Splinters (2 page)

He chuckles. Bastard. Who does he think he is?

My breath catches. Is he the person who did this to me?

He shifts in the saddle, leather creaking. “I take it your friend ain’t comin’ back?”

“Friend? What friend? You saw somebody?” I lift my head, looking around, and the rope pinches some skin at my groin. “Fuck!”

He sighs like he’s…what? Disappointed? “Nope. Didn’t see no one. Just figured you didn’t do this to yourself, is all.”

Is he serious? Okay, maybe he didn’t do this to me, but
this
is his reaction to someone in trouble? I need a few breaths before I can calmly say, “No. No, I didn’t do this to myself.”

“So who’d you piss off?”

“Huh?”

Duke, the densest cowboy in all of creation, swings down from his horse like he’s got all day. “Assumin’ somebody don’t like you much to do this here to you.”

I can’t even speak.

“So what’d you do?”

“I don’t
know
.” I let my head thunk back on the wood—I can actually tell the difference between how it feels to do that without any hair—and stare up at the blazing sky. “Duke, please stop messing with me, okay? Please, man.” That came out as a whisper. I clear my throat. “I need out of this and I…I think I’m getting a splinter in my ass. A big one.”

He fiddles with something on his saddle, and then saunters over as only a butch man in heels walks. Blue and white striped shirt with pearly buttons, big ass belt buckle, jeans on slightly bowed legs, and a dusty pair of cowboy boots—I am definitely far from my New York apartment.

And then he holds up a knife meant to gut grizzlies, and my eyes bug as I tense all over. “Wait. Don’t. What’re you—”

“Easy now. Figure it’ll be faster to cut you free instead of tryin’ to untie this mess.”

“Oh.” I suck in a deep breath. “Sure. That’s fine.” I watch his face, not the large hand and even bigger knife aiming for me. “Uh, could you do my other leg first? Then I could stand up easier.”
And kick you in the ’nads if I have to
. I smile at him.

He nods, and I can feel the calluses on his fingers as he touches my skin. I shiver. He cuts through the rope like it’s nothing, and then he’s holding my ankle and cutting that rope away. I’m expecting him to get the one behind my knee so I can finally put my leg down, but he’s staring at my groin. With his hand resting on my inner thigh. I can’t stop those muscles twitching.

This would be funny, right? If it wasn’t slowly terrifying me. I mean, who knew I had a kink for being tied up and vulnerable? Well, yes, I knew that, but it’s the outdoors and stranger part that’s new. Coincidentally, those are also the parts that need to stop now. I swallow hard and try to find a happy place.

“I’m thinkin’ we need that one undone before you move around too much.”

That one? I follow his gaze. Oh, yes. The ball noose.

Thwack!
He actually slammed that damn knife into the wood inches from my ribs.

“What’s wrong with you?” I snap at him.

“Sorry.” He’s smirking.

“You’re a son of—Ah!”

He’s palming my nuts. I bite my lip and close my eyes. He’s just trying to get the rope off. It’s totally platonic. Just a nice guy helping me out. He’s not fondling me. It’s not foreplay. But my dick doesn’t care. No, down boy. Don’t you dare!
Shit
.

Duke clears his throat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sure,” I whisper as my body betrays me.

“It’s fine.”

I can’t look at him. “Okay.”

“Prolly a good thing you ain’t got any hair down here.”

“What?” I look and the rope pinches. “Ow! Fuckity-fuck.”

His hand pushes my head back down. “Don’t move so. Lemme get you undone first.”

I stare at his face, going breathless again. “But they shaved me…down there?”

“Reckon somebody did if you didn’t. ’Splains the mess of hair over there, too.”

I have to shut my eyes again, gulp past the lump in my throat. They just
left
all my hair out here? Should I take it with me? I know I’m grimacing. I’m gonna cry if I see it.

How could someone do this to me? All of it, every horrible bit, but then to just abandon me out here alone is so unbelievably cruel. I haven’t
done
anything. I don’t
deserve
this. And I still don’t remember anything that would explain what’s going on. The only thing I know for sure is that I haven’t been raped, but what else might someone have done to me? Never in my life have I felt so violated. I sniff and my next breath is as shaky as my every muscle.

“Hey now.” He leans over me, his face looking softer and more sincere when I gaze up at him. He has beautiful golden brown eyes. “I’m real sorry. This ain’t some game.”

I shake my head. “No. No game.” And there’s the damn tears.

He swipes his rough thumb under my eye. “None of that. I’ll get you free and we’ll figure out what’s gone on here. Nobody else is gonna hurt you. It’ll be fine.”

I like his face. He’s got a nice smile under a bushy, wheat-colored mustache and his sincerity and concern are easy to read. “Thanks, Duke.”

“Welcome.” He nods like that’s the end of that and gets back to working my balls out of their confinement.

And there I go getting harder. For God’s sake… I just melt for nice guys normally, so of course Mr. Happy wants to be nice back. I’m nothing if not consistently inappropriate. Just ask the last straight guy I hit on. Accidentally. Sort of.

Duke doesn’t seem to mind. Again. My budding erection’s feeling way more obvious now than before, but he’s just going on about his business. He’s gentle and not shy about handling what he needs to. Or does he really need to handle that much? Is he smiling?

“There we go.” He straightens up and nods at his work.

I sigh with the lessening pressure down there. “Oh, thank you. Damn, that’s better.” He gives me a couple pats, making my nuts bounce. “Hey!” I do my best to give him a stink eye. “Glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Could say the same, honey.”

Honey? And a wink?

Well, alrighty then.

He sets to work on that rope under my knee before helping me get situated so I’m standing on both feet. Better. There are at least three splinters the size of giant sycamores stabbing into my butt cheek, but I’m not going to whine or wiggle. I’ll take it like a man.

But when he gets my one arm free, I shift just enough to bring those babies home.

“Fuck! Oh, shitting fuck damn!”

Then I nearly scream—all right, that
was
a scream—when he hauls me upright off that damn door-thing from hell even though one wrist and one ankle are still tied down. Two quick swoops of that knife and he’s got my wrist free.

“Hold still now.”

“No kidding.”

He kneels down, and then grasps my hips, turning me around. Instinctually, I bend and brace my hands on my thighs. Wait a minute. He clears his throat, and I twist to frown down at his grinning face. We both know I was bracing for a rim job, but since this isn’t a cowboy-themed porno—though it so could be—what is he doing down there?

“I’m gonna have to get these out.”

“What?”

“The splinters.” He jambs one of his sausage fingers into my butt cheek, making me gasp from sudden pain.

“Oh. Sure. Just, you know, do it.” And I almost laugh because I’m usually telling them to stick it in already, not pull it out.

He grunts like maybe he’s thinking the same thing.

I can feel him take hold of something embedded in my skin. He tugs. I wince and bite my lip at the sudden pluck of the splinter leaving my flesh.

“Here.” He shifts to the side of me and offers a little stick.

“I don’t
want it
.” And now that I’m looking at it… I gasp behind my hand. “Is that blood?”

He blinks those whiskey eyes up at me. “You got a problem with blood?”

Nodding is about all I can do as I stare at the stained toothpick he’s just pulled from my butt. Is that blood I feel wiggling down my skin?

“Then t’ain’t nothin’.” He tosses it away.

And then he’s got his lips on my ass.
Sucking
.

“I…um…” Am I turned on, creeped out, or did I get bit by a snake, too? Actually, it kind of— “Ow!”

“That one’s a bit deeper.”

Nope, I’m mostly disgusted and a little woozy. Let’s refocus… “Well…” I try chuckling up at the sky. “This’ll make for a great story for the grandkids one day, huh?”

“You sayin’ I’m old enough to be somebody’s granddaddy?”

“No. I meant like if we—” He pulls unexpectedly, and it hurts. “Ow!
Damn it
. Tell me that’s the last one.”

“Yep.” He stands up, right there against me, and pats my other butt cheek a couple times. “Splinter free.”

I look up at him as he walks around me. He’s a few inches taller than my six feet. Stubble on his square jaw. Eyes looking darker now under the shade of his cowboy hat. Dirty blond hair that looks curly. Tall and broad and with a grin on suckable lips. Goosebumps break out all over me. And Mr. Happy’s all for getting back to that party.

Duke chuckles, and then takes my wrist and leads me toward his horse. I stumble, expecting that last rope around my ankle to stop me, but he’s already cut it free. Looking back, I see it’s not a door, just a bunch of planks nailed together and propped against a mound of dirt. It’s like a fucking altar or something.

Christ on a cupcake, who did this to me?

I bump into Duke when he suddenly stops. “Sorry.”

He smiles like he doesn’t mind having me plastered against him, and then refocuses on his saddlebag. I back up without rubbing on him. Much. Since he’s distracted, I take the opportunity to cup my boys to make sure everybody’s okay. I feel a little raw, but that should fade. It’s distinctly weird touching nearly bare skin down there, too. I’d trimmed for years, but never shaved this completely. Man, it’s gonna itch like a son of a bitch growing back in.

Who takes the time to do that to some unconscious victim?

Serial killers. Serial rapists. Serial anything, really…

Despite those very possible scenarios, having my hands down between my legs revives the party-goer. I’m more hiding the evidence than anything else when Duke turns around.

He stares at me for a second, then he laughs in a way that’s delighted, not like he’s making fun of me for standing here cupping my boys. It’s kind of a flirty laugh, actually. While shaking his head, he yanks his shirt out of his jeans before tearing it open, snaps popping.

This is
so
a porno.

“You’ll wear this. Give you some protection at least and a little modesty.”

“Oh, Christ.”

He ignores my whispered awe and ties his shirt around my waist so the back hides my ass and the arms hide my junk. I’m staring at mounded pecs with golden fuzz and caramel nipples. Not to mention a solid stomach and— Do cowboys usually wear such low-riding jeans? There’s a yummy dark-gold trail heading under his belt that I very much want to follow. With my tongue.

Yeah, it won’t be long before his shirt’s not hiding my modesty.

“You get on up into the saddle now.”

“Um, I don’t—”

“Left foot in the stirrup and I’ll help you up.”

“But can’t we both ride?” I could do being draped across his thighs even. Damsel in distress is about my speed right at this moment. I’ll be butch tomorrow.

“No need. And you ain’t got boots, I do, and the ranch ain’t far.”

I follow his instructions and find myself flying and swinging my leg over the other side of a very patient, brown horse. Duke gropes my ass for a moment, but then I realize he’s actually tucking the shirt down so I land with it between me and the saddle. That’s kind of sweet.

I catch sight of a tumble of darkness swirling through the yellow grass, caught on the wind. My hair. Gasping behind my hand, I look away. My beautiful hair.

“Don’t look.” He gives my calf a squeeze, gaining my attention. “Let’s just get you safe and taken care of now, all right?”

I manage a whispered, “Thank you, Duke.”

He tips his hat before taking the reins. “You’re welcome.”

“Al. Allan Seville, I mean.”

“You’re welcome, Al.”

He doesn’t seem to recognize my name and, for once, that’s perfectly fine with me. Maybe he’s not a sci-fi movie fan. I doubt he’s ever seen a fashion magazine out here either. He just leads the horse, the both of them sauntering now. It’s not quite riding off into the sunset, but it works.

“Duke?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are we?”

“’Bout a mile off from my ranch.”

“What’s the closest city?”

“Town of Burke’s about a half hour from here. ’Nother fifteen’d get you to Lufkin.”

I still don’t know which state it is. How the hell did I get this far removed from where I’m supposed to be? Where am I supposed to be? I think it might be Houston.

“Um, how far to Houston?”

“’Bout two hours.”

Okay, I’m in the right state, at least. But someone drove me two hours out into the middle of nowhere so they could tie me up and shave me? The fuck did I get myself into?

I need something else to think about. Duke’s up there playing with a cell phone, so I ask about that. “Who’re you calling?”

“Not. I’m markin’ this location on my GPS for the sheriff.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Someone you wanna call?” He looks back, squinting up at me, and waggles the little black phone.

“Well. Yeah.” I reach down when he passes it back. I only hesitate a moment as I stare at the back of him—all that sweaty, muscular manness—before dialing my agent and closest friend. Elsie will know what to do. I certainly don’t.