Originally published October 5, 2012 at 69 Shades of Smut
Trinity Merris stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and poked at the bags on top of the dark circles under her eyes. These were her fault, not his. The time he spent with her was like a time warp, feeling like hours to her, but taking only minutes, according to the clock.
She was the one who forced her eyes to stay open every night, afraid to fall asleep. Afraid of the attachment she’d formed to him.
“It’s Halloween. The last day. I can do this.”
For the past thirty days, since moving into this spooky old house on a secluded piece of land south of San Antonio, her nights had been haunted and far too satisfying.
The Bad Cowboy, she called him. Black eyes and a tanned face under a dark brown cowboy hat. His plaid shirt only half buttoned under a leather vest, jeans, boots, and a shiny belt buckle. She’d never seen him in real life. She’d remembered him if she had. She’d always had a thing for cowboys.
He’d shown up for the first time October 1. “Howdy, ma’am,” he’d drawled. “Welcome home.” Slowly kissing his way from her toes to her lips, he pleasured every inch of flesh in between. His mouth possessed her pussy, knowing exactly what to do to make her hot, manic, and screaming with pleasure. Then he was gone.
She’d woken, feeling the wetness between her thighs that her throbbing pussy created from the intense orgasm. Smiling, she’d gone back to sleep, promising herself she’d remember that hot dream.
She didn’t have to remember. He came back the next night. He started the exact same way, kissing, licking, and sending her skyrocketing with his talented mouth. But he didn’t leave then. He’d flipped her over and use his piggin’ string to tie her wrists above her head.
Using a length of rope that was unraveled at one end to make a homemade flogger, he’d start slowly with soft, scratching touches of the rope on her ass and thighs. When her core clenched and need wrenched through her, he’d use his fingers in her pussy and on her clit to bring her to orgasm number two.
The next night, the first orgasm was at the pleasure of his tongue. The second, at the mercy of his clever fingers. But that third night, after she’d caught her breath, he’d turn her over and stood back, using the leather tip of a bullwhip on the fronts of her thighs. Her body quivered with desire as the pleasure and pain drove her insane with a sparkling release.
He’d lifted her hips then, and plunged his hard cock deep into her core and the orgasm that overtook her shot her backward over the edge of a cliff where she freefell until landing back on her soft bed. Alone.
Every night after that, he added another wickedly sensual torture, a new, naughty toy, a belt, a chain, a flogger. Pleasing her so often every night that she woke quivering…but satisfied. And being intentionally between boyfriends, Bad Cowboy had come just at the right time.
She lay in bed trying to stay awake but too many nights of spent denying herself sleep to keep the cowboy Dom from her head had caught up with her. Seconds later, he was there, kissing his way from her toes to her thighs and making her wild for more.
What seemed like days later, but she knew was only minutes, he’d given her the thirty-first orgasm of the night, and stepped back, his clothes instantly reappearing on his body.
As he started to fade, she sat up. “Wait. Will I ever see you again?”
“I’ll be back, Miss Trinity.”
“Next October?” Why did the thought of a whole year without him panic her?
“Ma’am, you moved into my house.” He stood over her. “Now, you belong to me. You’re my sweet little sub, and I’ve taken a mighty awesome shine to you.” He faded a bit. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“And we start over at one?”
He laughed, a dark, deep chuckle. “You best get some sleep, little lady. There is no starting over.”
Have you ever had a dream — a sexy dream — where you wake up and think there was actually someone making love to you?