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Her Bratva Cowboy, Wild Horses of Lagrimas Book One
The Harrisons sent us off with the keys to a double-wide pre-constructed home on a remote part of the ranch, away from the other staff housing, but near to the oak tree which Joel Taylor believed the soul of his wife inhabited, where he’d parked his trailer.
It was a nice evening, with the skies painted a dusty blue and gold, but the drive out was tense, mainly because Anastasia refused to admit that she understood every word I said to her in Russian.
“You can stop that, now,” I said in English. “You can be yourself.”
“I don’t know who I am, but I’m sure that I’m not who you think,” she insisted.
“So I should call you Olivia and only speak to you in English?”
I believed Dalton was right and Anastasia was only keeping up the lie of having amnesia
because she didn’t see a safe way out of it. Maybe she thought if she admitted who she was, I’d push her for answers on the money her father claimed she’d stolen. It didn’t matter to me. The only thing I wanted at this point was to keep her alive.
“You can call me whatever you like, and talk whatever language you please,” Anastasia said. “I have nothing to say to you. I only agreed to this stupid plan because the presidio option sounded bad.”
“It was bad,” I said. “It’s not a pleasant place—just an old Spanish fortress in ruins, with snakes and scorpions roaming free and ghosts trapped in the walls. I can still take you there, though, if you don’t do as you’re told. You’re my responsibility now, Anastasia. I expect you to behave.”
She snorted and crossed her arms. Even as a pouty brat, Anastasia was adorable. I wanted her more. Breaking her would be delightful.
“What about the Wild Horses?” she asked, after a long silence. “Is that like a stable or something?”
“I guess you could call it that,” I said. It was best not to delve into what I’d learned about the Wild Horses Institute in the time I’d spent at the BRB Ranch, nor to share with her what I’d done at the Wild Horses myself. Dalton had brought me onboard as a temporary Daddy for the bratty Littles who went there to learn how to behave and to find a permanent Daddy who could take good care of them. Anastasia had seen a lot in her brief life, and I knew she wasn’t really an innocent, but I wasn’t sure how she’d react to what went on at the Institute. In fact, I really liked it. Looking after the young women I was assigned appealed to my dominant nature. I suspected Anastasia needed that sort of attention, too, but the women who went to the Wild Horses usually went voluntarily. I could only see Anastasia causing trouble if she was sent there against her will. Besides, I could take her through the Wild Horses course one-on-one, at our new home.
My unicorn was wild. She needed gentling. Anastasia may have grown up in a palace, but it might as well have been the wilderness. That palace was no kind of home. Wild horses can recognize and respect a good leader. They interpret energy, read body language, and understand unspoken things. I didn’t need to tell my unicorn that I would protect her, claim her, and love her. I only needed to be sure she sensed it from me, without a doubt in her mind. Wild horses need firmness and patience, clear boundaries and limits. The process of acceptance cannot be rushed. A wild horse is smarter and is more sophisticated than a horse who grew up in a stable. They have a strong sense of self-preservation.
Anastasia would challenge me. I knew that was why she continued the lie, even after Dalton and I both told her we didn’t believe a word of her pretense. This flimsy disguise was the only shield she had left and she would hold on to it as long as she needed to.
Besides, the reward for my efforts would be magnificent. Wild horses are slow to trust, but once you gain their trust, they are loyal beyond compare.
There was the thing between us she might never admit: that she was holding on to something from her past life that would bring us more trouble than it was worth. I knew I
couldn’t push her about the fortune her father claimed she had stolen. Mentioning that would only make her kick and bite and then speed off until she found a new herd to run with.
For whatever reason, fate or dumb luck, she had settled long enough in Lagrimas for me to stumble onto her. I had found my unicorn, and I would not lose her again.
Our new home sat on a beautiful part of the property, at the base of a gently rolling hill,
with a small pond nearby, and surrounded by trees. It wasn’t easy to see from the access road, unless you knew to look for it there. Tire tracks would be a clue to anyone really set on searching every inch of the vast ranch, but I figured I could handle anyone who had the balls to come this far to get to us. Dalton had suggested three of the ranch’s security guys I worked with, Tyler, Pete and Cody, make rounds during the day to check on Anastasia, while I worked with Mooney, the head of security, to prepare for any unwanted visitors in Lagrimas.
The double wide they’d given us to live in was made of wood siding, stained a light maple, with a front porch on the narrow side leading to the front door. There were large windows on either side of the door, as well as overhead. That concerned me to defend the entrance. It had access to water from a ground well, and power, which meant Anastasia could enjoy all the comforts of home. It also meant there were power lines leading to it. Those would also be a clue that someone lived nearby, and one I couldn’t easily work around. I wasn’t sure this was the safest place for us, but it was as safe as we were going to get without living directly off the land and camping at various spots of the hundred thousand acres we could get lost in. That would have been my preference, but it had to be our Plan B. I was pretty sure Anastasiawasn’t up to living like that for long. She’d never had to do without while growing up. Though she’d lived more humbly during her brief time as Olivia, she still needed a mattress to lie on and a roof over her head.
If we survived this, I’d be sure she would always be comfortable, protected, and secure.
“You’ll sleep on the sofa,” she snapped as we stepped inside our new home, with me carrying the packages of supplies that Lillian had her staff put in the pickup for us. “I am not sharing a bed with you. Got it?”
I set down the box I carried on the island bar in the kitchen and wrapped my hand around her delicate swan's neck. “You don’t give orders. You follow them. Got it?”
It was better for Anastasia to be clear on that right up front, otherwise we were going to have bigger problems. There were already enough of those on my plate.
“I hate you,” she said, keeping those magical eyes fixed on mine. Her pupils were dilated, and her pulse was strong under my grip, and the scent of her arousal filled the narrow space between us, making a liar out of her. Anastasia enjoyed this dominance. She craved it.
“I don’t care,” I said. “If you give me a hard time, I will spank you, Anastasia. I do not tolerate impertinence.”
Her breath caught when I mentioned the spanking. It only confirmed what I suspected. She longed for a firm hand.
“You’re an animal,” she said, spitting in my face.
Her eyes glistened with tears ready to overflow her painted lashes, streaming the black eyeliner she wore down her cheeks, but I knew they were fake. Flint was right. She might have made a talented actress, but I wasn’t interested in her play. She wanted proof that I meant what I said. Well, that I could offer her for free.
“Turn around,” I commanded, letting go of her neck, and wiping her spittle off my cheek, “bend over that table.” I pointed at the dinette set on the other side of the kitchen bar, which looked out onto the surrounding trees through sliding double glass doors which led out to a small deck.
“Because I said so,” I told her. “You need to believe me when I say I won't tolerate disrespect.”
“What do you plan to do?” She put her hands on her hips and straightened her back. She was a tall woman, but I was taller, so she still looked like a pouting, bratty little girl to me. Anastasia didn’t really need to ask what came next. The irises in her magical eyes widened with arousal. She needed this. She had provoked me.
“I will protect you, Anastasia, but I won’t tolerate a brat,” I said. “You can’t lie to me
and you don’t give orders. Turn around. Put your hands flat on the table and bend over. If I have to make you do it, or if you don’t stay still, it will be worse.”
She held my eyes for a moment before complying, still hoping for any sign that I didn’t mean it. Then she decided it was easier to go along with this and not risk the harsher punishment. We hadn’t bothered to change for our rush wedding. I stood behind her and reached around her hips to unbutton and unzip her black jean shorts. She whimpered when she felt me close. My cock, pressed against my jeans, rubbed up against her as I undressed her. I was hard as an oak, but I would not satisfy my lust yet. I would make her beg me to take her. For now, I only needed to reassure Anastasia that I meant what I said.
I pulled down her shorts, slowly. My right hand caressed her as I brought the garment down over the curve of her ass and down to her firm thighs, and she sighed. I pulled on the small triangle of stretchy fabric of her black lace underwear, tightening the crotch to squeeze her nub. She hissed air in through her teeth, then sighed again. I kept pulling tighter, until she whimpered, and then I yanked them down and smacked her round bottom sharply with my hand.
Her rear cheek bounced with the impact and turned a pretty shade of pale pink. Anastasia stifled a cry. This was an ass I could spank for hours, though that would be cruel. I would definitely spank it often, however. I smacked her rear a few more times, alternating cheeks, enjoying the way her flesh gave way to my hand and then returned to its delightful, firm roundness. The pink on her skin deepened with each swat until the whole of her ass blushed like a hot pink rose. Still, Anastasia would not cry. I brushed my hand over the soft skin which had warmed to my discipline, and then squeezed her right buttock hard. She choked on a gasp and strangled a whimper. I dipped my fingers between her lower lips to find my reward. Anastasia was drenched. My bratty unicorn was full of honey, and I had only begun her training.
“This was only a warm-up,” I said. “Your punishment begins now.”
“No, that was enough,” she said, her voice trembling with the cries she’d swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, malyshka?” I asked. Little girl. That’s what she was. A bratty Little who needed someone to look after her, a Daddy to protect, discipline, and love her. If I hadn’t been sure whether Anastasia was a Little, like the other Wild Horses we trained, I’d confirmed it when I’d sampled her pussy. I knew it now with certainty. Anastasia was perfect for me. I just had to persuade her to keep her reluctant vows until she meant them.
“I’m sorry that I ordered you around,” she said, though there was no contrition in her tone. She was adapting, trying to figure out how she could manipulate me. “It’s just that I don’t want to sleep with you. I don’t know you. We’re only married because we have to be. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you.”
“That is fine, baby,” I said, stroking her warm butt with my calloused hand, knowing full well that her body hungered for me. “I don’t intend to sleep with you. You’ll have to earn that pleasure and you haven’t yet. However, you earned this spanking. Not so much for telling me where to sleep, or even for spitting in my face, which was vulgar, but for insisting on lying to me. Ty pomnish', devochka. You remember everything, and you should stop pretending.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, sticking to her story. Anastasia was stubborn, which was not a bad thing necessarily. I liked a woman with a strong will, but secrets between us would be dangerous, especially now, and I needed her to know she couldn’t fool me.
“Okay,” I said, smacking her rear again, this time intending to send a message. She raised herself up on her toes and yipped like a puppy.
“Ty ne mozhesh' solgat' mne, detka. Ponimayesh?,” I said. “I will not tolerate lies between us.”
I peppered her rear again until the marks of my palm blossomed mauve on the pink skin of her rounded rear. She cried out then, begging me to stop. After two more smacks, I stopped, admiring the shape of her, that full bottom narrowing to a tiny waist that I could almost circle completely with my hands. I adjusted her back in place and ran my thumbs over her two dimples of Venus. It was all I could do to stop myself from taking her from behind right then, but it would do neither of us any good. I rewarded her for her good behavior during the punishment by giving her a second chance. “No more lying, Anastasia. You don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”
“Stop calling me that, Bo,” she sobbed. “My name is Olivia.”
“Alexei,” I corrected her, stroking her bottom as I bent over to whisper into the ivory shell of her ear. “I am Alexei Bogatyrev. You already know that, Anastasia. You know exactly who and what I am.” I nipped her earlobe. “Say my name.”
“Alex,” she said.
I smacked her rump gently, only a reminder. “You know my name. Say it.”
“Alex-y,” she said, pronouncing it wrong on purpose.
She was superb at this, pretending not to know what she was better off not knowing. I
admired her commitment to her role, but her body couldn’t lie to me.
I dipped my fingers between her lower lips again, this time thrusting my ring finger
inside her slick, warm channel, while my middle finger reached through her silken folds to tease her swollen nub. My unicorn was so aroused it must have been painful for her. I could relate. “Say my name, devochka,” I urged her gently, as my fingers worked to elicit a sigh from her lips.
“Alex.” She gasped when I pressed down on her clit. “Bo.”
“I will get you to say my name properly as you melt under me, baby.” I bit her earlobe harder. “You’ll be crying out for your Alexei, in proper Russian, and begging me to let you come. But not tonight.” I took my fingers back, leaving her on the edge of her orgasm. “Tonight you’ve been a bad girl and you have to go to bed without dessert.”
“I hate you, Bo,” she said, letting the tears fall. This time, I believed them.
I turned her toward me and held her in my arms while she wept. Then, on impulse, I unfastened and loosened her braid. Her long, multicolored ringlets cascaded down her shoulders and back. I had longed for so long to feel the silk of her locks unraveling between my fingers, and they did not disappoint. Her hair was soft as mink, even with everything she'd done to it. I kissed the top of her head and breathed in the floral scent of her mane. “You can hate me all you like, Anastasia, but you will still come when I call. Now, let’s get settled in.”
She picked up her shorts after I let her go and winced as she tried to put them back on. Maybe I’m a sick fuck, but seeing how she puckered her lips as she felt the sting of the fabric of her panties brushing her pink butt made my dick harder. I would torture myself to break her and train her, but it would be worth the wait.
As we put things away, we noticed that there were three bedrooms in the house, so there was no need for me to sleep on the couch. I took one of the two bedrooms on the opposite end of the house from the master bedroom. If she wanted me, she would have to make her way there. I would not seek her out.
From the first moment I saw Anastasia sunning herself on the deck of her father’s house in Montauk, I’d hungered for her. I’d burned for her every day since, but I’d also learned to hold back. At first, because she was impossible to get, and now because taking her would make other things impossible. I needed her trust more than I needed her body, and her obedience most of all. She wasn’t the sort of woman who had grown up following orders. She was more accustomed to giving them. But she was a Little, I was sure of that now. She needed guidance, order, rules; and a stern Daddy she could trust to love her and care for her. Anastasia had never really had that in her life. Burian might have lavished his daughter with riches, but he didn’t have a nurturing bone in his body.
After our few things were sorted, I fixed us a light dinner. Anastasia was a terrible
waitress and a worse cook. She’d only ever trained to be a beauty, though she’d done very well with that. I made us a western omelet. I guess some part of me is sentimental, but I didn’t expect her to remember serving me that omelet when I first arrived in Lagrimas.
While we ate, we had a heavy conversation, going over the ground rules as we prepared for an attack.
“You will stay at the house until we know for certain there is no trouble,” I said. “There’s a telephone there on the wall and I’ve put my cell phone number on the white board next to it. Use it any time you need. You can call me whenever you want, if you see anything suspicious, or if you feel scared, or if you’re just bored. Call. I will always come for you. There will be three guards making rounds here to protect you while I’m gone, though you may not see them as they patrol around. If you see them, you will do as they say.”
“How am I supposed to know who they are?” she asked.
“It’s going to be Cody, Pete and Tyler. You remember them from the wedding party, right?”
The three men were part of the BRB security team, all working under Mooney. I’d joined them just after I had arrived to tackle the trouble at the Dusty Rose. They were all good men, former soldiers, and I trusted them to look after my unicorn when I couldn’t.
“I’m supposed to feel safe because three cowboys are riding around here on their horses watching the trees grow?”
“They aren’t just cowboys. They are hard men and they know what they’re doing.” That was true of all the men on the BRB. They were all good guys, and they could manage all sorts of trouble.
“Besides, you will not need much protecting because you will be a good girl and stay in the house. Right?”
“For how long? I have a life, you know. I can’t just sit around here indefinitely.”
“This is your life for now, Anastasia,” I said. “You changed the path of your life when you left your father. I don’t blame you. You did the right thing, but the threat won’t end until we end it. For now, you have to be careful because Burian will kill you. Give me time and I will set you free of his grasp.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, still insisting on ignorance. “All I know is the kids at the library are counting on me to be there. I let them down today. I don’t want to let them down again tomorrow.”
“What do you mean? What kids?”
Anastasia explained she dedicated her afternoons to reading books to children, which surprised me. She’d always struck me as too selfish and spoiled to think of doing something like that, but maybe that was just the nature of her old life. Under her father’s watch, she didn’t really get to be a real person. She was only ever his trophy and his hostage. He hadn’t allowed her to blossom, but on her own she had found something she cared about beyond herself. I had a new respect for her.
“Stop calling me that!” she shouted.
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” I said, remaining calm. “I will call you that because that is your name, and you know it. I promise that you’ll be able to live your life however you want, and read as many books to kids as you like, but first we need to ensure you get to live. Do you understand? The news is full of your face. You know your father’s men will come. For now, it’s not safe for you to be near anyone. It won’t last. I promise I won’t let them get you. If I have to kill your father to ensure you’re free forever, I’ll do that.”
“You would kill him?” she asked. “Why would you take such a risk?”
I smiled. “So you remember.”
“No-o,” she stuttered. “I mean, you’re the one who said he’s a dangerous man. A big
mob boss, right?”
“Eventually, you’re going to know it’s safe to be honest with me, Anastasia,” I said,
shaking my head. “Yes, he’s a very dangerous man, but so am I. He killed my friend. Vladimir was like a brother to me. Burian hurt you, and he treated you like a cow he could trade. He should never have done that. You are too precious.”
She looked down at her plate to avoid my eyes. I’d set off painful memories, and I regretted it, but she needed to know I understood.
“Please don’t call me that name anymore,” she said, her voice tiny. “I’m Olivia.”
“To me, you’ll always be Anastasia,” I said.
“Could you call me Olivia, please?” she asked. “Whoever Anastasia was, I don’t like
her very much.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way,” I said. “Anastasia was bratty, maybe stuck up
sometimes, but she has grown into a beautiful woman and a terrible, terrible waitress.”
“Hey!” She gave me a cute angry face, which made her perfect nose scrunch up. “I earn
“Of course you do, darling,” I said. “You’re the most beautiful, horrible waitress Lagrimas has ever set eyes on.”
“I’m more than just my looks, you know.”
“I know,” I said. “Under that colorful head of hair, you have a very sharp mind. You’re
smart enough to keep pretending not to know what you’re better off not knowing. That doesn’t mean I believe you.”
“Well, too bad for you.” She pouted. “I honestly don’t care what you believe.” I wanted to forget the omelet and dine on that lush lower lip.
“We need to be honest with each other, Anastasia. It doesn’t work for us to have lies between us. I need to know that I can trust my wife.”
“I’m not your wife!” Anastasia snapped. “That whole thing was just a farce. I don’t even know why I agreed other than I didn’t want to end up in that presidio place and that Wild Horses thing didn’t sound good either. Dalton didn’t give me much choice. I was coerced into marrying you, but that doesn’t make it real.”
“Well, I meant what I said. I will honor and protect you always, but I need you to be extra careful over the next few days because your father will tear Lagrimas apart to get to you. He doesn’t care who he has to hurt.”
“He sounds like a horrible man,” she said, with a slight shudder. She remembered him all right.
“Having a man like that for a father would probably make Anastasia a horrible woman.” I knew Anastasia was fishing for some assurance I didn’t see her that way. I could only be honest with her. She deserved it.
“When I first set eyes on Anastasia, I fell in love,” I told her. “It was a meaningless love, only a humble man appreciating an undeniable beauty who I could never hope to approach. I had a job to do, which was to keep her safe, even from her father. I did that job, gladly, though it cost me everything. If it now costs me my life, too, I would die for her—not because she is beautiful, but because she is as strong as a diamond and just as precious to me. Vladimir saw that in her too. He risked his life to help Anastasia and died a terrible death, but I think even then he was happy because he got the chance I never had. He got her to love him back. That’s something her father could never claim. Nobody loves him and he loves no one. He is a sociopath, but Anastasia is not. She’s a survivor. She’s a treasure.”
“Those are pretty words,” she said, “but they are easy to say.”
“They’re much harder to live, but I have lived them,” I confessed. If I could only get her to believe me, I’d have the victory I wanted.
The unicorn turned her impossible blue eyes down to her plate, depriving me of the view, and ate the rest of her omelet in silence. I wished I could leap across the table and show her the words I spoke were true, but it was too soon for that.
Still, having her so near and keeping my distance proved to be torture. All I did that night, as I tossed on the bed, which was too short for my legs and too narrow for my shoulders, was think of her sleeping alone in the master bedroom across the house. I gave up any hope of sleep before the sun rose, took a cold shower, then set off back to Lagrimas to watch for death to come calling.