maybe she could salvage a friendship with him.
But you can’t let it go too far. It’s too risky.
No, she’d have to be on guard.
Chapter Seven
Her days had rhythm. It had taken a month to get there, but Maple was settling in. She helped Mariela in the kitchen in the mornings, chopping whatever the cook needed for the day. Mariela was Raúl’s older sister and, while tamer than her brother, she shared his ability to talk without needing Maple to contribute much.
She’d learned that Tim and Jones lived off the ranch with their respective families, so they didn’t venture in until after breakfast. Mariela and Raúl shared a small house nearby, room and board being part of their deal, too. The three would eat breakfast together, and then it was time for work.
Tim, Jones, and Raúl would meet her in the stable in the morning. By now she was able to saddle and prep Mesa, Red, and Justice before they showed up. Then they’d load up the horses with food and anything else they needed and ride out to work the cattle. Tim brought his two herding dogs, Moomoo and Sugar, too. His five-year-old daughter had named them, and Maple giggled each time she heard his hard Texan drawl barking their names.
Their days were long. J.B. owned a lot of land, which meant rotating pastures was easier. But it was dry, and they were near enough to the Rio Grande to get some water, but not much. It meant moving the herds often. Maple learned they were only responsible for the purebred Wagyus. There were other herds that had been bred with less expensive American cattle that J.B. had hired help for.
The size of J.B.’s ranch wasn’t the awe-inspiring part. No, it was the meticulous record keeping the men did. Every pasture rotation. Every bull coming of age. Every cow that refused to calf got slotted for slaughter. It was constant. They were between breeding seasons, which meant Maple got to see Raúl at night. She knew from her father’s ranch that as soon as breeding and calving seasons were on them, they’d all have long days with no time for chat.
The operation felt like her father’s ranch, just larger. It was comforting to see snippets of ranching that reminded her of home.
J.B. was practically invisible, despite her eyes searching for him each day. Occasionally she’d see him in the house. He didn’t eat dinner with them. He never spoke with her. Whenever she caught a glimpse of his tight jeans and broad back, Maple would be forced to close her eyes and slow her pulse.
It was good she didn’t see him, because her desire had been growing. Too many nights she brought herself to a swift climax just to keep the edge off. It was easy as long as she pictured J.B. doing increasingly degrading things to her. Whipping her with a belt until her skin was sliced with red. Until it bruised. Handcuffing her and slapping her face while he fucked her pussy.
These were the things her ex-boyfriend, Tony, had done to her for the two years they’d been together. It had taken so long to be able to come for Tony, but he’d trained her. If he fucked her hard enough, if he worked her body over with fist and cock, he could make her come each and every time. It was sick. She was sick.
When she pictured J.B. doing the same things, she came so hard she cried.
Not that she had much time to think on it, for which she was grateful.
Maple kept the stalls meticulously clean. She clipped the hooves of the horses, she brushed their coats, she made sure they were well fed and watered. Maple occasionally took Bonnie out for an easy ride when she had the time.
Those were her favorite days. Bonnie was gentle. Her slow, plodding gait relaxed Maple. With Bonnie, Maple didn’t have to be anxious. She didn’t have a thousand thoughts and worries competing in her brain. She could just look at the endless horizon and be quiet.
Bane, though. He was a tick that had latched on tight. His
But you can’t let it go too far. It’s too risky.
No, she’d have to be on guard.
Chapter Seven
Her days had rhythm. It had taken a month to get there, but Maple was settling in. She helped Mariela in the kitchen in the mornings, chopping whatever the cook needed for the day. Mariela was Raúl’s older sister and, while tamer than her brother, she shared his ability to talk without needing Maple to contribute much.
She’d learned that Tim and Jones lived off the ranch with their respective families, so they didn’t venture in until after breakfast. Mariela and Raúl shared a small house nearby, room and board being part of their deal, too. The three would eat breakfast together, and then it was time for work.
Tim, Jones, and Raúl would meet her in the stable in the morning. By now she was able to saddle and prep Mesa, Red, and Justice before they showed up. Then they’d load up the horses with food and anything else they needed and ride out to work the cattle. Tim brought his two herding dogs, Moomoo and Sugar, too. His five-year-old daughter had named them, and Maple giggled each time she heard his hard Texan drawl barking their names.
Their days were long. J.B. owned a lot of land, which meant rotating pastures was easier. But it was dry, and they were near enough to the Rio Grande to get some water, but not much. It meant moving the herds often. Maple learned they were only responsible for the purebred Wagyus. There were other herds that had been bred with less expensive American cattle that J.B. had hired help for.
The size of J.B.’s ranch wasn’t the awe-inspiring part. No, it was the meticulous record keeping the men did. Every pasture rotation. Every bull coming of age. Every cow that refused to calf got slotted for slaughter. It was constant. They were between breeding seasons, which meant Maple got to see Raúl at night. She knew from her father’s ranch that as soon as breeding and calving seasons were on them, they’d all have long days with no time for chat.
The operation felt like her father’s ranch, just larger. It was comforting to see snippets of ranching that reminded her of home.
J.B. was practically invisible, despite her eyes searching for him each day. Occasionally she’d see him in the house. He didn’t eat dinner with them. He never spoke with her. Whenever she caught a glimpse of his tight jeans and broad back, Maple would be forced to close her eyes and slow her pulse.
It was good she didn’t see him, because her desire had been growing. Too many nights she brought herself to a swift climax just to keep the edge off. It was easy as long as she pictured J.B. doing increasingly degrading things to her. Whipping her with a belt until her skin was sliced with red. Until it bruised. Handcuffing her and slapping her face while he fucked her pussy.
These were the things her ex-boyfriend, Tony, had done to her for the two years they’d been together. It had taken so long to be able to come for Tony, but he’d trained her. If he fucked her hard enough, if he worked her body over with fist and cock, he could make her come each and every time. It was sick. She was sick.
When she pictured J.B. doing the same things, she came so hard she cried.
Not that she had much time to think on it, for which she was grateful.
Maple kept the stalls meticulously clean. She clipped the hooves of the horses, she brushed their coats, she made sure they were well fed and watered. Maple occasionally took Bonnie out for an easy ride when she had the time.
Those were her favorite days. Bonnie was gentle. Her slow, plodding gait relaxed Maple. With Bonnie, Maple didn’t have to be anxious. She didn’t have a thousand thoughts and worries competing in her brain. She could just look at the endless horizon and be quiet.
Bane, though. He was a tick that had latched on tight. His
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