Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 (11 page)

She whimpered.

Ruthie’s body was on fire as she watched him torment Arianna. Every nerve ending was alive, and lurid images flipped through her mind. Of Damian tying her up and—

“I can’t take it another second. You’ve been squirming for ten minutes.” Damian leaped to his feet, and with her wrist still in his grasp, she was dragged with him. He pulled off his wet hat and tossed it to his abandoned seat.

He pulled Ruthie to the side. When they stood in a pool of shadow, he leaned close. “Watch with me for a while. You’re squirming so much I think you must like it. If you do, maybe you’ll want me to take you onstage and we’ll have our own fun.”

She started to shake her head. The difference between wild sex alone with her cowboy was quite different from being on display before an audience. Guilt over her newfound needs was hard enough to deal with. No way would she go from feeling bad about Damian kissing her all over to fucking her in front of strangers.

He turned her to face the stage, looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his big, muscled chest. As his familiar scents filled her head, she relaxed against him.

The gorgeous ebony-haired woman was bound by Quay. Slowly he pushed her until she was bent over with her ass on display. Ruthie tightened her lips. No, she couldn’t do that. Ever.

She glanced up at Damian’s handsome face. He was fixated on the woman. Something hot stirred in Ruthie’s chest.

Jealousy.

She’d never felt it before for a man. Now she felt it for a man she couldn’t have.

Stowe was still teasing the girl tied to the cross, and Quay used a fingertip to torment the ebony-haired woman, who thrust her ass toward him.

Ruthie’s beliefs wouldn’t allow her to continue watching the sex show. She
wanted
to but had been raised with the idea that sex was private. From what she’d seen, those women onstage were getting off on being in the spotlight. Every pair of eyes on them heightened their desire. If they didn’t feel bad, should the viewers?

Ruthie latched her gaze onto the only person she wanted to see—Damian. The emotions playing over her lover’s face were taboo enough.

The women onstage made noises Ruthie had no business listening to, but being in Damian’s arms made her feel less like a voyeur and more like a participant. He caressed the small of her back in circles that sent heated tendrils all through her body. When he dipped his mouth to her ear and whispered some things he’d do to her, she quivered.

A whoop from the crowd jolted her, and she realized she wasn’t alone with Damian. She burrowed her face against his neck. Cupping her head, he asked. “Do you want to go?”

“Not yet.” It was true. She was too nervous to view the acts onstage, but the women’s coos of delight mingled with the
snap
of a whip or the heavy thud of a paddle fired her libido. Add that with Damian’s strong embrace, and she ached for more.

“Good.” He ignored the show completely and pushed her up against the wall. He took immediate control, licking and sucking her neck until her panties were a soggy mess. When he traced a path up to the corner of her mouth, she turned into his kiss.

The thrust of his tongue mimicked the action she needed so desperately. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she drew him down. In this dark space, they might have been alone. If not for the final applause, she would have forgotten they stood in a private corner of the auditorium while erotic acts took place onstage.

Panting, he pulled away a fraction. “When they all leave, we can go onstage.”

Her heart pounded out of her chest. They could. But did she want to?

His hips pinned her perfectly to the padded, soundproof wall. The hard ridge of his erection tormented her while the few moments she’d seen of the show revolved through her mind. What was it about being at the mercy of those men had turned on the women so much?

If she were in the hands of Damian, would she make those earthy noises too?

“Let’s go onstage,” she whispered.

Damian went completely still. Up close and in the dim lighting, his eyes looked black. “You’re sure?”

She shot a look around his shoulder as the last of the group filed out. The door banged shut, leaving them alone. Her breathing grew choppy. “I’m sure.”

Damian bit off a growl that threatened Ruthie’s sanity. He meshed their fingers and towed her toward the stage. Her throat grew dry, and she barely registered the fact that she’d climbed the steps and was once again in the spotlight.

The spotlights were more intense today, isolating her and Damian.

“You’re sure we’re alone?”

“Totally. Last one out turns off the lights. They knew I was in here.” His gray eyes loomed close. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll. Trust me?”

She nodded, unable to formulate words to express the need inside her. He moved away. After grabbing a loop of rope and something small, he made his way back to Ruthie.

He gripped the hem of her top and pulled it off, exposing her bra. Her shorts followed, but he yanked her thong down with them. Gasping, she stared at the top of his head, focused on the feelings he roused in her.

This was insanity—standing nude on stage.
But isn’t this what I came here for? To do what I want?

Damian’s hair gleamed red under the lights. He stood in front of her, blocking her from the audience momentarily. “I’ll go nice and slow for you. If you want me to stop at any time, say ‘strawberries’.”

Confusion creased her brow. “Why strawberries?”

“Because your lips taste like ripe strawberries.” He pressed a kiss to them, but before she could open her mouth to him, he was gone. With a flick of his fingers on her spine, he unclasped her bra.

The cloth fell away, her nipples jutting out, harder than they’d ever been. She lifted her hands to cover them, but Damian’s instruction stopped her.

“Don’t cover yourself. You’re gorgeous, doll. Let me see.” His eyes glittered with something she couldn’t begin to understand. It scared and thrilled her at once.

She gave a slight nod of assent. She braced her knees to remain upright as he caught her hand and led her to center stage.

He took her arms and arranged them in a folded position over her chest. Then he nudged her thighs about six inches apart. “Don’t move. Remember if you get scared, the word is strawberries.”

“I’m not scared,” she murmured.

He snapped his gaze to hers, a muscle pulsing in the crease of his jaw. He hefted the loop of thin-gauge rope and trailed the end over her bare flesh. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and her pussy spasmed.

“You’re gonna look so beautiful when I’m done. I wish I had my camera.” With quick, economical movements he began to make knots every few feet in the rope. She watched his fingers move, the world fading away. Just her and Damian.

He looped the rope around her spine and began to bind her. Five loops around her chest, just below her breasts. She glanced down and found all the knots he’d made were perfectly aligned.

He crossed the rope over her right shoulder, down around her waist, then up to her left shoulder. Three crosses held her arms prisoner. Her breath came faster.

Damian’s warm gaze eased her. “I’ve got you.”

He created a sort of cradle around her hips with the rope. The coarse rope outlined her pussy on each side, but a third rode over her seam, a knot settled at her clit. The pressure and prickly fibers sent her pulse racing.

When she felt him jerk the rope, she realized he’d finished. She looked down her body and almost gasped at the beauty he’d created. A true work of art with her flesh at the center.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured. Ruthie’s face heated.

Damian turned her around. As she moved, the rope on her spine caused her skin to tingle. Were there knots on her back? What did they look like? Her hair dipped into one eye, and she shook her head to move it.

Damian gripped her hair in a bundle and yanked it. Shock and pleasure-pain ripped through her scalp and down over her skin. He swooped in and claimed her mouth. The initial touch of his tongue against hers ignited her. He pulled noises from her she didn’t know she was capable of making.

When he finally pulled away, she tried to follow, but bound as she was, almost tipped off-balance. He wrapped his arms around her and eased her down until she knelt. His erection was inches away.

Her mouth watered.

“You want this, baby?” He massaged his cock through his jeans, and she mewled in answer. With painstakingly slow motions he opened his belt and fly. As he took his length into his hand, a trickle of juices slid down her inner thigh.

The purple head of his arousal wavered over her lips. With one hand still clutching her hair, he sank into her mouth.

Flavors burst on her tongue. She swirled it around his shaft, gathering more. His legs trembled as she sucked and licked. Power welled within her.

“Take it all. Right to the base. Let me hear you gasp for air when you pull back.”

His taboo words made her ache. She flicked her gaze up to his, holding it as he directed his cock right into the back of her throat. She relaxed her muscles to take him, holding her breath.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and his cock stretched another millimeter.

Her lips brushed his mat of dark red pubic hair, then she eased back, gasping.

Damian’s caress of approval on her scalp urged those sounds from her—the ones the other ladies had been making. He drove his shaft into her mouth again, and she eagerly accepted. When the first drops of pre-come soaked her tongue, he jerked away.

Ruthie remained on her knees, fixated on her cowboy. Damian rolled on a condom. Ruthie’s body hummed with need that bordered on madness. If he didn’t take her soon, she’d resort to begging.

Then he’d probably gag her.

Her pussy squeezed hard.

Damian circled behind her. Confusion settled over her as Damian touched something to her ass cheek. She twisted to try to see, but she couldn’t move her arms and almost fell over.

He lashed an arm around her chest and held her, continuing to spread something sticky on her behind. It felt like…

Like he’s drawing something.

He dropped the item he was using, and it rolled in an arc toward her. Glancing down, she found a tube of bright red lipstick.

Shock tore through her.
He’s written on me, marked me. He could have written anything.

Yet she trusted him. She relaxed in his hold and he held her tight, cock probing her aching folds. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, doll. Make you scream for me. When I’m done with you, you’ll remember who made you scream that way.”

In one wild thrust, he filled her. She cried out, writhing, trying to take him deeper. He rocked his hips, drawing out only inches. Then he plunged again. Filling her, splitting her.

Dark need stole her sanity. She could no longer think—just feel. He wrapped his arms around her, controlling her body and mind until she only knew Damian.

His balls slapped her flesh, driving the knot into her clit. Shocks tore through her. Someone released a long, moaning noise. With a shock, she realized it was her.

Ruthie exploded. Bursts of light shattered behind her eyes. Her pussy contracted around his cock, her screams he’d promised echoing in her ears.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he grunted, every muscle in his body stiffening.

When he came, she felt the heat of his release warm her through the barrier. It sent her flying a second time. Up, up and over the cliff. Darkness closed in, and she knew only his arms.

“Ruthie. Oh shit, I’ve never made a woman black out before.” Damian’s voice sounded strained, and Ruthie fought toward the surface.

“Calm down,” someone else said with amusement. “It was probably the hot lights and the rope.”

“That’s right,” another man said. “Couldn’t have been your sexual skills.”

“Fuck off,” Damian growled.

Ruthie battled with her weighted eyelids and won. Damian’s concerned face hovered over hers.

“She’s awake!”

“Give her some space, man.” Now that she could think more clearly, she recognized Hugh’s baritone. Instantly, she tried to jackknife into a sitting position. Hands pressed her down, and she realized they weren’t touching bare skin.

At some point they’d untied her and gotten her offstage. She lay on something soft and was covered in a blanket. The lights were dim.

“How long was I out?” She licked her lips.

Damian grabbed a glass of water and held her head as he directed the glass to her parched lips. He was dressed only in jeans, the fly undone so his designer underwear showed.

She swallowed the water, eyes closed. Damian set the glass aside.

“Just long enough for us to sprint here after Damian’s call. Shoulda seen him cut you out of that rope. Such a shame. It was a thing of beauty.” The other speaker was Riggs.

Hugh clapped Damian on the back. “She’s all right, Damian. Get her dressed and into bed. Maybe take it easy tonight.” He and Riggs smiled at Ruthie and walked out, quietly closing the door behind them.

Damian’s eyes were very dark, lines etched around them. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “What for?”

“For…all of it. I shouldn’t have taken you onstage. Shouldn’t have tied you so tight.”

She raised a hand and scuffed his jaw with the back of her knuckles. A rasping sound was sweet music to her, but when he leaned into her hand, her heart constricted. “I’m okay. And I…loved every minute.”

The lines around his eyes faded, and he arched a brow. “Loved?”

“Loved.”

Their gazes held a beat too long. She never wanted the moment to end.

“Let’s get you to the bungalow. Can you walk?”

“Of course.” She sat up, he swathed her in the blanket, and they headed out of the building. The rain had turned to a drizzle, and she tilted her face to capture the cool mist against her skin.

In the bungalow, Damian led her to the bedroom. Then he began to pace in front of her. “What now? Let’s get you some food, something to drink.”

She darted a look at the bathroom door behind him. “A cold shower might feel nice.” After being under those hot lights, she’d welcome the spray.