Mastering Her Will (Dirty Texas Love Book 2)

by Shanna Handel

  “Yes, Tuesdays and Thursdays.” The words were out before my brain registered what I was saying. A sick feeling hit the pit of my stomach. Jake was going to kill me. Now Ryder knew exactly where to find me. I had to hide my slip up from Jake. It was not a big deal, really. Was it? Speaking to Ryder for about two seconds, telling him I was happily married with an economy size box of super plus tampons between us?

  “I thought so,” he said, a happy grin spreading across his handsome face. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Giving a friendly wave, he left the store.

  Looking back now, I’m glad I told him—even if it had earned me a paddling.

  Checking my mirror for peanut butter smears on my face, I flipped the visor up, satisfied that there were no traces of my binge. Flying out the door this morning, I had made myself a PB&J, wrapped it in a paper towel, and shoveled it down on the drive. I got out of my car and walked up the gravel drive, pulling the heavy door open.

  Walking to the breakroom to say ‘Hi’ to Cherry I breathed in the familiar scent of the room. Strong cleaning solution, coffee, and at times, sweaty men. It was beginning to feel like a second home to me. I just hoped I could get past my life long struggle with dyslexia and make my dream of becoming a full-time emergency medical technician come true.

  Seated at one of the big round tables with three empty chairs around her, Cherry was studying intently.

  “Boo!” I called.

  She didn’t even flinch. Looking up, she smiled when her eyes hit mine. “Hiya, Buttercup.” Standing, she made her way around the table and wrapped me in a hug. I had finally gotten used to Cherry greeting me with a squeeze every time she saw me.

  Not coming from an affectionate family, not much of a family at all, I was unused to hugs between friends. And with all those years I had wasted being wrapped up in Tom, I had missed out on close female friendships.

  Moving to Poke Town had been just what I needed. Between Jessica, Carrie and now, Cherry, I had plenty of girlfriends I could talk to. I was even beginning to look forward to their perfume laced, crushing hugs.

  She sniffed at me, crinkling her adorable nose. “You smell like peanut butter.”

  I laughed. “I was running late and had a sandwich on the car ride over here. Although I shouldn’t even be hungry from all I’m eating with this studying. I stayed up late, snacking, crumbs falling all over my books.”

  “That was me last night—I was cramming for the exam and accidently ate two bowls of Moose Tracks ice cream.” She put a hand to her flat belly. “Ugh. I swear I gained three pounds from it.”

  Nudging her with my elbow, I said, “Stop it. You’re tiny. But I hear you about the studying.”

  “Have you told that gorgeous hunk of a husband, yet?”

  My brow wrinkled at the thought. “No. I’m too scared I won’t pass. He was so proud when I got the first responder—I just don’t want him to get his hopes up. The National Registry is going to be… difficult for me.” I was scared that I would tell him, then fail.

  Though I was calm as a cucumber and knew exactly what to do in an emergency, I had always struggled with book learning. The nitty gritty handling of the injured I had down pat. The little fill in the bubble test, I did not. The long, hard to pronounce—or even read, for me— words of the National Registry exam had me terrified. But passing that test is what it took to become a real EMT.

  It had all started with me having some extra time on my hands when Jake and I first became engaged. During the days when Jake was working I spent a lot of time helping Jessica with her boys over at my brother’s house, or lending a hand at Hope Reigns, or helping Carrie out with ranch duties. The evenings I spent with Jake.

  My brother, Ray had seen me in emergency medical situations and always said I had ‘the gift’. I didn’t know about that, but I did know I felt calm and collected when there was an emergency. I slipped into this ‘zone’, while others panicked. It was hard to explain the shift, but it was as if time slowed. Ray had told me I needed to use ‘the gift’, and suggested I take the basic class to become a volunteer. He told me they needed people down at Poke Rescue.

  On a whim, I signed up for the intensive, two-week course to get my first responder certification. And that’s when I met Cherry. Instantly latching to me as the only other girl in the class, Cherry was as pushy as she was cute and friendly. She had the confidence I lacked, and I fed off her energy.

  Jake was so proud of me when I had completed the course. He had even tried to cook me a congratulatory dinner—a lasagna that turned into a soup—which of course resulted in us dining on Chinese takeout by candlelight.

  I began to volunteer on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Somehow, as shy as I was, I had fit right in at Poke Town Rescue. It was a great group of people who were eager to serve their community. The guys had encouraged me to take the EMT-Basic course and get my certification. I had shied away from their praise, knowing the test would be a struggle for me.

  Finally, it was Cherry who convinced me. She signed up for the EMT-Basic Certification class with me and we took it together. Again, the only two females in the class, we further bonded. Grabbing lunch during our breaks we laughed and whispered together. I encouraged her to come volunteer with me and was thrilled when she agreed.

  I managed to take the class without Jake knowing as the evening classes coincided with his Rec League baseball games. I had offered to watch his games, but he knew it bored me and that I would be sitting in the stands alone, not comfortable enough to make small talk with the other baseball wives and girlfriends.

  I passed the EMT-B with Cherry’s help and encouragement, but now I had to pass the National Registry basic exam.

  Asking her the same question I asked every time the National Registry came up, I said, “What will I do if I don’t pass, Cherry?”

  Her hand went to my shoulder. “You’ll pass, Buttercup. You will. You have worked too hard to fail.”

  A call came over the radio. We jumped to action. End of discussion—it was time for the part I excelled at—the actual caring for injured people.

  Chapter 4

  Buttercup

  Sundays were easily my favorite days. Both Jake and I were busy during the week, then visiting family and friends on Saturdays, we reserved Sundays for just us two. Lazy days where we laid in bed, Jake making pancakes—one of the few things he could cook, taking walks, going out to eat, or ordering in if we hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes that day.

  Having stayed up late last night studying, while Jake slept, I was having a lazy morning, watching Jake add the finishing touches to a painting he was going to hang in Sarah’s bakery. As my eyes roved over his latest creation—a grassy field of bluebonnets—I wished I had some kind of artistic talent too.

  “I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to paint,” I murmured, admiring his work.

  Drawing his eyes from his work, he turned to me. “Would you like to find out?”

  “Oh, no. It would turn out terrible—I don’t have an eye for that kind of art. I can make crafts, you know, your standard wedding or baby shower decorations, but painting—that’s intimidating.”

  “What if we have a little fun with it?” he asked, putting his brush down on the tray of his easel. Jake had a naughty glint in his eye and his grin told me he had something sexy up his sleeve.

  “What do you have in mind?” I murmured as he stood, making his way over to me.

  Leaning over me, his full lips contacted my mouth. As it did every time my husband kissed me, my insides began to melt.

  Pulling away from me, he whispered in my ear, “Let’s paint—naked.”

  I laughed, blushing, trying to picture it. Jake, tall and muscular with his tanned skin and bronze, curly hair would look like a painting himself while creating art sans clothing. Me, with my pale skin and… well Jake could never stop telling me how beautiful he found me… maybe I should put my inhibitions aside and give it a try. After all, we were going to spend the rest
of our lives together—might as well get comfortable being naked with one another.

  “Sure. I’m game.”

  Jake’s eyes lit up with excitement. Giving me one last, quick kiss, he released me. Heading towards his shop he called over his shoulder, “Give me ten minutes—wait here.”

  I sat down on the couch, nervous butterflies in my stomach. What had I agreed to? Had I even shaved today? Lifting the hem of my pajamas, I pulled them up, peeking underneath. Hmm...ten minutes. That was enough to zip in the shower and touch up my shaving job. I had to take my clothes off anyway, might as well go.

  Hurrying off to the shower, I turned the knob on the tub faucet, letting the water get nice and steamy. Whipping my hair in a high ponytail, I hurried out of my clothing, then hopped in the shower, pulling the curtain closed.

  Humming to myself, I lathered and carefully shaved all the hair from my body. Cutting the water, I stepped out of the tub and dried off with the big white fluffy bath towel—one of our many wedding gifts from Jessica— I had waiting. I slathered lotion on my legs, patted my secret stash of ‘no bump coochie cream’ on my bare pussy, then wrapped the towel tightly around me. Scurrying off to the living room, I sat on the couch and glanced at the clock. Only seven minutes had passed.

  The backdoor opened and I let out a sigh of relief—I didn’t want to sit for three more minutes letting my nerves get the best of me.

  My breath caught in my throat as Jake made his way through the back door. There was not a lick of clothing on my man.

  And he was stunning. His broad chest was tanned from his hours of working on outdoor projects as were his muscular shoulders and arms. Narrow waist and trim hips, that delicious cock hanging down between his rock-hard thighs. How did I ever get so lucky?

  “You ready?” he asked, a mischievous look on his face, gesturing at the back door.

  “Aren’t you setting up in here?”

  “Nope.” His grin spread.

  “Then where?”

  “Backyard.”

  “Wha… we are painting… naked… outside?”

  “Why not? It’s less messy than inside. And our backyard is totally private. We have a six-foot privacy fence and tall trees, and no one can see in.

  “But… it’s outside.”

  “I know. That’s what’s so great about it. The weather is fantastic. Come on.”

  Shyly I stood, pulling the towel tighter around my body. One foot in front of the other, I slowly made my way across the room to meet Jake. He grabbed my hand, tugging me eagerly outside.

  My bare feet stepped onto the cool grass. The sun was shining and the air perfectly warm—it was a great day to be outside naked.

  Jake looked completely confident standing fully nude in our backyard. He lived in his body in a way you could tell he fully appreciated and accepted it—not that that would be hard for anyone who looked like him to do. All his hours of labor had paid off in the physique department. His lean muscles moved gracefully as he walked.

  There was a large, clean, white drop cloth spread across the grass. Plates of different blobs of paints sat on the side of the canvas. The colors he had chosen were beautiful—teals, greens, blues and even a gold and silver metallic.

  I didn’t see any canvas or easels to work with. “What are we painting on?”

  Hands on his hips, his eyes met mine. “Us. Our skin is the canvas.”

  He took two long strides towards me, then his hand whipped out and before I could think, the towel was in his hand and I stood, naked. His eyes roved over me as he murmured, “Beautiful.”

  My cheeks heated up and I knew my pale skin was turning pink. An excited shiver ran through me and goosebumps appeared on my arms.

  “Come.” Smiling warmly, Jake held out his hand. I put mine in his and he led me to step onto the drop cloth. Folding his long legs underneath him, he sat, legs crossed before him. I opted to sit, knees together, legs tucked beneath me.

  Jake handed me one of the palette discs. I studied the colors closely. The blues and greens of the shimmery teal were swirled beautifully against the white plastic of the palette. I would use that magical color first.

  With a disc in his own hand, Jake dipped the tip of his finger into the blue. A grin spread across his face as he said, “Lie down.”

  Putting my tray beside me I lay down on the canvas, the material soft under my bare skin. Jake scooted beside me, his tray in hand.

  With the blue paint on his fingertip he began at my shoulder. As his finger trailed a blue swirl appeared. He paused, dipping into the gold. His brow narrowed with concentration as he worked, lost in his art.

  The touch of his finger slowly moving over my skin, lubricated by the slippery paint, was heavenly. I closed my eyes and let the warm sunshine soak into my body.

  Jake’s work moved from my shoulder to my collarbone. Adding silver and green to the blue and gold, his swirling design flowed across me, meeting my other shoulder.

  Choosing the teal, he focused on the growing design, this time making his way down to my breast. To my embarrassment, and to his amusement, my nipple instantly stiffened as his light touch painted circles around my breast. I held my breath as, with a smile, he painted a tiny gold heart over my sensitive bud.

  His worked continued down my torso. I looked down admiring his work. My stomach was soon covered with a beautiful design that resembled a vine of flowers.

  When he was satisfied, he asked, “Can I take a picture? From your waist, up? Just for me. No one else will ever see it.”

  The work was beautiful. The colorful paint and elaborate design made my body beautiful. I felt relaxed to my core from his touch and the sun and the fresh air. What the heck? Why not?

  “Okay,” I agreed, quietly.

  With a flash of a smile, Jake was up and jogging towards the house. Careful to open the door using the clean part of his hand only, he was in the house. I heard the running of water, then he returned, phone in hand.

  Kneeling beside me, he began to take pictures. My head tilted to the side and I smiled at his eagerness as he snapped away. It was a heady experience. To be nude outside, under the sun, my husband transforming my bare skin into a work of art with nothing more than his fingertips and some paint. As much as I was reveling in the experience, I doubted I would ever be brave enough to look at the pictures he was taking.

  Looking down at the screen of his phone, he studied the pictures he had taken. Satisfied, he said, “Now, roll over.”

  “You want to do the back?”

  He nodded.

  I rolled over, putting my arms up and crossing my hands over top of one another, resting my head on them. I turned my head to the side. A breeze blew over my bare skin and I closed my eyes.

  Jake began to paint my back. It was the most amazing feeling, his fingers stroking my skin with the cool paint. It was like getting a highly erotic massage. My nipples tightened beneath me, pressed into the rough canvas. I felt my crotch dampening. When he reached my waist, I tensed. Was he going to paint my ass, as he had my breasts?

  Of course, he was. Goosebumps raised on my bottom as his fingertips caressed it with the cold paint. All shyness melted away as he reached the final curve of my bottom. His touch was melting me to the core. My bottom liked all the attention it could get.

  He was finished all too soon.

  “Another picture? But this one will be your whole body. Is that okay?”

  I nodded, too relaxed to answer.

  When Jake was done, he lay beside me. Gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he said, “Your turn.”

  “I can’t do anything half as beautiful as you created.”

  “That’s okay. Just give it a go.”

  Sitting up on my knees, I picked up my paint palette. Jake stretched out on his back, his hands tucked behind his head.

  My finger hesitantly dipped into the turquoise paint. “Close your eyes,” I said.

  Smiling, he obediently closed his eyes.

  I went to work
. The paint was cool on my fingertip. His skin was warm and smooth and beautiful against the color of the paint. I hummed while I worked, feeling like a child again as I carefully smeared the paint across his chest. A few moments later when I was satisfied with my work, I leaned back to inspect it.

  “My turn for a picture, but don’t look yet.” Grabbing his phone with my clean hand, I tapped in his lock code, pulling up the camera.

  The pictures he had taken of me popped up. My breath caught in my throat at the site of the delicate designs against my bare skin. The sunlight shining making the colors shimmer and glitter. There was a sensual look in my green eyes and my cheeks flushed prettily. I was glad he had taken them.

  “Everything okay?” Jake asked, eyes still closed.

  “Yes,” I said, closing the picture gallery and focusing the camera on his chest.

  When I had gotten a few pics of my work, I said, “Okay, you can look now.”

  Jake sat up on his elbows, looking down at his chest and taking in my work. He let out a loud belly laugh.

  “Property of Buttercup Hargett,” he read out loud. “I like it.” Reaching out his arms towards me, he said, “Now, come take a picture with your property.”

  Phone still in hand, I moved into his arms. Sitting side by side, his arm wrapped around me, Jake took the phone from me. Holding it out, he took a picture of both of us in our naked, painted bodies, the sun shining behind us.

  Leaning into me, he kissed me. “How did you like your first painting session?” he asked.

  “I loved it. I can’t imagine creating art any other way,” I mused.

  “I will teach you to paint—on canvas, with brushes—but I probably won’t let you wear clothes while you do it.

  “I can handle that.”

  Kissing me again, I melted into him.

  “Let’s get you into the shower and get this paint off. What do you say?”

  “You coming in with me?”

  “Of course. Married people shouldn’t waste water on separate showers. Got to keep that water bill down. Don’t you agree?”