Read Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) for Free Online Page A

could picture herself easily in the paintings. The ropes cutting and chafing her skin. The lick of the whip on her back.
     
    Maple could picture it, because she’d been there before.
     
    Her pussy was swelling, the shameful flood of arousal slicking her folds. She shut her eyes and slowed her breath. You’re not that person anymore . What a lie.
     
    The heavy stone wall she’d built around those memories of college, of her ex boyfriend Tony, of the depraved things he’d done to her was shaking in her mind, threatening to tumble. Breathing deep, she worked quickly to rebuild it. Add an extra layer. Bury them deep, so deep.
     
    All the colors, dark and foreboding, combined with her reluctant arousal, only piqued her interest. J.B. wasn’t a man she could have googled to understand this art. What little was known about him was centered on the cattle and money. These paintings were a shock; tantalizing and confusing. What kind of cowboy wanted such depravity on his walls? What did they say to him, and about him?
     
    Her image of J.B. became richer and more enticing as she studied his collection. Not just handsome, but maybe tainted like she was? Considering his grim, stoic attitude for the day and these paintings, Maple began to sketch her own idea of him. The words he liked to use-- train , for example, made her shudder. Tony had tried to master her. J.B. seemed like he’d be a Master. Noun, not verb. That possibility was much too alluring.
     
    Of course, she shouldn’t be considering him at all. He was her boss. Maybe too old for her. And hadn’t she come here for a fresh start?
     
    She was almost done, her breathing almost normal and the electric angst that zinged along her limbs almost dissipated, when his voice shocked her system.
     
    “You’ve looked at them twice-- you like them.” Oh God, his gravel rumble made her core clench in desire,. His commanding voice, presence, promised so much more than Tony had ever dished out.
     
    Tony had dished out a lot.
     
    Maple refused to look at him. She thought about how he’d chastised her for being uncertain. This was a chance for her to be sure. Art was one of her few strengths.
     
    “Yes, I like them.” Truth. She’d always appreciated art that inspired reaction, no matter how distasteful she found her reaction to be. “They frighten me,” she admitted.
     
    “Why?” His footsteps drew closer, and she felt the pure, masculine energy of J.B. next to her. She was standing in front of a painting with a team of girls, bound together and pulling a cart which carried a hooded figure, whip in hand to urge them on.
     
    “Do they frighten me? The pain of the women isn’t explanation enough?” Lie. They frightened her because she found them so appealing. That was the sort of thing she’d never admit out loud. Especially to her boss. Curiosity tingled through her, now. Why did a cowboy have such bleak, sexual art? And on such prominent display? What was J.B. trying to tell the viewer?
     
    “Hm. They frighten me, too.” He didn’t offer a reason why.
     
    “You’re a big collector.”
     
    “I dabble in art acquisitions, yes.”
     
    “Your acquisitions are very specific,” she pushed. “Is it that the paintings speak to you, or for you?” As soon as the question was out, she desperately wished she’d never asked it. This was the kind of thing she wondered about; the psychology behind the art and the buyer. It was never a thing that a girl like Maple Parsons should say out loud.
     
    Her hands had been twisting together, she discovered, because as she asked the question she popped one finger, its soothing crack making her jump.
     
    “That’s a personal question, Maple.” J.B. moved to her periphery. “You’ve grown bolder, and in such a short amount of time.”
     
    Maple had no choice but to turn to him. Her eyes picked a point just to the left of his face to focus on. It was a trick she’d learned when her anxiety threatened to morph into