Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 (4 page)

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. He zeroed in on her mouth, imagining ten more dirty things he wanted to do with it.

“Will you trust me?” he asked, peering into her eyes.

She nodded.

He released the whoop he’d been holding in since the moment she’d walked onstage. With Ruthie in giggles at his outburst, he stripped off her robe and led her to the bed. She sank to the plush mattress.

Damn, how was he going to keep from following her down and covering her with his body?

“Stretch out on your back. That’s it.” He arranged her hair, fanning the dark and light locks. He directed one wave into a curlicue near her face and moved to check how she looked from that angle.

He crouched near her head. From this point of view, he had the physical essence of Ruthie—gorgeous face and plump breasts. “Cross your legs, doll.”

Holding his gaze, she obeyed. A thrill shot through him. Her pink high heel dangled in the air. For a long heartbeat he couldn’t draw air. “Hold that pose.”

He hurried to the dresser, where her suitcase had been delivered, and gathered his camera. It was a newer model, purchased with his poker winnings. Once a week after the clients had gone home, the guys unwound by playing a few hands. Damian had learned from the best—a card sharp in jail—and he won almost every time. The other cowboys joked about handing Damian their money before they even sat down, but it was all in good fun.

After pressing a few buttons to get the shot ready, he returned to his crouch by her head. She’d moved a little, but the pose was almost better. Softer.

She was relaxing.

When she smiled for the camera, he lowered it from his eyes. “Don’t smile. Just look at me and think about your lover walking in and finding you like this. Gorgeous. Dewy.”

Her little pink tongue shot out and wet her lower lip.

He groaned. “Hell, yes. Like that. Now let me see your eyes, doll.”

Snap.

Snap, snap, snap.

Each photo made him harder. Crouching was becoming a real pain. Only leaning back would ease the ache in his groin.

He lowered the camera. “Let’s try this now.” He encircled her wrist and guided her hand to her mouth. “Stick your index finger in your mouth, just between your teeth. Don’t pucker your lips.”

She looked uncomfortable, the light of arousal fading a bit from her eyes.

Before she could lose it entirely, he leaned over her and sucked her finger into his mouth. Resisting the urge to groan, he stared into her eyes, challenging her. Her eyes flared wider, but as he swirled his tongue over her fingertip, a quiver took hold.

Her eyes hooded.

“Like that, doll. Don’t let that go.”

He dropped into the crouch again and snapped five pictures of her giving him that hazy expression of desire.

He lowered the camera. “Okay, now we’ll try some on your stomach. Roll over.”

When she did, her hair tumbled around her in such a perfectly sexy way, he couldn’t help but snap half a dozen more photos. She got into it, pushing forward so her breasts almost spilled from her bodice. She waved her heels to and fro. And when she parted her lips and caught her fingertip between them, Damian could stand no more.

He dropped to his knees. After setting his camera on the carpet, he cupped Ruthie’s beautiful face and swooped in.

The first crush of her lips under his was a temptation he’d never known before. He pushed his tongue against her lips, needing more. She opened to him, and he swept the interior of her hot, sweet mouth.

A moan rumbled in his chest, and she gave an answering whimper. Damian angled his head and plunged deeper. Tasting, licking, swirling and sucking. He learned every corner of her sultry mouth.

She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He toppled her back onto the bed and pinned her with his body. Then he toed off his boots. His hat had fallen off after the initial brushing of lips.

Tearing his mouth free, he stared down at her. “I want to take more photos, but you’re driving me wild, doll.”

Her lips were ripe and swollen. Damn, he wanted to see them forming cries of bliss. He braced himself on one arm and plucked at his shirt buttons with the other. The cotton felt too constricting, but the hungry way she looked at his chest didn’t help matters.

He fumbled his shirt off and pitched it to the floor.

A soft smile formed on Ruthie’s face as she looked him over. “You’re like some kind of underwear model.”

He arched a brow. “You haven’t even seen the underwear yet.”

Before she could reply, he claimed her mouth again. As she scraped his shoulders and back with those freshly painted nails, alarms sounded in his head. He was sinking into this woman.

He came up for air, halting the kiss.
Slower. She’s here for a week.

But the thought of only having a week for kisses like this stole his control all over again.

He reached inside her camisole and pulled her breasts free. One at a time, he propped them on the fabric. His breathing was labored, and hers came out as short pants.

Pink nipples strained upward. With a guttural noise he gathered one bud on his tongue while plucking at the other. She cried out, arching into him. Her response fueled his fire. He rolled her nipple on his tongue and mirrored the action with his fingers. Her buds tightened another fraction.

She dug her nails into his nape, pulling him down hard. Taking her direction, he bit into her sensitive nipple.

Her wild cry undid him. He took her other nipple between his teeth while gliding a hand between their bodies. His mind frayed around the edges as he found her panties soaking wet.

“I can’t resist.” He drew his fingers to his nose and inhaled her light, musky arousal.

Her lips fell open, tormenting him with a glimpse of the pink interior of her mouth.

He nudged her panties aside and plunged two fingers deep as he controlled her mouth. She tasted like sunshine and desire and everything good he couldn’t have in the world.

He pushed closer.

Withdrawing his fingers, he painted her folds with slick juices. She bucked against his hand.

“I have to taste you.” With that, he dived between her legs. It took him all of five seconds to remove the scrap of lace masquerading as underwear. One of her heels fell off when he pulled off her panties, but he left it abandoned on the azure blue coverlet.

He twisted his head and kissed her inner thigh, teasing a path just short of her swollen pussy. Her snatch was shaved but for a tiny wedge of black hair, the straight hairs creating an arrow to the place he most wanted to be. “So fucking hot, doll.”

Uncertainty flashed across her features, and he kissed her other thigh. When he reached the junction between thigh and pussy, he flicked out his tongue. The feel of velvety skin under his tongue stole his last thread of control.

He parted her thighs wide and opened his mouth over her pussy. Lust pounded his system as he drew on her sweetness. He trailed his tongue through the soaking folds from hard clit to dripping entrance. Pushing his hips against the mattress, he tried to alleviate some of the pressure in his cock.

Ruthie thrashed her head. Watching her pleasure, he fucked her pussy with his tongue. When he felt her walls flex, he worked his way back to her clit.

Sucking the rigid flesh into his mouth, he pressed the hood back with his tongue and stroked her core.

She came apart with a scream. He latched onto her hips, refusing to let her retreat when he could drive her so much higher. Cries burst from her, each louder than the next. Then with a crescendo that echoed in his soul, she soaked his lips and tongue.

Lapping wildly, he gathered her juices, aware of just how damn wet he’d made her.

Ruthie floated in a daze of desire. What had just happened to her? In a few short minutes Damian had turned her into a wanton tigress.

She longed to unzip his jeans and see that bulge she’d been trying hard not to look at. To feel his length in her hand—maybe her mouth—then gliding inside her.

As he strummed her nipples, a new need settled inside her. Why couldn’t she find someone to steal her control like this at home?

She should feel odd that she’d just gushed all over the tongue of a virtual stranger, but she couldn’t muster it. All the other times she’d had relations with a man, she’d been saddled by guilt. Not this time. She’d finally taken control and gotten exactly what she wanted.

His eyes were gray storm clouds banked in a threatening sky. Damian was a dangerous man. The few scars and tattoos covering his chest heralded it just as much as his hard mouth and straightforward gaze. She could get into real trouble with this man.

With his tongue still toying with her clit like a cat with a toy and his rough fingers on her nipples, she rode the aftershocks of her release. She caressed his jaw.

Her pussy squeezed, and he moaned. After running his tongue through her cream, he finally raised his head. “I want you, doll.”

The dark tone sent shudders down her spine. She gripped his shoulders, and he surged up her body. When he covered her mouth with his, a shock ripped through her. His lips were still wet with her juices. Mingled with his masculine flavors, she couldn’t get enough.

Small moans escaped her. Leaning back on his heels, he flashed her a toe-curling smile. Then he removed a battered wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. He clamped a foil condom packet between his teeth, and grinning around it, began to unbuckle his belt.

The brown leather zinged when he pulled it through his belt loops. He folded it in half and whacked his palm with it.

Her eyes flew open wider, imagining him using the belt on her. She had a feeling anything this beautiful cowboy did to her would be one of the sexiest things of her life. Her nipples ached.

Tossing the belt over the side of the bed, he continued to stare at her, still smiling around the foil packet, as he unfastened his jeans.

Ruthie focused on his hands—big knuckles sprinkled with red hairs. She wanted those hands all over her body.

Breathing fast, she watched him work the button out of the hole then pinch the zipper between his fingers. When he slid it down, a pair of white briefs came into view. The waistband was decorated in the wide blue lettering of a designer company.

I was right. Underwear model material.

Even the simplistic dragon tattoo on his upper shoulder, the tail snaking around his biceps, would lend to a magazine ad.

Damian stretched in order to shove the mass of denim down his hips. Watching him undress was the girl equivalent of getting a lap dance. She let her eyes hood.

Spitting out the condom, he said, “I can’t guarantee how long I’ll last. See how bad I want you?” He reached into his underwear and freed his cock.

She sucked in a breath. His shaft was wider in the center and tapered at the base, the tip purple and straining. Arousal glistened at the slit.

Suddenly her mouth was bone dry. She licked her lips again, and he growled.

Dizzy with want, she reached for his erection. When she smoothed her thumb through the wetness, he threw his head back.

Yes, this was what she wanted above all else. She craved a man who would take control. But in doing so, she wanted him to lose control with her.

“Ruthie, roll that condom on me.”

In all her life she’d never imagined a man telling her this. After the debacles with her former lovers and her parents’ limitless lectures about men and how they were all out to take one thing from her, she should be shying away. Instead she’d run to the Boot Knockers Ranch and into this cowboy’s bed.

He put the condom in her hand.

With shaking fingers, she managed to open the condom. Rolling the lubed rubber over his cock was quite a different story. It slipped through her fingers. She picked it up and stretched it over the head.

“It looks painful,” she whispered as his cock grew purpler within the confines.

“You have no idea how much I’m throbbing right now, doll.” He took over, rolling the condom on with one practiced motion. “Now kiss me.”

Leaning over her again, he gained total control of her mouth. He kissed her into a melted puddle of want. When she wrapped her legs around his hips, he grunted and drew away.

This was why models ran away with their photographers. His heavy-lidded expression while he’d photographed her had gone straight to her head and had the scrap of lace covering her pussy soaked through.

Now she wanted to ride her cowboy into the sunset.

He rolled off and stretched on the bed. Then clutching her waist, he flipped her atop him. He pulled off her camisole, and her breasts bounced free, the tips hovering close to his lips. He took immediate advantage, kissing one softly.

“Sink down on me, Ruthie. I’m going to let you set the pace because I want you so bad I don’t trust myself.”

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that,” she whispered, and impaled herself on him.

He drove upward, splitting her aching walls and filling every inch of her. His thick head rested against a deep spot she didn’t know she’d possessed.

It felt incredible.

She did a test-rock. The pressure of having him so deep mounted. Moisture flooded his shaft, adding more lubricant.

Palms braced on his chest, she stared down at him. His face was contorted in intense concentration, endearing her to the fact he was holding back. She shifted, and he groaned. Tendrils of hair licked across his chest, over the thick white scar curving at the base of his ribs and the tattooed blue-black lines of a heart in the palm of a hand covering his left pec.

He opened his eyes. Sparks flew between their gazes. He placed his hands on her belly and pushed her into a position sitting straight up.

She gasped, instantly on edge as he touched her innermost spot. “Fuck yeah, doll. Take what you need.”

Meshing his fingers with hers, he supported her as she began to move. Every stroke sent a thousand pinpricks of sensation through her body. Electricity snapped between them and heat pooled in her core.

Driven by the tightness gathering in her belly, she lost herself to every movement. A vein flickered in his temple when her motions grew erratic.