Her Forbidden Cowboy (Cowboys After Dark Book 12) Read online

  HER FORBIDDEN COWBOY

  by

  Maggie Carpenter

  HER FORBIDDEN COWBOY

  ADULT ADVISORY

  This book is for adults only, and contains scenes of spanking, graphic sex, bondage, sensory deprivation, and are fantasies only, intended for adults. This book is not for children, nor does it condone corporal punishment of children. This book contains scenes of nonconsensual activities, BDSM and other nonconsensual activities. This book does not support nonconsensual spanking or any other nonconsensual activities, sexual or otherwise.

  Copyright © 2016 Maggie Carpenter

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Dark Secrets Press

  Ebook Cover Design

  Ashley@ Redbird Designs

  Formatting

  Polgarus Studio

  Visit the author at:

  www.MaggieCarpenter.com

  www.facebook.com/MaggieCarpenterWriter

  www.twitter.com/magcarpenter2

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Standing outside the barn, his fists white-knuckled, his teeth clenched, his ankle throbbing, Scott Sampson silently cursed the back of the white BMW convertible as it sped down the gravel driveway. His anger at Cathy Coleman was now overtaking the anger he felt at himself. She knew not to drive that fast. It was dangerous, and it could scare the horses in the paddocks on either side, though as his eyes scanned the pastures it was obvious his equine friends couldn’t care less.

  Turning around he half-marched, half-limped back into the barn and into his office. Pulling a beer from the refrigerator, he popped the cap by slamming it on the side of his desk, and hitting the top of it with the heel of his hand. It was what he did when he was seriously ticked off. He’d been ticked off more often than not in recent months, and it was getting old.

  “Why don’t I just buy the dang cans?” he muttered to himself as he stared at the chilled bottle. “Cos it doesn’t taste as good, that’s why,” he grunted, flopping down into his ancient love seat and downing a gulp.

  Two swigs later he let out a heavy sigh and cricked his neck. It had been a helluva morning. Cathy Coleman was driving home with a hot backside, and though it wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, he didn’t regret a single swat.

  “Stupid girl, what the hell is the matter with you? Dammit! I even told you I’d smack your ass if you kept causin’ havoc and leavin’ things all over the place. You pushed me too dang far!”

  It wasn’t something he’d meant to say, though he’d certainly thought it many times. Just the day before she’d left the cap off a bottle of anti-fungus lotion, a green, sticky, noxious fluid, then left the bottle on the ground and walked away. An eager volunteer, a crazy-about-horses teenager named Robyn Greenberg, had knocked it over with her foot as she’d passed, spilling the vile stuff all over the barn aisle. The incident had been Cathy’s fault, but it hadn’t stopped her from bellowing at the innocent girl. Scott, as he always did, had stepped in to keep the peace, and when Cathy had accused him of taking Robyn’s side, his threat of a spanking had just slipped out.

  “It’s not Robyn’s fault, it’s yours,” he’d said brusquely. “You leave your stuff everywhere. If you put things away, accidents like this wouldn’t happen.”

  “She should look where she’s going,” Cathy had railed, “and she should buy me a new bottle.”

  “Dammit, Cathy, I’ve told to keep your crap in your trunk a thousand times, now pipe down before I spank your ass!”

  A sudden, deathly quiet had hung in the air as both Cathy and Robyn had stared at him in stunned silence, then Robyn had mumbled an excuse to bolt, and Cathy had nervously grabbed an old towel to mop up the mess. His shocking remark had brought the drama to an abrupt halt, and though he’d been rattled that he’d made the threat, he’d felt a sense of satisfaction as he’d walked away.

  Taking another couple gulps of his beer, thinking back to the moment, and the one that had just caused him to finally lose it and pull Cathy Coleman over his lap, he shook his head and wondered why he’d been unable to control himself.

  “What’s the matter with me? How did I let her get under my skin like that? Maybe this place is gettin’ to be too much. Maybe I should just throw it in, sell the damn place and move on.”

  Downing the last of his beer, he looked around his office pondering the thought. He’d owned the boarding facility for five difficult years. When the dramas had started, he’d told himself things would settle down and get easier, not more difficult, but he’d been wrong, and as if to underscore the thought, the sudden sound of shrill voices echoed through the barn.

  “Goddammit!” he growled. “I am in no mood!”

  Banging his beer bottle on the old wooden side table, he stormed out of his office, and saw the familiar sight of two women standing outside the feed room. Tammy Rogers and Susan McDonald were going at it again.

  “Stop! I’ve had enough!”

  Shocked by his sharp command, both women paused their fight and turned to stare at him. Scott never got upset. He was the poster cowboy for patience.

  “What the hell is it this time?” he demanded, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he strode angrily towards them.

  “Tell this woman to stop moving my horse whenever she feels like it,” Tammy demanded, “she has no right!”

  “I’ll stop moving your horse, when you get it out of the round pen when someone needs to use it,” Susan snapped. “You do this all the fucking time. It’s a round pen, not a turnout, and I can’t stand-”

  “Hey!” Scott barked, cutting her off.

  “Don’t yell at me, yell at her,” Susan retorted. “I’m sick of it. Do something.”

  “I’m done!” Scott declared. “You two work this out yourselves. If catch you fightin’ here again, you can both find yourselves another barn.”

  “That’s not fair!” Susan protested, waving her hands in the air. “This is all her fault. She shouldn’t be leaving her horse in the round pen.”

  “Like I said, work it out or leave,” he exclaimed, darting his eyes from woman to woman. “Tammy, I can’t stop Susan movin’ your horse if you leave it when it doesn’t belong. You’re adults for chrissakes, work it out or don’t, but I’m puttin’ you both on notice. I can’t take any more of this crap. One more scene l
ike this and you’re both gone, got it?”

  Completely stunned by his outburst, they stared at him as they silently nodded their heads, and as he began striding back to his office, a shard of sudden pain in his ankle making him wince, Scott heard them angrily whispering, each blaming the other for having made him so angry. Though he didn’t smile, he was pleased with himself. It had felt good to scold them, and he found himself wishing he’d done it sooner.

  “They all need their butts spanked,” he muttered under his breath as he walked into his office and grabbed his beer. “I should walk around with a crop in my hand and just whack ‘em all as I go by. That’d straighten ‘em out.”

  But as he dropped back down on the tattered and torn couch, the very place where he’d yanked Cathy Coleman over his knee and spanked her cute ass good and hard, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

  He prided himself on his self-control, and rarely did situations or people get the better of him, but Cathy Coleman had done just that. Had she deserved to have her bottom smacked? Hell yeah, but his actions had been reckless, and Scott wasn’t a reckless man. It had also been foolish, and he wasn’t foolish either.

  Cathy Coleman had two horses in his barn under full care, and if she pulled them out it would be a serious chunk of change from the barn’s revenue stream, but if he was being honest with himself, that wasn’t the reason he didn’t want her to leave.

  Though she was unbelievably irritating, Scott liked having her around. For one thing, she was easy on the eyes. Her blond hair didn’t come from a bottle, and literally sparkled in the sun. In the summer, when she wore sexy plaid shirts that had gold thread woven through the fabric, her whole being seemed to glitter as she rode, and in the winter, when she’d walk around in her puffy parkas with the fur around the hood framing her pretty face, she looked like an adorable snow bunny.

  He’d done his best to steer clear, though it hadn’t been easy, and it didn’t help that she was a ten year-old brat wrapped up in the insanely voluptuous body of a twenty-two year-old in need of some serious over-the-knee time. She’d offered a tempting challenge, and he’d been able to resist…until now.

  “Dammit,” he growled, “if she complains to her father I’ll be toast. He’ll probably come stormin’ in here and raise hell, shit, he could even press charges. At least no-one saw me. It’d be her word against mine. Damn, I’m an idiot. Why did I let her get to me? Maybe I really should sell this place. It sure is a lotta work, and these crazy-assed women are makin’ me nuts. Spankin’ Cathy Coleman? What the hell was I thinkin?”

  Slowly slipping his beer, he thought back to the incident that had caused him to twist his ankle, and ended with him pulling the sexy miscreant over his knee.

  It had happened in the wash rack. It was one of the areas of the barn he’d never been happy about. The space was narrow, and he’d laid down a rule that buckets were not to be left there. Buckets were dangerous. A horse could accidentally knock one, causing him to spook, and humans could trip over them, so he’d put up a large, bold sign.

  No Buckets On The Wash Rack Floor.

  There was a farmer’s sink in the corner, and if someone needed a bucket while they were washing their horse, there was plenty of room for it in there.

  Cathy’s buckets were the only ones in the barn that were pink, and everyone knew they were hers. It was smart. No-one could lay claim to them, and they were easy to find if she misplaced one, but that morning there had been a downside to her pink bucket cleverness.

  She had left one, half-full of sudsy water, to the right of the doorway, and just as Scott had entered, someone had called to him. When he’d turned around to answer he’d walked right into it, and suddenly found himself tumbling forward and falling flat on his face. Thankfully the concrete floor was covered with rubber mats, but he’d twisted his ankle.

  The commotion had brought several people running, including Cathy and Robyn, both of whom had bathed their horses that morning. Listening to concerned shouts of, are you all right, he’d looked down and seen the culprit. A large pink bucket, then staring up at the sea of female faces he’d caught Cathy’s eye.

  “Dammit, Cathy, I’ve told you a thousand times,” he’d loudly scolded, “do NOT leave buckets layin’ around the wash rack, don’t leave your dang buckets layin’ around anywhere!”

  “It wasn’t me!” she’d protested. “Robyn asked to use it after I’d finished with Cinnamon. She was the one who left it there.”

  “I did not!” Robyn had yelled, her eyes wide and filled with indignation. “I washed Lucky before you. You’re a cow and a liar!”

  Scott had known Cathy was the guilty party, and not just because of the embarrassed red flush that had crossed her face. He’d passed by when Robyn was taking her horse out of the wash rack. She had given him a quick hose off, and he’d just seen Cathy still unsaddling her mare.

  “Cathy, come with me to the office,” he’d frowned, getting control of his temper and not wanting to continue the scene in front the other boarders.

  “I’m busy, I have to finish making up the supplements for tonight.”

  “Fine, come by when you’re done. I’ll be waitin’.”

  He’d hobbled back, Robyn chasing after him swearing her innocence.

  “I know, Robyn,” he’d said patiently. “You’re a responsible kid, and if you’d done it you would’ve owned up to it. Now go back to what you were doin’, and no fightin’ with Cathy about this, okay?”

  “Okay, Scott. Thanks for believing me.”

  “You’re welcome, and do what I said. Leave Cathy to me.”

  She had smiled up at him gratefully, then hurried away.

  When he’d reached his office, he’d sat down on the love seat and resisted the desire to pull off his boot and inspect his ankle, deciding to wait until he’d finished with Cathy, but she’d kept him waiting. As the minutes ticked by, his anger had resurfaced, and by the time she’d walked into his office he was one unhappy cowboy.

  “This is bullshit,” she’d exclaimed, slamming the door behind her.

  Her outburst had done nothing to help her cause, and he’d glowered up at her.

  “No, it’s not,” he’d barked. “You leave your crap all over the place, and I’ve told you over ’n over again, not to leave your buckets behind when you’re done in the wash rack, especially not on the ground. What’s it gonna take?”

  “It was Robyn!”

  Her false accusation was like a huge red flag flapping at a very angry bull, and rising to his feet, he’d stepped towards her.

  “Dammit, girl! Quit your lyin’. I saw Robyn and Lucky. You went in after her, not before.”

  “You’re wrong,” she’d spat, “and I’m leaving.”

  He still didn’t know if it had been the tone in her voice, the superior way she’d spoken to him, or the fact that she was trying to blame an innocent kid who rarely put a foot wrong, but he’d lunged towards her, caught her wrist, and jerked her over his lap.

  “I’m so sick of this,” he’d declared as his hand had rained down on her upturned bottom. “You are so dang spoiled, and so irresponsible, and such a brat.”

  “You bastard! Stop! How dare you! OWWW! Stop!”

  “Pick! Up! Your! Stuff!” he’d exclaimed, his flattened palm landing a hard swat after each word.

  Her legs had been kicking, her arms had been flailing, and when she’d let out an especially loud howl, Scott suddenly realized anyone walking by would hear them. God forbid they should walk into his office to investigate the ruckus. Stopping his hand, he’d ordered her off his lap.

  “You asshole!” she’d furiously shouted, jumping to her feet. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re going to be sorry you did that!”

  “Young lady, I’m sure I’ll be sorry about a lotta things as the years go by, but spankin’ your ass won’t be one of ‘em,” he’d growled, scowling down at her.

  With a toss of her beautiful blond head she’d dashed out, and calling her name
, he’d limped out after her, not to apologize, he would never apologize, but because he’d been worried about her driving while she was still so livid. To his dismay he’d been too late, and watching her car drive much too fast down the gravel driveway, he had no idea what the fallout would be.

  Still cursing himself, he finished his beer, then decided to take an amble out to the other side of the barn. His ankle seemed to be calming down, and as he walked out to the back of the property, he gazed over the corrals and stared up at the distant mountains.

  Sampson Boarding Stables had opened its gates five years before. It had begun as a labor of love, and he’d dreamed of a place where he’d have positive people boarding their happy horses in a cheerful environment. He didn’t care if they were pleasure riders, or show people, if they rode western, or like Cathy, they enjoyed jumping. The criteria had been their love of horses, and he’d naively believed they could be one big happily family, but cliques had sprung up, bickering, jealousy, and gossiping ruled the day, and there seemed to be an insatiable appetite for what was commonly termed, barn drama.

  Wandering over to his one of his horses, a mare named Dusty, he climbed through the fence and smoothed his hand down the mare’s neck.

  “Whatta ya think, Dusty? Is it time? Should I find us a new home?”

  Glancing across at his other two horses, Duster, Dusty’s brother, a solid dark bay gelding, and Pepper, a dapple grey, he let out a sigh and nodded his head.

  “Yep, I reckon this mornin’ told me it was time. I still can’t believe I did that. Spankin’ a boarder? Jeez! If I stay here any longer, lord knows what I’ll do next.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two Weeks Later