Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 (6 page)

“I’m not done with you yet, baby.” He delivered a warm kiss to her ass cheek then spattered her spine with kisses. When he ran his cock between her legs over her sensitive flesh, she cried out. “Fuck, you’re soaking. Let me in.”

He reached over her head, and she followed the movement to a niche set high where a stash of condoms was kept. He tore it open with his teeth—she didn’t need to look to know. In seconds his sheathed cock was poised at her opening.

He tugged her earlobe with his teeth. “Take me, Ruthie. Every inch.”

His words heightened her need. When he thrust deep, she released a long, low moan that didn’t sound a bit like her. She sounded primal, out of control.

Damian used one hand to twist her head to the side so he could kiss her throat at the moment he drove into her body. Sending her higher and higher, and onto her tiptoes once again.

When his movements grew jerky, she felt the first pulsations strike her. “Ruthie…Ruthie.” He flattened her to the wall and took her hard. She burst. He exploded. As the contractions of her largest orgasm yet stole all thought, she could only feel.

She was terrified. And a melted puddle of satisfaction.

Damian raked his fingers through his hair before settling his hat low over his brow. How had she done it? He’d had bigger orgasms in his life—like when he’d gotten put on probation at the ranch and wasn’t allowed to have a guest in his bed. After those two weeks of deprivation, he’d had a release to wake the dead with his holler.

Yet Ruthie had done something no one else had. She’d made him care.

Not that he hadn’t given his all to every woman he was meant to help. Women deserved to feel beautiful, safe and wanted. But Ruthie…he wanted to give those things to her for a totally different reason.

He set off walking away from Bungalow 11. Inside, Ruthie was fast asleep. He’d tucked her into bed before twirling one damp lock of hair around his finger and digesting everything about the last few hours.

She was obviously a little gun-shy, but he’d managed to draw out her inner goddess. In doing so, she’d somehow fixed up a home in his chest that felt strangely like his heart.

It’s just a summer home.

Actually, it was a vacation home. In six days she’d be gone from his life and he could think fondly of their time together.

He lengthened his strides. What he needed was work—plenty of backbreaking work. There was always hay to stack, and that seemed like a good place to start. He headed for the hay shed.

Sure enough, bales were still loaded on the back of a flatbed trailer outside the building. He slid open the wooden door and looked around. Empty. At this point in the week, it was the norm. By the end of the week, though, couples would be found in the strangest places on the ranch. He’d even walked in on Riggs once with a limber woman who was bent in an impossible position over a tractor seat.

Damian shook his head to dispel that image. On a shelf he located a pair of leather gloves and slipped them on. Working hard in the sun felt good. He stacked bales as high as he could reach, emptying only a portion of the flatbed. He stripped off his shirt and leaned against the open door.

What had he been thinking to work without a bottle of water nearby? Sweat rolled off him. Abandoning his work, he headed back to the grub house. Some of that country lemonade sounded right good now.

As he passed the row of bungalows, his gaze caught on Bungalow 11. The ranch seemed to be lazing in the afternoon heat, taking a siesta. He could just open the door of Bungalow 11 and curl up with Ruthie for a siesta too.

“Afraid to go in?” Ty asked. He rocked back and forth. The man hardly ever stood still. If he wasn’t roping or riding he was dancing. Damian himself had seen him in the bedroom. Women loved Ty’s moves.

Damian sanded his knuckles with his beard, considering the question.

“You flunked out of the teacher’s class?”

Damian’s stomach dropped. Those words were a bit too close to home.

Damn, what was his problem? He hadn’t thought about school for years. No one here cared about his academic history—only about his ability to perform without a cock ring.

He cracked a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Yeah, she’s a tough school marm.”

“Maybe I should have a look-see at my schedule. I might have time for a class or two.”

Damian tapped his hat brim upward, allowing Ty to know the force of his glare. “I’m getting us some drinks, that’s all. We won’t be needing any help.”

Ty bobbed his head. “Good hydration is important.”

They shared a laugh at Hugh’s expense. He pounded that into their heads every day. Damian relaxed a bit. “Who are you paired with this week?”

“No one. One of the ladies backed out and went home. I’m off this week.”

Why did Damian feel as though he should pace back and forth in front of Ruthie’s bungalow, guarding her door? “I’m sure you’ll be asked to join a party.”

“I already have. Stowe is working up a BDSM munch.”

Damian lifted a brow. “That was quick.”

“Well, I guess the lady he has this week is a former sub. She’s sort of lost, so he’s going to show her a good time. Maybe you can bring your teacher. Show her ‘the ropes’.”

Damian’s mouth went dry at the thought of using his knot skills on Ruthie. The way she’d responded to him already…he had little question whether or not she’d allow him to tie her up. He nodded. “Maybe I will. We’ll talk later.”

He was about to take his leave and get that drink he so desperately needed, but the door of Bungalow 11 opened. Ruthie stepped into the sun, squinting. She wore a new sundress, as prim as they came. Not a hint of cleavage showed, and that was a good thing. If Ty ogled her, Damian would bust out his teeth.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Ty said. He continued on but turned back to let his gaze linger over Ruthie’s curves.

Damian rushed forward to greet her. Now that he thought about it, her dress was entirely too revealing.

Her hair had dried and hung in loose waves over her breasts. The bright blue hue of her dress set off her glowing skin, and her eyes sparkled. She descended the steps to the grass. As Damian drew near, she dropped her chin, looking at him
that
way again.

His chest constricted. “I was about to go get a drink. Would a pretty lady like you care to join me?”

“Yes. Some of that lemonade sounds perfect.”

Actually, he was thinking of something harder.

He led her to the grub house, already thinking ahead of whom they’d meet there and how fast he could get Ruthie out before they caught her attention. It was surprising how many women wanted more than one cowboy once they got to the ranch.

At the grub house he held the door for her. She passed into the empty space, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She went directly to the lemonade and poured them each a tall glass.

“Care to sit and talk?” Suddenly he felt more nervous than a kid on the first day of school. She was a teacher—smart. He’d only completed eighth grade.

“That would be nice.” She looked as keyed up as he felt. His training kicked in. He had to put her at ease. His past and shortcomings didn’t matter.

Taking her elbow, he steered her toward a quiet corner with wing chairs before a window overlooking the ranch. They took their seats, and Ruthie stared out.

He studied her profile, the way her nose upturned just right. “Why are you blushing?”

She waved a hand at the window. “The ranch is beautiful.”

“That’s why you’re blushing?”

She gave a giggle and sank her teeth into her lower lip. She looked younger than twenty-six. Maybe her inexperience had preserved her a bit more. “I stood backstage with nineteen other girls. Where are they?”

He swept his gaze over the landscape. All the bungalows were closed tight, and no one wandered the grounds. “They must be having the same kind of morning that we did.”

Her flush deepened. To cover it, she sipped her lemonade.

After gulping his, he set the glass aside on a small table. “What grade do you teach again?”

“Third.”

“Shaping young minds…”

“Yes, it’s a privilege. But I feel far from it here.”

“No doubt.”

“The kids are out for summer vacation now, and by the time they return to fourth grade, they’ll forget a lot of what I taught them.” She looked a little sad.

Damian placed a hand over hers where it rested on the chair arm. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Is that what happened with you?” Her voice lifted with a teasing note.

Though his stomach had clenched at the question, he tried to brush it off. “Nah. I remembered some. Forgot the things I’d never cared about.”

She nodded. “Yeah, we can’t care about everything. I wonder…”

Moments passed before he realized she wasn’t going to continue. He rubbed her forearm, raising the hairs there. A sense of accomplishment swelled his chest. He couldn’t recite the Gettysburg Address or tell her the names of the presidents, but he knew how to make a woman react to him.

“You wonder what, doll?”

She met his gaze. The espresso-brown depths glimmered with some emotion he didn’t understand. “I wonder if it’s all my fault, in reality. The way I was raised keeps me from becoming too close to people. What if it’s not close enough to have a good sexual experience?” She blushed so hard, his heart tumbled at the sight.

He squeezed her arm. “I don’t know a lot about the way you were raised, but if you have the right person, it makes all the difference.”

She stared at him for two heartbeats too long. By the time she spoke, he was ready to pull her into the restroom and have his way with her. “You think I just haven’t found the right person yet?”

“Jeff, Jered, Tom and Andrew. They weren’t the right guys, were they?”

She hesitated then shook her head.

“See?”

“What were you doing after you left the bungalow?” She blushed all over again, and he chuckled.

“Stacking hay.”

“That’s part of your job?”

It is when I need to run from pretty schoolteachers.
“Yep.”

“Are you finished?”

“Not remotely.”

“Well, can I come? Maybe I can help.”

“I’d hate for you to get a hay rash all over that fine skin. That’s for me to do.” He rubbed his beard purposely, and she flushed.

“Besides, you’re not supposed to be doing work on your vacation. But you can come along and hand me bottles of water when I need them.”

They set their dirty glasses in the plastic tub to be washed, then grabbed several bottles of water. As they walked to the hay shed, the sun seemed to bake Damian into dust. Maybe it wasn’t only walking beside Miss Ruthie that made his temperature rise.

When they reached the open hay shed, Ruthie went inside and checked it out with all the curiosity of one of her third-graders. He grinned when she came out. “Is it everything you expected?”

“Not exactly.” She didn’t sound as if she only meant the hay shed. She watched him putting on his gloves. When he gripped her waist and plucked her off her feet, she squealed.

He plopped her onto the flatbed, to the side so he could still unload hay. For a second he stood between her knees, eyes level with hers. “Sit here and look pretty as a postcard while I work.”

Looking dazed, she nodded. He jumped onto the flatbed and threw ten bales off. Then he leaped to the ground again and carried them two at a time into the shed. When he returned for the fourth trip, Ruthie was standing up, fingers looped around the twine and trying to heave a bale off the stack.

“What are you doing?”

“These are heavy! You make it look so easy.”

“The trick is not putting your back into it.” He climbed up with her and caught her around the waist. Sagging at the knees, he ground the erection he hadn’t stopped sporting around her into her pussy. “It’s all in the legs,” he rumbled.

She dropped the bale she’d gotten three inches off the flatbed and wrapped her arms around him. He looked into her eyes for a split second before claiming her mouth.

Sweet flavors infiltrated his head. Lemonade and woman—and him. He cupped her jaw and took more. Her velvety tongue played with his and small squeaks erupted from her. He walked her back to sit on two stacked bales.

“If I had a quilt, I’d take you right here.”

“We don’t need a quilt. My skin isn’t so sensitive,” she panted.

He couldn’t stop himself. He ducked his head and latched onto her nipple through her dress. She cried out, digging her hands into his hair and knocking his hat off. Balls clenched tight and cock throbbing, he groaned. God, this wanting. He’d never known it to be so strong. It wasn’t as if he’d had a probationary period and was as randy as a goat.

He just wanted this woman.

After an almost savage tug on her nipple, he released her. “I’ve got a shirt you can lie on.”

The two seconds it took to jump down, retrieve the shirt, and get back to Ruthie took too long for his taste. He spread the shirt over the bales and pressed her back. When he looked into her eyes, he found hers hazy with passion.

He buried his face against her throat and drank in the rain-scented body wash he’d used on her earlier. “I hope you don’t think I’m moving too quickly,” he murmured. “I just want you so damn bad.”

“I want you too.” She wrapped her leg around his waist, raising a growl from him.

He reached between their bodies and rubbed the wet fabric over her pussy. She squirmed, breathing fast. “I wish I had my camera, doll. You look so gorgeous under the Texas sky.”

She looked up, eyes wide and fixed on the blue expanse, which was almost purple in its intensity. “It’s a very big sky,” she whispered.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth. For long minutes he lost himself to her feel and taste. When he felt her working his fly, he stopped breathing. It took too long for her to free his cock, and longer for him to fumble a condom into place.

Damn, now I’m like a first-timer.

Once he was sheathed, he pulled off her panties with extreme slowness. He bit her inner thighs, making her cry out. Then he reached the heat of her and thrust his tongue into her soaking chamber.