Page 32 of Stud Ranch

She sucked in a gasp at the scent of the man she’d know blindfolded. “Shaw!”

“Mind if I join you?” The dark baritone threatened to peel her panties off without using even a finger.

Dylan paused, still standing. The men locked gazes. “Shaw.”

Something unspoken traveled between them. Something Sloane didn’t understand, couldn’t make out, didn’t want to contemplate.

Strains of low music filtered through the speakers, and spotlights lit the stage with an ethereal glow.

Sloane was left with no choice but to sit. When both men flanked her, she was highly aware of their bulky bodies crowding around her, giving her little room.

She was also far too aware that the dress she’d selected didn’t offer much more coverage than the micro-mini black one. She crossed her legs and tried to subtly wiggle the hem down her thighs.

All of a sudden, a warm hand landed on her bare knee. She glanced at Dylan’s long fingers on her skin and then at Shaw just to see what he thought of another man’s hands on her.

His gaze ticked from Dylan’s hand to her face. The dark glimmer in his eyes sent her mind reeling.

Luckily, she didn’t have time to dwell on the meaning because the light onstage projected into the audience just enough to fall across her, highlighting her from the waist down.

Cutting her glance to Dylan, she saw the golden glow showcasing the stiff bulge in the front of his black pants. Oh god. Whether it was her turning him on or the anticipation of what was about to happen in the show, she didn’t know.

On edge, she stole a nervous peek from the corner of her eye at Shaw too. She stopped breathing.

The very evident bulge in the front of his black jeans was one she’d seen hundreds of times.

What did these men know that she didn’t?

Then the man stepped onto the stage, leading a naked woman by the hand and holding a paddle in the other.

How did one become a submissive for the show? Was it something a woman signed up for before she arrived at the ranch?

Sloane’s pussy squeezed when the Boot Knocker led her to the padded bench and gently guided her to her knees.

From her seat, she could make out that the woman was trembling. When the man leaned down and whispered something into her ear, she rested over the bench.

First, he stroked her body, starting at her nape and trailing his fingers to the crest of her buttocks. The crowd seemed on tenterhooks, and Sloane couldn’t look away.

He gripped the paddle and brought it against the woman’s buttock. She issued a soft cry. He caressed the spot he’d struck and waited several heartbeats before spanking her again.

And again.

Soon the rhythm and sound of the paddle with the throaty cries of the woman riveted Sloane. She was so caught up in the scene that it took her a moment to realize what Dylan was doing to her.

His fingers worked up her inner thigh, his pinky probing her pussy.

Aroused, she let out a low moan. Then confusion hit as she realized that her ex was sitting right there, and he was watching it all.

She darted a look at Shaw just as his hand landed on her other thigh. The pressure of that hand traveling upward along with Dylan sliding his fingertip along the seam of her pussy had her flooding with want.

Had they planned this? If so, when? How could she just sit here and let them both touch her?

She let out a strangled cry and slid lower in her seat. Dylan took one thigh and Shaw took the other. At the same time, as if the pair was in total sync, they spread her legs.

* * * * *

Touching Sloane again felt so natural. It was as though two years didn’t separate Shaw from her.

He kneaded her inner thigh, dragging the hem of her dress even higher. When the crotch of her panties came into view, he jerked his eyes up to Dylan.

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