Pushin' Buttons (Boot Knockers) (3 page)

And Sibyll would gaze upon Hugh’s strong, muscled form. Soon she’d know the way his abs dipped when he was about to come. She’d know the look of intense pleasure on his face at the last moment.

Pecker in your pants, huh? Listen to your own rules, asshole.

“Yaww!” Riggs set his heels into the horse’s flanks and sent it racing across the field, up a hill and over the ridge. Only after the ranch dropped out of sight did he slow the animal.

Fed by the low songs of whippoorwills and the burble of a stream cutting through the valley, calm descended on him. He brought Shoot the Moon to a walk. Stroking the horse’s silky hide, Riggs’s mind wandered back to Hugh.

If anyone else had fought for Sibyll, Riggs wouldn’t have backed down. But seeing Hugh displeased in any way nicked an artery in Riggs. He wasn’t about to start bleeding for a taste of Sibyll.

Though she did torment him with the urge to pull orgasm after screaming orgasm from her. She was here because she couldn’t climax. Well, Hugh would fix her up right. By the time she left the Boot Knockers Ranch, she’d have a new sway in her step and raw vocal cords.

Riggs clicked, and Shoot the Moon halted. He threw his head back to the beating Texas sun. His western shirt clung to the sweat on his spine. Right about now Hugh was probably leading Sibyll into her bungalow. Cradling her face and lowering his lips to hers.

Dark need stabbed Riggs low. His already hard cock swelled another fraction. Shifting to adjust his dick, Riggs gave up and dismounted. He sank to the plush grass while Shoot the Moon grazed on sweet blades.

His irritation with Hugh wouldn’t last long. Sibyll would “come” and go. And maybe—just maybe this would be the right time to find out if that burning ember in Hugh’s gaze was the same candle Riggs carried for the big cowboy.

Tonight he’d corner him and find out.

Chapter Two

Sibyll’s inner thighs were sticky with the juices of her arousal. Just having the cowboy’s big, calloused hand in hers made her pussy throb. Hugh released her fingers and rested his hand on her lower back, right above the crest of her buttocks.

She sucked in a breath. He knew what he was doing, that was certain. A simple walk to the bungalow where she’d be staying was becoming a seduction.

Through the barrier of her skirt, she swore she detected his thumb right above the seam of her ass. Her nipples puckered.

“Bungalow 9.” His breath ruffled the hair on her temple, and her pussy clenched. More cream wet her panties.

He walked his fingers up her spine. When he breached her collar and dipped his fingertips inside to caress her nape, she had to stop walking or risk collapse.

Her knees shook with the effort to remain standing. She wanted to tumble into that lush grass, spread her legs and beg him to make her come. Her response to his mere closeness excited her enough to believe she
could
come with him. Images of his mouth on hers, tongue probing, of him cupping her ass and lifting against his bulging erection made her pussy flood again.

No, I can’t do this.
She’d thrown herself at men, hoping to achieve orgasm, and they all failed her. She had to keep her expectations low.

But she was burning up with eagerness.

“You all right, Sibyll?” His husky voice might have been practiced. That tone would melt any woman, even ice sculptures like her. But this is what she’d dropped a month’s income on—sexual surrogacy—a cowboy who knew his game and could use it to her benefit.

She sucked in a breath of courage and tilted her head back to look at him.

Christ, he was huge.

And insanely handsome in a way that made her want to get naked—now. The scruff of hair coating his jaw and upper lip only charmed her out of her panties more. When she focused on his well-shaped lips, a new ribbon of heat wove through her.

Were they hard or soft? They appeared to be chiseled from granite, but when the corner quirked up in a half smile, she was certain his mouth would be ohhh, so soft.

This is crazy. I don’t know anything about him and all I can think about is him eating my pussy.

The corners of his mouth twitched higher, and damn if a dimple didn’t flash in his chin. The longing to press her hands against his chest and lean into him, let him support her weight, mounted in her. But she was far from the simpering female she saw at clubs. In fact, most of her boyfriends liked her independence.

Except here at the Boot Knockers Ranch, she
was
dependent—on them finally delivering the big O.

God, could she get any more conflicted?

“You have a question, sweetheart?” he drawled. His eyes were hazel flecked with more green than brown. Green as vibrant as the fields surrounding them.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to the bungalow just yet.” Having his gaze on her stole her breath.

He seemed to fight a grin. Was it that obvious she wasn’t ready to get naked with a stranger, even if she craved it with her every fiber?

Placing a warm hand on her back, he turned her away from the small and charming wooden structures lined up in the distance. “Why don’t I show you the property? You feel up for a ride?” The way he said “ride” made her wonder if they were thinking the same thing.

“Wh—? On horseback? I don’t know how to ride.”

“Don’t worry. Most of the women who come here don’t know how to ride. I promise not to make you straddle anything until you’re ready.” His grin reached all the way to his eyes, making them spark with something that told her he wasn’t making fun of her.

A bubble of laughter escaped her throat at his words. Relaxing slightly, she let him lead her back toward the cluster of outbuildings. The auditorium where the other women were even now being chosen by cowboys had a metal roof reflecting the blazing sun.

Maybe the virgin was getting her cherry popped backstage right now.

Sibyll squinted into the distance. Several barns and a big ranch house were nestled in the valley like hens. “Where do you sleep?”

He tilted his head in a way that made her pussy throb again. “That depends on you, sweetheart.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. While he didn’t seem artificial at all, his honeyed drawl threatened to undo her. If he wanted to take her to bed, would she finally find release? Twisting her hands together, she walked beside him in silence.

After about twenty paces, he rested a broad hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. With a rough forefinger under her chin, he lifted her face and looked into her eyes.

Her heart somersaulted. The acrobatics stopped her ability to think. When Hugh dropped his head close to hers, she couldn’t reason out what he was doing.

His scent filled her nostrils—spice heated under the sun, masculine and carrying a hint of something that controlled her.

Pheromones, she thought a split second before he brushed his lips across hers. Once, twice. A faint caress that unraveled her more than any tongue-thrusting kiss from a long-term boyfriend.

When Hugh pulled away, she issued a ragged sigh.

And so did he.

Oh God.

She opened her mouth to suggest maybe they should return to Bungalow 9 after all, but he slipped an arm around her waist and started walking, towing her along in the wake of his long strides.

Dammit, she’d done it again—heart-throbbed him. That weird undulating of his heart muscle, as if it was some depraved male stripper dancing to a pulsing beat.

Get some control, man.
He’d been with how many women? In four years, the number was pretty high. Some were more memorable than others, though he always poured himself into the job. He enjoyed seeing a transformation that enabled a woman to leave the ranch and find love. Or if not love, fulfilling sex. Only in the recent months had he taken over as Master of Games.

He glanced at the top of Sibyll’s head. Her dark blonde hair was thick from root to tip. Hair he could run his fingers through, and after sex, she’d look disheveled and sexy as hell.

A knot pulled tight in his stomach. Ignoring it and the urge to growl in response, he guided the tormenting vixen at his side toward the barns.

The breeze blew nonstop in this valley, but today Hugh was especially thankful for it. It cooled the sweat on his brow and stirred his T-shirt around his hot torso. If Sibyll had been his for more than five minutes, he’d take off his shirt. But she was as skittish as a newborn foal, and he couldn’t knock her feet from under her before she even found solid ground.

She’d allowed his kiss, though. Getting her naked might not be as difficult as he’d thought.

His cock battered his fly, demanding escape. Hell, he really was in trouble, acting like a newbie Boot Knocker, practically coming in his pants for the first woman who paid to wrap her thighs around him. He was experienced—beyond this high school stage of sexual exploration.

Sibyll looked around her, drinking in the surroundings. The breeze washed a tendril of hair across her face, and Hugh couldn’t stop himself. He hooked it with a finger and guided it behind her ear. When he trailed his finger over her peachy-soft skin, he clenched his teeth against the desire to toss her over his shoulder and make off with her.

His cock demanded he get her into bed, and pronto.

But his mind and Mr. Nicey Cowboy said
no way—slow down
.

Her eyelids fluttered at his touch, and she faltered again. He glanced at her high heels.

“Baby, I’m going to get you the way I want you right now—barefoot in the grass.” He bent and tugged off one shoe, then the other. She leaned against him for balance, trembling.

He straightened and stared into her eyes, gauging her reaction. She was mighty buttoned-up, and he expected a protestation that he’d removed her shoes. But she didn’t say a word.

When she closed her eyes, a confused smile lit his face. He followed the curvy lines of her body down to her small pink toes buried in the turf, wiggling.

Sweet Jeezus, this was gonna be fun. First he’d get the professional woman out of her office attire and into something more natural—like her birthday suit. Then he’d lick her from the delicious arches of her obviously sensitive feet to the tender spot behind her ear. Hell, he wished he had two tongues to do the job.

He drew a lungful of her womanly scent. No perfumes, just soap and water and arousal. His balls tightened with need.

Wrapping his fingers around her upper arms, he leaned over her. When his shadow bathed her, she opened her eyes.

“You make me feel…” She stopped and sank her teeth into her lower lip. Since he’d spotted her backstage, she’d begun whittling at his control, and seeing those sharp white teeth digging into the plump flesh ripped away the last thread.

He dropped his head and kissed her. A rough claiming of her mouth.

Alarms sounded in his head, alerting him that he was going too fast and probably not reading her cues at all. Scaring her was against the rules and could get his ass placed on probation, which meant his cock was in confinement. While he was being punished, someone else would take over with Sibyll.

He tore his mouth away before he could do anything like plunder the sweet inside.

She stretched onto tiptoe, following him.

“Fuck, woman.” He gripped her hips and hauled her flush against his body. Lust raged in his system. For a solid minute, he let her feel the ridge of his erection. Then slowly, he unpeeled his fingers from her arms.

She sank to her bare heels. Staring at him through those denim blue eyes, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. And his rough language didn’t seem to turn her off.

“Let’s walk,” he grated out. He collected her shoes by the spiky heels in one fist and hurried her across the grounds. At the auditorium, they passed a couple—Quay with a mousy woman wearing glasses. Knowing Quay, he’d have her dolled up into a sex kitten and wearing a silky nurse’s uniform within hours. That man had a penchant for costumes and he always seemed to get the women who were into roleplay.

He nodded to Quay as they passed. Feeling the man’s gaze on their backs, Hugh tossed a glance over his shoulder and found Quay’s eyes locked on Sibyll’s shapely ass.

Hugh gave him a look that promised that a shotgun and a shovel were in Quay’s future. Quay turned back around but not before a shit-eatin’ grin spread over his face.

Still fighting to keep from shoving Sibyll against the nearest barn wall and ravaging her, Hugh focused on being the tour guide. “These are just two of the barns on the ranch. There are three more just over that ridge.” He pointed.

Sibyll nodded. “What do you raise besides horses?”

“Oh, a small herd of beef cows. Got some goats and chickens too.”
But mostly we deal in cocks.

The wind blew her hair across her face again, and she pressed it back. It fell just below her shoulders, shining like spun gold in the afternoon sun. “What’s in that building?”

“Tractor, four-wheelers.”

“And that?”

“Hay barn.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she wanted to take a roll in it, but he stopped himself. A natural curiosity—probably what pushed her toward the science profession—seemed to be working in his favor. She was talking, not as nervous.