His phone buzzed, and his jaw tightened at the familiar name that flashed across the screen. “So, you finally scraped up the courage to call.” His voice dropped to that dangerous silk-wrapped-steel tone that usually preceded that someone was about to have a very bad day.
“You stole my painting.” David’s voice carried that familiar edge of chemical enhancement. “Unless you pay me thirty million dollars, I’m reporting the theft to the police.”
Crone barked a laugh before taking a long swallow of coffee to temper his rising anger. “Be my guest. I look forward toseeing your purchasing documents and the artist’s validation certificate.”
“It’s my fucking payment!” The words came out in what Crone could only assume was a cocaine-fueled hiss. “You disappeared, so I took it as compensation when you chased me off the winery.”
“I didn’t chase you off, David.”
“You motherfucker, suddenly playing innocent? You promised Sarah you’d take care of me. To make sure I never ended up destitute.”
“You’re right about one thing. I did take care of you. For ten years after her death, and when you squandered the very big inheritance she left you, I handed you opportunities on a silver platter.” Another sip of coffee, another attempt at patience. David had always been Sarah’s family’s problem child, and as the youngest, coddled into uselessness. “I gave you the management position at the winery. You had every chance to make something of yourself, and you chose to fuck it up.” He was a thirty-four-year old man with no goals but filled with entitlement. Even though Crone had paid him an above-market salary, it had never been enough. He believed he was worth more.
“You have a selective memory.” Crone’s voice turned razor-sharp, cutting through David’s protests. “I fired you because you embezzled millions. You’re due nothing. You should thank whatever gods you pray to that I didn’t have you arrested.”
“Fuck you. I’ll just take the other paintings from the loft.”
“Be my guest... except you won’t find any, and the new owner might not be as forgiving about trespassing as I was about theft.”
“Bullshit. You’ll never sell that place. It meant too much to Sarah.”
“It did, to both of us. But my life has changed. I’m not the man I was before.” His thoughts flickered to Sienna, to thefuture spreading brightly before him. “I have a new life now. The winery’s sold and the deed has already been registered with the new owner. So, lose this number, David. Next time you bother me, I’ll press charges for fraud and theft.” He ended the call and immediately blocked the number.
“That sounded rather harsh,” Sienna said, approaching from where she’d been keeping a respectful distance.
“Some people need to grow up.” He drained his latté and gave her a brief summary before his eyes took on that dangerous gleam that was known to make her pulse skip. “Now, enough of that. It’s time for that scene you promised me.”
Sienna’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What scene? I don’t recall promising anything specific.”
“No? Hmm…” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Must’ve been a dream then. Never mind, we’ll just go with the flow.”
She dug her heels in as he took her hand, heading for the stairs. “Oh no. There’s no flow here, definitely not until I know what’s gonna flow—or should I say fly through the air before it sears across my ass.”
He caught her nape in a strong hold, giving her no choice but to follow. With a wicked smile, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Who said anything about your ass?”
Crone
The Rawhide Ranch Dungeon
Crone watched with quiet satisfaction as Sienna settled onto her back on the spanking bench. When he spread her legs andcovered her heat with his palm, her pulse raced against his hand like a trapped butterfly. His heart swelled as she looked at him with complete trust.
“Hmm, already excited about having your pussy whipped, I see.”
Sienna’s eyes were comically wide as she shot upright like a startled cat. “Pussy whipped?”" The words emerged in a squeak. “I didn’t... there is no way you’re coming near my pussy with any kind of impact tool. Whip whisperer or not, that’s not happening,DevilMaster.”
He chuckled with delight at her frantic attempts to simultaneously shield herself and push his hand away.
“Huh-huh. You can’t say no,” he reminded her, not even trying to hide his bad-boy grin. “It’s my yes day, ’member?”
He watched with amusement as her mouth worked silently, like a fish seeking water, before she finally mumbled, “I should never have agreed to that.”
“Well, since it was your idea…”
“Thank you for that very unnecessary reminder, Master Crone.” Despite her huff and crossed arms, she remained seated. The trust beneath her mock outrage warmed him.
“So, it’s been decided. A pussy whipping it is.” His finger pressed against her lips, silencing the protest he could see forming. “The only choice you have to make is whether you want me to tie you down or not.”
