Page 222 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

Thom drove back to Sedona thinking about Avery. As they usually did, images of her blonde hair, curvaceous figure, and infectious laughter kick-started all of his fantasies. How he longed to hear her joyous laughter morph into the husky moan of a woman well sated by her lover. Avery had a voice that was like a fast-running stream laced with molasses. He longed to sup on her honeyed essence before driving his cock up into her wet heat. Thom chided himself. He needed to remember he was a long way from enacting that fantasy in real life… or was he? According to Zara, Avery harbored feelings for him as well.

His brain was firing at the speed of light. He imagined her face down over his knee with a bright red fanny as she cried. He wanted to hear her promises to behave. He really wanted to hear her call him Daddy.

And there it was, stark in his thoughts like the naked realization it shouldn’t have been, if only he’d been paying better attention to himself. He wanted to be Avery’s daddy dom, to care for her, nurture and protect her. He wanted to set rules and have her mostly obey them. When she didn’t, he wanted to be the one who lit a fire in her backside that she wouldn’t forget any time soon. He wanted to be the one who brought Wild Mustang’s confident, capable, sometimes reckless female pilot to her willing and submissive knees. He wanted his preferred brand of loving dominance to be her favorite source of arousal. He wanted to be the one man she let herself be vulnerable with. He already had no problem imagining his hand slipping between her trembling legs to play with her clit before spreading her labia and penetrating her most feminine core with his fingers.

Thom’s cock stirred, stiffening in a way it hadn’t done for anyone else, not in a very long time. Having Avery as his little girl was the heady stuff that dreams were made of. He ached to be in that kind of relationship with her. He longed to form a dynamic structured by rules with set consequences, some gearedtoward fun and sexy times, while others would be for her general safety and wellbeing. One thing was for sure, with him as her daddy, her days as Casey the Clown were over.

And on the heels of that came his second stark realization. Noah had mentioned Avery’s dreams and goals. In all the time that he’d worked with Avery, in all these years that they’d known one another, he couldn’t recall one instance in which she’d mentioned having either to him. Thom had no clue what Avery wanted, wished for, or someday hoped to achieve. In his mind, that became a sudden, insurmountable chasm between them as he thought of his friends and their women. At first glance, the public persona they all showed to the world would never lead anyone to believe that any of those women had a dominant man they submitted to. Noah was right; there wasn’t anything submissive about Zara, Finn, Willa, or Mandy, and yet each had found the right man, the right kind of dominant to whom they could happily commit.

But Avery… how could he have known her for this long and yet still know so little about her? She was as good at keeping secrets, it seemed, as he was, but not for much longer. Thom was determined. The thought of being Avery’s daddy resonated within him in a way nothing else had. He was going to find out what her dreams were. One by one, he meant to help her make them a reality, and if enough of those wants, needs, dreams, and desires lined up, then there would be no more question about it. The two of them could be very happy together, as a couple, for the rest of their lives.

He wanted that. God, he wanted that.

His cock throbbed against the side of his leg. Yeah, okay, so maybe he wanted that happiness to include a great deal of mind-blowing sex too, but nobody ever said those two end goals had to be mutually exclusive.

Thom continued to drive until he reached his ranch. Compared to many heritage farms, especially in this area, it was small, but it had been in his mother’s family for close to two hundred years. The vast majority of the original acreage had gone to pay his father’s debts and send Thom to school, but the lawyer that his mother had left in charge of the estate had scrupulously seen to it that the original ranch house and a small plot of fifty acres had been there and waiting for him once he matured, graduated out of college, spent some time in the United States’ intelligence community, and eventually joined the firm.

He’d had no interest in raising cattle, not as a young man and certainly not now. But purebred quarter horses, now that was a different game altogether. Over the years, he’d accumulated a small band of ten mares, which he selectively bred to outside stallions. Having developed quite the reputation for raising quality individuals, often his foals were sold before they were even born. Still, Thom liked to keep a minimum of three foals out of each year’s crop and raise them until they were at least two-year-olds, at which time their real worth could be assessed and then they could be sold for their true value. It took patience to do that, and that kind of patience could only aid him when it came to Avery.

That he also preferred to run his ranch himself, only hiring a farm sitter when work called him away, would help too. He liked doing the physical labor required to keep this place running. It kept him grounded, reminding him what was important and what was real—giving him a way to connect with the land, his horses, and his heritage and to imagine what the future might hold. Right now, he was imagining a future with Avery. That was important. That was real, and all he had to do was put in the work and the patience.

He meant to make Avery his own.

Avery stood under the steaming shower and moaned; there was something incredibly pleasurable about being doused in streams of hot water. She closed her eyes and just let the pulsing water cascade over her head and down her body. Her hands followed the luxurious flow down the front of her torso. She cupped her breasts, pausing to tweak and rub her nipples before continuing over the flat planes of her stomach and pelvis. The sensitive buds had beaded up every bit as tightly as they would for the cold, or a lover’s caress.

Thom’s caress…

Turning, Avery leaned her back against the tiled wall behind the showerhead, arching so that the water pelted down the front of her body, stinging slightly in all the right places. Much the way she imagined Thom’s lovemaking might sting… just a little bit… in all the right places.

Trailing her hands up over her wet, silky skin, she pinched her nipples, rolling them the way she imagined Thom would roll them, making that pool of desire swell and throb within the folds of her dripping sex, and igniting her molten core.

Who’s a good girl, her imagination whispered in Thom’s voice as she manipulated her pebbled tips.

Did she want to be a good girl, or did she want to be a naughty one? Running her hand back down the front of her body, she slid her fingers between her legs to touch her clit. The hard nub was swollen, pulsing beneath her circling caress as she imagined longer, more artistic fingers than her own doing the fondling.

She closed her eyes, moaning as she imagined Thom’s hard body climbing into the shower along with her. Her breathingquickened, the fire of her arousal racing through her veins as she reached up to grab the handheld showerhead from its holder.

Naughty. She was definitely naughty. She turned the setting to a hard, pounding rhythm, but it was Thom’s fingers, not hers, that parted her folds, exposing her now distended clit. His touch focused the pulsating jets of the showerhead directly onto the sensitive nub while her whole body arched, her hips fighting not to buck and squirm out from under the unyielding intensity of the spray.

Her ragged breath hitched. Her noises became whimpers instead of moans as her orgasm came crashing down on her far faster than she thought possible. This wasn’t the first time she’d used the shower to pleasure herself or even the first time she’d imagined that it was Thom’s hands forcing her to the ride the hard, drumming pulse of the water. The difference now was that she’d just seen him riding two different top broncs to a great score. His body had arced and strained as his muscles and skill kept him in the saddle. There was no stopping herself from imagining how he’d use that same tensile strength as he rode her, the pounding of his cock hammering between her legs like the water was now.

Her hips bucked, helplessly striving to match his pumping rhythm as the water and his fingers rubbed and pounded, tugged and massaged at her pleasure nub. Her legs shook and her gasping breaths turned heavily ragged. She could feel her own pleasure hurdling her toward the abyss of an earth-shattering climax as she imagined Thom preparing to mount her.

How many times at work had she surreptitiously eyed the front of his jeans, marveling at the unmistakable bulge of his endowment? How many times had she envisioned running both her fingers and her lips over that tribal tattoo that covered his entire left shoulder, pectoral muscle, and scapula? At work, that tattoo was hidden by the professional white linen shirts hewore, but she’d seen it once while he’d changed a torn shirt and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Now, in the steamy heat and spattering spray of the shower, she couldn’t help imagining hot, soapy drops slipping over his inked skin as he bent her into position.

On her knees… on her back… how would he take her?

She turned to face the wall, laying her forehead against the hard tiles, spreading her legs and offering back her hips. She repositioned the showerhead, the sharpness of the pleasure intensifying almost painfully as the force of the spray caught her clit directly. Thom would make her take it though, and so she kept it there, gasping and mewling, her legs shaking as she took it for him. A naughty girl once more being brought to heel.

She slipped her hand back between her legs, thrusting two fingers into her core, imagining them to be his as she plunged them in and out. It only took a few strokes, combined with the pulsating water, to push her over the edge. She cried out, arching to the intense quakes of pleasure that her orgasm released. It would have been so much better if only it had been Thom’s pounding cock now wringing every last quiver out of her, but beggars couldn’t be too choosy. Wilting, her heartrate and ragged breathing coming gradually back to order, she hung the showerhead back up and changed the water from the pounding pulse back to a rainfall. Her legs still shaky, she rinsed her body one last time before turning the water off and stepping out.

With a large fluffy towel, she dried herself. Shaking her head, she wondered at her imaginings. Thom saw her the same way as the rest of the guys—either as a little sister or just another one of the guys. And even if he didn’t, Avery doubted he was capable of providing her with the level of dominance she craved. Thom was such a nice guy. Not that the other guys weren’t nice, but Thom was different—smarter, leaner, less typically alpha male. She was pretty sure he was straight up vanilla sex and she was…well, okay, she was a showerhead up against the bathroom wall kind of girl right now, but under the right conditions, she was kinky-ass unicorn sex with whipped cream, wrist restraints, and sprinkles.

All the sprinkles.

So why had she run from the arena instead of standing her ground? Why hadn’t she marched right up to Thom, let him see her for who and what she was, and…

And what? See what happened next?

---