Pushin' Buttons (Boot Knockers) (9 page)

“Deep?” he crooned against her throat.

“Mmm.” An expert like him did know what she liked. He could read women’s cues like a poetry professor read Keats.

He spread her thighs with his own, changing her stance. The slight shift angled her hips, and he took immediate advantage—plunging a finger into her aching pussy.

Her walls stretched. God, it wasn’t enough.

As he stroked that blissful spot that had almost brought her to shimmering release last night, he stabbed his tongue into her mouth in time to his thrusts.

The wind freshened, bringing smells of grass and hay. But all she could think about was this man stealing her mind. If he carried away her body too, she’d probably turn into a lovesick puppy.

The drone of the lawn tractor drew closer, and adrenaline spiked. She bucked against Hugh’s fingers. So close.

Still kissing him, she peeked behind him.

Of course he caught her.

“No one can see us.”

Damn.

She lost the invisible thread tugging her toward the most powerful feelings she’d ever experienced.

Hugh continued to thrust his finger in and out of her pussy, but the tension inside her had fled. The tightness around his finger eased, and she kissed more slowly.

Hell, what had happened? Maybe his voice really did send her releases running. Sibyll was a complicated woman, and he obviously wasn’t doing a great job here.

Frustrated but refusing to show it, he nuzzled her throat. “You’re so wet, baby.” He wanted to tell her how beautiful and desirable she was but worried she might take it as a line. He stroked her side. “What’s stopping you?”

She slumped a little in his hold and lightly smacked her head off the barn wall. “If I knew, I would have fixed it long ago.”

Hugh examined her face. “Oh sweetheart. Come here.” Which was a stupid thing to say considering she was plastered against him.

With a soft noise, Sibyll blinked as if to keep the tears shining in her eyes from falling. Now he felt like a grade-A ass. Between not making her come and seeing those tears, he was just about ready to hand over the reins to Riggs.

For a long minute he held her, one hand tangled in her thick hair and the other on her spine. Doing the best by her was more important than his personal desires. Yeah, he wanted to see her unravel because of him. Egotistical? Sure. But giving up wasn’t in his nature.

She sniffed. “It’s not you. You’re fantastic, Hugh.”

He withdrew enough to look into her eyes. They were clearer. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You understand?” His tone was a little harsh, brooking no argument.

She gave a nod.

He pushed away and righted her clothing. Then, taking her hand, he led her away from the barn. Striking out across the field to the bigger horse barn, he worked on the puzzle that was before him.

Finding a way to fulfill her was imperative. The Boot Knockers never failed. He just needed to stay lively, watch her cues and try new things.

All in six days.

He racked his brain. Judging by the way she responded when he’d shoved her against the wall, she liked it a little rough. Maybe she’d respond to a spanking? Domination? He’d have to go back through her file. When he’d fought for her, it had been gut instinct. He didn’t know nearly enough.

As he worked on the riddle, he talked to her about their surroundings. How they produced their own hay and sometimes extra to sell to surrounding ranches. Where they got their livestock and what they fed them.

“Riggs and I want to increase the horse herd and get into selling stock as well.”

They passed another couple walking—Booker and the woman he’d been assigned to. She was tall and model-thin. On the outside she looked normal, but something was hindering her from gaining what she needed sexually or even spiritually or she wouldn’t be here.

Just like Sibyll.

Hugh raised a hand in greeting to the other couple, then said to Sibyll, “Tell me more about your work.”

As she talked about testing and pharmaceutical drugs, he listened carefully. Reading between the lines was one of his greatest strengths. If he could find a way to break through her shell…

Her plump pink lips drew his attention. Keeping himself from staring at them while she talked was impossible, so he drew her to a stop. “Want to sit here in the grass?”

She looked around, curiosity making her features more relaxed, prettier if that were possible. “Sure.”

He sank to the ground and tugged her down beside him. Immediately, she plucked a blade of grass and studied it. He snapped off a taller blade and stuck it in his mouth. “So you do enjoy your work.”

She sat up straighter as if surprised. “Yes, I guess I do. But I want to know more about the operations here on the ranch.”

He spoke slowly, giving only the information that would whet her appetite. He hoped to focus on anything but her problem climaxing in hopes of loosening her up. If he couldn’t get her past her sticking point, he’d sit her down and dive deeper into her psyche with a lot of questions.

She didn’t need to know how much of a business it really was and how far their hearts were from the operations. While Hugh felt ten steps too close to Sibyll, he couldn’t let on. Yes, they were all passionate about helping and loving women. But they weren’t
in
love with them.

Hugh hadn’t felt that emotion since Travis. Damn the man to hell.

Their relationship had been rough and wild, hotter than a Texas wildfire. Travis had stormed into Hugh’s life and demanded his heart.
Commanded
it. When Travis had gone to the Army, their parting had been a wrench.

At least for me.

Travis had gone to boot camp and called only once to let Hugh know that distance wasn’t going to work for him. And apparently Travis had found another lover.

Sibyll placed a hand on Hugh’s knee. Startled, he jerked his gaze to hers. She wore a concerned expression. “Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat. Damn, had he gotten lost in that old Travis fog again? It was years ago—Hugh was over it. But the loving part…he missed that.

When Sibyll caressed Hugh’s leg, tenderness swept him. He was supposed to be taking care of her in all ways. So far all he’d done was frustrate her more and use her to his own blissful end.

When he met her gaze, his heart did that odd flip. He covered her hand with his and contemplated his next move. “What do you want, baby? Should I tumble you into the grass? Take you to the hot tub, put you on the ledge and lick your pussy in front of anyone who might come near? Should I get you into a group arena and let you participate with other girls? Or maybe doll you up in a naughty maid’s costume and demand you clean me?” He pitched his voice low. His erection was constant around her, but now it stiffened more.

Her breaths came faster but she seemed reluctant to answer. A pink flush coated her skin. “I might try any of those things with you, Hugh. But right now I like talking to you.” As she tipped her head up to the sky, the sun kissed her skin, giving her a new glow.

Maybe this was what she needed—mental stimulation. The rest would come with the opening of her mind. But what would he do about the crack she was making in his heart?

When Sibyll and Hugh walked in, Riggs spun his back to them. He should have known the grub house would be filled at this time of day, but after working a long day in the field, he’d needed sustenance.

Of all kinds.

Part of him had hoped another couple might ask him to join into a threesome. That short, wild coupling with Hugh had only amped up his need. He’d jacked off twice since then and couldn’t find relief from the gnawing ache. Fucking another cowboy might work Hugh out of his system. Or maybe teaming up with one of the guys to deliver the ultimate pleasure to a woman would ease Riggs.

Twisting, he glimpsed Hugh and Sibyll out of the corner of his eye. Who was he kidding? They were driving him nuts.

A feminine hip bumped his. He looked up from the plate he was loading with cornbread and fried chicken and into Isabel’s eyes. The stage manager often sought him just to talk. There wasn’t a hint of attraction between them. Everyone knew it was Hugh she wanted, though as far as Riggs knew, he’d never slept with her. In fact, he didn’t carouse with anyone unless asked to join in.

Except me.
Riggs’s spirits lifted. Maybe that action was as loud as one tenderly spoken word—Archer.

“You doing all right on your own, Riggs?” Isabel asked, as perky as always.

“’Course I am. Cowboys are used to being alone.”

“Yeah, but not Boot Knockers.”

What was she getting at? She looked past him. He followed her gaze to Hugh.

Hugh flashed a smile at Sibyll. Damn that man and his distracting dimple. Riggs looked away again, and so did Isabel.

“Hugh seems to be having a good time.”

Irritation wove through Riggs. “Hugh can have a good time up to his knees in horseshit.” It was true, but maybe he only showed that side to Riggs.

Hugh’s strong leadership skills had been the number one reason the Boot Knockers had voted him Master of Games. He was strict but knew when to joke, and they all loved him for it, even Isabel.

“I’ll catch you later, Isabel.” Riggs drifted down the buffet line.

Couples milled around the room, eating and chatting. Ty gave a loud whoop then broke into his trademark two-step, dragging his petite brunette behind him.

Riggs grabbed another drumstick and a bottle of soda and took a seat at the end of one long table. Light filtered into the space through a wall of windows overlooking the fields. There he could see two horses grazing.

Riggs belonged out there with them. Maybe he’d take his plate and go.

For a moment, he gazed longingly at the horses then with a sigh, bit into the drumstick. Juicy, spiced meat filled his mouth, and he chewed reverently.

If he should fall in love with anyone, it should be the cook.

As he tore through the buttery, light cornbread and chicken, he listened to the talk around him.

Quay sat with a woman Riggs hadn’t seen before. She was a little on the plain side, nothing distinct about her. But as Quay talked, her face lit up. The glow she wore when she smiled made Quay smile, and Riggs couldn’t stop himself from becoming infected too.

“Must be good chicken. Riggs is grinning.” Hugh’s baritone snapped Riggs to attention.

He dropped his half-eaten second drumstick and tried to meet Hugh’s gaze without giving anything away. “Always good chicken. You know that.”

Hugh carried two plates—his and Sibyll’s. Riggs let his gaze slide over her—lips, throat that bore red markings, full breasts in her white shirt, and jeans that conformed to her curves. He didn’t meet her gaze though. “I hope you two enjoy your meal. I have to talk to Jack about getting two horses shoed.”

Sibyll stared at him, and Riggs’s body reacted with a bigger boner than he already carried for her as well as the man standing at her side.

“Oh yeah? Which horses?” Hugh asked.

“Riggs, I need to talk to ya.” Paul stood there, hands on hips, hat low over his eyes.

Just from his stance, Riggs knew the maintenance man was in one of his moods. More than once Riggs had done the fist tango with Paul. They often butted heads because Riggs took care of many things Paul wanted to be in charge of.

To goad his nemesis a little more, Riggs picked up his chicken and took a plump bite. With a mouthful, he said, “What’s up?”

Paul twisted his mouth and glared. “Did you move that shipment to the corn crib?”

They often dumped dried ear corn into an open-walled, wooden structure instead of leaving it in the barn for the varmints. It was a bigger pain to get it out to feed the animals, but that’s why they had the corn crib in the first place.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

Sibyll looked between them, obviously sensing more than the forced civility in their tones. Hugh moved closer to her.

Paul leaned over the table, his face thrust close to Riggs’s. “You’re always in the way, Riggs. Stop taking over my job.”

Riggs slowly set down his chicken and took his time wiping the grease from his hands with a paper napkin. He didn’t release Paul’s stare. “I’m invested in those horses. It’s my job to keep an eye on them.”

Paul’s eyes flashed and his knuckles curled on the table. “Keep your nose out of my business. I was hired to tend to the ranch while you”—Paul’s glare darkened further—“take care of the other guys.”

Riggs shoved to his feet, muscles coiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you and Hugh together.”

Man, this guy was walking a slippery slope. His mouth would get him fired if Riggs had his way. Thing was though, he only fought with Riggs, antagonizing him about enjoying men in bed when “not on the clock.” The other Boot Knockers had no bones with Paul, which was the only reason the hand was still here.

Hugh looked on, as relaxed as if they discussed the latest professional bull riding scores. He knew Riggs wouldn’t welcome his intervention. He took care of his own battles. Sibyll’s mouth dropped open, her eyes the size of dinner plates.