Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (18 page)

A tear escaped the corner of one eye, but it was pure joy. Loving him felt good and right. As perfect as mastering a soufflé on a damp, rainy day.

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

“Love?” The word he called her shouldn’t have sent her into an emotional whirlwind, but it did.

She broke down. Tears fell.

He didn’t come to her, only continued to glide his big hand over his thick cock. Her mind and heart melded with the pleasure she was seeing. Everything was suddenly amplified, and that included the deep throb between her legs. Her pussy was contracting, on the verge of release.

“One finger, Tabbart?”

She cried out.

He stalked forward. As soon as his scent hit her, she was alive. His mouth slammed over hers. His finger pressed over her clit hard. And his cock dug into her belly.

As he toggled her clit back and forth, she tipped over the edge, and he swallowed her cries even as hot drops of come hit her skin. Waves of pleasure struck her over and over.

She was never going to be the same.

One man had ruined her for a lifetime.

She released a sob, part pleasure, part pain. The wall of his body secured her to the cross as much as her bonds. Even when he freed her, she was helpless. He sank to the stage and cradled her in his arms. He soothed her bottom where he’d whipped her. He kissed her tears away and stroked her hair.

But the love words he whispered were the best gift she could ask for.

Stealing through the night with Tabbart’s hand in his and the moonlight tracing her features made Stowe think again about the hot-tub decision. She wanted this.

At this moment he’d give her anything.

Passing the screen of shrubbery, he listened for voices or giggles coming from the hot tub. He didn’t detect anything.

“I think we’re clear,” Tabbart whispered.

“Yes.” But for how long?

He pulled her toward the bubbling pool. Heat and steam hovered over the lighted water. Tabbart flashed him an infectious grin, and he felt himself smiling back. Then she dropped her robe, and he sobered.

The moonlight gleaming on her bare curves was almost as entrancing as her on the cross. He bent to pull off his boots. His jeans followed. He hadn’t bothered with underwear or a shirt, but he left his hat on as he stepped into the hot tub.

He spent almost no time here, but he had to admit the hot water licking his muscles was heaven. Tabbart slid onto the tiled bench next to him. Without hesitation, he plucked her into his lap.

Tossing her head back, she laughed. He lunged for her throat. Clamping his lips on the delectable column of flesh, he held her close.

She sighed and giggled in turn as he pressed kisses up and down her skin. Biting into her earlobe made her writhe.

He didn’t let her go, and she batted at him. With a growl of laughter, he released her ear. “Are you sure you want to do that, love?” He held her fists, his warning clear.

Huffing, she tucked her hands between their bodies. And oh yeah, that was good. She ran her hands up and down his chest and circled his nipples. She spent long minutes tracing his whip tattoo. She must have memorized the lines, because beneath the water and in the moonlight there was no way she could see it.

He studied her face and saw it again—that tender, dewy-eyed look. His heart seemed to kick and whirl like a mad bull shaking off a rider. Except Stowe wasn’t shaking Tabbart so easily. Next week was going to be misery.

After two solid weeks with her, he knew her pretty damn well. Even if she hadn’t been a perfect sub, he would have gotten attached to her.

Her eyes seemed to glow as she moved her hands to his waist. “I keep thinking about you stroking your cock while I watched.”

He bit off a groan. She was going to kill him. “You liked it.”

“I did. Maybe you’d do it for me again?”

He arched a brow but didn’t answer.

“Like now?”

He looked at her hard. “You want me to jack off in front of you here? You really are a little voyeur, aren’t you?”

Actually, so much of BDSM was voyeurism. Rooms of people watching subs take punishment was the norm. Whether or not Tabbart knew it, she was made to be a sub.

His sub.

His chest welled with emotion he couldn’t tamp down.

“I want to see you again, but this time I want to touch you too.”

“No. I’ll make you touch yourself.”

He couldn’t get to the side of the hot tub fast enough. He scooted to the ledge and she did too. Already fully erect from their conversation, he only had to take himself in hand. She splayed her thighs and eased her fingers into her pussy.

“Hell, love. I’ve never seen you touch yourself before.”

She swallowed a hiccup of pleasure. “There’s a lot you haven’t seen from me.”

And he’d never get to. The stab of pain was so deep he lost his rhythm. He held her gaze and began to slowly roll his cock through his hand.

Her breaths came faster. He dipped his gaze to the shadow between her thighs. She swirled her finger around her clit.

“Stick your fingers in your pussy. I want to see how wet you are,” he commanded.

She obeyed, and the vision of her fingers disappearing into her slick heat threatened to steal his sanity. When she withdrew them and he saw the moisture there, he issued a low growl.

“Fuck this.” He dived for her. He cushioned her fall against the concrete surrounding. In seconds he positioned them in a sixty-nine. He needed to taste her—now.

She swallowed his cock, and he stopped breathing. Her warm heat enveloped him as she sucked him into the back of her throat. Heartbeats passed before he claimed his mind enough to reciprocate.

He opened his mouth over her pussy and sucked. Silken folds flavored of pure Tabbart ignited him. She slurped and he thrust his tongue into her pussy. She groaned around him, and he rumbled a reply against her slick folds. When he gently tongued her clit, she raised her head and took all of him. Right to the base.

He fell still, sinking into the moment. Into this woman. She was so good, so right. And he couldn’t be a Boot Knocker forever. Maybe…

She pulled free and gasped for breath. He tongued her entry. She cried out and took him again.

Hell, he was too close, and she wasn’t quivering nearly enough yet. He couldn’t let go before she did, yet she seemed determined to suck his every last drop right now.

He couldn’t say
slow down
. Instead he shook his head back and forth, brushing her clit with the point of his tongue. She bucked against him. His cock hit the back of her throat.

He pierced her pussy with two fingers and concentrated his efforts on her clit. He had to make her burn fast if he was to have a hope of holding out.

Her inner walls pulsated around his fingers, and he nearly roared with happiness. She was closer than he’d thought. He hooked his fingers high and tight, finding the sandpapery inner spot on her wall that would send her over the edge.

Cream flooded his fingers. He lapped her hardened bud faster, his peak so close.

Her lips brushed his base, and his cock head hit her soft palate.

She began to ripple beneath him, and he was lost.

Tabbart swallowed reflexively even as her body sailed with her orgasm. She came hard around his fingers that seemed positioned perfectly. She cried out around his shaft and his come dribbled over her lips.

She drank in the moment. The first time he’d seemed out of control with her. What did that mean?

She continued to swish her tongue up and down his softening shaft, and he fucked his fingers in and out slowly. His groan mixed with hers. The sound of bubbles against the sides of the hot tub added to the moment.

Suddenly she realized anyone could be watching them the way they’d watched the threesome. She didn’t even care. Actually, it was kind of hot.

When he removed his fingers from her body, she released a quavering sigh. Then he rolled with her. She found herself cradled in his arms and back in the water. Heat bathed her, but the gaze of the man holding her was hotter.

“Give me your mouth,” he grated out.

She tipped her lips up. They came together with a clash of passion. She tasted herself on him, as he must. She angled her head and drew as much as she could from his kisses. Their time together was coming to a close. She couldn’t ask for a third week—they needed her on set almost the instant she touched down in LA.

And a third week would tempt her to say the words in her heart. She couldn’t burden Stowe with the feelings of a silly woman.

He held her face in his hands and kissed her for long minutes. When he finally withdrew, he gave her a crooked smile that etched deep into her heart. “I have a confession to make, love.”

“What’s that?” She drank in his fine, straight nose, hard lips and chiseled jaw.

“I was wrong about the hot tub.”

She gave a silent shake of laughter.

He squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe for a moment, and oh, it was so good. The anal sex he’d promised was in the immediate future—right after he recovered.

“Does that mean I get to whip you?” she asked.

“Not on your life,” he rumbled, his lips in her hair.

Chapter Eleven

“What a plump arse you’re getting.” Stowe patted the cow’s rump, and it skittered to the side.

Tabbart laughed so hard she had to hook her toes around the fencing to keep from falling off. “Is that how you sweet-talk a cow?”

His dark stare sent her through a gamut of emotions—passion, hope, affection. On the heels of that came sadness and defeat.

She couldn’t stay longer.

“It’s how I sweet-talk
my
cows. I wouldn’t be surprised if this one is expecting my first bull.” Pride tinged his voice.

She hunched forward in a fit of laughter. “You make it sound as if it will be your offspring.”

He rumbled a laugh in reply. When he leaned on the fence next to where she was perched, she couldn’t resist touching him. The cotton of his Boot Knockers logo T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, warm from the sun.

He relaxed his weight against her leg, and they were silent while they watched the cows interact with a few others Stowe had just acquired.

How he managed to do all this while being so attentive to her, she had no clue. He went out to fetch a tray, came back in clean clothes and with news that he’d bought a couple cows at a good auction price. All she could work out was he had a personal assistant like she did.

“I hope you’re right about the bull,” she said softly.

He found her fingers and drew them to his lips. The brush of his five o’clock shadow speared her with lust. As he peered from under his black hat, he breathed on her knuckles.

In that moment, she felt it—the total shift of her heart. Looking into his eyes, she knew she was his. He’d demanded, she’d given. But once she left here, he’d move on and she’d be trapped—loving him.

He pressed a soft kiss half on her pinky and half on her ring finger, raising a shiver. “How about that ride?”

For the past day he’d seemed determined to make her into a skilled horsewoman as well as a perfect sub. She’d tried it, but she preferred his solid body behind her. She shook her head. “I’d rather ride with you.”

“Okay. Let’s walk back to the barn.”

He helped her off the fence, and he tossed a last look at his cattle before taking Tabbart’s hand and leading her across the ridge. Her feet swished through the tall grasses. She was glad they’d walked up here rather than ridden. Being with him this way felt good.

She wanted to remember it forever.

Swallowing the small lump forming in her throat, she squeezed his fingers. Their shoulders bumped as they naturally drifted close. Neither of them spoke, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Actually she could get used to this as much as feeling his crop on her skin.

Oh, she was in trouble. Within days she’d be on set, cooking for America, far from the ranch that had taught her how to give up so much control. How would she find a way to free herself from the bonds of her career without Stowe?

Thinking of another man doing the things he had made her stomach churn. How would she find another Dom, let alone one she trusted? And discretion was key. Otherwise she’d end up in a tabloid with her head photoshopped onto a woman in black leather and handcuffs.

The idea was funny—well, almost.

“You’re thinking loudly,” he said.

She smiled up at him. “Sorry.”

“You’re planning meals for your next shows?”

“Good guess, but no.”

“You’re worried about returning.”

Heaviness settled over her shoulders like a buffalo-skin mantle. She trudged more slowly across the ridge for a few seconds before they started down into the valley. “A little worried, yes.”

“Balance, love. You’ll find it now that you know you need it.”

She wasn’t so convinced, but she nodded and tried to shake off the weight of her thoughts. She didn’t want to waste a second of their time together.

Once they reached the barn, he urged her into the shadows. But the sun felt too good. “I’ll stand here while you saddle the horse.”

He gazed at her as if wanting to protest. Finally, he nodded. “It’ll just take me a minute.”

When he disappeared into the barn, she tilted her face up to the sun. In LA, she felt as if she were melting on a day like today. Surrounded by pavement and huge buildings that trapped the heat, she tended to run from point A to point B and not take a moment to even acknowledge the big orange orb that grew the products she used to cook with.

But here in Texas, she welcomed the tingle on her skin and the yellow glowing behind her closed eyelids. She was getting used to this place. Maybe Texas wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Oh my God, is that Tabbart Tracy?”

Her eyes flew open and her heart felt as though it had been kicked by a bull. She stared into the rapt face of a young woman. Recognition flashed across the woman’s face, and Tabbart couldn’t duck her head fast enough.

“You’re Tabbart Tracy from
A Taste of Tabbart
, aren’t you?” She bounced forward to shake Tabbart’s hand. “I love your shows. I DVR them, actually, and watch when I get off work. Wait—you’re…here? At the Boot Knockers Ranch?” Her jaw dropped.

Tabbart was frozen in place, her boots seemingly sunk in quicksand. She threw a desperate look over her shoulder, searching for Stowe. He could get her out of this. He could—

“I know you’re Tabbart Tracy! Hey, Jeremy, this is the TV chef. You know her, right?”

“You must be mistaken,” Tabbart said weakly, heart throbbing, muscles burning to run. If only she could move her feet.

But running would only signal the woman was correct. She could see the headline now—
TV Chef Confirmed to Be on Sex Ranch.

She steeled her spine.

“Tabbart—” Stowe’s deep voice stopped.

The young woman’s eyes widened like nine-inch appetizer plates. “You are Tabbart Tracy! I’m getting this on camera!” She pulled out her phone, and three hands flew out.

Jeremy locked his fingers around her wrist. Stowe knocked the phone aside, and Tabbart plastered a hand over her face to keep from taking an incriminating picture.

“You’re wrong about what you think you see,” Stowe growled, hulking over the woman in a stance of pure intimidation.

The woman quivered and nodded.

“Get her out of here,” Stowe commanded her Boot Knocker.

Jeremy grabbed the woman’s arm and started towing her away.

“Wait!” Tabbart cried. There was no point. The woman was going to shout her knowledge to the world. Unless Tabbart shut her up.

She slowly approached the woman. They were here for the same purpose. Maybe Tabbart could strike a chord of camaraderie in her.

She came up against a wall of flesh as Stowe stepped between Tabbart and the woman. God, this was going from bad to worse. Having him jump in was certain to send the woman running to the press.

With a hand on Stowe’s spine, she stepped around him and faced the woman once more. She looked her in the eyes. “I’m sure we can come to an understanding here.”

The woman nodded eagerly. “I can’t believe I’ve seen you—here! I can’t wait to tell all the girls I traveled up with. And my mother. And cousins. Oh, they love you.”

Stowe issued a menacing noise.

“No,” Tabbart said hastily—to him or the woman, she didn’t know. “What I mean is I need you to remain quiet about this.”

Eyes narrowing with sly understanding, the woman said, “Why would I want to do that?”

“For my reputation. I’m sure you can see if this leaks out—”

“It’s not going to.” Stowe gripped the woman’s shoulder and she cried out. Jeremy jumped in, using his body weight to knock Stowe off balance in order to release her.

“Stop!” Tabbart’s heart was a wild stallion, terrified and running for its life. But she couldn’t let go of the reins. “Please stop. Miss, I hope we can come to an understanding.”

It didn’t appear the woman would be convinced through conversation. Not after Stowe had tried to manhandle her. There was only one answer that came to mind.

“Don’t go anywhere. Let me get my checkbook,” Tabbart said.

Stowe had nearly broken off all his teeth when he’d seen the socking amount Tabbart had written on the check to pay off that chit.

He paced, still grinding his teeth. Tabbart sat on the edge of the mattress, shoulders slumped and head in her hands. He raked his gaze over her despondent pose.

Well, she should be devastated. She’d handled that all wrong. He’d battled countless reporters and paparazzi for what? In minutes she’d thrown the rabid dogs a bone with a lot of zeroes at the end.

“I know you’re angry with me,” she said softly.

He stopped pacing and met her gaze. She seemed to shrivel into herself. “You’re right.”

She spread her hands. “What was I supposed to do, Stowe? She was one call away from ending my career.”

“So you used your money to shut her up. At least you hope you did.”

She dropped her hands and twisted her fingers. “I know. She has my signature on a big check and a story that I paid her to keep quiet about seeing me at a sex ranch.”

“There was another way.” His muscles hummed with tension.

“What? To scare the poor woman into staying quiet?”

“I don’t scare women. But you could have used your wits instead of paying her off, Tabbart. You could have told her you’re moving your show to Texas, that you’re visiting the ranch to find a perfect location.”

She opened her mouth, face blank. Then she raised her chin a notch and he knew she was riled. Slowly she straightened her shoulders and gained her feet. She walked to the closet and retrieved her suitcases. He watched her set them on the bed and unzip them.

When she began to remove her clothing from the drawers and fill the luggage, he snapped out of it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Packing. I have to leave. Even if that woman says nothing, I still can’t stay.”

“I’ll talk to her again.”

“No.” She threw up a hand. Pain creased her beautiful face, and his heart deadened in reaction. He’d let her down. She’d been seen and her career compromised. But dammit, she should have let him handle it—or at least used something besides money to right the situation.

“Please just stop, Stowe. It’s over. Nothing can be done now. Either the woman cashes the check and keeps this to herself or she doesn’t. Either way, I’m leaving.”

He watched her toss her shoes into the bottom of the suitcase haphazardly. Fury flooded him, so hot and primal he could barely draw breath.

Goddammit. He’d fucked up, never should have left her standing outside the barn where anyone could wander by and see her. And she should have let him handle the problem. He would have—

“Will you please arrange for a car to pick me up? I already called my staff, and the jet will be on the runway in an hour.”

Shock jolted him. “You called for your jet?”

She blinked at him, her expression cooler than he wanted to see. So detached. And beautiful. But she wasn’t his Tabbart right now—she was reverting to the chilly celebrity. Her armor was in place.

Fuck this. He’d let himself get too deep and now he was paying the price. She’d whisk off to Hollywood and have her cooking show and life. Thoughts of him would be far, far away. Farther now that the ranch was associated with shame.

“You should have let me handle that woman. Now she has more ammunition against you.”

“Stop. Nothing can be done. Now, please. The car?” In order to close the suitcase, she mashed her hands into her clothes—things he’d stripped off her and ripped off her. One bra had been shredded during a fit of lust. Now he’d never see her in any of those sexy clothing items—or her—again.

She zipped the case and went into the bathroom. Seconds later she emerged with a handful of beauty products. A hairbrush he’d planned to spank her with and hadn’t gotten around to yet.

Motherfuck.

“Stowe, I need that car quickly if I’m going to meet my flight.” Her tone was far from the breathy, needy plea of his sub.

She’s not my sub. And she’s leaving.

He walked out of the bungalow and cut his heels into the turf, wanting to churn it up, to break and destroy. When he got to the office, even Hugh gave him a wide berth. But it was clear Stowe would be in here telling them the whole story as soon as Tabbart got off the property.

His throat burned as he made the call. All the way back to the bungalow, he raged inside his mind. Holding imaginary conversations with the woman Tabbart had paid off and Jeremy for not controlling her better. And with Tabbart herself.

All futile. He couldn’t even come up with anything good in his imagination.

She was at the door with her suitcases when he opened it. Wordlessly, he took both large and small designer bags.

She didn’t speak all the way to his truck. Not even when they reached the long lane leading to the main road. At the end of the drive, he stopped. A cloud of dust was approaching. Seconds later, a car stopped before them.

Tabbart jumped out and Stowe retrieved her bags. He loaded them into the trunk and paused at Tabbart’s open back door.

Their gazes locked. Pain and tears glistened in her eyes. He couldn’t look at it and there was nothing to say.

He closed the door and tapped the roof twice, telling the driver to take her away. Back to her old life. She didn’t belong in his.

Tabbart stared at the plain white ceiling of her bedroom. She was surrounded by her own possessions. Things she’d purchased with the help of an interior designer and that had been placed by a personal assistant. At one time she’d believed her home was her haven.

Not anymore.

She’d been ignoring all the phone messages, texts and incoming calls. As her answering machine picked up again, she pressed a button, hoping to hear Stowe’s voice.

It wasn’t.

Her assistant, Mindy, chirped over the line. “I’ve found some amazing shoes for you from the newest fall collection. Yes, I said fall, Tabbart! You’re getting first dibs on the next season from the designer! Don’t be late to the studio. You’ll want to spend some time with these shoes.”

Dial tone.

Tabbart rolled onto her side, her wet cheek cradled by her twelve-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton pillowcase. She didn’t give a damn about shoes. For all she cared, she’d go barefoot in the studio. The last thing she wanted to do was get up and act normal on a preproduction day like today.