Rustled (7 page)

Russ led me
through a maze of rooms that were both spacious and well-appointed, with
masculine furniture of pine logs and leather. It all combined to speak of
wealth and luxury, but in a western theme befitting a Wyoming cattle ranch.
Cowhides lined the pine floors, and mounted deer or elk capes dotted the walls.
After wandering through what appeared to be a library, then a formal living
room that was devoid of mounted kills, but displayed western-themed oil
paintings instead, we entered a long, broad hallway with closed doors
periodically piercing the walls on both sides. At the end of the hall, Russ led
me into the most beautiful room I had ever seen.

In contrast to
the rest of the house, this room was feminine in the extreme. A four-poster
bed, sans canopy, was centered on one wall. In a corner, a velvet chaise longue
was situated to catch the light from a large window, with a soft pashmina
thrown across it as if the owner of the room had just stepped out. The duvet
cover on the bed, the velvet of the chaise, and various other objects were a
dusty rose color that put me in mind of passion as this room had clearly been
designed to do.

I stopped just
inside the door, gasping at the luxury and beauty the room represented. Russ
had walked straight through without looking left or right and entered what
appeared to be a walk-in closet. My heart clutched at his audacity. What if the
rancher’s wife, for this must be her room, returned suddenly to find us there,
and Russ rifling through her closet.

“Russ,” I
hissed. He didn’t hear me. I crept forward and joined him in the closet, where
he was looking through the lingerie in a tall chest he found there. “Russ! I
don’t think we should be here.”

“Don’t worry
about it. Here, choose a few of these. And some pants. Dresses aren’t very
practical on a ranch. Would you wear some jeans?”

“Yes, but…”

“I think
they’ll fit. I was more concerned about the shoes. You’re about the same height
and build…” he trailed off, gazing at me with a puzzled look on his face that
cleared when he saw it reflected in mine.

“Matter of
fact, just leave everything here. You’ll stay in this room.”

I gasped,
frightened out of my wits by this cavalier treatment of the owner of the room.
It was only then that he thought to explain.

“She’s not
here,” he said in a low voice. The emotion was back, and I wondered if the
woman was just away, or if something terrible had happened to her.

“Will she mind
if I stay in her room and borrow her things?”

Russ’s face
closed. If we had been playing strip poker, I would have feared for my last
garment, because for the first time since I had met him he looked like granite.

“No,” he said.
And that was that. I had plenty of questions, like who was the woman who
belonged in this room, where was she, and what was she to Russ? Was her
husband, who I took to be the rancher who owned this spread, with her? Why was
Russ so certain it would be okay for me to borrow her things, not to mention
her room?

To ask more of
him was to risk his anger, and that I couldn’t do. I was completely dependent
on him, at least for a while. What he wanted, I would do. What he wanted to
keep secret, I would not pry into. Instead, a warm rush of gratitude awakened
my compassion for whatever hurt he was going through to make him shut down like
that. I stepped forward and put my arms around him.

“Russ, thank
you. For everything. Thank you for rescuing me, and for bringing me here.” My
words seemed to cheer him, and in another sudden about-face in mood, he arched
one eyebrow and baffled me again with what he said next.

“For
everything
?
Are you thanking me for letting you give me a blowjob, or for the spanking?”
How was I supposed to answer that? In fact, I
was
grateful for the sex.
It was mind-blowing, and it had single-handedly erased three years of
deprivation and oppression. But wasn’t that question a little too arrogant? I
searched his face for a hint of cruelty or irony, and found none. It had been a
straight question. Did he want to know if I wanted it again?

“Yes, I want
to know if you want me to make love to you again.”

“How do you do
that?” I asked, knowing he was also reading the ‘god, yes’ answer in my face.

I was already
standing close to him, both of us still in the spacious closet. He brought his
arms up and around me, moving even closer and taking my mouth with a rough
kiss. He smelled divine, and I realized he’d showered sometime after we got
here. It made me more conscious of my grubby state and no doubt less-than-perfumed
breath, and suddenly I was squirming to escape his grasp.

“Russ, I’m a
mess. Not now, wait until I can clean up.”

“No need to
wait,” he answered. Despite my protests he picked me up easily and carried me
into the luxuriously appointed bath that adjoined the bedroom. He set me on my
feet, turned on the water in a huge, jetted tub, adjusted the temperature and
then let the water run while he turned back to me.

After finding
a new toothbrush in one of the numerous drawers and handing it to me, Russ
occupied himself in adjusting the temperature and turning on the jets of the
tub. Then, his fingers were sure on the tiny buttons of my bodice, unbuttoning
them with care though I didn’t mind if he ripped the dress off me by force. I
would never put it on again, if I had anything to say about it. Once the
buttons were unfastened, he pushed the shoulders and sleeves down my arms,
deftly unhooked my bra with one hand, and pushed everything, including my
panties, to the floor.

“This is how I
like you best,” he said with satisfaction, gazing at my nudity with proprietary
interest. My nipples contracted from the sheer excitement of being naked for
his observation and moisture bloomed between my legs. I was beyond wondering
how or why he affected me this way. Just the look on his face could bring me to
the brink of orgasm; it was amazing. Smiling, he reached with both hands to
tweak the stiff little nubs. Then he picked me up again, and deposited me in
the middle of the tub.

That warm
water was the second-best thing I had felt since leaving Bethel City. For the
pleasure of feeling it wash away the grime of the past couple of days, I let my
head slump back and slid down to let the water cover me except for my mouth,
nose and eyes. Then I brought the water up in my hands and rinsed those.
Already I felt a hundred percent better. I opened my eyes and glanced around to
see if there was a soap or a washcloth handy, but my eyes came to rest on Russ.

He had removed
his shirt and was kneeling beside the bath, a bath puff in one hand and a
bottle of heavenly-smelling bath gel in the other. I detected vanilla, nutmeg,
and shea butter before he reached for me and slid me through the water to the
side of the tub, where he could reach me. Twirling me around to put my back to
him, Russ began to scrub my neck and back, holding my long hair out of the way
of the soap.

When he had
thoroughly scrubbed my back, the backs of my arms, and my hips as far as he
could reach, Russ urged me to stand, so he could scrub my legs. I leaned forward
to grasp a rail on the opposite wall for stability, and felt his hands, without
the puff, searching my folds intimately. Without my grip on the rail, it would
have brought me to my knees. A soapy hand was stroking my clit now, and it was
all I could do to stand, the sensations were so delicious. My breath came in
short gasps as he stroked and pinched me there, my legs quivering until the
wave of electric passion overtook me. Then, he helped me to turn and sink back
into the water, while his hands soaped all the front of me. The orgasm had
drained me. I watched his hands glide over the wet, soapy flesh of my breasts
and belly, drifting in a haze of comfort, warmth and desire, until he rinsed me
and poured shampoo into my hair.

The strange
thing was, as much as I enjoyed the erotic touch of his hands, I was lethargic
to the point of not caring whether it continued or not. His hands in my hair
brought delicious sensations of luxury, but no urgency. I drifted, content to
let him do whatever he wanted with me or to me, enjoying the pleasure as a cat
might enjoy a firm stroking. Now he was rinsing my hair with a hand nozzle, the
warm water streaming down through the heavy tresses and down my back.

When he was
done, Russ helped me to stand, wrapped an enormous Turkish cotton towel around
me and picked me up like a baby. He sat down with me on an upholstered chair in
the bedroom, rubbing and patting me dry, taking care to dry every fold and
intimate area. With his fingers, he worked the tangles out of my hair, then
stood up with me and laid me on the bed, where he spread my wet hair around me
to dry.

Not one word
passed between us during this dream-like interlude, but now he leaned over me
and kissed my lips tenderly. “Do you want to sleep now, Kitten?”

“Only if you
want to sleep, Russ. I want you to make love to me, like you said.”

His hand
caressed my cheek and I closed my eyes, only because I wanted to savor the
touch. When I woke, the lights were out and he was breathing heavily beside me,
sound asleep. I didn’t know how long I had been out, but my hair was dry, which
meant probably several hours. Disappointed that my body had betrayed me like
that, not to mention Russ, a tear escaped. But, my questing hands had found
that I was still naked, and so was Russ, snuggled up against me and tucked
under the blankets as if we were still back in that cabin and he was still
fighting for my life. Sighing happily, I turned into him, squirmed under his
arm, and rested my head on his chest. This was where I belonged, for as long as
it lasted. I refused to think beyond the next morning, when I would wake in his
arms and fulfill the promise of the night before.

The next time
I woke, I was wrapped in Russ
’s arms, and he was
planting light kisses on my eyelids, my nose, along my jaw line and behind my
ear. It tickled, and I giggled a bit, signaling him I was awake.

“Good morning,
Kitten. Did you sleep well?” His smile was enough to light the room. It made me
unaccountably happy to see him smiling, and I returned the favor, with a sleepy
‘yes.’

“I think I
promised to make love to you last night,” he said softly, “and I didn’t get the
chance.”

“I’m sorry I
went to sleep, I really wanted you.”

“You must have
needed your sleep more,” his low sexy voice rumbling in my ear. God, the man
could have been threatening to kill me and it still would have been erotic,
purred in that voice.

“I don’t think
so. I can’t think of anything I need more. Will you make love to me now?” I
didn’t know when we had stopped referring to it as ‘sex’ or ‘fucking’, but
‘making love’ seemed more appropriate. I ached for him to surround me and fill
me, and the feeling that the thought engendered was love, erotic love, to be
sure, but definitely love.

“I’m ready for
you,” he whispered.

I reached for
his manhood, found it hard, then threw the covers back to look. A bead of
pre-cum clung to the tip, the glistening drop beckoning me to taste. I sat up
and bent over him, reaching with the tip of my tongue to take that salty drop
and draw it out into a string that bound me to him, as much as any rope or
chain. His hand covered the back of my head and neck, and I groaned,
overwhelmed with the erotic sensation of taking him slowly into my mouth.

How can I
describe that sensation? The sensitive skin inside my mouth, my tongue, even my
lips reveled in the connection. I especially loved the feeling of dragging the
flat of my tongue up from the root of him to the corona, circling, and then
closing my lips around the delicious, slightly salty and spice-scented flesh,
all the while listening for his cues. Did his breath come faster? I should do
more of that. Did he moan? My cue to touch the skin of his sac, feel it
contract, and pay some attention there with my tongue. I could have played with
him for hours, but too soon, he lifted me and laid me back against the pillows.

His voice
ragged, he growled, “My turn, Kitten.” I melted into the soft bedding, willing
to allow him the most intimate liberties that he wished, no matter what they
were. My reward was the exquisite sensation of his lips and tongue against my
most sensitive part, that little bud of nerve endings that led straight to
every erogenous zone as if all were connected by tightly-strung wire. One flick
of his tongue there set my nipples on fire. Another flooded my pussy with the
moisture that would help him glide into me. And I so wanted him to glide into
me. I greedily took every bit of pleasure that his lips, tongue and hands could
afford me, and still wanted more. I wanted his magnificent cock deep inside me.
I whimpered, I moaned, I writhed in ecstasy, and finally I begged.

“Russ, take me
now,” the words lifted from dimly remembered pot-boiler novels. “Please,
please, put it inside. Now. I need you now.” Opening my eyes, I risked a peek
at his face, staring up at me from his position between my legs. The raw lust
on his face threatened to make me swoon. How had I become so lucky as to
attract this magnificent specimen of manhood, from his lanky but muscular
frame, to the slow, sexy smile, to the shaft of silken-like  steel that he now
displayed as he rose from his place. I admired it, reaching to hold him as he
opened the nightstand drawer, catching a smoldering look from him before
returning my eyes to stare at his perfect abs and gorgeous, erect cock.

A moment’s
pause, the rip of paper, and then his condom-sheathed manhood filled me, so
sweetly. I wanted him to stay there forever, to grow together somehow, like
Siamese twins, joined cock to core, and never to be separated. The sweet, sweet
heaviness completed me. And then, he began to pump, slowly at first. Had a man
ever fit a woman so perfectly as this? Every nerve ending in my body was firing
at the same time as he increased the speed of his thrusts, grunting a word I
couldn’t make out with each forward push and gasping breath. As the speed and
strength of his thrusts built toward explosive release, so his volume increased
and finally, I could understand what he was saying.

“Mine, mine,
mine.” Yes! If he wanted me, I was his. At least for now. It sent me over the
edge, a powerful contraction ripping my body, causing me to clench around his
shaft in a vise grip that made him cry out, and then he was riding an
uncontrollable seizure of his own. His words became incoherent again, and all I
heard was “Unh, unh, unh.” Then he was still, collapsed on top of me with a
weight that I wanted to climb up into, hoping for an even closer connection.

When he pulled
out of me and went to dispose of the condom, a faint memory stirred, but I
couldn’t bring it fully into focus. What was it? With an effort, I pushed away
the nagging thought. It probably wasn’t important. I held my arms out to Russ,
enticing him back into my warm embrace to cuddle for a while. This sweetness
was new to me, and becoming very important to my happiness.

§

An hour later,
we arrived together in the kitchen, drawing a look from Janet that spoke
volumes. First her eyes traveled up and down my body, widening slightly. She
darted a glance at Russ, then turned back to the sink where she had been
working. Her words were mild, though, as she asked what we would like for
breakfast.

“Don’t make a
big fuss,” Russ said, “I know we’re late.”

“It’s no
trouble,” she said. “We have eggs, bacon and flapjacks. That okay?”

“Perfect,”
Russ answered, glancing quickly at me for objections. As for me, I could have
eaten a horse. Something about morning sex stimulated my appetite, I guess. I
was ravenous.

Earlier, we
had lain in the afterglow of our lovemaking for a few minutes, then Russ, with
a prodigious yawn, declared we had to get up and shower. I braided my hair and
wrapped it around my head, pinning it with clips I found in the dressing table
drawers so that it wouldn’t get wet again. I was going to have to think about
cutting it. From what I remembered of the world ‘out there’, long thick hair
like this would likely be a pain in the ass.

We showered
quickly and efficiently, after Russ’s frown stopped my playful grab at his
groin in its tracks. Russ put on the clothes he had taken off the night before,
while I searched the closet for something old, something the absent woman whose
place I was usurping might not miss. Unfortunately for my intentions, all I
found was newer, neatly creased jeans and soft flannel shirts. I grabbed a pair
of panties without much thought, added a bra that was a cup size too small and
donned the clothes, whispering a thank you to the absent woman as I pulled on a
thin pair of socks and the soft leather slippers that Russ had brought me the
night before.

As I stepped
out of the closet, a sharply indrawn breath startled me, until I saw that it
was Russ, sitting in the chair where he had cradled me last night. He was
staring at me as if he hadn’t seen me in years, rather than moments. Nervously,
I ran my hands down the legs of the jeans, and asked, “Is this okay?”

Russ let his
breath out with a soft whoosh, and stood to take me in his arms. With a light
kiss to my forehead, he pronounced me perfect and guided me to the kitchen.

If Janet
realized that we had spent the night together, and I was sure she did, she kept
her opinion to herself as she busied herself with breakfast for the two of us.
I rather suspected that if she had known we spent it in her absent mistress’s bed,
she would have thrown out the food rather than give it to us, two presumptuous
sinners. But she said nothing, and even threw a motherly smile in Russ’s
direction. I tucked that bit of information away for later examination and
attacked my flapjacks as if I had been starving for weeks.

After
breakfast, Russ went off on another of his mysterious errands, leaving me in
Janet’s care. Once again she waved off my offer of help. This time, though, I
was determined to do something to earn my keep or understand the reasons why
not.

“Janet, where
is the owner? Does he know I’m here, and is he okay with it?”

She glanced up
at me with a question in her eyes, but quickly lowered them. “Oh, he’s around.
Yes, he knows you’re here, and I’m certain he’s okay with it.”

“I wish you’d
let me do something to help. I’d like to make myself useful, since I’m an
uninvited guest.”

“Oh, I
wouldn’t say that. Please don’t worry about it.” She wouldn’t say what, that I
was an uninvited guest? How could I be anything but? Unless I was a captive,
instead of a guest. I put that thought out of my mind. Russ was still an enigma
to me, but I had no choice but to trust him now, perhaps with my life. I didn’t
think he would ever turn me over to the RALDS, even if they came here looking
for me. But, the questions were piling up, with no answers and no one willing
to be questioned. If I didn’t start understanding something soon, I’d explode.
I tried another one.

“Are these his
wife’s clothes I’m wearing? Is that why you looked surprised this morning?”

“Did I look
surprised? Maybe it’s because I didn’t know you were so pretty, as bedraggled
as you were last night.”

“Oh. Thank
you. But you didn’t say…”

“Yes, those
are her clothes.”

“Oh, no, I was
afraid of that. Will Russ be in trouble for letting me borrow them?” I wasn’t
about to confess that we had also borrowed her bed.

“No, he won’t
be in trouble. Don’t worry.” This was the most puzzling of all. Unless. Was
Russ the son of the rancher? That would explain his cavalier attitude about
wandering the house and giving me his…mother’s?…room. That couldn’t be right,
could it?

Janet had
finished cleaning up from breakfast and sat down to have a cup of tea, offering
me one as well. I had enjoyed the cup from last night, so I accepted
gratefully.

“Are you sure
you wouldn’t rather have coffee?”

“No, thank
you. I haven’t had coffee in years, but I remember I didn’t really like it.” I
spoke absently, not realizing how odd that sentence was. The Church didn’t hold
with ‘stimulating’ beverages, so the only hot beverage we ever had was hot
chocolate. But not much of that, since the sweetness was considered indulgent.
When my eyes met Janet’s, she was examining me with a look of fascinated
horror.

“What?”

“You really
grew up in that place? Bethel City?”

“Since I was not
quite seventeen, yes. Janet, what do you know about Bethel City?”

“I know that’s
the headquarters for those demon spawn.” Her voice was almost a snarl by the
end of her sentence, and it was my turn for shock.

“Okay,” I said,
wondering what might have happened between Janet and the RALDS to explain her
vehemence and evident hate.

“You’re a
sister wife, aren’t you?” she asked cautiously.

“Um, no. It’s
a long story, and I’d rather not go into it again, if you don’t mind, Janet.
I’m sorry.”

Instantly
contrite, she put her hand on mine. “No, I’m sorry. You don’t have nothin’ to
apologize for. It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t have asked.” I didn’t
want her to feel bad about it, so I gave her a smile of forgiveness, but was relieved
that she didn’t press me, anyway.

“Janet, I’m
not used to sitting around with nothing to do. What should I be doing?”

She looked
thoughtful for a moment, and then brightened. “Do you like to read? Or watch
movies?”

“I like to
read, yes. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a movie.”

“Of course it
has,” she said hurriedly. “Why don’t you go into the libery and see if there’s
a book you’d enjoy? I’ll come with you and light the fire.”

A morning, a
whole morning, with nothing to do but sit in front of a warm fire and read a
book? It sounded like heaven to me. At least it would keep my mind occupied,
stop the circling of all my questions until Russ came back.

“When will
Russ be back, do you know?” I asked Janet.

“I ‘spect
he’ll be in for lunch with the others,” she said. “Speakin’ o’ which, I should
get it started. I hear there’s another storm fixin’ to come down on us, so
they’ll be hunkerin’ down for it.”

After a minute
to interpret the meaning of ‘fixin’ and ‘hunkerin’ in that context, I sighed.
Great. Another of those storms would trap me here, and force Russ and the
mysterious owner to feed and shelter me. Not that I wanted to leave Russ, far
from it. But, it seemed that until I had a plan of action, my life was on hold.
I wasn’t a particularly patient person, so it was irritating, to say the least.

Setting my
irritation aside, I selected the narrowest spine I could find, which turned out
to be an old favorite, “To Kill a Mockingbird”. I was deep in the familiar story,
living Scout’s life again instead of my own narrow, confined existence, when
Janet returned with a cup of hot chocolate and two oatmeal raisin cookies. If I
didn’t find something physical to do pretty soon, I was going to be as fat as a
pig. But, I consumed every drop and every crumb anyway.