Trouble in Cowboy Boots (7 page)

“Uh-huh,” was all she could manage.

He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, licking every bit of the inner surface before lifting his head.

“Let’s see how you like this.” He picked up a realistic-looking dildo and rubbed it across her breasts, then dragged it down the valley between them, all the while watching her. “Lick it. Suck it into your mouth.”

He placed the tip against one of her lips and obediently she snaked her tongue out to swipe across the tip. When he nudged it against her, she opened her mouth and he gave her as much in as she could take.

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Desiree Holt

“That’s it. That’s how it will look when you suck my cock, sugar. Swirl your tongue around it. Pretend you’re tasting me.”

He had to pull the dildo away from her after mere seconds, afraid he would come from just watching her. And he wanted to be inside her when that happened. Memories of the wet, clutching warmth of her pussy rolled back over him from the previous night and he wanted that feeling again.

Nudging her thighs wider apart, he slid the dildo inside her channel, then pressed a little button on the bottom that set it in motion. At once Emily went wild, hunching down on the toy, riding it as if it were his cock inside her. She yanked on the cuffs, not to free herself but to give herself a pushing off point, and fucked the dildo with a wildness that sent jolts of lightning to his already aching balls.

Long before he wanted to, he worked the dildo free, reached over for a condom and used both hands to roll it onto his erection. He bent her knees back until they touched her breasts, placed his hands beneath her ass and drove into her with a fierceness that startled him. Holy hell! What was it about this woman that shredded the control he so prided himself on?

Then there was no more time for thinking. Her pussy closed around him like a wet fist, cries of pleasure rolled from her lips and he powered into her with hard, fast strokes. He’d wanted to take it slow this first time, but that didn’t seem to be an option.

He gritted his teeth, watching for signs that her climax was rising within her again.

When he saw it, felt the spasms milking his cock and her body shake with the force of it, he allowed himself his release, bracing himself on his hands as he drove into her over and over and over.

He lost every sense of himself as the orgasm shook him. There was nothing but him, this woman, her hungry cunt and his cock deep inside her. At some point he realized he’d collapsed on top of her, heart racing like a wild mustang. He knew he had to be crushing her beneath his weight so he made the effort to ease up a little and rest on his forearms.

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Trouble in Cowboy Boots

Reaching over her with one hand he released the cuffs so she could lower her arms.

Then he kissed her, a deep kiss that was equal parts of lust and passion and…something else. Something he chose to ignore. Fucking Emily was better than winning the lottery and that’s what he would concentrate on.

Finally he rolled carefully away from her and made it to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He swept the toys from the bed and dropped them into her nightstand drawer, then climbed under the covers beside her. He took a moment to massage her arms, easing the strain of them being manacled over her head, before tucking her up against him and resting his chin on her hair.

“Sleep, Emily,” he murmured. “Rest.”

“Amelia’s coming again in the morning,” she said drowsily.

“I know. Close your eyes. Morning gets here far too soon.”

51

Desiree Holt

“If they call me Auntie Em one more time I’m dousing them in bacon grease,”

Emily grumbled as she mixed batter for pancakes.

Amelia laughed. “I’d pay good money to see that. By the way, you’re mixing much smoother this morning. Did you practice last night?”

“Oh, no, I—” She looked at Amelia, who had mischief dancing in her eyes. “What?”

“I used to have that same morning after blush on my face when I was younger,”

Amelia teased. “And even now Dan still rings my chimes.”

“Amelia!” Emily felt the heat creeping up her cheeks. “I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.”

Amelia’s laugh was like music dancing in the air. “Okay, if that’s how you want it.

But I passed Wyatt as I came in this morning and he had a big shit-eating grin on his face.”

Emily just shook her head. Like Wyatt, she didn’t want what was happening between them to become the subject of ranch gossip. He was gone most of the day, out with the hands or working in his office in the barn, so there was little chance for anyone to see them together. She was more than grateful for that, especially after last night.

Again her cheeks warmed. She’d always had a healthy appetite for sex and even been open to new suggestions, but Wyatt was introducing her to a whole new level of sensuality. And he’d been right about one thing—giving him control actually put her in charge. The more she allowed him to take charge of the things they did, the more aroused he became and the more it heightened his orgasm. Last night his powerful body had shuddered so hard with his release she wasn’t sure he’d survive.

Of course, she hadn’t been sure she would, either. He took her to a plane of greater arousal, greater sensuality than she ever remembered feeling before. Wondering what 52

Trouble in Cowboy Boots

he had in mind for tonight made all the nerves in her pussy ignite and sent a low rush of heat through her body.

“Better get that griddle hot,” Amelia reminded her. “First shift will be here in five and you still have to scramble the eggs.”

Lordy! Would she ever be able to multitask in the kitchen? She’d thought it a miracle yesterday that she got through the day without burning anything or throwing food away. Wyatt’s generous offer to pick up barbecue last night had been a big help but no such luck today. Amelia had shown her how to bread chicken this morning before they started breakfast. She’d finish that after she cleaned up from the morning meal. But the work had put her a little behind.

“Here they come,” Amelia warned, as boots sounded on the back porch.

Shit! I’m not ready.

Apparently no one cared, because in they came.

She spooned pancake batter onto the griddle and emptied the beaten eggs into the heated frying pan.

“You producing another good breakfast today, Auntie Em?” Hardy asked as he led the way to the tables.

“You Auntie Em me once more,” she told him, “and I’ll turn you into a munchkin.”

“Ooh!” He widened his eyes and waved his hands. “I’m scared, guys. Real scared.”

Amelia flapped a dish towel at him. “Hardy Wolf, you shut up and sit down or you won’t get any breakfast at all.” She pulled the biscuits from the oven and plopped them into two baskets which she carried to the table, then flipped the pancakes while Emily worked on the eggs.

“Lookie!” Hardy broke open a biscuit. “Flaky again. Yee haw.”

“Just like you, Hardy,” Emily called. After four days she was feeling more confident with the men.

“What do we use now for target practice?” someone joked.

53

Desiree Holt

Emily banged her wooden mixing spoon so hard on the counter it nearly shattered and gritted her teeth. She didn’t have time for this bullshit. Even with Amelia’s help she was barely keeping her head above water. Who knew it took so many men to run a cattle ranch? Who knew she’d pick a ranch the size of the Lazy Aces that ran ten thousand head of cattle? She wondered if slopping beer at Chaps wouldn’t have been a better choice.

Breakfast was barely finished before she rolled up her sleeves and breaded the rest of the chicken the way Amelia had shown her. Holy shit, it took a lot of chicken to feed twenty men. She didn’t even count herself, unsure if she’d even have an appetite by the time she finished cooking. This afternoon she’d peel potatoes and Amelia had promised to slip over and make the gravy, thank god. Gravy! Where had she gotten the mistaken impression that on ranches all they ate were things that came out of cans. She could open cans with the best of them.

Or cooked on a grill. That was her only other skill. Who knew she’d have to make
real food
?

By late afternoon she’d served lunch—this time she
did
open cans, large ones of chili—finished the prep work on the chicken and put the covered platters in the fridge, and taken out the veggies for dinner. Fixing a glass of iced tea, she carried it out to the back porch and sank gratefully into one of the rockers.

She hadn’t really taken time to look at the ranch, and had seen very little of it except for the kitchen and her bedroom. Now she watched as two men worked horses in the corral with a handful of calves. She’d have to ask Wyatt what that was all about. In the distance she could see cattle grazing in the pastures and half a dozen riders trotting slowly along the fences. At the open doors of the barn two men were loading hay into the bed of a dual cab pickup.

She rocked slowly as she sipped her tea, taking in the vast amount of land that stretched away from the house to a vanishing point on the horizon. So this was what 54

Trouble in Cowboy Boots

the west was all about—acres of land, cattle, horses, blue skies, oak trees and some others she didn’t recognize, and cowboys.

Cowboys who eat a lot.

“Taking in the sights?”

She’d been so engrossed in studying her surroundings she hadn’t heard Wyatt mount the side steps to the porch until his warm voice slid over her like a velvet blanket. Her hand jerked and the iced tea sloshed over the rim.

“Sorry.” He lowered his lanky frame into the rocker next to her. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He took off his hat, shoveled his fingers through his hair, wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt and clapped the hat back on his head. “So how’s everything in the kitchen?”

Was that a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth?

Emily wiped her hand on her jeans—her
new
jeans—and took another sip of her tea.

“Everything’s just fine. Fried chicken for dinner tonight.”

“Oh? I’m impressed. Second day of cooking school and you’re tackling a staple of the west.”

“Amelia said you aren’t a cook if you can’t make fried chicken,” she told him.

“But you aren’t a cook anyway, are you, Em?” His voice was low and deep.

“Exactly what are you?”

“I’m a refugee from Las Vegas, broke and homeless.” She glanced over at him.

“And I can book a mean convention.”

“Well,” he drawled, “that ought to be a big help in Mesa Blanco.”

“Did you sit down here just to rattle my chains?” She took another swallow of iced tea, determined not to rise to his baiting.

“Yeah, kinda.” He chuckled softly. “I love it that you don’t back down. That you can give as good as you get. You’ll have those idiots who work for me eating out of your hands before another week goes by.”

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Desiree Holt

“They’re just interested in eating, out of my hand or anywhere else.”

He rocked silently for a moment and Emily toyed with her glass.

“It’s Friday. I thought maybe you’d like to try out another pair of those new jeans tonight and take them into town.”

Emily had to stop her jaw from dropping. “You want to be seen in public? With me?”

“Em.” The word was filled with dogged patience. “Everyone in the county knows by now you work for me. They don’t expect me to keep you hidden under a rock. And they know you’re alone here except for your two friends.”

“I thought you said…”

“What I said was we should keep our private business private. That hasn’t changed.

But there’s nothing that says I can’t take you into town for a little socializing.” He tilted his head back. “Just to set the record straight, I’m only talking about a visit to Chaps and a chance for you to see your friends. I wasn’t planning to strip you naked, tie you up and fuck you on the pool table in front of the entire population of the county.”

Her tea slopped onto her feet as her hand shook and her glass tilted.

Wyatt’s laugh was full and rich. “Take it easy, Emily. Teasing you is too much fun.”

“So you don’t really want to take me into town. Right?”

“Of course I want to. You need to have a little fun.” He leaned closer to her.

“Loosen up.”

Her cheeks felt as if she’d burned them. Maybe he really did plan to strip her naked in the honky-tonk. “I thought I was plenty loose last night,” she muttered.

Wyatt rose from the chair. “That’s for sure, sugar. So tonight we get to have fun, and then we get to play. Better close your mouth before you catch flies. And I’d say it’s about time to start dinner. Lot of chicken to fry.”

She didn’t know if she should dump the rest of her tea on him or tell him to go to hell. Before she could do either he ambled off the porch, still chuckling to himself.

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Trouble in Cowboy Boots

* * * * *

Emily was sure she’d never get the smell of frying grease off her skin or out of her hair, but the dinner had been a success. Nobody had thrown pieces of chicken at her, the potatoes and gravy were both smooth and the big bowls of vegetables scraped clean. When the kitchen was spotless she turned to scrubbing herself, using extra dollops of fragrant shampoo and scented shower gel. Better to smell like a ripe flower garden than a short order cook, she decided.

She stepped into a pair of the new jeans, pulled a magenta short-sleeved silk blouse out of her closet and took extra pains with her makeup and hair. She decided it was worth the effort when she saw the heated look in Wyatt’s eyes as she walked into the kitchen where he waited for her.

“My, my,” he drawled as his eyes raked over her. “You sure do clean up good.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she commented.

He had put on clean jeans and a green plaid shirt that brought out the emerald flecks in his eyes. He’d exchanged his shit-kicker boots for a hand-tooled pair that she knew from the Vegas high rollers were custom Luccheses. A black Stetson sat on his head. He looked like every bad boy she’d ever seen or dreamed about and was more dangerous than a pound of C-4 explosive.