Mr. Beautiful

As soon I found out where she was, I headed straight there, not even bothering to change out of my suit.

Our female horse trainer, Cosette, was with her in the corral, helping her tweak her legwork.

Joseph was there.

He was leaning against the fence post, elbows on the top rail, watching them train.

I approached the corral, but kept walking when I reached it, moving into the tack room.  I grabbed the first riding crop I saw, and headed back outside.

I went to lean beside him, eyes on Bianca posting, a f**king indecent sight, and began to slap the crop against my palm.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, saw when he caught what I was doing, was aware of his jaw clenching, fists balling.

I smiled, turning my head to catch his eye.

He looked back at me, clearly agitated.

"Beyond your ability to break," I reiterated my words from days earlier softly, succinctly.

Temper flared in his eyes, but he held his tongue, unfortunately.

I moved away from him, entering the corral, striding across the large space to where the women worked.

Cosette stood at the center of the enclosure, calling out instructions to Bianca.   You could tell just with a few words between them that the women were close.  There was much affection and camaraderie in the way she coached my wife.

Cosette was a diminutive woman, delicately built, somehow able to use that small frame of hers to do some of the most skillful riding I'd ever seen, controlling powerful animals with a flick of her wrists.

I'd hired her two years ago, at Pete's referral, when I'd realized that there was no way in hell I'd allow Pete to teach my wife how to ride.

He'd sworn at the time that Cosette was the best, and he'd been right.

She turned to smile at me as I approached.  She was a beautiful woman, with delicately defined features, her streaky hair cut into an edgy bob, short in the back and sides, with long straight bangs that framed her face and emphasized her high cheekbones.

"We're finishing up now," she told me.  "She's making great progress."

I just nodded, turning to watch my wife, still slapping the crop against my palm.

Bianca guided her horse my way.  "You're going ruin another suit," she said, smiling at me.

I smiled back.  "Yes, yes, I am."

She had no idea.

"Come here," I said to her, lowering the crop to my side so it wouldn't spook the horse as she walked it closer.

I grabbed her leg with my left hand, sliding my crop up to tap her shoulder with the other.  I used a light pressure on it to guide her down to me.

She leaned down until our mouths were touching.  I thrust my tongue into her hot wet mouth, moving the crop down her back to play over her ass teasingly.

Eventually I pulled back, tucked the crop into my belt, and dragged her down from the saddle, pressing her against me.

I looked at Colette.  "We'd like to have the stables to ourselves, for a bit."

She was unfazed.  She'd been working here a while.  She knew how we were.  "Of course.  I'll leave you to it."

I turned my head, hand rubbing over Bianca's back.  Joseph was still at the fence, still watching, the brazen bastard.

My hand moved down to her ass and squeezed hard.  Mine.

"He should not be watching you do this," I told her quietly, voice hard.

She stiffened, turning her head to look.  "Joseph?  What are you talking about?  He's just doing his job, patrolling the property."

I tried hard to control my breathing and my tone.  "So he's just passing by.  He wasn't watching your entire lesson?"

She paused and I gnashed my teeth.

"I guess he has been.  I barely noticed.  He's harmless."

Gnash gnash gnash.

"Go wait for me in the tack room," I told her, kissing her on the forehead and thrusting her in that direction.

I headed the opposite way, moving until I was standing a few feet from the bane of my existence.

I pulled the crop out of my belt and started slapping it loudly against my palm.  I didn't bother to mask my expression to him, and I knew what it looked like—Savage.

Uncivilized.

Slap, slap, slap.

"Enjoy the show?" I asked him, tone pointed and biting.

He didn't answer, just moved his eyes from my face to my hands, up and down.

Slap, slap, slap.

"Did you watch her entire lesson?"

Silence.

Slap, slap, slap.

"Do you always watch her ride when I'm not home?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, but still, silence.

Thwack!  The crop struck the fence suddenly, right next to his hand.

"You will answer me.  That's an order."

He curled his lip at me.  "Not always, but often.  And yes, I watched the entire lesson, and I did enjoy the show."

My nostrils flared as I sensed my victory.  I was nearly as elated as I was furious.

He looked as close to losing his temper as I felt.

"Well, soak it up," I told him, voice low and mean, "because it is the last f**king time.  You are never to watch her ride!  If I hear you've even come within a hundred feet of the stables while she's training, I'll have you thrown off the property.  Understood?"

I thought for one happy minute he was going to snap, to say something I could use in my case against him, but unfortunately he did not.