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“Hm,” Nico said with a chuckle. “Can’t remember their names, but the ones so nice their servants will steal from them. Doc’s right. Anyway, I think your brother is a closet sub. He needs someone who can boss him around and get firm with him.”
I almost choked on my saliva while West’s deep laugh cut through the SUV.
“Can you imagine Hudson with a collar? We should tell him about that club King mentioned. What’s it called?”
“The Sanctuary?” Nico’s laugh had turned into a giggle. “The germs alone would keep him out of the place.”
“We could get him a little leather holster for his hand sanitizer,” West added.
I tried to bite back a smirk because they were so right. Hudson was a freak about germs, and he was way too clean-cut and prim to be caught dead in a BDSM club.
But the conversation had put images in my head that certainly made the rest of the ride home more pleasant. Thinking of Hudson kneeling at my feet, of his bare arse on the receiving end of a paddle, of his deadly gorgeous eyes pleading me for mercy… well, let’s just say I could get on board with some more intense fantasies than I’d ever want to actually pursue in real life. Imagining taking out my Darci jealousy on the man’s virgin arse was pretty damned satisfying if I did say so myself.
Since those thoughts were immeasurably more satisfying than the speculation of Hudson reuniting with his girlfriend, I enjoyed the filthy mental stimulation until we pulled into the ranch’s gravel drive and I heard the high-pitched screech of what had to be a banshee.
23
Hudson
Hudson’s Note to Self:
Dogs can be deflowered impregnated up three weeks after onset of their heat.
I was relieved to learn Darci’s bruise hadn’t been caused by the man she’d been seeing, but I was furious to learn there was still an asshole responsible.
When Darci had entered her apartment building that night, some punk had come racing out of the apartment below hers and knocked her down onto the bottom of the staircase. She’d banged her chin and bitten her tongue, but before she’d had a chance to get up, the guy had stolen her purse and raced off. Since that was the apartment that always had suspicious comings and goings, she’d reported the incident to the cops. Shayna Diller had been the responding deputy and had urged Darci to go to the hospital since there was so much blood coming from her chin and mouth. She also happened to let slip Darci’s neighbor was a suspected drug dealer.
Understandably, Darci didn’t want to go back to the apartment. I’d offered for her to stay at the cabin of course, but I wasn’t about to share the single bedroom with her. I debated whether or not to move into the bunkhouse. Would I be able to keep myself from barging into Charlie’s room and making inappropriate advances? Ah, no. Definitely not.
For now, I’d sleep on the sofa in the cabin just to be on the safe side.
When I stepped out of the cabin to take out the trash late on Sunday afternoon, I thought I heard a shrill scream from the direction of the farmhouse. It was nearing dinnertime, and I wondered if maybe one of the animals was in trouble. After the little cabin I was staying in had been set on fire the previous summer, all of us were a bit more paranoid about intruders on the ranch than we’d been before.
I took off in the direction of Doc and Grandpa’s house and came upon a scene out of a telenovela. Doc was trying to calm Grandpa down. Two other people were arguing on the porch, and as I got closer, I could tell from the familiar body language and long red hair that one of the men screaming was Charlie.
“What’s going on?” I called out. Doc and Grandpa’s two little dogs were yapping up a storm, and I wondered where Grump was.
Charlie turned to me with a look of such anger on his face I nearly stumbled. “Ask this rawny fucker. So, Doc and Grandpa decided he could be trusted with Mama, but he made right bags of it.”
If I hadn’t known how important his dog was to him, I might have laughed at how Irish he sounded. “What happened?”
Stevie Devore, the colorful character who helped out at Nico’s bakery, was there and was clearly the source of the screeching noise. I thought if he didn’t get control of himself soon, he’d pass out.
“It’s all my fault! Mama got sullied on my watch. Oh my god, oh my god.” It was enough to make our ears bleed.
The young man was dressed in a lavender polar fleece pullover with a pair of darker purple leggings tucked into white knee-high fur-lined boots. He waved his arms around so wildly, Doc had to duck periodically to avoid getting coldcocked by accident.
