Startled at first, Rylee sighed with pleasure as Taggart claimed her with his mouth, his large hands moving over her back and ass. His cock was hard against her hip, and her nipples tingled and ached against his firm, broad chest.
When he finally let her go, she stumbled back, panting, her legs wobbly, her heart pounding. Moving closer, he placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. He looked down into her face with that intense gaze of his that stripped her soul bare.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you,” he said.
Chapter 7
Rylee stared up at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. Wordlessly, she lifted her arms, her hands circling the back of his neck as she pulled his face down to hers. Her kiss was passionate, even desperate, as if she had been dying of thirst and he were the water.
Taggart responded in kind, gripping a handful of her hair with one hand as he pulled her hard against him. They sank slowly to the ground, still locked in an embrace.
Taggart lowered Rylee until she was lying flat and covered her body with his. His mouth still on hers, he pulled her arms from around his neck and pressed them over her head in the soft, cool grass. Keeping her wrists pinned, he lifted his head to kiss her throat, gliding his tongue down to the hollow between her collarbones.
Her erect nipples were clearly visible beneath her shirt. Letting go of one of her wrists, he pulled her shirt up over the mounds of her breasts. She wore a sheer lacy bra, the clasp in the front.
Taggart glanced up at Rylee’s face, seeking permission. Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed. She hadn’t moved her free arm from its position stretched high over her head alongside the one he still held down. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving. Desire radiated from her like a heat wave.
Taggart pressed the bra clasp between her breasts, relieved and delighted when it opened without resistance. Rylee’s nipples were stiff in the cool air, the areolas puckered around them. The damage he’d observed the week before from the amateur needle play had healed.
He dipped his head and ran his tongue in a circle around her left nipple and then closed his lips over it. He nudged the hard nubbin with his teeth, biting it until she gasped. Placing his mouth on her other breast, still holding her down by one wrist, he slid his other hand down her flat, strong stomach.
Reaching for her fly, he yanked open the metal button and dragged the zipper down. He slipped his hand beneath the elastic of her underwear and cupped her mons. He stroked her cleft, which was slippery against his fingers.
A deep shudder moved through Rylee’s frame, and Taggart’s cock throbbed in response. He couldn’t remember wanting someone this much.
All at once, he was distracted by the sound of whinnying protests. He looked over to see a pair of blue jays dive-bombing the horses. Though both Mabel and Duke had calm, tame dispositions, Taggart registered their nervousness and discomfort.
He glanced back at Rylee beneath him, half-naked and waiting to be plundered.
He looked back at the horses, the blue jays in apparent retreat. While Mabel still appeared a little skittish, Duke had lowered his head to munch on some grass.
Just as he returned his focus to the sexy, willing girl, the birds reappeared, uttering piercing war cries as they swooped toward the horses’ heads.
Rylee stirred beneath him. “What? What is it?” she asked.
“Damn it. Those fucking birds. They’re spooking the horses.”
His grip had loosened on her wrist and Rylee pulled her arm free, lifting herself to her elbows. “It’s getting cold,” she said, reaching to tug down her shirt over her bared breasts. The sky had grown overcast, heavy gray clouds blotting out the sun, sending a chilly wind through the air.
“Shit,” Taggart swore softly. He heaved himself upright.
Rylee reached beneath her shirt to reposition her bra and reclose the clasp.
A fat drop of rain plopped down on Taggart’s face.
“I think it’s starting to rain,” Rylee remarked as she got to her feet.
“Yeah,” Taggart said with a rueful laugh. “Seems like someone’s trying to tell us something. We better head back.”
Rylee stuck out her lower lip in a classic three-year-old’s pout that, in spite of his enormous frustration, made Taggart laugh.
Her face twisted into a dimpled grin, her eyes dancing. “Rain check?”
Taggart’s heart gave an unfamiliar lurch, the feeling almost painful. Ignoring it, he said, “Count on it. Now let’s get these horses back to the stables before those damn jays peck their eyes out.”
Rylee retrieved her jacket from where she had dropped it and pulled it on, zipping it up.
As they approached their horses, Taggart said, “Need a hand up?”
“Did I last time?” Rylee retorted with a toss of her hair. She placed her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up and onto the saddle as if she’d been riding for years. Duke snorted and stamped the ground with his front right hoof, clearly ready to go back home.
Taggart quickly mounted Mabel and turned her around. Remembering his earlier promise, he said, “This time you get a head start. I’ll count to twenty. Give it your best shot.”
Rylee nodded, a look of concentrated determination moving over her features. This was a girl who liked to win at whatever she did. Rather than being put off by this, Taggart admired it.
She gripped the reins and gently kicked at Duke’s sides. “Ya!” she cried and the two of them took off.
Mabel, eager to follow suit, snorted and twisted her head back to regard Taggart with a baleful stare. If she could have spoken, there was no doubt what she would have said. Move it, cowboy. What the hell are you waiting for?
Taggart patted her neck and murmured soothingly, “Just a few more seconds, sweetheart. Then you can let all hell break loose.” He watched Rylee ride away. She had good form, her back straight, her body alert but relaxed.
He gripped the reins and signaled to Mabel with his legs. “Ya!”
Rylee and Duke were fast, but Taggart and Mabel were faster, and it wasn’t long before he caught up with and then overtook the girl and her horse. She wasn’t far behind however, and he was only just dismounting when she and Duke came thundering to a halt.
Rylee was laughing, her color high. Breathlessly, she said, “I’ll beat you next time.”
Taggart grinned back. “Don’t count on it.”
Though the clouds were low and heavy, the rain was holding off, so they let the horses walk and stretch a bit in the paddock beside the stables.
A jagged bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, followed a moment later by a crack of thunder. Both horses tossed their heads anxiously, their sensitive nostrils flaring. It began to rain, large, fat drops that quickly segued to a steady, chilly downpour.
They led the horses quickly into the stables, settling them in adjacent stalls. Rylee’s tousled hair was wet, her cheeks rosy. Taggart handed her an old towel and used another to wipe his own wet face and hair.
As he removed Mabel’s bridle and bit, he asked, “Have you ever brushed down a horse?”
Rylee shook her head. “All I ever did was ride, but I’d be glad to learn.”
“There’s a lot I’d like to teach you,” he replied, suddenly recalling their intriguing conversation the week before about masochism versus submission. “Not just about horses.”
“Uh huh,” she said, her tone suddenly playful. “I bet you would.”
Taggart grinned at her, though he hadn’t really been teasing.
He unbuckled and lifted off Mabel’s saddle and then handed Rylee the brush. “You hold it like this, let me show you.” Standing just behind her, he placed his hand over Rylee’s on the brush and guided her in smooth, even strokes over Mabel’s flank.
Lust simmered between them, its heat palpable in the small space. He dipped his head and brushed the side of Rylee’s neck with his lips. Her skin was damp, her scent intoxicating—sweat, rain, citrus, femin
ine musk.
He moved closer so his chest pressed against her back, the curve of her ass nestled against his thighs. Lowering his head, he lightly bit her neck just at the curve where it met her shoulder.
Pausing in her work, Rylee moaned softly.
It took every ounce of self-control not to throw her down in the hay then and there.
Instead, Taggart took a step back, his cock and balls aching. “Sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m distracting us. The sooner we get done here, the sooner we can get out of here.”
Without looking at him, Rylee nodded and returned to her task.
They were nearly done tending the horses when Harlan appeared. “Hey there. Glad you’re in out of the rain. I have to run out for some supplies. I should be back in an hour or so, so if I don’t see you”—he doffed his hat in Rylee’s direction—”it was nice to meet you, ma’am.” Turning back to Taggart he added, “There’s fresh water and hay. I’ll feed them proper when I get back.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, buddy,” Taggart replied.
The horses settled, Taggart and Rylee stepped out into the large hallway that fronted the stalls. The rain drummed loudly on the stable’s roof. “Let’s wait out the rain in an empty stall. I’ll grab a blanket from the tack room.”
“Okay.”
Blanket in hand, they walked through the building past Mabel, Duke and the four other horses Harlan owned. None of them seemed perturbed by the weather. Though a steady rain continued to clatter on the tin roof, the clean, dry horses were comfortably munching on hay or staring dreamily into space, thinking their horsey thoughts.
~*~
Rylee helped Taggart spread the old woolen blanket over a pile of fresh, clean hay. The stables were heated and Rylee took off her wet jacket and dropped it beside the blanket.
Her body ached with suppressed need. Her panties were soaked with her juices, her erect nipples chafing against her bra. The electricity of their mutual desire had crackled between them as they’d taken care of the horses, and she was sure he had brought her to this empty stall to finish what they’d started out by the creek.
No longer able to hold herself back, she reached for him, her mouth hungry for his kiss.
To her surprise, he grabbed her wrists and held her at arm’s length. “No,” he said.
“No?” she echoed, confused, frustrated and embarrassed.
“Not yet,” he murmured. He stared down into her eyes, and Rylee stared back, mesmerized by the power emanating from his core.
He dropped her wrists and wrapped his large hand around her throat. The simmering lust deep in her belly boiled over as he held her in his primal grip. At the same time, a curious calm settled over her, her racing heart easing into a steady, deep drumbeat of desire.
“I want you naked.”
Though Rylee was unable to nod or speak, indeed, even to breathe—his hold on her too tight—she gave her assent with her eyes. She could have easily twisted out of his grasp, but she wanted nothing more than to remain, to be possessed by this powerful, dominant man.
When he finally let her go, she drew in a deep breath of air, and then reached for the hem of her shirt.
Taggart shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. Lift your arms over your head.”
Rylee obeyed, her heart beating fast.
Taggart pulled off her shirt and tossed it to the ground. Taking her wrists, he lowered her arms down to her sides. He reached for the clasp at the center of her bra and flicked it open. Rylee let the straps fall away from her shoulders.
She bent over, reaching for her right boot, but again Taggart stopped her. “No,” he repeated gently but firmly. “I said I would do it. All you need to do right now is stand still, arms at your sides. Do you understand?”
Mutely, Rylee nodded.
“What’s that?” Taggart said, cocking an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes,” Rylee said, enjoying the game immensely. “Yes, Sir.”
Taggart’s lips lifted into a sensual half smile. “Yes. I like that. Call me Sir.” He paused a moment and then added, “Until I tell you otherwise, you will remain in that position, arms at your sides. You will not move.”
It wasn’t a request, but a command.
“Yes, Sir.” Man, he was sexy.
He crouched in front of her to pull off her boots and socks. Standing, he reached for her fly and opened her jeans. He dragged them, along with her underwear, down her legs.
Standing back, Taggart raked her naked body with his gaze, his tongue appearing on his full lower lip as he regarded her, his hard, thick erection clearly visible beneath his jeans.
“Spread your legs shoulder-width apart,” he instructed. As she complied, he added, “Farther, and tilt your hips forward. I want to see your cunt.”
Rylee was comfortable in her nudity, yet heat washed over her face and throat at his command. The blush was nothing compared to the fever of her lust. As she assumed the position, her clit throbbed and she ached to be filled, to be fucked, to be claimed by the Leather Master.
Taking a step closer, Taggart cupped her breasts in his palms, lifting them and then letting them fall. He caught her stiff nipples with his fingers and twisted them, lightly at first, and then harder until she winced in pain, her mouth falling open in a gasp. Her instinct was to reach up and pull his hands away, but she kept her arms down at her sides, clutching her hands into fists instead.
Finally he released her nipples from his twisting grasp.
Perversely, she instantly wanted a return of the erotic pain.
Again cupping her breasts, this time he lowered his head and covered her right nipple with his lips. He licked the sensitized flesh with his tongue.
Rylee moaned and reached impulsively to touch his thick, dark hair as he suckled her.
All at once, Taggart pulled back. Lifting his head, he stared at her with flashing eyes.
“What?” she asked, her hand falling away.
“What did I tell you?” he said in a hard voice.
“Oh,” Rylee said. “I forgot the rules.” She returned her hand to her side, holding her arms stiffly, like a soldier at attention.
Taggart tilted his head as he regarded her. “This isn’t a game, Rylee. At least not for me.”
She didn’t reply. Of course it was a game, but it was a thrilling one, and she was eager to keep playing. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said contritely. “It won’t happen again.”
He regarded her a moment longer, his brow furrowing a little, and she wondered what he was thinking.
Her brain shut down, however, as he reached out and cupped her sex, the tips of his fingers moving in butterfly strokes over her slick labia. She groaned as one of the fingers entered her. Her cunt spasmed against the digit, and she pushed wantonly against his hand. “Oh, god,” she begged hoarsely. “Please.”
“Please, what? What do you want?”
Without giving her a chance to reply, he kissed her mouth while adding a second finger to the first inside her. She bucked against his hand, desperate for more.
He lifted his mouth from hers and laughed softly, the sound low and sensual in his throat. “Tell me,” he urged in his deep, gravelly voice. “What is it you want?” As he spoke, he ground his palm against her pulsing clit, his fingers still moving inside her.
“Fuck me!” she cried. “Please fuck me!”
“Sir,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. “Please, fuck me, Sir.”
“Please, fuck me, Sir,” she gasped.
He pulled his hand away and took a step back, his eyes fixed on hers. She was actually shaking with desire as she watched him pull off his flannel shirt and yank his T-shirt over his head.
His chest was covered in a dark swirl of masculine curls tapering down his muscular torso. Bending at the waist, he yanked off his boots, one at a time, followed by his socks. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out his wallet. Opening it, he removed a small plastic packet.
“No,”
Rylee protested, though the sane course with someone new was to use a condom. But she was desperate to feel him, all of him, inside her, with nothing between them. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean. Please, no.”
He looked from the little packet to her face and, after a moment, nodded. “Me, too,” he said. He pocketed the condom packet and quickly pulled down his jeans and underwear. His cock sprang toward her, large and thick above heavy balls.
Taking her by the shoulders, he lowered her to the blanket at last. It was scratchy beneath her, but she forgot all about that as Taggart lowered his powerful, masculine body over hers. Using one hand, he guided his cock into her wet, aching, needy cunt.
As he entered her, she moaned, her vaginal muscles clamping down as a powerful spasm gripped her loins. He pushed deeper, moving slowly to give her time to adjust to his substantial girth. She started to wrap her arms around his broad back, but he stopped her.
As he had done by the creek, again he stretched her wrists high overhead, gripping tightly as he lifted his hips and pushed himself deeper inside her.
Rylee moaned and arched up to receive him.
Taggart’s pubic bone ground against her clit as he swiveled inside her. The pleasure was nearly unbearable. Their lovemaking was fierce, their bodies in flames, their hearts racing in tandem to a finish line she knew would come much too quickly.
When Taggart let go of one wrist to grasp her once more by the throat, Rylee was lifted from the blanket by a powerful orgasm that rocked its way through her frame. Taggart came soon after in a series of hard, deep strokes that sent aftershocks shuddering through her.
Finally he collapsed heavily against her. Rylee drifted in a semi-conscious, post-orgasmic fog as their pounding hearts and gasping breaths slowly returned to something approaching normal. In the silence, she realized the steady drumbeat of rain on the roof overhead had ceased.
The sound of a car door slamming made her open her eyes.
Taggart lifted himself on his arms and looked down at Rylee with a grin. “Sounds like Harlan’s back. Unless you want to give the guy an eyeful, I guess we better get our asses in gear.”
BDSM Connections - The Complete 4 Novel Series Page 27
