Freed (6 page)

“Hey, girls. I was about to see if y’all wanted to head over together.”

“Sounds good. I’ll drive,” I offer, dangling keys from my finger.

Stephanie’s light brown curls bounce as her head snaps toward mine. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, an eyebrow disappearing into her hairline.

I can only laugh. “Umm … no.” One of Ransom’s rules, although he called them “preferences,” but I don’t mention that. “You look cute,” I say, changing the subject. She really did, decked out in red and black. “Gage gonna be there?”

“Oh, yeah. They’ve already gotten started,” she laughs.

And boy, had they. We can hear them chanting and stomping from the stairwell outside of Ransom’s apartment. When I crack the door open, “Ride ‘Em High, Ride ‘Em Low” pours out, and we kind of freeze around the door, afraid to make any sudden movements. Gage’s dart barely misses Austin’s foot, which elicits a lot of yelling and cussing from the cowboys who are crowded around the pair. It looks a little safer, so we ease through the doorway.

“What are you boys up to?” Stephanie asks.

Maggie and I laugh lightly at their
deer in the headlights
expressions as the charming cowboys realize they’re busted. I begin to slip the coat from my shoulders, since the rampant testosterone has the room overheated. My smile falls when I meet the intense gaze of my bull rider, his expression causing my movements to still, and the coat to rest on my arms. He shakes his head
no
and crooks a finger at me. That look, that finger. Those two little things have my pulse thrumming. I cross the room to him, shrugging my coat back up as I do. I vaguely register Gage, Austin, and Pete explaining the rules of Beerdarts to Maggie and Stephanie. Sounds dangerous, but not as dangerous as following this man into his bedroom.

The door barely closes before I find myself pushed back against the wall, Ransom’s hard body pinning me against it.

“Hey,” he whispers against my ear. His lips immediately suckle the sensitive skin behind my ear. I applaud myself for braiding my hair for him. It’s not just
his
favorite anymore.

“Hey,” I gasp, as goose bumps make quick work of my body. Despite the warm coat, I shiver.

“What the hell is this?” he murmurs, his hands running down the fringe that rests over my breasts. Even though the leather rests between them, my nipples harden under his touch.

“You like?”

“I fucking love,” he whispers, trailing kisses along my jaw and to my mouth. “It’s sexy as hell, but where’s your skirt?”

Laughing, I state, “Present and accounted for, sir.” I said the word playfully, and with anyone else, it wouldn’t have the same meaning. I still hadn’t determined how I felt about it until it slipped from my mouth. Decision made:
It’s kinda hot
.

He withdraws his mouth from mine, an impish grin resting on both sets. “Sir?” He asks with a crooked brow.

I nod. He shakes his head. “What the hell am I gonna do with you? Are you itchin’ for your first spanking? Is that it?”

I swallow hard at the images that flood my brain with those words.
Speaking of flooding
. I rub my thighs together as covertly as I’m able. “I told you to wear a skirt, not a band aid,” he chastises me.

“Well, Sir,” I say again. “You’re the one who told me communication is key in a relationship like ours. Perhaps you should remember that.”

“Oh, I’ll make a note of it. And no
Sir
for you,” he says, tapping the end of my nose once with his forefinger.

“No?” I ask, disappointment evident in my question.

He doesn’t miss it. “No, and no pouting.” The teasing glint that had played in his eyes since we entered the room flashes from his eyes only to be replaced by a serious look. “When we play?” He cups my jaw in his palm.

“Mmm, hmm,” I prompt, trying desperately not to lean in and kiss him. Holy shit! I’m so turned on right now.

“It’s John.” And yet another emotion takes over—vulnerability.

“John,” I whisper softly. “I like that. I like that a lot.” And just like that, I feel more connected to him than ever.

“Ah …” he rasps and squeezes his eyes tight. “My name on your lips …” He opens his eyes, and the heat from them threatens to engulf me. “Say it again, baby.”

I wet my lips and swallow hard. His eyes dart to my mouth. Reaching out, I run my hands over his hair and settle them around his jaw. I cradle his face and pull up slightly, letting him know I want his eyes on mine. Leaning in, I plant a brief, soft kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I whisper his name again, and the look he gives me has everything in me tightening. I’m tensed as if I’m standing on a ledge contemplating a plunge into a deep, unknown ravine. I’m secure, though, in the knowledge that Ransom waits for me at the bottom.

“No one calls me John, but you. It is yours … I am yours.”
Oh. My. God!

Like he’s prone to do, just when I think I’ve found my footing with him, he throws me for another loop. He takes two steps back, and the flame is back in his eyes. “Denver,” he commands, “take your coat off and lay it on the bed.” All right, here we go. Somehow I know this is probably the easiest thing he’ll demand of me. I take a deep breath and slide the leather from my body. Folding it over once, I lay it on the bed and step back.

“Mmm … daisies. I approve,” he says of my shirt. I just smile. “Slowly, very slowly,” he drawls, “reach under your skirt and take your panties off.”

My heart pounds against my ribs like a battering ram. If I take them off, there’s no way I won’t feel completely exposed. My skirt is too short. Ransom reads me just right.

“You’ll think about that next time you decide to tease me with the length of your skirt, won’t you?” he challenges.

Resisting an eye roll, I reach under my skirt and hook my thumbs in my panties, slowly sliding them down my legs. I maintain eye contact until I have to focus on pulling them over my boots so that I don’t fall over. I right myself, holding the panties in my hand even though I want to toss them at him. I have a feeling that wouldn’t be a very submissive act. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at that image, but he grins anyway, seeing the laughter in my eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises, holding his palm out.

I didn’t expect that. “You want them?” I ask, the almost-laughter disappearing from my voice and my face.

“I do. Put them in my hand.” Shit! I can feel the moisture on them, and I know him. There’s no way he will miss that little detail.

My eyes dart to his hand as I bunch them and drop the prize onto his palm. He squeezes his hand around them. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome, John.” His eyes flare, and he brings my panties to his nose, taking a deep breath. My face heats with embarrassment at the intimate act, and my channel heats anew with yet another gush of wetness. My nails dig into my palms as I try to stand here and appear unaffected.

“Lace? I approve,” he murmurs, rubbing the fabric with his fingertips. “You’re wet, baby, and you smell incredible.” A moan escapes me, and my head falls back on the door as I watch him fold my little yellow panties into his pocket. “Let’s go party,” he says nonchalantly.

When I hit the living room following Ransom, I giggle as a dart glances off Gage’s boot and Stephanie apologizes profusely.

“Woman, pierce the can, not my toe,” he teases. “Drink up, sweetie.”

Stephanie sips at her beer as the game apparently demands. “I was closer that time. Let me have another go,” she says, collecting the darts and righting the can at Gage’s feet.

Maggie and I cheer, and on the third try, she pierces the can. Gage lets a
whoop
and dives down to pull the dart from the can. Putting his mouth to the hole, he shotguns the beer while we cheer him on.

Ransom slips up behind me, his fingertips grazing the tender skin where skirt meets thigh. I back up toward him, but he moves away quickly to take his turn. I somehow resist pouting again.

After a few more rounds, during which Austin never misses, the girls and I head into the kitchen to put some snacks out while the guys mix some drinks. I glance up and catch Ransom stroking his pocket while he watches me, a naughty grin on his face.

We shoot the bull, eat, and end up back in the living room with our drinks. Ransom made mine, so it is alcohol-free. He asked first though, but I followed through on his rule, his reasoning sound on that one.

I slide down on the couch beside Ransom and very carefully cross my legs so that I don’t flash anyone. Ransom trails one hand up my shin, resting it on my knee. Leaning in, he nips on my ear before whispering, “Uncross your legs, baby.”

I shoot him a frazzled look. I feel more secure with my legs crossed, damn it.

“Do it. I’ll keep you safe,” he promises.

With a little huff, I do and press my legs together tight, ignoring the desire to rub them together. He’s had me primed all night.

“Oh! I know!” Maggie shouts, drawing me out of my lust-fueled, hazy state. “Let’s play 21 Questions!” A couple of the guys groan, but she squeals and claps her hands, jumping up from her place on the floor to get a pen and paper. “I haven’t ever played, boys. Get over it,” she recommends with a laugh. “And we have seven people. Perfect! OK, everyone write down three questions. Don’t let anyone see them.” She passes out pens and makes quick work of ripping the paper into enough strips.

She jots down her questions and comes back with an empty Solo cup, collecting the papers with fascination. Ransom tosses his in and gets up to change the music. I’m sure he’s had enough country for the night. When Def Leppard fills the room, I can’t hide my surprise. He just grins and slides back down beside me.

Shaking the cup, Maggie decides Stephanie should go first since she lost at Beerdarts.

“OK … how’s it work, honey?” she asks with a look to Pete.

“Read the question. If you won’t answer it, you drink. That’s it.”

Austin rubs his hands together and grunts. I can only imagine the questions he’s contributed.

Stephanie digs in and stirs the papers before pulling one out. Her eyes widen, and Austin losses it. “I know this is your question, Austin. You’re such a perv.”

“You gonna answer it?” he challenges.

“What’s it say?” Maggie shouts.

“Ugh,” Stephanie complains. “Who in this room would you choose to have a threesome with?”

Austin raises his beer high with a
hell yeah
, and all the cowboys drink.

“I think I’m surrounded by pervs actually,” Stephanie complains. Lifting her drink, she surprises us all by murmuring around her cup, “Gage … and Denver.” She takes a drink anyway.

“Holy shit,” Austin breathes. His eyes dart between Stephanie and me, and he reaches for his crotch.

“Do
not
touch yourself,” Ransom snaps.

Austin’s hand stills, and he drops his head. “Bro? I mean, come on! The visual on that … picture it.”

“No,” Ransom warns, slipping his arm behind me to rest on the couch. My body sings for him to touch me.

Gage reaches in the cup. “Have you ever faked an orgasm? Umm … can guys fake it? And why would we? I’m gonna go with a no.”

“OK … my turn,” Austin says.

Austin’s face crumples as he reads the question. “Redraw.”

“Nuh, uh. Answer or drink,” Pete demands.

“Who’s the sexiest bull rider on our circuit besides me?”

I laugh. Someone was thinking ahead, considering the odds of one of the bull riders drawing it and trying to name himself.

“Umm … yeah, no, not going there,” Austin’s eyes bounce between the men. “Don’t want to make anyone jealous ‘cause you fuckers are all sexy as hell.” He winks, takes a long pull on his drink, and passes the cup to Maggie.

Maggie gasps, and her cheeks burn as bright as her hair. “Take or be taken, in bed?” she croaks. Then she earns our gasps as she grins, looks around at us before he her eyes fall on Pete’s, and declares, “Take.”

“That’s my girl,” Pete croons and pulls her on his lap, devouring her in front of everyone despite all our groaning and protesting.

Maggie pulls back, snatches another question, and reads it for Pete. She waggles her brows. “Can you last longer than eight seconds, in bed?” I groan. I wanted Ransom to get that one.

Ransom leans in and whispers, “You’ll find out soon enough, little fighter.” His hand drops and winds my braid around his fist.

“Not lately,” Pete quips, earning a smack from Maggie.

I’m not paying attention to Maggie when she tries to pass me the cup, so Ransom’s other hand grazes my thigh as he reaches around to take it. He’s killing me.

Sliding a paper out, he asks me, “If you woke up as the opposite sex, what’s the first thing you would do?”

I grin. “That’s easy. Ride a bull!” We all drink to that.

Laughing, I retrieve a question for Ransom. I frown and ask, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” Austin snorts and looks like he’s about to lose it. I cut him off with a look, so he buries his face in his drink. Ugh … I don’t want to think about Ransom’s previous sexcapades. Ever.

“And, I’m drinking up,” Ransom sighs, letting us both off the hook.

After questions about genital piercings, anal, and a couple of non-sexual questions that the boys manage to infuse with sexual innuendoes, it’s my turn again.

I choose my question from the two that are left. I read it aloud, barely registering what it asks, since Ransom has taken to drawing a pattern on the back of my neck with his finger.

“You don’t have to answer that, Denver,” he barks, stilling his finger and breaking the trance he’s put me under.

“Huh?” I ask, trying to focus on the paper.

“As a matter of fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t,” he says more softly.

The words from the paper finally come into focus, and I glance at Maggie. She nods at me.

“One,” I state. “I’ve only had sex with one person.”

My cheeks redden as I glance around the room at the blank faces. Even the music seems to have gotten quieter. Ransom is frozen like marble, and I can’t even hear him breathing. You’d think I just detonated a grenade, and the aftermath is eerie.