Heat poured through her body, sending her blood singing through her veins. Her breasts ached, and cream gushed from the swollen folds of her cunt. Pulling back a bit, she took in great gulps of air. Dakota seemed to be as breathless, but was quick to bring them back together, this time teasing the seam of her lips with his tongue.
Never would she have anticipated such a tender kiss, although gentleness was exactly what she should have expected from such a calm, controlled man. What ensued was a smooth and easy mating of their mouths. Tamara was greedy to drink in his exotic taste, letting her tongue twist and twirl around his and slide over the edge of his teeth. He swallowed each of her small whimpers and moans as the kiss became more heated.
The burning in her oxygen-deprived lungs forced her to pull back, even though she’d not had nearly enough. They were fighting for each breath when he untangled her legs from his waist, letting her make a slow slide over his hard length, teasing her ultra sensitive nerve endings.
“Go on inside now, princess.” He growled the words in a raspy voice reflecting how much their kisses had affected him.
She stood there staring at him in shock. Go inside? Alone? What the fuck?
“You heard me. Get your sweet little ass inside before I do something I’ll regret. We’ll talk about this later.”
Hurt and confusion welled up insider her, and there was no stopping the angry retort. “Don’t flatter yourself, stable boy.”
She realized what she was doing, but was unable to stop herself from falling into old patterns. Lashing out at Dakota helped to ease the hurtful sting of his rejection.
Turning on her heel, Tamara marched up the porch steps and through the backdoor without once turning to look at him again. In her frustration she slammed the door so hard it sent a jarring vibration through her arm.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he’d said. Well screw him. He could stand out there and talk to the trees for all she cared because she was not about to discuss what had happened with him.
Chapter Four
Large, dark hands cupped her tender breasts, calloused thumbs teasing turgid nipples. Sinfully wicked sensations streaked straight from the diamond-hard points to pulse along her clit. The big man playing her body like a finely tuned musical instrument was making her hornier than she ever remembered being. Hell, even all four of her cowboys had never managed to get her this worked up.
The musky aroma of feminine arousal permeated the air, increasing her need. Still he stoked her desire higher with each touch, kiss, lick and nip of teeth. Sliding lower down her body, his devilish tongue traced intricate patterns along her tummy, then over her mons after a playful tug on her navel ring. The silky slide of his raven hair against the pale flesh of her legs had her writhing beneath him.
How he managed to bring her to such a state all by himself was beyond her. She had not been able to achieve satisfaction from a single lover in longer than she cared to remember. Each encounter required more stimulation, another partner, a bit more kink for her to gain release. Yet somehow Dakota had her at a fevered pitch all by himself. The man was astounding.
His fingers separated her swollen folds with gentle care, and a heated exhalation caressed her excited clit. She almost came just from the small bit of stimulation. The engorged bundle of nerves pulsed along with the rapid beating of her heart. God, if he would take the sensitive nub between his lips…
The warmth of his tongue traced a slow path from her opening, stopping a fraction below the spot where she most needed his attention.
“Unh…”
“Shh, princess. Just relax.”
Relax. Yeah, easy for him to say. The man had her strung tighter than a guitar string, one strum of his thick fingers or wicked tongue over her inflamed clit and she would snap. With shameless abandon, she bucked her needy cunt closer toward his mouth. A bit higher, a little to the left and…
The shrill bleating of the alarm clock brought Tamara flying off the bed.
“Shit!” Spearing her fingers through her hair in frustration, Tamara glared at the offensive instrument. A dream. It had only been a dream. Granted, it was the most intense, body quaking dream she’d ever experienced, but still only a wet dream. A few minutes longer and she would have gone off like a rocket, soaring into the stratosphere.
Yeah, like that would ever happen. Never in her life had an erotic dream reached fruition. Just like there was no way in hell one man was able to make her as hot as Dakota had in the sleepy imagination. Not only were her panties wet, but her cream coated her thighs. Unbelievable.
She now knew what people meant when they spoke of being “bone weary”. After leaving Dakota last night she’d spent endless hours pacing the cabin floor, cussing the annoying Indian. When she’d given in and laid down, sleep had eluded her. Even when she had succumbed to exhaustion, her sleep had been fitful at best. Then the charged erotic dream had filled her mind and increased her restlessness.
Coffee. The wonderful nectar of the gods. It was the only thing capable of getting her through this day. Maybe even an intravenous caffeine infusion was called for.
Ugh, and she had to make it to her bookstore this morning. If she didn’t arrive for the nine o’clock meeting with her distributor, Paperback Roundup wouldn’t continue to have the hottest new releases.
Her bookstore was Tamara’s pride and joy. She had built a thriving business. For the most part it had become self-sufficient. The man she found to manage the store, Wade Garrett, was a godsend who kept the business running with smooth efficiency. Yet there were still certain things she had to…no, wanted to handle herself. It also provided a valid excuse to get away.
The need to escape rushed through her. If she got away from the ranch then maybe she’d be able to put a certain Native American cowboy out of her mind. Steph and Jesse would have to start working harder on getting the store’s website up and running. Their work together was the primary thing keeping her on the ranch right now, other than her friendship with Van. Once that project was done, she wouldn’t have to be around so much.
For some reason the though of not being on the ranch created an ache in her chest. Tamara decided it was too early in the morning to analyze the reaction. Definitely not something to face before consuming a large quantity of caffeine.
Setting the coffeemaker to work its magic in the kitchen, she headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. The way she’d woken up should have been enough of a warning it was going to be a crappy day, but the hits kept on coming.
With her eyes clamped shut against the stream of water she’d grabbed the wrong bottle from the ledge in the shower stall and ended up pouring body wash onto her hair. In her rush to finish and beat the clock, she ended up nicking her skin twice with a dull razor. Damn, the water burned when it hit the shallow cuts. The blouse she had wanted to wear had a stain right in the center of her left breast, and she ended up trying on four different outfits before settling on something acceptable.
Although she found it odd not to smell the coffee brewing, Tamara didn’t give the situation a whole lot of thought until she walked into the kitchen. Somehow she had managed not to close the basket containing the grounds all the way, so all she had was a big mess on the kitchen counter.
Things continued to go down hill when she returned to the bathroom. The hairdryer died with a brilliant shower of sparks and a puff of smoke as she switched the infernal device on. If she had any sense, she would crawl back under the covers and hide for the rest of the day.
She stared at the tired person reflected in the mirror, noting the many signs of her age revealed in the image. Small crows feet sprouted from the corners of her eyes, and thin lines had formed next to her mouth, marking the passage of time and a hard life. She ignored the evidence and went about the motions of getting ready to face her lousy karma head on.
The last straw came as she was putting on her makeup. One of her cowboys tapped on the bathroom window as he passed the cabin, startling her into smearing masca
ra into her eye and in a black streak down her face. When she figured out which moron had caused the incident to happen, he was a dead man. Riley, the ultimate clown, was the most likely suspect. Tamara pictured the wide, shit-eating grin splitting his fool face when she’d started cussing again.
In a fit of frustration she stormed from the cabin toward the main house to use Savannah’s hairdryer. She knew she must look a mess, hair hanging in a wet mass around her face, the top half of her shirt damp from absorbing the moisture dripping from her hair. Black streaks of makeup down the left side of her face. Yet as she stalked across the yard, hands balled into tight fists at her sides, one of those ornery cowboys had the nerve to whistle.
Slamming the front door behind her, Tamara stalked through the kitchen where Millie and Steph sat sipping coffee. Neither woman said a word as she slammed around the large space getting a mug and creamer, then filling the cup. She only paused for a moment to take a tentative sip of the hot brew before heading straight for the staircase.
“Who lit the fuse on her tampon?” Steph joked when Tamara was halfway up the staircase.
“I heard that,” she growled over her shoulder, never missing a step. On a normal day she would laugh at such a witty jibe, but not in the mood she found herself in. And there was one person to blame for her crappy morning—Dakota Blackhawk.
Heads up, horseman. Payback’s a bitch!
??
He’d been standing in the ranch yard earlier when Tamara stalked over to the house before heading out in her Jeep. Dakota had been surprised by the disheveled state of his princess. It was blatantly obvious from her rigid stance and balled up fists her morning had not been going well.
As she’d stalked across the yard, Riley, idiot that he was, whistled at the hell cat. Dakota wanted to smack the fool across the back of his head. Whistling at the pissed-off princess was not the smartest thing the man had ever done. Of course, the other man was well known for his harebrained ideas and schemes.
From what he’d heard since arriving at the ranch, Dakota knew Savannah and Riley fed off each others’ wild ideas, often leading to crazy stunts. Not that long ago, Brock had come close to dying while playing one of their crazy games. From listening to Millie and Steph, he’d learned things had settled down for a while after the near miss, but he didn’t think it would last much longer. The cowboys were restless and fidgety. Between Tamara no longer turning to them and the long summer days of hard work, those boys were ready to blow off some steam.
As the day wore on it didn’t surprise Dakota to find himself alone in the eerie quiet of the ranch yard. Steph even sensed something going on and wandered outside to take a break from her website design work.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, standing back slightly from where he bathed one of the horses.
“Hey, Steph. I think they’re working up one of their elaborate stunts. It’s been too quiet around here this afternoon.”
They stood chatting, once in a while hearing an odd clanking noise from the barn, when Steph brought up the subject weighing on her mind.
“What was wrong with Tamara this morning? She was so out of sorts. Is she angry with the boys or is it something you did?”
Steph was certainly perceptive. Hmm…how to explain what Tamara was going through to the sweet, innocent young woman. He was sure she had no experiences which would relate to the inner turmoil his princess was struggling with.
“Tamara is a complicated woman. She’s going through some changes in her life and fighting it every step of the way. She won’t find happiness until she’s able to let go of the past and come to terms with her pain.”
The banging and clanking noises in the barn continued to increase as they stood talking. He’d noticed the cowboys disappearing into the barn every afternoon when their chores were finished, and before long the sounds of something being built would begin. They would come and go carrying the oddest items. What they were up to was beyond him. Dakota hoped their activities would ease the mounting tension.
“The boys are so strung out since she has been ignoring them. I hope she can get things sorted out soon. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around here.” Dakota agreed with Steph’s assessment of the situation. Nobody would relax until the pressure built to a head and released.
As was typical with the way things seemed to go on the Shooting Star ranch, all hell broke loose at once. Dakota and Steph stood watching as the cowboys dragged strange, mixed-up creations from the barn and up the nearby hill. From the looks of things, they had each crafted some form of a soapbox racer out of whatever discarded clutter they’d found lying around the ranch.
“Now this should be interesting,” Dakota remarked. After returning the horse to its stall, he took Steph by the arm, leading her out of the potential path of the ragtag vehicles. “Let’s find a safe spot to watch the follies.”
The most out of the way place to sit and still be able to see what was going on turned out to be the front porch of Tamara’s cabin. Steph went inside and got them both a tall, cold glass of sweet tea. They sat together on the porch swing to watch the show.
The first up were Riley and Zeke. As they climbed into their carts, Dakota was glad to see them exchange their Stetsons for helmets. Brock and Jesse stood behind the carts, ready to give them a shove off. After a quick countdown the two men came barreling down the hill, their excited hoots and hollers not to be outdone by the clanking and clattering sounds of the haphazard carts.
As spectators, Dakota and Steph found it impossible not to cheer them on, laughing loud and boisterous when Riley’s cart rolled over on its side and continued to slide down the hill. The comedy show continued when the men switched places. As Jesse and Brock rocketed down the hill, Jesse tried bumping his friend’s cart off the course. By the time they reached the bottom, both carts had acquired several dings and scrapes from the rough and rowdy ride.
At one point, Zeke’s cart lost a wheel and had to be taken back to the barn for repairs, but when the front bumper hung off Brock’s cart, he simply pulled it the rest of the way off and tossed it to the side. The competition became heated, narrowing down to a tie-breaker between Riley and Jesse.
Mandy had come out of the main house, and was sitting on the porch watching the festivities. Every once in a while she would jump up to cheer for one of the men.
Steph had gotten into the action. Standing at the bottom of the hill with Riley’s hat, she started each race. The woman would hold the hat up high over her head then lowering it with dramatic flair, run back to the safety of the porch. As she flew up the steps with laughter trailing behind her, Steph launched herself into the rocker. Dakota caught her with ease, lowering Steph to the seat beside him.
The fun continued until Tamara’s charcoal gray Jeep came tearing up the road. As she parked in front of the cabin, Dakota caught a glimpse of the murderous look on her face right before he heard Brock’s shouted warning.
“Look out! He’s gonna crash!”
Looking up the hill he saw both front wheels had torn away from Jesse’s cart, and the man had lost the ability to steer the fast moving projectile, which was headed straight for the Jeep.
Dakota vaulted over the porch railing as Tamara jumped from the vehicle in a blind rage, muttering and cussing, never noticing the out of control cart headed her way. He felt his left hip pop, and knew there was no way he would reach Tamara in time to get her out of harms way. Blinding pain shot through his pelvis and down his entire leg as he ran, but he would not stand there and watch his spirit mate be rundown. Somehow he had to protect her.
The weakness was a sore spot, a point of contention, for Dakota. Each step he took seemed to drag on forever, like he tried to run through waist deep snow. It was one of those moments when everything took on a slow motion quality. Like in those dreams where no matter how fast you run, you can barely get one foot in front of the other and make no progress. The landscape becomes endless, the point you need to reach seeming farther and father away
.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed the hurtling cart’s treacherous path. Stephanie’s shrill scream sliced across the yard as Dakota stumbled once, then struggled to pull himself upright.
Jesse’s shouts of warning went unheeded by the wildcat as she stood ignoring the entire scene unfolding before her, too wrapped up in jealous rage to see through the emotions.
With a burst of speed he wouldn’t have thought possible of the young woman, Steph charged past him, hitting Tamara in the abdomen with her shoulder like a professional football linebacker. The two women crashed into the side of the Jeep, landing on the ground in a tangled mass as Dakota’s leg gave out and he fell face first into the dirt.
He looked up in time to see the cart barrel over the exact spot where Tamara had stood, then crash into the corner of the porch, spilling its passenger out unharmed. As he dropped his head back down, Dakota heard Tamara ranting and raving at the other woman for attacking her, not yet having realized Steph had saved her life.
Nicole Austin Page 7
