Page 70 of Over the Line

Finally, more than twenty minutes later, breathless, she slowed to a walk for the trek back to her place.

Once she’d cooled off, she took another shower, then after changing into pajamas, fell onto the bed.

The thoughts she’d been trying to outrun—those of Master Michael—plowed into her, in rich, vivid detail as she recalled him spanking her at the Den, claiming her in his home. And now that he’d ordered her not to touch herself, there was nothing she wanted to do more.

After tossing and turning for an hour, noticing how needy her pussy felt, she threw back the sheet in frustration and climbed out of bed.

She grabbed a blanket and went onto the patio to stare at the sky in her version of meditation. Instead of counting sheep, she counted stars. She got to the high five hundreds before managing to harness her thoughts.

When she reached the mid six hundreds, she started to drift off. Sometime before dawn, she woke up chilled and made her way back inside to bed. By the time she reawakened, the sun was beating through her window, warming her up.

After frying a couple of eggs, drinking half a pot of coffee, and updating her website, suggesting some creative late-summer outings, and adding a lovely testimony supplied by the newlyweds, she hit the shower.

As she stood under the spray, contemplating her trip to Master Michael’s ranch, she was suddenly unnerved.

Last time, she and Master Michael had spent time at the Den before making the journey to his place. This time, it was daylight. Though she knew his expectations, she was less certain how to behave. Should she wear her outfit? That seemed a bit much given that she would arrive in the early afternoon.

Shorts seemed too casual. And at his elevation, the air could be chillier than it was down here. Immediately she discarded the idea of a dress that would demand sandals. After her experience with Chewie and trying to navigate the uneven terrain, she knew how ridiculous heels were.

A trip to a working ranch demanded boots and jeans, and probably a hat of some kind. Except, she was going there for one purpose—to get her butt spanked.

With a sigh, she threw an assortment of options in an overnight bag—not that she was planning to stay more than a few hours. She simply wanted to be prepared. Or that was what she told herself.

Following a lot of consideration and some amount of anguish, going through her drawers and flipping aside numerous hangers, she opted for a form-fitting hiking skirt. Then she pulled on a lightweight summer shirt with a black bra beneath. Because she knew she was seeing him, her whole body was already sensitized.

After adding her sexy new outfit to her bag, Sydney slipped on a pair of sturdy flat sandals meant for trekking. They were serviceable enough for his rugged environment, but also comfortable enough to drive in.

When she climbed behind the wheel and lowered the windows to let out some of the daytime heat, she sent him a text message to let him know she was on her way.

The drive took forever, something more to do with her excitement and anticipation at having her sexual desires fulfilled than the actual miles involved. She was glad the road demanded her full attention. At least it kept her from obsessing.

Mostly.

Views from Berthoud Pass stole her breath, and Winter Park was streaming with summer visitors. As she passed through the lush green, high-mountain valley, she glimpsed occasional clumps of wildflowers.

Once she left the main road, her pulse picked up a few extra beats. She knew it wasn’t from the altitude since she hadn’t had a single problem when she was standing on top of the Continental Divide.

As she braked to a stop near the gate, a tall, lanky man of indeterminate age slid off a utility vehicle.

She entered the property, then kept her foot on the brake as he ambled over.

“Welcome to Eagle’s Bend. I’m Jeb, the ranch foreman.” He touched the brim of a well-worn cowboy hat, its creased leather discolored, perhaps from numerous hours beneath the relentless mountain sun.

“Michael asked me to keep an eye out for you.” He extended a calloused, weathered hand in her direction.

The gesture was considerate of both of them. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“It’s a pleasure. I’ll let you be on your way, ma’am.”

In her rearview mirror, she watched him pick up a two-way communication device, say something, then hop back on the motorized vehicle, taking off in the direction of the bunkhouse.

Master Michael was waiting near the fence, one boot heel hooked behind him on the lowest rail, with a look so sexy it was probably outlawed in half the world. His ever-present hat was angled slightly forward.

Jeans rode low on his slim hips, and as usual, his shirtsleeves were folded back to the elbow. He appeared at ease, lord and master of all he surveyed. And right now, he was looking at her.

Adrenaline tripped through her.

As she parked beneath a tree, he pushed away from the fence.