Page 14 of Dirty Cowboys
I watch Indie process this, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. She bites her bottom lip, something I’m learning she does when she’s thinking hard about something.
“What would happen if...” she starts, then stops, glancing between the three of us. “What would happen if someone used one of those on a person?”
The question hangs in the air for a second too long. Walker’s hand stills on the branding iron, and Duke shifts his weight.
“Same principle,” Walker says. “Cold damage to the skin would leave a permanent white mark.”
“Hypothetically speaking,” Duke adds.
Indie’s cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away. “Right. Hypothetically.”
“Course, a person would have to really want that,” I hear myself saying. “Would have to ask for it specifically.”
“And trust the person holding the iron,” Walker adds, setting the brand back in the nitrogen. “Complete trust.”
I stare at Walker and shake my head. There is no way in hell, no matter how much she thinks she wants it. He just smirks at me and looks away. That fucking asshole is considering branding the girl.
Chapter Six
Indie
The day at the ranch was everything I’d hoped. Watching everyone handle the cattle and seeing how easily they worked together made me realize I could actually want this life. But once the day drew to a close, I was excited for another reason. I’d watched cowboys wrangling cows all day—all that sweat and muscle—and I needed the masked men to show up, or at least I hoped they would. Thankfully, they didn’t disappoint.
They are in the midst of herding me toward this old barn, and my heart thunders in my ears as I gasp for breath. I stumble forward on unsteady legs and push the heavy wooden door open. It groans, and as I step inside I find that it’s pitch black—the kind where youcannot see two steps in front of you. The door swings shut behind me with an echoing thud, and I’m bombarded with the smells of hay and musty dirt.
I have no time to let my eyes adjust. Walking slowly, I keep my hands stretched in front of me, hoping to find something to hide behind so I can catch my breath before I have to run again.
The sound of horses approaching has me spinning back toward the door, my heart hammering hard enough I’m sure they can hear it from outside.
Moments later, the three masked men step in through the old wooden doors, their masks dimly illuminating the space, all three looking straight at me.
“You know what happens to a wild thing that gets caught out here? It gets broken in slowly.”
I can’t help but smile at his words, my mind racing through all the ways they could accomplish that. The thought sends heat pooling low in my belly as I imagine them teaching me exactly what it means to be broken in.
“Go sit on that bale,”one man demands.
I do as I’m told, walking carefully to where the hay bales are neatly stacked and lowering myself onto the closest one, my legs dangling off the side.
“Legs up. And hold them open for us.”
Gripping behind my knees, I pull them up and spread wide, despite the tickle of the hay. I wore a skirtthis time and no underwear. I wanted to be ready for them.
“Look at that pussy, so fucking wet and needy. You that desperate for cowboy cock?”
I nod, my throat too dry to speak.
“Say it. Tell us what you want.”
“I want you to look at me,”I whisper, embarrassment flushing my cheeks. “I want to be your filthy little whore.”
All their focus is on me, but they seem to be waiting for one man’s commands. Two of them have not yet spoken.
“Good girl,”another man finally says, kneeling in front of me.“I bet this messy little cunt has been dripping all day.”
He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel a whisper of his fingertips, so close yet not close enough. My hands tremble from holding my legs so wide, but I won’t stop unless they tell me I can.
A man moves beside me and slides his hand around my throat, tilting my head sideways to look up at him.“Keep holding them. You don’t let go until I say.”
