Page 44 of Savoring Sienna
“Thanks, Prof.” Bobby beamed before turning back to his subject. “Master Crone, could we get a few with Peanut now? Maybe have her running free beside Magic?”
Crone nodded as he smoothly dismounted. As he adjusted Peanut’s tack and removed her lead rope, his gaze caught Sienna’s. Her stomach flipped at the heat in his eyes. Instinct warned her he knew exactly what emotions were raging through her.
“Kay, Ines,” Sienna called, desperate for distraction, “note how Bobby’s using the natural elements. The mist, the sunrise, even the way the grass moves in the wind. They’re all supporting elements that enhance the main subject.”
“The main subject being one hot cowboy,” Kay muttered, just loud enough for Sienna to hear. “No wonder you’ve been such a mess this week, Prof.” She laughed. “Except I wouldn’t be hiding ifthatwas chasing me.”
Sienna’s cheeks flamed but before she could respond, Crone’s voice carried across the meadow. “Sienna.” Just her name, but the command in it was unmistakable. “I need your expertise here for a moment.”
Her feet were moving before her brain could object. He stood between the horses, one hand on Magic’s bridle, the other extended toward her in silent demand.
“The students need to understand proper positioning,” he said, ensuring that his voice carried enough for the class to hear. But his eyes promised this was about far more than photography instruction.
“What kind of positioning did you have in mind, Master Crone?” Sienna tried to keep her voice professional as she approached, though her pulse quickened at his knowing smirk.
“I think,” he drawled as he caught her hand and pulled her closer, “we should show them how to capture intimate connection between subjects.” Without warning, he lifted her, settling her sideways in Magic’s saddle. The stallion stood perfectly still. “Hold his mane, just there.”
His hands slid up her thighs, adjusting her position with deliberate thoroughness. Every touch felt as if he were branding her through her jeans. When he stepped back, she had to bite her lip to hold back a protest at the loss of contact.
“Bobby,” he called, never taking his eyes off Sienna. “Get your shots. The light’s perfect on Prof’s face right now.”
The camera clicked rapidly as Crone began leading Magic in a slow circle, keeping one hand on Sienna’s leg under the pretense of ensuring her stability. Peanut and Hercules followedof their own accord, creating a dreamy carousel effect in the morning mist.
“Beautiful,” Bobby murmured. “Prof, could you look down at Master Crone like he’s the center of your world?”
Sienna almost laughed at the irony. When had he not exactly been that? Even trying to avoid him this past week, he had dominated her thoughts, her dreams,damn…her every waking moment.
“Perfect!” Bobby’s enthusiasm rang loudly over the meadow. “Now, Master Crone, could you...?”
But Crone was already moving, his hand sliding up to Sienna’s waist. In one fluid motion, he swept her from the saddle, molding her body to his with her feet dangling above the ground. Her hands instinctively gripped his shoulders as he stared up at her. His expression was intense and enough to steal her breath… more than that, it had nothing to do with posing for Bobby’s shot.
“I believe,” he said softly, for her ears alone, “this is what they call a decisive moment in photography.” His grip tightened fractionally. “The moment everything changes.”
The intensity in his eyes and the warmth of his hands at her waist suddenly was too much. Panic clawed up her throat. Before he could see the truth in her eyes, Sienna twisted away from his grip, nearly stumbling in her haste to put distance between them. Her heart thundered against her ribs as she babbled something about being dead inside—somehow needing that validation as a reminder to herself. Perhaps that was why the words tasted like ashes on her tongue even as she spoke them.
“Perfect timing,” Bobby said, checking his shots. “The light’s shifting anyway.”
“Next up is my shoot!” Ines practically bounced with excitement. “Master Crone, your Harley should be ready at Angel’s Heavenly Bakery and Chocolate Shoppe.”
Sienna
Rawhide Ridge
Once they reached the Ridge, Crone disappeared into Angel’s restroom with a bag Ines handed to him. When he emerged, the transformation from cowboy to biker was complete. Black leather pants hugged every muscle, paired with a fitted black t-shirt and a leather jacket that spoke of dangerous curves and open roads. His dark blond hair, sun-streaked from long days outdoors, fell in tousled waves around his face, the scar above his eye even more prominent.
The reaction was immediate and hilarious. Several Littles squeaked and ducked behind their caregivers, only to peer around them with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. One of the regular customers actually dropped her coffee cup, the liquid splashing across Angel’s pristine floor. From somewhere in the crowd came a breathless, “Sweet baby Jesus in a leather jacket.”
Crone’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he caught sight of Little Emma, who stood frozen with a partly-eaten chocolate croissant halfway to her mouth. He winked at her, and the croissant fell forgotten to her plate as she buried her burning face in her Daddy’s jacket.
“Now you’re just being mean,” Heaven Leigh chided him, but her own cheeks were suspiciously pink as she grabbed a mop.“Stop traumatizing my customers with all”—she waved a hand at his general appearance—“that!”
“What?” Crone offered her his most innocent smile, the one that made him look like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar—if that boy happened to be sex on wheels. “Just making sure everyone gets their sugar fix for the day.”
The collective groan from the Doms present was drowned out by nervous giggles from the Littles as he strolled toward the door.
The massive black Harley Davidson that Crone had shipped from Costa Rica waited outside the shop with the morning sun glinting off chrome and custom paintwork. A crowd had already gathered outside. Many of Rawhide Ranch’s Littles and submissives, along with curious residents and bakery regulars stood around clutching Angel’s coffee cups and pastries as they openly admired both bike and rider.
“Sweet heaven,” Heaven Leigh breathed from her doorway. “Warn a girl next time you’re planning to bring sin on wheels to my doorstep.”
