“What does it feel like?” he breathed in her ear, his deep voice adding layers to her arousal. “Good?”
“Amazing,” she sighed.
He chuckled and continued to circle her nipple, running over it then going around again. Just when it became almost too much, when her breast’s sensitivity approached pain, he rolled to the other one and gave it the same treatment. She felt raw, exposed, and a trickle of liquid from her pussy slid between her ass cheeks.
The evil, awesome little device dug in deeper, crossing the line into true pain, but she didn’t care anymore, she wanted, “More.”
“All you want.” But the sensual torture stopped. For a moment. “Ever try nipple clamps?”
No…. “Not yet.”
He pinched her nipples, and she held her breath. “You might like it sometime.”
He wasn’t going to do it? Was she disappointed or happy about that? Not a clue, because the evil wheel was biting its way down her abdomen. She held still, not wanting it to stop, her breath catching.
She pictured the wheels she’d seen online. They were not too sharp, not breaking skin, but it felt like ten times what she’d imagined it might. How could her whole body become an erogenous zone?
Isbet arched her back, and a warm mouth closed around her nipple, sucking it in and lapping over the beaded tip. “Yes, please….”
She had become incapable of real conversation but wanted him to go on. The wheel rolled over her mound, and his mouth moved to her other breast. Her head thrashed on the pillow and her hands strained. She wanted to touch him, but she loved the feeling of helplessness at the same time.
He released her breast and kissed her abdomen, following the trail the toy had taken. Pausing at her belly button, Ryder dipped inside and licked it. Ohhh. He kissed her mound and was gone. He returned in a moment.
“So smooth.” His palm lay heavy over her naked pussy. She kept it waxed, and she’d never been gladder for her little vanity. He lay between her legs, his broad shoulders pressing them wider apart. The teeth of the wheel rolled over her lips and he parted them with his fingers then moved the toy over her clit. A surge of moisture followed the first between her cheeks.
“I think you like this.” He slid a finger inside her. “So tight. And so wet. I have to taste.”
Yes! Yes! she shouted in her head, but only a whimper emerged from her throat when he took a tentative lick of her aching pussy. She tried to lift her hips toward him, but her legs were bound so tightly she couldn’t get the angle.
“You’re sweet, darlin’.” He licked her with the flat of his tongue, from front all the way to the back. “I could eat you all night long.” Ryder closed his mouth over her pussy and sucked, his tongue working her at the same time. He withdrew his finger and let it glide down to where her juices ran freely. “But there are so many more things I want to do to you.” His finger, lubed with her moisture, rounded her back door. “Even here…I want to take you here, too.”
Dear God, he kissed and licked her cunt, lapping up her juices and working the tip of his finger into her where nobody had ever been. She’d let him do anything right now. “Yes,” she whispered.
He intensified his sucking, and when his teeth closed over her clit and held it just a little too hard, she shrieked her pleasure, coming so hard she shook from head to foot. Behind the blindfold, stars shot in her vision, gold and silver, metallics of all shades. Her hands flexed in their bonds.
Ryder kissed her belly and then pulled the kerchief away. When her vision cleared, she saw him resting his chin on her stomach, his face shiny with her cream. “I want to see those beautiful brown eyes when I fuck you, darlin’.”
With her previous lovers—all two of them—she’d been so done after coming. If they even bothered to make her come. But she wanted him even more.
“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, tied up in my bed. Maybe I’ll keep you like this forever.”
If he asked her to sign something agreeing to that this moment, she’d do it. But the practical voice far back in her head reminded her of the temporary nature of their loving. He grew dearer to her, more necessary to her happiness with each moment. She should just let him take his pleasure then go back to her room. Neither of them was in a good place for a relationship.
Lust, fortunately, prevailed. Hungry, needy, she watched him roll the condom over his long, straight cock. So large, if she hadn’t already taken him, she’d be afraid she wouldn’t be able to. He bent close, the head pointed at her sweet spot. Gripping her hips, rising over her like the god he looked more like every time she saw him, he fitted the head of his dick into her, rocked his hips, and filled her with his hot manhood. She’d never felt so stretched, so…whole. She couldn’t regret the condom. They’d managed to miss the health talk again, but they’d have it later. There wasn’t going to be a later.
There was a now!
He glided back and forward again, deeper, stretching her more to accommodate him. Her natural lubrication held strong, helping him to drive deep into her core until he banged on her cervix. She gasped.
He eyed her, a question in his gaze, but she shook her head. “I’m fine. Whatever you do, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” She tightened around him, her juices flowing more freely, a soup of sex and lust and heat. He sped up, plundering her, sliding over her G-spot every time he retreated and then stretching her wider with each advance. He took her over completely. She didn’t know where she ended and he began, and it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
They were one being in the night, the lamplight emphasizing the planes and angles of his magnificent torso. She wanted him inside her, in more than just her body. Nobody ever reached so deeply into her and found her heart.
“Isbet, darlin’, come for me.”
She flew away, and when she landed, he was arched over her, the agony of orgasm stretching his face into a caricature of itself, but one that moved her deeply. Her legs strained; she wanted them around him. With a giant thrust, he emptied himself into her, searing semen filling the condom. Then he dropped over her, braced on his forearms, panting.
They lay like that, breaths slowing to normal, him still inside her. She wished she could hold him. “Can we stop time? Stop it now?” she asked. Lame, Isbet. Needy. You only feel like that because it’s been a long time. Lying to herself couldn’t fix the situation, though.
He stroked her hair back from her sweaty cheeks. “I would if I could.”
He knew the truth, too. They couldn’t stop time. Couldn’t even slow it down. In a few hours, the sun would rise and they would try to deal with the problem on the ranch and then their own problems individually. She’d check out and go home. He’d continue to heal. Please, please let him heal. She didn’t want him back under fire, but the alternative didn’t bear thinking of. This magnificent man damaged so much, he’d be a stranger. He wouldn’t be a soldier. Might not even be able to be a rancher with his system poisoned by the wound. That damn evil weapon and its makers needed to pay for what they did to him and to the rest of their victims.
Withdrawing from her, he rose to his knees and untied first her legs then her arms. “I have to get rid of this thing.” Tying a knot in the condom, he stood and headed for the bathroom. She watched him go.
He limped a bit more, again. What had pumping into her like a maniac cost him? She shouldn’t have let it happen. How incredibly thoughtless of her. She didn’t deserve him. He needed his career and, if he did end up disabled, he’d need a woman with a much bigger heart. One who would always put him and his welfare first instead of indulging in pleasure.
Ryder returned with a warm, wet washcloth and gently cleaned her, his consideration bringing tears to her eyes. She never cried. Not until tonight when she was a veritable waterfall of girly emotions. If she’d behaved this way in the organization, she’d never have lasted. Was that the solution to her problem? Call Gordon and weep like a helpless female? Nah, he’d known her too long. He’d never buy it. Even if it was
100 percent sincere.
Ryder left again and returned to bed. He got her to lift up and pulled the covers down and then up over both of them. Gathering her in his arms, he spooned her, his spent penis nestled against her thigh. So intimate, so open to her. His skin was almost as smooth as hers, with light body hair, and, despite the washing, the scent of their lovemaking permeated the bedclothes. She breathed it in, wanting to remember it forever.
No man had penetrated her shields before. Not like this. A woman in her line of work had to be careful, keep her emotions in check. If she could escape, convince Gordon she meant it, she was done, there would be no more “just one mores” for her. Could she free herself to have a real relationship?
Down the line maybe?
But she’d never be the woman for him. Ryder deserved better. Someone prettier and more giving, like one of those country girls from the farmer matchmaking site advertised on TV. All willowy, cute blonde with lots of teeth and her own horse.
“Isbet?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. “You asleep?”
“No,” she said, not sure she shouldn’t have pretended. “I’m awake.”
“That was extraordinary.”
“Yeah, it was.” In so many ways. “I really loved the Wartenberg wheel. I didn’t see that in the drawer.”
“The what wheel?” He yawned. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve read about it in romance novels. You know, the sharp thing you used on me, all over me.” Just the memory woke her body again, despite its extreme fatigue.
“Darlin’, I don’t know what that waterburg wheel thing is, but I don’t have one.”
“Wartenberg wheel. At least I think that’s what it’s called. Maybe you cowboys call it something else?” Her eyelids closed.
He chuckled. “I think you mean this.” She opened her eyes to see him holding something in front of her.
“A spur?”
“Yep. We didn’t have a lot of fancy toys growing up. We played with what we had handy on the ranch. For the most part, I keep to that, although I do have few specialty items now.” He tossed the spur and its leather strap onto the night table and wrapped his arm around her. “Glad you liked it.”
“I loved it.”
“Good.” He burrowed his face into her hair. “I aim to please.”
Isbet listened to his breathing become slow and regular. She didn’t want to fall asleep herself. She wanted to remember every moment of this night as the gift it was. What an extraordinary man. She’d do her damnedest to help protect his family ranch. It was the least she could do before slipping out of his life and into the emptiness of hers.
Chapter Nine
Ryder rolled to his feet in the last darkness before dawn. He’d not had much sleep, but he needed to get a cup of coffee and think. Like Isbet, he wasn’t one to jump into bed with just anyone and their night together had been extraordinary.
Making his way down the stairs, he winced. In the past twenty-four hours, actually less, he’d put more strain on the leg than he should have, but that wasn’t why it hurt so much. He’d witnessed what was happening with him before, in South America. It just hadn’t taken so long. The Vibora’s poison had finally started to work its way through his system, and, soon, his status as the only survivor of its bite would end. He couldn’t tell Isbet, or his brother or Carson, though. Not only was the item classified, but he didn’t want to get them all wound up because there was not a thing any of them could do.
Even if the lab girl managed to break down the weapon so someone could figure out an antidote, it wouldn’t be soon enough to save him. He’d seen the progression before and recognized the signs. No point in even going to the doctor on the local base or to a hospital. He would enjoy the time he had left and say good-bye with grace when the time came.
Only the light over the stove was on in the kitchen. Sarge would be down shortly to start breakfast for their guests, but Ryder had a little time to himself. He reached into the back of the refrigerator and found the bag of premium coffee Andrew hid for himself. It was too early to flip the switch on the big pot Sarge would have prepared the night before. None of the guests would be up for a while. So Ryder poured some of the dark, luscious beans in the espresso machine, and the device growled low as it ground the beans. In a few minutes, a stream of the best coffee available filled his cup. He considered steaming some milk, but his brother’s single indulgence was too good to adulterate. Instead, he grabbed a pastry from a covered tray on the counter and carried it and the espresso to the breakfast bar.
Outside the window, the sky was pitch black. The moon had set. Still, he didn’t turn on a stronger light. He loved the sunrise and would just wait to watch the colorful show. The cherry, cream cheese pastry melted in his mouth, leaving him unsure if it had any liquor in it at all, and he washed it down with the coffee, his mind turning over the events of the previous day.
He was only temporarily sated; if Isbet came down here, he’d want her all over again. He was already too close to her. Her one-night proclamation, while not something he wanted to hear, offered the easiest way out. She’d leave as soon as they resolved the problem on the ranch, maybe sooner, and never even know he died a week later. Or less. Did have a week? At the thought, his leg ached even deeper, as if the poison seeped into the bones.
He might never see another sunrise , but he couldn’t die and leave his brother under the shadow of mysterious weapons dealers who landed right on their pasture and left behind deadly barbs of poison.
Two things had to happen. First, they needed the lab to figure out an antidote so nobody else would die. Maybe even something to counteract the poison before it caused the victims severe neurological damage. Who knew how long that would take, though.
And, second, they had to do something to stop the landings on the property. Even if they didn’t rustle the cattle, the criminal presence was upsetting to the animals, and how long before one got hurt? This was in his wheelhouse. They had to either capture the interlopers or, at the very least, make their stops uncomfortable enough they would go elsewhere.
Preferably not in the United States.
The stairs creaked, and Sarge arrived and set right to work. In a short time, he had the rolls baking off and a tray of individual quiches in the oven. Ryder had never seen the quiches on the menu before. Another dish Sarge learned watching one of his Food Network “sweeties.” Ryder was going to try to get the old guy on one of the competitions on there one day. Of course, he always added his own special touches. The quiches probably had white wine in them or something.
He stood, stretching, and rubbed at the skin near the wound.
“Still bothers you, huh, Ryder?” The old cook poured a cup of coffee and took a seat on the stool next to his. “Sit down and talk to me a minute.”
He’d always respected the old guy, so he did as asked and took his place again. “Sure, Sarge. What’s up?”
“What’s bothering you?”
Ryder didn’t want to get into it with anyone right now. If he told him he was dying, there’d be an ambulance at the door in two minutes flat. Pointless. “Just thinking about things.” Keep it vague.
“Thinking about your leg or the pretty lady upstairs in your room?”
“About the creeps who’ve invaded the ranch.” Only partly true, but it worked.
“If I get my hands on them, I’ll put them under a pot pie cover for lunch.” Sarge got up from the counter and grabbed a cleaver. “We’ll have them out of here in no time, and you and Miss Isbet can get on with your lives. She’d make a good wife for you when you get back permanently.”
“There is still a chance they’ll take me.” He was kidding himself, making believe his injury wasn’t killing him.
“Of course there is, son. But you’ve put your time in. Are you sure you don’t want to call it?”
He was aghast. Sarge? Advocating leaving the military? The older man told stories all day and night to anyone who would listen about his adventures around the
world. It made Ryder uncomfortable to hear him suggest leaving before his tour was up. “No, why would I?” he asked in what he hoped came out as an even tone.
“No reason,” said Sarge, bringing out a big cutting board and bigger bowl and a bag of stone fruit. He laid the apricots, cherries, and peaches on the butcher block and began to chop them into big chunks. “But there comes a time when nature tells you it’s over. And if the commanders think you should muster out, then maybe that’s what you should do.”
“Nature? It’s not like I caught measles or have a heart condition. This was incurred in the line of duty, and until I am told I’m done, I’m going back.” But did he really believe his destiny lay there anymore?
He wasn’t positive.
Sarge tipped the fruit into the bowl and added some sugar and a healthy dollop of rum. “Whatever you think best. Nobody can tell a man what to do with his life. I need to get this in the refrigerator to chill before the guests wake up. It’s always a hit.”
“That’s fruit salad for breakfast? No wonder our customers are so happy to stick around.” Like Isbet…. Grabbing a cherry, he popped it in his mouth. “Holy cow, what a lot of rum. I’m not sure the dudes—the guests—should be riding the horses after breakfast.”
“If you want to make the food, I’ll retire right now.” Sarge, clutching the cleaver again, made for an intimidating sight. “Lots of places would be happy to have me.”
Ryder shut up. Their grizzled cook kept the guests happy with his eclectic mix of food garnered from his history in the army and the pretty ladies he followed on the Food Network. So what if he added a little liquor to almost everything he cooked? He never drank…unless eating his food counted.
If he quit, Andrew would kill him sooner than the Vibora could.
And after Ryder was gone, whether it took weeks or months, Andrew would be the sole owner of Carmichael Ranch. What a shame Isbet hadn’t liked his brother better than him. Andrew, unlike him, had a long and happy future waiting.
The Omega Team_Spurs Page 7
