“Mm. Yes. All yours.” She’d give herself to him any way he’d have her.
His tongue traced the exquisitely tender flesh between her inner thighs and her pussy lips, then he did the same on the other side.
Her slit clenched with craving and she shifted to put his lips where she needed them.
Steele grabbed her hips and lifted her to his mouth. His kisses rimmed her bare pussy, nibbling and sucking. His tongue lapped tentatively at her and she wanted to stop the torture, grab his hair, and make him her slave. “Love my cunt.” The dirty demand came on a wild breath.
He groaned and pressed his face into her, his tongue diving deep inside her opening, his hands holding her where he wanted her.
Sliding his tongue up to her clit, he used his lips to push aside her hood and take her little bud into his mouth. Using his teeth to scrape it gently, he sent lightning up her body to crackle in her brain, firing every synapse at once and threatening to force her into an orgasm
She resisted, wanting more from him, extending the pleasure. Taking her clit between his teeth, he flicked it wildly, raising chills that slammed through her, tightening her nipples and roaring like thunder in her brain.
Tracy grabbed the sheets and arched her back, not able to hold out against his loving assault on her senses. She tensed every muscle and let the sizzle of the lightning send her spinning through a white-hot universe that flashed behind her eyelids. Her body started to shake and she shouted his name.
As she tumbled back and landed softly on the bed, he kissed her mound and sucked at the juices trickling from her core.
“Beautiful, sugar, you’re everything I’ve ever needed.”
A shiver of delight rattled through her and nothing mattered except the way he made her feel when he was near. “Hold me.”
He eased her to the middle of the bed and lay on his side facing her, his shaft pulsing hot against her hip, his arm across her stomach. “Good for you?”
A wild laugh escaped her. “Yes, couldn’t you tell?”
Suckling her nipple into his mouth, he hummed, setting vibrations radiating through her breast to her belly. “I could tell, and I’m glad I rented a house instead of a hotel room, or we’d have neighbors calling the sheriff.”
Tracy played with his hair as he teased her nipples and brought her back to a level of need that made her want to jump him and ride wild. “That climax took my whole body with it.” Rubbing her thighs together, she upped the intensity of the desire he built in her.
“You made the windows rattle.”
“Let’s make them shatter, Steele. I want you inside me.”
He lifted his head, his eyes dark gray, his teeth bared. “You sure you’re ready for me, sugar?” He slid his hand slowly down her stomach and cupped her mound. One long finger slid inside her.
Her slit closed around him, needing all of him. “More than ready.” She spread her legs, enticing him to hurry.
“Wet and tight.” He pulled his finger out and licked it. “Sweet and hot.”
She moaned as lust pulled her belly tight.
He rolled away, then with the snap of latex, he knelt between her legs and touched just the tip of his cock to her opening. “This, you and me, I want this in my life, Tracy.”
Lifting her hips, she focused on his eyes. “Slowly, Steele. Let me feel every inch of you.”
With a growl, he pushed into her, stretching her, as deep as she could take him, then even more as her body adjusted to his length. “Is that what you want, sugar?”
She held out her arms to him. “You know it is. You know what I crave, Steele.”
He pressed his body down onto hers, his chest hairs tickling her nipples. Sliding one hand under her head, he threaded his fingers into her hair.
She scratched lightly along his back.
He shuddered and moved his shaft inside her, torturing her with the slow withdrawals, the easy way he filled her again and again as if it were the first time. His hand cupped her ass cheek and he tilted her hips with each deliberate thrust.
“I’m going to want you every minute of every day.” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows.
She rubbed it away with the pad of her thumb. “I can live with that.” She tugged his head down for a kiss.
He let her lead for a minute, then he took over. His tongue plunged into her mouth as his hips worked faster with each thrust. His pelvic bone on her clit sent skitters of electricity through her body. Her brain felt like it was underwater, her body rolling and bobbing with the waves.
“Sugar.” His breath matched her own panting, his hips jackhammering his shaft into her as his body stiffened and random muscles jerked.
Slogging through her own orgasm, she raked her nails down his back and he shouted with one last ferocious thrust into her.
As the waves softly deposited her on solid ground again, she pulled Steele down on top of her, loving his weight, the sweat on his chest, the scent of his body mixing with her musk.
“Is this heaven?” She kissed his neck, salty and hot against her lips.
He looked into her eyes. “It’s as close as I’ve ever been.” He took care of the condom then rolled them so she lay flat on top of him.
She lay there listening to his heart return to normal. “Where do we go from here?”
“You tell me, Tracy. I’m through working like there isn’t enough money in the world to earn. I’m done putting out two albums a year and touring to sell them.”
She pushed up to look at him. “What do you mean?”
He scooted them closer to the edge of the bed and picked up his phone. He punched a few buttons.
“Are you calling for a pizza?”
His laugh rumbled through her belly. “Better.” He turned his cracked phone toward her.
A photo of a grassy field with trucks parked and surveyors standing at tripods. She looked at him, then back at the photo. It took her a few moments to realize what he was showing her. “You’re breaking ground?” Her eyes opened wide.
He nodded with a grin. “Yep. I’m ready to change my life. I’ll move my operation to the ranch, leaving the team in LA to handle things there. I’ll put out albums whenever I want, whenever the songs are ready.”
“I’m so happy for you. Your father must be ecstatic.”
“He is, the crazy old coot.”
“Steele.” She was surprised he’d say something that derogatory.
“Tracy, that man faked his heart attack to get Ryder and me together.”
“No. Really?” That seemed excessive, especially with the high cost of healthcare. Of course, he was probably a millionaire if not a billionaire like Steele.
“I have a lot to tell you about the whole mess, but somehow, his scheme worked out the way he’d planned.”
She played with the hairs on his chest. “Evidently he’s not so crazy then, huh?”
He rolled her over again, landing on top of her.
She squealed and giggled.
“Oh yeah, he’s crazy. I’m more than half-crazy, too.” He kissed her, taking his time to play and tease. “In case you hadn’t figured that out yet.”
“I can live with that.”
“Come back to the ranch with me.” He brushed his fingers across her cheekbones. “Meet the family.”
“Ryder?” She almost hated to bring up the subject.
“He’ll be there.”
“I don’t know him, but I’m glad you changed your mind about him.” She traced his lips with her finger.
He kissed her fingertip. “I wasn’t seeing things straight. I felt betrayed, foolish, and thought the world would see me that way, too. Once I got past those obstacles, I could see how important family was, compared to my career and my squeaky-clean image in the music industry.”
She snorted. “Squeaky-clean? Steele McLairn, the bad boy of the Hot Country Triple Threat?” She kissed him on the lips. “But I know what you’re saying. You’ve never been trashed by the tabloids. You’re one of t
he good guys.”
“Am I?” He gave her a crooked smile.
“You are.” She let her heart guide her. “And whatever you have planned for your life, I want to be there to see it.”
“We’ll make our future exactly what we want.” The green in his irises glittered. “I have a clear vision of our lives together, Tracy, and it’s going to be better than anything we’ve ever dreamed of.”
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re my heaven, Steele.”
He pulled her in tight, squeezing the breath from her. “And you’re mine, sugarbeet.”
####
Ryder has his own story coming soon! It’s the third book in the Hot Country Series, Rough Ryder, and wait until you meet the woman who has hollered her way into his life! Rough Ryder is a work in progress, so please subscribe to my newsletter and be the first to know when it’s available. Here’s a sneak peek:
Rough Ryder - Chapter One
Ryder Landry strummed the final notes on his electric guitar as the sold-out crowd of eleven thousand in Hershey, Pennsylvania, clapped and shouted.
He touched the brim of his black cowboy hat. “Thank you!” As the lights behind him dimmed and his band left the stage, a roadie took his axe and handed him an acoustic guitar.
“I’m gonna get a little personal, here, Pennsylvania.” He slid the strap over his head and tested the tuning. Perfect.
The crow roared as a stage tech set a tall stool behind him.
He settled on the stool, one booted foot on the bottom rung, one on the floor. He’d worn a black T-shirt, and the lighting had turned it into an oven. He’d sweat through it though, for his fans. Strumming a C chord, he took a breath. This was the toughest part of his show, but it was something he needed to do. For her. He glanced up at the ceiling, and mouthed, “For you, Momma.”
The crowd went silent. “This is for a special lady who’s not with us anymore.”
Lots of female voices came back with “ahs” and “ohs.”
“I wrote this with a friend who didn’t want any of the credit for it and—”
“Yeah, right! I’m that friend!” A female voice carried all the way to the stage from the floor seating on the right.
Insensitive bitch.
A few calls of “shut up” and some shushing sounds came from that direction.
“All the proceeds from this song go to breast cancer research.”
The crowd clapped.
He strummed the notes and began to sing, the music flowing seamlessly, his voice holding steady even as emotion flooded his chest. He missed her. She’d been gone ten months, and the hole left in his life wasn’t shrinking any.
A ruckus sounded from the right side of the audience. Voices and yelling.
He just kept playing. Shit like that happened at every show. When he looked toward that area, he saw a big, white sign, highlighted with flashlights, but he couldn’t read the words.
During the last chorus, the person with the sign came running toward the stage.
He ended the song short.
“You stole this song from me!” Her voice rang clear. In each of her hands, she held a flashlight that highlighted the sign she held above her head. Ryder Landry stole this song.
The audience booed her.
Two security guards grabbed her, confiscated her sign, and snuffed her flashlights.
The crowd went wild.
Ryder leaned forward and his personal security guy stepped closer to him.
“Take her to my dressing room, Schmiddy. Keep an eye on her, though.”
“Yes, sir.” He cleared the people in front of him, jumped the bikerack holding the crowd back, and pushed his way toward the woman.
Some concertgoers turned on their phone lights and shined them on her as the three security people ushered her out of the arena.
She was just a little thing. He was six-one and Schmiddy was about his height, so she probably topped five feet by just an inch or two. Her long strawberry-blonde hair flowed straight and thick.
He’d always had a thing for gingers.
“Well, I guess I should be flattered.” Ryder strummed another chord and waited for the noise level in the arena to drop. “I’ve never had anyone go to those extremes to get my attention.” He grinned and the crowd hooted.
“Next time, ginger...” He looked toward his right. “Just throw your panties up on stage.”
The ladies in the audience screamed. And damned if two pairs of hot little underwear didn’t land at his feet. Damn, he loved his job.
After another fifteen minutes of acoustical, and another hour of his regular set, plus three quick encores, he was done. Until tomorrow night, when another eleven thousand fans would be back for night two of this tour stop. He walked through the backstage crowd, his manager and assistant by his side.
A dozen people congratulated him on a great show, and when he reached his dressing room door, he held up a hand. “Give me a half hour.”
The guys grinned. “Yes, sure thing, Ryder.” They knew what was going to happen.
He wasn’t shy about bringing a woman backstage to help him de-stress after a show. His cock jumped in his jeans as a guard opened the door for him. That hot little ginger was waiting for him, and he’d have her long hair wrapped around his fist and her lips on his cock as soon as he got rid of Schmiddy.
He stepped into the room.
She stood back in a corner. When she spun to face him, her long, silky hair flowed like silk bedsheets. Her tight little body, in a green sweater and jeans, presented him with damn nice-sized breasts for someone so small.
“Hey, cutie, thanks for waiting for me.” Ryder glanced at Schmiddy and nodded toward the exit. The guy got moving and shut the door behind him. “Let me shower first, then we’ll party.”
“I am not here to have sex with you.” She advanced on him, stepping into the full lighting. Her hazel eyes narrowed and her hands fisted at her thighs.
Her spitfire attitude just charged his swelling cock even more. He took off his hat and sent it sailing onto a chair. “Oh, yeah? What’cha want then?” He’d hear her out, seduce her, then figure out if she was crazy or not before he decided if he would bring her back to his hotel.
“Justice.”
“Uh huh.” Sweat rolled into his eyes and he pulled off his T-shirt and wiped his face with it. He tossed it into a basket in the corner. “Let’s say I give you what you want. Then what?” He advanced on her, his shaft filling, his groin hot and ready for release.
Her eyes dropped to his chest. Even with his dark hair, he had very few chest hairs, but he worked out, so he flexed a bit.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. After a moment, her gaze met his again. “Stop.”
He took a few more steps before he obeyed and planted his feet just a yard in front of her. She was one sexy little thing, and he had a whole night and most of the next day to spend some good quality fucking time with her.
“That song you played. I wrote it.” She pointed one delicate finger to her chest, making her round breasts jiggle.
“Uh huh. Just that one song, Cutie? Not every song I played tonight?” His mouth watered for a taste of her. Peaches and cream skin, her cheeks flushed with color, and her hazel eyes boring in to his. He liked how she kept her bullshit story going.
“You call me cutie just one more time, and I’m going to...” She stomped her foot, the running shoe making no noise on the thick carpet. “Ugh!” She grit her teeth and her whole body shook.
“Okay, what’s your name, then?” He needed to calm her down if he was going to get any enjoyment out of this encounter.
“I’m Brooke Davidson. I’m a songwriter. And I don’t know how you got your hands on it, but you’re going to confess to stealing that song from me.”
“Like hell I am. I wrote it. I had help, but I wrote it.”
She tipped her head and lifted a brow. “This mysterious man who just wrote the song with you and didn’t w
ant any of the credit for it.” She snorted. “Please.”
“Okay, you’re starting to get on my nerves, lady.” He pointed a finger at her. “No one tells me I’m a liar.”
She turned and stormed over to where a messenger bag sat open.
Good man, that Schmiddy. He’d have gone through it looking for weapons, drugs, and roofies.
She pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page marked with a sticky note. “Here.” She held it out to him.
He took it. Sure enough, the handwritten words were close to what he’d sung tonight. “This only proves that you can’t even copy song lyrics correctly from the internet.”
“No.” She moved next to him, pointing to the top right corner. “See the date? That’s when I wrote this song.”
He closed the notebook. “Cutie...Brooke, do you see how this doesn’t prove anything?” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Sit down with me a minute. Let’s talk this out.” Then they’d both get naked and have a little fun together.
She shook her head and stepped out of his reach. “You’re not taking me seriously.”
Dropping the notebook on the couch, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Put yourself in my position.” He hoped she was non-crazy enough to follow his logic. “I write a song with a guy who’d heard about my mother’s death and wanted to help me do something important in her memory.”
“For free? And without taking any credit for it?” She planted her fists on her hips.
When she said it like that, it did sound a little off. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. For a set price, he waived his rights to all royalties so one hundred percent of the proceeds could go to charity.”
“Okay, let’s just say that there really was a guy who helped you write the song. Because for some reason, I almost believe you when you say you didn’t steal the song.”
He pulled a face. “How generous of you.”
If looks could kill, her glare would have sent him six feet under. “How the hell would he have access to my notebook?”
Ryder let out a hoot. “How the fuck would I know?”
“I keep it locked in a file cabinet in my apartment.” Her eyes shifted. “What’s his name?”
Heart of Steele Page 20
