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“I don’t like the plan,” Robert said, aiming his words at the boss. “I don’t want to be the good cop. I want her to come for me.”
Veronica’s breath caught in her throat.
“Let her have breakfast first.”
Her hand shook as she put the food on plates and took them to the table. When she went to get the milk from the refrigerator, Robert eyed the glass jug, and a lascivious smirk lit his face. He hadn’t forgotten the previous night’s conversation. When she glanced over at Luke, his face betrayed nothing. She could still hope he’d forgotten the milking idea and that Robert wouldn’t bring it up. It was too degrading to contemplate. Somehow worse than the branding, even.
“Eat, Ronnie,” Luke said.
It was hard to concentrate on her food with Robert leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to finish so he could have the thing he’d probably lost sleep over, the thing he’d probably jerked off in the shower over. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to be aroused over the idea. There was something so wrong with her. She ate more slowly to prolong her unmolested time.
When her plate was clean, Luke said: “Go to the playroom. Take your clothes off, and be in the position for punishment.”
Her eyes widened. “B-but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Do what I asked. We’ll be up in a minute.”
Veronica bit her tongue to keep from arguing with him and took her dishes to the sink while the men discussed ranch stuff that was far outside her expertise. They were still engrossed in their discussion when she ascended the stairs to the playroom.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and the men came in. Luke sat on the leather couch, his legs sprawled open in a casual sort of way. Every time he sat like that, she wanted to crawl over to him and perch between his legs, waiting for permission to give him pleasure. She tried to shake that image out of her head and the arousal it brought with it. Robert stood over her, the tension coiled tightly inside him.
“She’s all yours. Do whatever you like with her,” Luke said from across the room.
She tensed when the edge of a riding crop stroked gently across her bare bottom, followed by a sharp snap against her skin that drew a grunt from her.
“I’m not pleased with you,” Robert said.
She wanted to appeal to Luke. Surely he was the only one who had to be pleased with her. After all, it was his initial on her hip. But since he’d given permission, it seemed Robert’s displeasure was his by proxy.
“If you didn’t want to fuck me, you should have said no. Why allow it to happen and not give me your pleasure? You gave it to the others. You withheld with me. Why?”
She remained quiet, unsure if the question was rhetorical and even less sure she could manage a response that wouldn’t just piss him off more.
“Answer him, Ronnie. You need to say it out loud. We both want to hear it.” Luke leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.
“I couldn’t come,” she said, her eyes shut.
Robert circled her, allowing the crop to trail along her exposed flesh as he went. She shuddered each time it moved to a sensitive spot: between her legs, over her ass, across the brand. “At least I got to be there when you were marked.”
Any hesitation the ranch hand might have felt over helping brand her had dissipated completely to leave behind the horny lech who’d go as far as Luke would allow.
“Tell me why you couldn’t come, darlin’.” His voice was low and soothing as if he were trying to calm a spooked mare. But that voice didn’t fool her, she knew the freak that lay behind it.
She was silent for several seconds until the crop came down hard against her ass.
“You better tell him,” Luke said. “He’ll switch to the cane if you don’t. Have you ever been caned, sweetheart?”
She shook her head against the carpet, holding back tears. “No, Sir.”
“I’m told it’s extremely painful. The kind of pain that takes your breath away and makes you want to die until it passes. It would be much easier if you answered the question.”
The crop came down again—harder than the first time—causing her to cry out and grip the edge of the rug. “P-please don’t.”
“Answer! Why couldn’t you come?” Robert asked again. His voice had gone scarier.
“You didn’t make me.”
“Is it the only way you can come? If we make you?”
