Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) (15 page)

Her breathing became even shallower, as
something delicious built inside of her. Twyla closed her eyes to
reach for it, wanting it, needing it. She heard Ryan’s ragged
breathing, and was glad she wasn’t the only one affected. Liquid
splashed on her skin, trailing up her stomach to settle in her
navel. Twyla’s body went rigid, as her eyes flew open. She saw the
spilled liquid and groaned, her heart beating out of control in her
chest. The shot glass was now three-quarters empty. “I’m sorry,”
she said hoarsely, dragging her eyes to Ryan’s to gauge his
reaction.

Ryan’s fingers stilled but he didn’t remove
them from her body. He shook his head solemnly. “I told you there
would be consequences, Twyla,” his deep voice rumbled along her
nerves, which were already at the point of snapping.

He reached for the shot glass, and downed what
was left of the whiskey, before setting the glass beside her on the
table. When he eased his fingers from her body, her muscles
protested. Their game was evidently over, and Twyla was happy,
because maybe that meant he’d get on with things now. But she was
surprised to be a little disappointed too.

This was pretty damned exciting. Ryan Easter
was exciting, unpredictable. He always had been, and Twyla thought
that’s why she hadn’t been able to work this man out from under her
skin for so long. But then he turned his back to her, she saw his
beautiful rear end, one she’d studied fully clothed many times, and
knew that wasn’t why. It was only part of the reason. The other was
that this man was so damned delicious she hadn’t been able to even
think about being with another man before him. After this, the bar
would probably be set so high, no man would ever compare. With Ryan
Easter as her first lover, she’d wait a long time to find someone
who came within miles of him. Probably as long as she’d waited for
this moment.

If that wasn’t a show of patience, she didn’t
know what was.

Ryan bent, and when he raised back up he held
the bottle of whiskey. Instead of refilling the glass, he unscrewed
the cap and set it on the table by her hip. “Put your hands over
your head and grab the top of the table, Twy,” he said gruffly.
“Since you refuse to let me have my whiskey in a glass, I guess I’m
going to have to figure out some other way to enjoy it.”

A thrill zipped along her spine, as she slowly
raised her hands above her head to grip the edge of the table. His
eyes narrowed and he waggled his brows, as he warned, “Don’t let
go, no matter what. If you do, I’ll tie ‘em there.” His voice was
soft and a little slurry, probably from the shots he’d already
consumed. It was damned cute, as if he needed something to up his
cute factor. This man was already lethally cute.

He just stood there staring at her breasts and
her nipples hardened painfully. Twyla decided she could use another
shot herself. It felt like her entire body was laying on a live
wire, as his eyes scorched every inch of her, while she waited to
see what he was going to do to her next. The anticipation was
killing her, and he probably knew that. Ryan upped her aggravation
when he dragged a chair out from under the table and turned it
around to straddle it, the bottle just dangled between his fingers.
A puzzled look crossed his face, and his eyes slid down between her
legs.

“
I’m trying to figure something
out, baby,”

“
What’s that?” she asked, all the
blood in her veins all converging between her legs, as if drawn
there by his hot gaze, pinpointing at the top of her thighs to beat
there in time with her heart.

“
How in the hell are you still a
virgin? And how the hell have I kept my damned hands off of you so
long?”

“
You were afraid of my brother,”
she reminded him. “And Zack watched me like I was the crown jewels
or something, when I went off to rodeo with y’all.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth kicked up. “Then
I’m a chickenshit moron.”

Twyla laughed, and rolled her eyes. “That’s
what I’ve been trying to tell you for years. Glad you finally get
it.”

“
Oh, I get it now.” His eyes
darkened, and he frowned. “And I’m going to get more. All night
long. If you can walk tomorrow, you’ll be damned lucky.”

If Ryan didn’t hurry up, it would be tomorrow
before he got to the good part. “And you better take it easy on the
liquor, cowboy, or you’ll be lucky if your head doesn’t feel like I
took a sledgehammer to it, which I might do if you don’t get a move
on with
getting
it. I think you’re taking slow to a new
level just to torture me, turtle boy.”

Ryan shoved up to his feet, and laughed.
“Turtle boy?” he repeated indignantly. He stepped to the table to
push her knees wider, and his eyes pinned her. “You think I’m
torturing you? You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart. You better
hold on tight, because I wasn’t kidding about making sure you do,
one way or another.”

He held the bottle above her thighs, and Twyla
gasped when he tilted the bottle and the liquid slid along her
folds to pool beneath her butt on the table. A glazed, determined
look took over his face, as he moved to the side of the table to
trickle a stream of amber liquid up her belly to the valley between
her breasts. He stopped a moment to dribble some over her left
breast, before doing the same to her right. The cold air mixed with
the liquid and cooled. She shivered, and her nipples tightened.
“I’m cold, Ryan.”

“
You won’t be saying that long,”
he promised, as he bent to set the bottle on the floor. He leaned
over and put his lips to hers. His tongue forced itself inside her
mouth, and he plunged in and out, mimicking what he’d done to her a
few minutes ago. She tasted the sweetness of the whiskey he’d
drank, mixed with something strange, earthy and musky. She realized
that was herself she was tasting on his swollen lips, and moaned.
Ryan had tasted her there, drank his fill of her, and now he was
sharing it with her in the most intimate kiss a man could give a
woman.

Twyla lapped up his kisses, tried to lift her
head for more, but his hand trapped her hair, held her still, while
he plundered her mouth. With a final hard nip to her lower lip, he
released her and stood. Her tongue darted out for a final taste,
and his eyes fixed on her mouth. Twyla’s chest heaved with her
breaths, as his eyes slid down her body to her toes, before moving
back up to her eyes. His hand dropped on her thigh, and Twyla
shivered.

“
I’ve got some pigging strings out
in my truck. Do I need to tie your feet, so you keep your legs open
for me?” Twyla realized then that her knees had drifted down to the
table while he kissed her, and he evidently wasn’t happy about it.
She dragged her heels up and bent her legs again. “Wider,” he
coaxed, moving to the end of the table. Twyla inched her heels
farther apart and let her knees fall open. “That’s better,” he
said, seeming satisfied with himself as he dragged a chair up to
the table and sat down.

Ryan grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to
him. Her body was stretched to the max, as she tried to maintain
her grip on the table, or she thought it was, until he picked up
her calves and laid them on his shoulders. He scooted the chair
closer, then slid his hands under her ass to lift her up, propping
her weight on his elbows.

“
Now for the consequences,” he
muttered as he leaned his face into her. “I’m about to drive you as
crazy as you’ve driven me for ten years, sugar.” Ryan’s tongue took
a long slow lick up her body, stopping at the top.

Twyla gasped, enjoying the pleasant feathery
sensations that tickled her insides. But then his tongue flicked
the nub at the top of her folds in rapid fire hits. Those feathery
sensations ignited into something so intense, she lost her breath.
Her heels dug into his shoulders, as she wiggled against his hold,
but Ryan held her firm, while he continued his sensual assault.
With every strike of his tongue on the sensitive bud, the tension
inside of her built, her agitation increased. When her insides felt
like they were coming apart, Twyla whimpered, twisted her hips
trying to get away from his mouth, but Ryan’s fingers dug into her
skin to hold her still.

A scream built in her throat, she bit her
lower lip and her fingers dug into the wooden table. The incredible
feeling rushed up her body to her head, and she felt dizzy as black
dots danced behind her closed lids. Between gasping breaths, she
realized something wonderful floated just out of her reach, and
lifted her hips toward his hot mouth to grab for it. Suddenly his
mouth left her body, and Twyla was left floating in limbo, adrift
on an angry sea of sensations with no particular destination.
Frustration quickly replaced whatever had been happening to her,
what she assumed had been a near orgasm. Exactly what Heather told
her she needed to fake when she did the shot off of her belly at
the bar. Heather had laughed herself silly when Twyla told her she
had no idea what that was, or how to fake it, since she’d never had
one before. Thanks to the man breathing heavily between her legs,
Twyla still didn’t know.

Her body wilted, as Ryan lowered her hips to
the table. She pinned him with an angry glare. “What the hell was
that?” she growled, her fingers releasing the table. She flexed the
feeling back into them, wanting to feel them squeezing around Ryan
Easter’s neck.

“
The consequences of you wasting
my whiskey are you don’t come until I decide to
let
you
come,” he said smugly, as he leaned back in the chair and folded
his arms over his chest. “I’m not ready to let that happen just
yet, until you beg me to make you come.”

“
Now let’s try this one more time
shall we?” he drawled, as he stood and walked to pick up the
bottle. He poured the last of the whiskey into the shot glass, then
Twyla watched as he sat it in the exact same spot as before, right
below her navel, right on top of the place that quivered
uncontrollably when he almost brought her there a minute
ago.

With a groan Twyla laid her head on the table
and shut her eyes. Somehow she was going to make Ryan Easter pay
for this torture later. But right now, she focused on keeping
perfectly still, so he would finally give her what she needed more
than her next breath. She wanted that feeling again, wanted to see
where it ended. But she’d be damned if she’d beg the cocky bastard
for it. He had a long row to hoe if he thought she was going to do
that. That might work on his bunnies, maybe he got some kind of
thrill from the begging, but he was about to find out how long a
tough cowgirl could hold out against his sexual
blackmail.

She heard him sigh, then his hair tickled her
breast right before his hot mouth covered her right breast. He
tugged on it gently, suckling her, as his raspy tongue swirled slow
even circles around her nipple. A slow burn started in her
midsection, and moisture gathered between her thighs with each of
his gentle tugs on her breast. Those feathery feelings returned,
and Twyla mewled wanting to stretch her body like a cat. Pinching
the top of her thighs together with the tugs, helped her keep from
doing that. Yes, Ryan definitely had his work cut out if he planned
on breaking her, she thought, and the corners of her mouth crept up
into a smile.

That went on for long minutes, the suckling,
and the swirl of his tongue around her nipple. The same rhythm and
pattern over and over. And over. After a while, it became
frustrating, monotonous. Ryan didn’t touch her in any other way.
The rest of her body was cool from the air conditioning vent
blowing directly on her body above the table. The only warm part on
her entire body was her right breast.

It wasn’t just warm, her breast was hot,
burning up, and the friction of his tongue on her nipple was
irritating to the point of pain. That was all she could focus on.
Even the shot glass was forgotten. Twyla didn’t realize her legs
were shaking until she felt a splash of liquid on her stomach. Her
body tensed and her eyes flew to Ryan, but he didn’t seem to notice
thank, God.

Twyla huffed a breath and closed her eyes
again. Immediately the trembling returned, and she realized what
was causing it too. With every circuit of his rough tongue around
her nipple now, one of those feathers inside her went up in flames.
As each one incinerated, inching her closer to that lovely place
she’d been before, her inner muscles clenched and
released.

Twyla whimpered, as she felt another splash
hit her stomach. Cold air wisped over her nipple shocking her,
right before pain shot through her as Ryan bit down on her nipple.
Her brain seized, and a gurgling scream came from her throat, and a
violent tremor rocked her body. Liquid splashed onto her skin,
filled her navel, then tickled a cold trail over the sides of her
waist. Twyla whimpered, tensing her body enough to keep the shot
glass from toppling over. Ryan held the pressure with his teeth, as
she fought the waves of mixed messages washing through her body.
Pleasure, pain, anger and joy fought for control of her, as she dug
her fingers into the table, while her eyes fixed on the shot glass
wobbling on her belly, trying to keep it from toppling.

Ryan finally released her and Twyla’s breath
gushed out, as her heart pounded in her ears and between her legs.
Frustration filled her. “Gaaah, I want to come. Let me come,” she
begged as she laid back on the table, done with this
game.