Page 87 of Wrangled

Toby

“I thought we were going to the cabin,” I asked as Robert drove along a little dirt track.

“We are—we’re just getting there by another route.”

“Okay, but why the truck? Is Rusty having an off day? Did Lightning have something better to do, like get his hooves polished?”

Robert laughed. “Now I’ve got this image in my head, of Lightning in a beauty parlor, his mane in curlers under a drier while he gets a manicure. Except… would that be a hooficure?”

I loved a guy with a sense of humor.

“And as for why we’re taking the truck, I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Meadows lay on either side of the track, and above us was the sky’s gorgeous unbroken hue. Ahead, I spied woodland, and when we reached the edge, Robert followed the track which narrowed, twisting and turning, until at last I spotted the cabin.

“Aha. This is the back way in.”

“Uh-huh. Can you really see us carrying furniture across those stepping stones? And in the winter when the creek freezes and all the rocks are like glass?”

He had a point.

Robert stopped the truck beside the cabin, and we got out. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of pine and earth, and in the background, the sound of water cascading over rocks in the creek. I stood still, enjoying the moment.

“Always loved this spot,” he murmured from beside me. “It’s so peaceful. Dad said Mom loved it here too.” He glanced at the cabin.

“Procrastinating?”

He gave me a wry smile. “It shows, huh?” He walked toward the front porch steps, pausing at the bottom. I joined him, and on impulse I took his hand in mine.

“You can do this,” I murmured.

He glanced at our joined hands, the faintest expression of surprise in his eyes.

I shrugged. “It seemed as though you needed a little support.”

He squeezed my fingers. “You’re right, I do. Thank you for doing this.” Then he let go of my hand, climbed the steps, and removed a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. I followed him inside.

Five years of dust and cobwebs decorated the interior. Ordinarily, I’d have made a joke about firing the cleaning staff, but not in the circumstances. Instead, I took a good look around.

The cabin was pretty much an open space with a vaulted ceiling. What light there was soaked into the dark logs that comprised the walls. A heavy wooden staircase led up to a mezzanine, and I noted the same rough branches design I’d seen at the big house. I peered through the railing running around the mezzanine, and caught sight of a bed. Below that was a small kitchen area, and the rest of the room was taken up with a couch in front of a brick fireplace, lamps, a couple of rugs—

And a sling suspended from a steel frame, gathering dust.

I grinned. “Nice. Now I know why no one comes in here.” Some toys were definitelynotfor sharing, and needed to be kept out of sight. Back in San Francisco, my fuck machine was hidden from view in a cabinet. I had a few friends who would clutch their pearls if they saw that.

Robert pointed to the beams supporting the bed area. “Kevin didn’t trust bolts to hold a sling, so he got us a portable one.”

“I’ve been to sex parties where they erected three of these in one room. Handy little things.”

“I’ve never been to one of those.” His expression grew wistful.

“I’ll tell you all about them one evening,” I promised him.

I glanced at our surroundings. Apart from the sling, the cabin appeared pretty innocuous. I could imagine nights spent in front of the fire, the light from the flames playing over his body while I fucked him on the rug. Then I peered closer.

On the mantelpiece was a large tub of heavy-duty lube.

Aha.

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