Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (10 page)

As Stowe leaned against the stainless table, he watched one sous chef chopping onions and celery at lightning speed. For some reason he wanted to bring Tabbart to show off her skills. He’d never seen her chop this way, but he was certain she could—and better.

Hell, he’d like to shove everything off the table and spread his luscious woman on the surface, following her down with his body and driving into her.

His cock nudged his fly and he drowned in lurid visions for several minutes. By the time Cook was before him, basket in hand, he’d fucked Tabbart several ways to Sunday in his mind.

“On second thought, can you add strawberries and dipping chocolate?”

“Chocolate? I have whipped cream in the basket. I can swap it—”

“No.” He accepted the basket with a grin, picturing white cream all over Tabbart’s body for him to lick off. “This is great. Thanks.”

“Anything for my Dom.” She clicked her tongue as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. Then she waved him off and went back to chopping.

After Stowe left the grub house, he wove between outbuildings. When he passed the office, a female employee burst out. “Stowe! Thank goodness I found you.”

He was trained to observe a woman’s emotions, and she was flustered. The perspiration on her forehead and the crease of her brow spoke loudly. He moved toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“This phone call just came in. It’s a reporter calling to interview us about Tabbart Tracy.” She mouthed the last two words.

Stowe’s blood turned to ice and he went dead still. Then anger flooded him, pushing out any fears. “Give me the phone.”

She handed the cordless receiver to him and he snapped it to his ear as he shoved inside the office. Any conversation he needed to have with this snakelike reporter would be held out of earshot of the nosy Boot Knockers and their clients.

“Who is this?” he demanded.

“This is Rain Randolph from the
Star Spotter
. We have reports of sightings of Tabbart Tracy at your ranch.”

“Never heard of her.”

“May I take your name?”

“Hell no. Don’t call here again.”

“But sir—”

“I meant it. I have your caller ID and I’ll make you wish you’d never called this number.” With that, he stabbed the keypad to end the call. He dropped the receiver on the desk and slowly turned to Holly. Her eyes were wide and her face flushed, but a small smile of respect tugged the corners of her lips. “If anybody else calls, you get me. Only me. Understood?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Spinning for the door, he tried to rein in his fury. Apparently the people who’d brought Tabbart here weren’t as button-lipped as she’d hoped. Somebody had talked, dammit. Maybe his beliefs that he could protect her from the media were wrong. This was going to be harder than he’d first thought.

Minutes later Stowe was at the bungalow. The second he cracked the door, Tabbart was slipping out. He examined her carefully, noting the little details. She’d brushed her hair and it lay in soft waves on her shoulders. She’d also added a spritz of perfume. While he couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, he knew they’d be dancing with excitement. He was starting to read her better already.

When the corners of her lips reached a certain height, her eyes mimicked the merriment. She had another, smaller smile when perplexed. He’d seen it several times, especially when explaining their roles.

But she’d accepted his terms in the end. She was his.

Threading their fingers, he led her down the short flight of steps and across the turn toward the barn. He wanted to get her there as fast as possible to avoid being seen.

“Are we riding again?” she asked.

“Yes. I need to check my cows. Then I’ll show you more of the ranch. Is that okay with you?”

“Perfectly.”

Getting her onto the horse was easier this time—she seemed much less skittish than the previous day. When he had the basket secured to the horse and was seated behind her, she didn’t hesitate to cuddle against him.

As they set across the field toward the ridge, he curled a hand around her breast. It had been far too long since he’d felt her glorious tits in his hands, let alone sucked them. Gently he moved his hand.

She shuddered and he tugged her closer. His cock rubbed against her round ass, spiking his desire. God, the buildup…

“Are you sore?” he rumbled near her ear.

“A little.” Her admission held a blush.

“I won’t clamp them again for a while. I won’t have you hurt.”

They rode in silence for a bit, the horse rolling beneath them. Finally she pointed to the big house on the hill. “Is that part of the ranch?”

“Yes. The boss lives there with his lovers.”

“Lovers?” Surprise tinged her voice.

“Yes, a male and female lover. Polyamorous relationships are common here.”

“How fascinating. Have you ever…?”

“Yes, I’ve engaged in threesomes. But I’ve never been in a relationship with two people.”

“Would you consider it?”

“If that’s what my sub wanted.”

“Sub… Is that what you call me?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m more than someone to order around. I have a mind and feelings and free will.”

“A Master doesn’t take those things away, Tabbart. I enhance them.”

“So if I ask for something, I can have it?”

“Not necessarily.”

She pushed out a frustrated breath and he almost laughed. Teaching her was becoming a joy.

He played along. “What are you asking for?”

“What’s the point if I can’t have it?”

Slowing the horse to a stop, he pulled her face around and flipped up her glasses to look into her eyes. They were bright and burned with something he needed to get closer to.

“Tell me what you need, love.”

“I need…” She faltered.

He hooked a knuckle under her chin. “Never be afraid to ask me.”

“I need pleasure. I need them sucked,” she blurted.

Extreme pleasure rocketed through him. His cock hardened instantly and he got off the horse with as much grace as a man with a huge hard-on could. They were in the middle of the field between the big house and the main ranch below, but he didn’t give a damn. His woman needed her nipples sucked.

When he pulled Tabbart off horseback into his arms, he claimed her mouth as he searched out one of her nipples. Caressing tenderly. He swallowed her faint cry with his kiss, tasting her excitement and need.

Her emotions became his.

He pulled her onto her knees. After removing her hat and sunglasses, he urged her down. She stretched under the big Texas sky, all gorgeous female he needed to taste—now.

Inching his fingers beneath her shirt, he held her gaze. “You need my mouth on you. Soothing that fire inside you.”

Her back arched. “Y-yes.”

Biting off a growl, he slid her top up. Reaching around her spine to release her bra clasp took a blink.

Then her breasts were bared to him.

He wet his lips and positioned his teeth over one bud. As soon as he lightly skimmed her flesh, she cried out—without restraint. Raw emotion drove her, and he fucking loved it.

Tenderly he circled one reddened bud with his tongue before turning to the other. He licked with delicate strokes until long shudders racked her.

When he moved back, she grabbed his head and tried to shove him down again. Pure joy rose inside him. He grinned around her nipple. Drawing the bud into his mouth was heaven. Increasing the force he used to suck drove him wild.

He grazed it with his teeth and she stopped breathing. His senses perked up. No, he wasn’t hurting her.

Returning to soft, slow strokes of his tongue, he noted how she quivered and her thighs had fallen apart. Right, left, right, left. He moved between her needy nipples. He sucked harder, then grazed her with his teeth again.

“Ah!” She jerked upward, hands planted in his hair. His hat was long gone, the sun hot on his head.

“You like my teeth, love. You want me to bite them.”

“Oh God…I don’t know. They hurt but that feels so…good.”

Need simmered at the base of his spine and spread through his groin. He was as hard as oak.

After lowering his head, he closed his teeth around her right nipple. The juicy flesh yanked a groan from him and a long cry from her. He kept his gaze locked on her face.

Her cheeks wore a beautiful flush. He longed to paddle her ass and see other parts of her reddened. Her eyes were pinched shut in bliss, the lashes so long they kissed her cheeks.

As he eased his grip on her nipple, she locked her hands behind his head to keep him from moving. “More,” she gasped.

Damn, this woman was going to kill him. The buzzards would start circling the field and his friends would find him lying here, dead on ecstasy.

He took her hand and pressed it to his cock. She whimpered and began to knead the length. He threw himself into licking, nibbling, sucking and biting her nipples while she stroked his length through his jeans.

He wasn’t about to pleasure her fully out here, but his control was quickly slipping. If he didn’t remove her hand soon, he’d come in his jeans like an inexperienced kid.

Before he lost another ounce of control, he got on his knees and started to right her clothing. She blinked up at him but didn’t say anything. Fuck, she was in her subspace from simple nipple play. The urge to rip off her clothes and drive into her soft, feminine body just about snapped the final thread of his control.

“Can you stand?” he asked once her bra was fastened and her top down.

“Stowe.” His name was almost a whimper.

He held his ground, though he wanted nothing more than to give her all the pleasure in the world. “Yes, love?”

“I…why? Did I do something wrong?”

He reached for her hand and she gave it to him. As he drew her into a sitting position, he removed grass bits from her hair and found her hat and sunglasses. “No, you did everything just right. But I’m not ready to pleasure you yet, Tabbart.”

“You felt ready.” She pushed to her feet, the frustration on her face replacing her sexual haze. She started walking away.

He caught her shoulder, whirling her around. Her jaw was set and her eyes flashed. Their gazes locked for a heartbeat. Then she shoved her sunglasses back on.

The corner of his lips twitched in an almost-smile. “You’re gorgeous when you’re mad.”

“I didn’t come to the ranch to be mad.” She all but stomped her foot.

“I thought you came to be with me.” He stared at her until she started to fidget. Damn, she was especially beautiful when her composure was out the window.

Her voice didn’t soften. “I did.”

“I won’t withhold from you often, love.”

“No?” She set a hand on the fullest part of her hip, the area he wanted to nuzzle more than any other.

He took her hand and led her to the horse. She let him help her up. When she was seated, he dug in his pocket, then held out his palm. The gold clamps shimmered in the sun. She went very still.

“Take them,” he said.

“I don’t want them. They caused me a lot of pain.”

“And pleasure. Don’t deny that, Tabbart.”

She released a shaky breath and snatched the clamps from his hand. “Maybe I’ll put them on you.”

“I prefer a more masculine set.”

Her lips parted. “You wear nipple clamps?”

“Sometimes. It’s good training in control.”

Her flavors still lived in his mind, hundred-proof alcohol to his system. He felt slightly tipsy just knowing he’d have her in the end.

“You have more control than any man I’ve ever known.”

Not always, love. Not always.

Chapter Six

Opening the picnic basket was like Christmas Day for a foodie like Tabbart. She wanted to draw it out. She caressed the smooth wood of the handmade basket. The lid fitted perfectly on little hinges. The craftsmanship was something to admire.

Stowe reclined in the shade of the trees, watching her. “Are you going to take out any food?”

“The presentation is as important as the food itself. This basket is exquisite.” All kinds of TV shows popped into her mind—picnic in Greece, on the Riviera, in Central Park.

Giddy, she opened the lid and peered inside. Gasping, she withdrew a braided baguette with a buttery, golden crust. She set it aside on the blanket Stowe had spread on the ground and reached inside for more.

A small glass container with a plastic lid held a selection of meats and cheeses. She lifted her gaze to Stowe’s. “The cook smoked these, I presume.”

“Probably.”

She dug into the basket again. Two bottles of beer with condensation on the outsides of the bottles.

Stowe removed one bottle from her hand and twisted off the cap. Watching his sensual lips seal around the opening sent heated sparks through her body. She tried not to wiggle and searched the basket for more goodies.

When she pulled out a container of fat, ripe strawberries and a small jar of homemade whipped cream, visions of feeding this sexy cowboy the dessert flooded her head. She looked up.

Dark promise was written all over his rugged features. His eyes drooped and his lips had softened. She compared his expression to earlier. After he’d stopped eating her pussy and told her he was denying her because she’d removed the nipple clamps, he’d looked far from happy.

She didn’t want to disobey him again. How he’d known in the first place was the real question. Either there was some kind of marking on her, she had an alarm system or her face was a dead giveaway.

Momma always said I couldn’t lie.

With a happy sigh, she began to arrange the picnic on the woolen plaid blanket. When she had everything to her liking, she found Stowe with amusement sparking in his eyes.

“All good?” he drawled in that delicious mix of Aussie and Texan. If she could bottle that sound, she’d eat it with a spoon. If she didn’t watch out, she’d begin to crave it.

She felt a smile steal over her face. Did she look as happy as she had this morning when she’d looked in the mirror? She felt happier even though the ache in her core was constant.

“What a view,” Stowe said.

She looked around at the countryside. Rolling fields of various shades of green. Cattle dotted the land. The big sky ran right up to the edges of the earth, bluer than anything she’d ever seen. And clouds streaked the sky as if an artist had used a brush to spread paint.

“It is lovely.” She rested back on her hands and drank in the atmosphere. But Stowe wasn’t looking away from her.

Awareness punched the breath from her. She struggled against a sudden burning need to throw herself on top of him and take what she wanted. What if she did just that? She’d paid for this trip, after all. Ranch policy was “anything to please a lady”.

She opened her mouth to say this but realized Stowe wasn’t the kind of man to be bullied. Besides, he’d pleased her up and down, side to side and topsy-turvy. She’d never had such thorough sex or amazing orgasms.

When he reached out, her nerves pinged. His fingers skimmed her knee and he walked them up, curling around her inner thigh. In answer, her legs fell apart. She had no control over her body where he was concerned.

His eyes were heavy-lidded and intense. “Start with the beer. It’s cold and dark.”

Her mouth watered for more than beer. She reached for the bottle and twisted the lid off. As the cool liquid hit her tongue, she closed her eyes. Seduction—this was pure seduction to a food person like her.

Stowe’s hand remained on her inner thigh. Another few inches and he’d cup her pussy. He had to touch her there.

Her nipples puckered. The tiny gold clamps were in her pocket, and if she wanted she could give them to Stowe to do as he wished.

She took another sip of beer and set the bottle on the smooth wood lid of the basket so it didn’t fall over. Up here on the ridge a slight breeze blew, rustling the leaves overhead.

“You can see for miles,” she said, fiddling with the lid of the meat and cheese container.

He remained in a lounging position, ankles crossed, one elbow bearing his weight so his biceps bulged.

She used a fork to spear a small round of smoked salami. She dropped it into his hand and watched him bite off a chunk. His white teeth against the food sent lust pounding through her. She nibbled her own slice.

Salt and spices burst on her tongue. She groaned, savoring the bite.

“Good?”

“Like Genoa salami almost but so tender. The best cuts of meat with the perfect amounts of fat and spices. Mmm.” She swallowed and took another bite.

Stowe finished his and reached for another. He ate with relish, licking the greasy residue from his fingertips. Then he went back for a slice of beautiful aged cheese and a slice of smoked salmon so thin it looked like stained glass. He devoured these in seconds.

She giggled. “This can’t be the type of food you typically eat.”

“I eat a variety. Cook is good about that.”

“But you’d prefer a steak.”

When he laughed, the deep sound wove through her like smoke from the warmest campfire. She could barely breathe, let alone swallow.

“I’ll never pass up a steak. I promise to feed you some prime Texas beef while you’re here.”

She felt like clapping. She’d had plenty of Texas beef in her life, but sharing it with Stowe would make it the most decadent treat.

“So these cows you’re going to raise…” She bit into the cheese and nearly groaned at the flavor and texture.

“For riding, not for eating.” He lifted the braided bread and ripped it ruthlessly in half, destroying all that hard work. But watching him gnaw on a chunk was worth it.

“Then you sell the bulls to whom? The rodeo?”

“Not sell. Riders use my animals and I’m compensated.”

“Ah. Is that profitable?”

“If I raise a damn good bucking animal, then yes, it’s very profitable.”

“More than this business?” She waved a hand between them and his eyes darkened with the look he wore before he was about to pleasure her. Her pussy throbbed to life, juices wetting her panties.

“This is a great business. And I get a cut of the ranch profits.”

That made her brows fly upward. “I’m surprised.”

“We’re equal partners, all of us. That includes the cattle and any cash crops taken off the land.”

“And the women.”

“Yes.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed the cold beer. With talk about the ranch, it was impossible not to remember why she was here. After her week was up, she’d return to her normal life—the set of her show, home, jogging, being primped. Maybe a Christmas visit to her family.

But no Stowes would fill her emptiness.

She lowered the bite she was about to take and stared at the interlocking plaid stripes of the blanket.

Stowe’s hand was back on her thigh. She jerked, unaware of the moment he’d removed it in the first place—his touch always lingered long after he stopped.

Their gazes locked. And he started the lovemaking. One long finger against the crotch of her jeans, right over her pulsating nubbin. She panted.

“Don’t look away.” He rolled onto his knees, a move she associated with wild beasts. And she was his prey. He kissed her, tasting of beer and smoked meats and the bread she hadn’t eaten yet. Under it all was man.

She threw her arms around him and let him bear her down onto the woolen blanket. His hips pinned hers and he locked her arms overhead in one of his big hands. She was at his mercy and there was no place she’d rather be.

“It’s time for the dessert course.”

“I haven’t had the bread.”

“Take a doggy bag.”

She laughed, trailing her gaze from his dark eyes to his strong features and resting it on his mouth. Her mind swirled with the possibilities. After seeing the tools of his trade, she almost wished he’d brought one of them to try on her.

She nearly gasped—who had she become?

Then he plunged his tongue into her mouth again and it no longer mattered. She was going to give herself up to this man—this Dom from Down Under—and enjoy every minute she spent with him.

As he flipped his tongue against hers, he worked at her clothes. When she was bare under his gaze, she trembled with desire.

“I want to see you. All of you,” she whispered.

“You will. But first I’m looking at you. The way the shade and light dapple your creamy skin…” He traced patterns on her flesh, raising goose bumps. The poetry of his words combined with his touch sent her into paroxysms of need. Her back arched even as her hips rocked up.

“Easy, love. We go slow for now.”

“And you won’t deny me.” It wasn’t a request.

That stern look returned, sending shivers to the tips of her toes and tugging an invisible string to her pussy.

“You are my sub, Tabbart. If I say you can’t come, you can’t. In fact, this is an excellent time to work on that.”

Oh no. Now she’d done it. Her momma said never tempt the snake unless you expect to get bitten.

She must have made some noise because he softened his tone. “Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you need. But you must obey every command I give. Is that understood?”

She nodded.

“I want you to think of a stoplight. Red for stop, yellow for slow down. And green for go.”

She nodded.

He eased a hand between their bodies and gripped her pussy with strength. She gasped, need spiking. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“Safe word?”

She shook her head. “I won’t use it.”

His eyes gleamed. “Then let’s begin.”

He tied her hands behind her back using a short length of soft rope he’d brought. Then he placed her on her knees and began to torment her.

Smearing whipped cream over her lips, kissing it off. Over her throat and licking it off. Dabbing it on her nipples and sucking it off. Then he filled her navel and dipped a berry into it.

When he painted cream on her pussy and prostrated himself to lick her clean, he reveled in the sounds she was making. Long, primal moans she probably didn’t realize came from her. His cock was steely, battering his fly for release. Driving into her tight, hot sheath would be so good.

But not yet.

He stretched on his back and clutched her full hips. “Can you walk up here on your knees?”

“Yes.” Sweat gleamed on her forehead and throat, enticing him further.

“Straddle my face.”

“Ohhh.” In a jerky knee-walk, she positioned herself. He helped to steady her so she didn’t fall over with her bound hands. Then he scooped a good bit of whipped cream onto his index finger and smeared it from clit to ass.

She froze as he reached her pucker. This was probably new to her, but he wasn’t about to let her go home without feeling his cock in her ass. Just as he’d introduce her to whip and crop.

He burned to hurry through each stage.

Burrowing his face between her legs, he lapped at the savory sweetness of pussy and whipped cream. Her tender folds were dripping wet and he spent long minutes tonguing her. Dipping into her pussy until she writhed. Then tracing a figure eight around her hard clit.

When he angled her hips and slid her upward over his face, she seemed to fall still. Such a good sub—while he blew the leaves around her with hurricane force, she was rooted, strong and sure. She gave up so much control. Did she even realize how unusual that was?

Probably not.

He snaked out his tongue and found her pucker. A guttural noise left her, and he’d bet anything she was an ass virgin. Not for long.

Licking, swirling around the rim, he sought to rip all control from her. She moved against him. When he speared her with his tongue, her walls flexed around him and she shuddered.

Fuck, she was close to coming from anal stimulation. He’d hit the jackpot of ladies this week. When he’d seen her on set, he’d never believed he’d have his tongue in her tight ass with her about to come.

Hell, he was about to come.

Slow down.

He dug his fingers into her hips, then eased one hand around to her backside. He forced her to adjust her position. At the same time he licked her clit, he slid a fingertip into her ass.

She started to contract, the pulsations ricocheting through his jaw and up his arm.

Going dead still, he said, “You’re not allowed to come, Tabbart. Do you hear me?”

She panted and nearly fell over. He held her, one fingertip still in her heated backside, waiting for her to calm before going on.

Her hips gyrated. “I can’t, Stowe. I need to come.”

“You won’t come until I give you permission.”

“Oh God,” she whimpered. “I’m so close. Right there. Please, Master.”

Little vixen knew how to get what she wanted. His cock hardened another fraction and precome leaked from him. Thankfully he’d kept his jeans on, knowing he’d be on the brink of insanity.

He tested his finger in her ass, sliding in farther. She cried out, her inner walls clamping around his digit. “Can you come just from my finger in your ass?”

“I’ve never…but it feels that way.”

“Good. Slow then. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t have lube.”

“You aren’t…” pant, pant, “…hurting me.”

Wiggling his finger slowly, he worked it to the first knuckle. She took him perfectly. If only he’d thought to bring lube. A good Dom didn’t go anywhere without it. For that matter, a Boot Knocker didn’t.

Inspiration struck. He didn’t have lube, but he could make this good for her. Very good.

He felt around the blanket until he found the strawberries. He spread her pussy lips and settled a berry in the folds of her pussy. She cried out, moving uncontrollably.

“Easy, love.” He fitted the berry at her pussy opening and pushed. The fruit slid into her channel so just the top was visible. Then he flicked his tongue over her clit.