decided she’d spring the news on Bye and me the day of our mother’s funeral.”

Fuck.
It seemed that every family had its black sheep—only in his family he was the one with the wooly coat. Obviously her father’s betrayal had affected Deidre deeply. “You want to talk about it,
chéri
?” he asked as he set the plane down and brought it to a stop on the edge of the blacktop before shutting down the engine.

She shook her head. “Not now, Doc. If you want to listen, I’ll talk about it someday. Right now I want to go in there and let you show me how you want me to submit.”

“You’ve just made me an offer I can’t refuse. Come on—we’ll play now, but we’re going to have that talk later on.” He helped her up and preceded her out the narrow door, jumping down and catching her in his arms when she came down. “Welcome to the local world of BDSM play. My wish is your command.”

As always, when he opened the door the driving sounds of what Les considered stripper music blared from the jukebox and rotating strobe lights cast brilliant colors around the public dungeon. He kept a possessive hand at Deidre’s back when the club owner approached them.

“Hey, Buck. My friend wants to get some club wear before we play.”

“We’ll get y’all fixed right up, sweetheart.” Buck motioned for Candy, one of the club subs. She flounced up to them and soon led Deidre to the store that offered a modest selection of fetish wear as well as floggers, dildos and butt plugs. If members wanted a wider selection they had to go to Lubbock or Dallas, because the Neon Lasso’s store was very basic.

“Doc?”

He met Buck’s gaze, saw concern in the man’s expression. “What is it?”

“I’m guessing you know that’s Deidre Caden. I probably ought to mention that Jack and Liz are performing onstage tonight.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Les didn’t see why that should make a difference. Duval was a skilled Dom and his bride an enthusiastic sex slave. They always put on quite a show, as imaginative as any Les had ever seen performed in Houston. After all, Deidre had observed scenes, so nothing that might happen tonight would be likely to upset her.

“Seeing those two together might set Deidre off. She spent last winter chasing after Duval until… Hey, I don’t want to say something I shouldn’t. Maybe you should ask her what happened between them.”

Les intended to do just that. “It’s a good thing I planned on using one of the private dungeons, then.” Having lost his sense of modesty years ago, he’d always opted for the public playroom, and the only time he’d been upstairs before had been when he’d toured the club before joining it. As he recalled, each of the two rooms up there was well enough equipped for the play he had in mind. “I’m hoping there’s one available?”

“Yeah. The smaller room is free. It’s plenty big for two, but if you’re planning a ménage—”

“I’m not. That room will be fine.” If Deidre had some hang-up about the lawyer, he didn’t want to risk her melting down in front of whoever else was playing here tonight. “I’ll take it.”

Deidre emerged from the store, an endearing blush on her face and a large shopping bag in her hand. She looked questioningly at Les.

“Go put on whatever it is you’ve got in that bag,
chéri
. Candy will show you the dressing rooms and bring you to our dungeon when you’re ready. I want to find you on your knees when I come in the room.”

When the women had left, Buck cleared his throat, then looked at Les. “Bye’s wife Karen is my cousin and she’ll give me hell if Deidre goes ballistic. I’m counting on you to keep her under control.”

“I will.” As he stripped and got ready for Deidre, Les tried to imagine her with Jack but couldn’t. Duval was too hardcore for a novice sub, and from the scenes Les had observed he seemed to swing both ways. He also appeared to keep his wife under his control 24/7. Les doubted that Deidre would like that, or that she’d take to playing with more than one Dom at a time. Les had no trouble picturing Deidre enjoying D/s play—the idea of it obviously had her enthralled—but he couldn’t see her ever allowing anyone to command her obedience anywhere except in bed. After all, she’d figured out he was a Dom without ever observing him at play—and if he was, it was in the mildest sense.

She wanted to experience the club scene, but he doubted she would go for the action Jack meted out to his wife on a regular basis. He’d explain what she might see in the scene tonight and let her decide whether she wanted to watch it on the video screen in their private playroom.

Les worked his package through the steel cock ring and buckled the leather torso harness before glancing at himself in the dressing room mirror. He liked the minimalist look of the harness, which exposed him completely yet gave the illusion of him having chosen a costume for play best done naked. Tonight he’d shaved off all his body hair, something he hadn’t done since he’d been Jessica’s slave.

The difference now was that he wasn’t wearing a collar or a leash clipped to a ring in his dick, and that now he was the one in control of his pleasure—and Deidre’s.

More eager than he’d been since the night his former mistress had collared him in a club scene so long ago, Les slipped the leather executioner’s hood that he always wore to play over his head. As always he had to fiddle with it so he could see at least a little bit through the slits in front before tightening the drawstring. For the first time since he’d begun playing in the Neon Lasso, where more than a few members were likely to become his patients at some point, Les wished he didn’t need to hide his identity, denying himself of the use of most of his senses in the process.

Fuck it.
He began to loosen the hood but then he remembered. Once he was in the private playroom he could take the thing off, enjoy all the sensory pleasures he’d been denying himself when he’d played in front of a crowd. He strode through the public playroom to the stairs, straining to see where he was going.

In the small anteroom to the private dungeon where he’d find his prize, he loosened the hood and drew it over his head. Dispassionately he looked over the implements on a long, narrow table but decided to forgo using toys—after all, this would be Deidre’s first club play.

He hoped she didn’t expect him to hurt her the way some subs did. In addition to the fact that deliberately causing someone pain went against all his medical training as well as his instincts, Les had been on the receiving end of too much physical abuse when he’d been Jessica’s sex toy. His way of dominating was more psychological than physical—more mind-control than brute force.

He strode into the playroom and placed the condoms he’d brought with him on a stainless steel table by the narrow fucking bed that had always reminded him of a GYN exam table complete with stirrups as well as some other restraints that would scare most vanilla women out of their doctors’ offices.

Oh God.
He nearly came when he saw Deidre kneeling beside the St. Andrew’s Cross against the wall. She lowered her gaze as soon as she recognized him, but not fast enough for him to miss her staring wide-eyed at his crotch and licking her lips as though she couldn’t wait to taste him. Novice or not, she knew exactly how to make a cock stand up and pay attention.

His was twitching already and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

She’d pulled her long blonde hair up in a high ponytail and secured it with a red vinyl clasp that reminded him of a tiny slave collar, and she was clad from neck to ankles in a skintight red latex bodysuit with cutouts that bared her nipples, pussy and ass. It closed with a large, visible zipper whose silver tab hovered in the hollow of her throat, a silent invitation for him to strip her bare if that was his desire.

He liked the way she’d wrapped herself for him, even though he’d never considered that he might be a rubber fetishist. He liked the outfit a lot, but then he’d have liked her just as well in silky lingerie and stiletto heels. Or in that silly SpongeBob nightshirt she’d worn that night in Dallas—or nothing at all.

Stopping directly in front of her, he grasped her ponytail, loving the way the pale silky strands flowed over his fingers, a welcoming caress. “I want you to kiss me,
chéri
.”

Les had given her an order, gently spoken yet as compelling as if he’d told her roughly to suck his cock. Deidre licked her lips. “Yes, Master,” she said, then she leaned forward, braced her hands on his muscular thighs and took his rigid cock head in her mouth. He tasted clean and a little bit salty…delicious enough that she could keep on sucking him all night long.