Stud for Hire

by Sabrina York

  She nodded and closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax. Allowing herself to explore every sensation in full.

  His finger traced her lips reverently, slowly. She couldn’t resist a taste, a quick dab of her tongue. Salty. Rough. She probably imagined that hitch in his breath.

  She did not imagine the chill she felt as he moved away. Or the sounds of him rummaging around on the other side of the room. Or the thud as something heavy landed beside her on the bed with a clank.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Oh lord. She did, of course, wondering what he had in mind. Wondering what—

  A cold thick chain wrapped around each ankle. Even though she knew he was not truly restraining her with it—she could wriggle free if she wanted to—the impact of that weight shot through her like a bolt.

  Her body hummed.

  Before she had even a moment to reflect on this madness, harsh bristles scraped over her nipples. She lurched with a cry.

  “Hush,” he growled.

  She strangled a moan in her throat as the bristles returned, skating around her breasts, down her torso and making the slow journey down her leg. A scrape at the bottom of her feet had her wrenching away.

  “Hold still.” His voice was gruffer, harsher, as though this torment besieged him as well. Indeed, the soft-bristled brush slowed as it made its way up her other leg, sending sizzling sensations through her with each agonizing inch. It skated to the inside of her thigh.

  She sucked in a breath as he neared her core, aching, needing, weeping for more.

  The brush scraped over her nest, raking her aching clit, awakening her, rousing the animal leashed tightly some place deep inside.

  “Yes.” A snarl. With surprise, she realized it was her own.

  He played her, tormented her. Delighting her with one item after another. She heard the jangle of a harness and then something dragged over her nipple, her calf, her knee, her inner thigh. Something cool and slick. Leather?

  Ah yes. The strap kissed the skin on the underside of her breast, a tender slap, then the side, coiling around to the very peak, followed by the alluring, elusive hint of his breath, damp and hot as he kissed his way over the burning trail he’d made.

  When he took her aching nipple into his mouth, she shuddered. The warm suction liquefied her core. And while he walked the leather strap downward, he remained, nuzzling her breast.

  A soft smack over her mound shocked her. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly focused all her attention on the spot. Another and another fell, feathering over her belly and up to her breasts.

  She expected a smack on her nipple. Steeled her body to prepare for it. But he was teasing her, keeping her off balance. Instead, something cold, round, and heavy settled on her crest. She had no idea what it was.

  And wrapped in sensation, she didn’t care. It seemed as though he tormented her for hours, but it couldn’t have been that long. A cloud of pleasure engulfed her and she floated on it, reveling in his touch. But soon, a new need awoke. Her body ached. Thrummed, wept.

  “Please,” she whispered and all sensation stopped.

  “Are you . . . all right?” he asked, his voice clipped.

  A shiver shot through her. That voice, that tone, touched her, stroked her, soothed her.

  “Please. I need . . . I need . . .”

  He chuckled. The sound rippled around her, filling the small room. “I know what you need. Are you begging for it?”

  “Y-yes. Yes!”

  “Spread your legs wider.”

  She shuddered, but did, lurching when she felt the gentle drift of his fingers over her slit. She arched her hips. Tugged at the reins holding her. Longing for him. Hungry for his touch. Fuck me, she thought. Fuck me!

  But he didn’t.

  His mouth was hot when it settled on her core. He licked her slowly, one tantalizing, tormenting draw of his tongue.

  “Mmm,” he rumbled, sending pings of delight through her swollen clit. “You’re wet. Creamy.”

  She whimpered when his finger toyed with her entrance. Shivered and quaked. “Yes,” she hissed. “Yes.”

  He enrobed her clit with his lips and sucked as he eased in.

  She clenched. Seized. Wailed.

  He stopped and eased away. A coldness invaded her at his withdrawal.

  Her eyes flew open. Panic and need scored her.

  He stopped! He left!

  Before she had time to voice her complaint, he returned with a bit and tapped her lips. “Open.” She stared at him. Surely he didn’t expect her to . . .

  Oh. He did.

  She opened her mouth and he set the soft rubber bit between her teeth. “Try not to make noise,” he murmured. “We don’t want to be discovered.” And with that, he went back to work, licking and lapping and nibbling at her sanity, driving her crazy with sensation. Oh, he was a tease, her stud for hire. He would bring her right to the edge, sighing and writhing and thrusting her hips begging silently for release . . . and then he would back off.

  When she was about to release her hands from the restraints and rip out the bit and command him to finish her, he stopped all teasing. As though he’d known. As though he’d sensed her desperation. As though he’d smelled her need.

  With a grunt, he shoved his fingers deep inside her, even as he lapped and sucked her aching clit. She winced at the invasion, but reveled in it, the burn, the ache, the sense of fullness.

  He found that spot, deep inside, that bundle of nerves that made her clench. Set her body on fire. He scraped her there. Drawing her higher and higher until she wanted to scream.

  The leather tightened around her wrists. Her teeth clenched the bit. Her body quivered, sang, and curled into a tight knot of sensation. Higher and higher. Tighter and tighter. So close . . . so close . . . She was—

  A muffled laugh, a shuffle of steps, a low rumble from outside the tack room snagged her attention, derailed her imminent catastrophe. Hanna froze. Horror flickered.

  Someone was out there.

  He heard it too and lifted his head. They exchanged a glance and he got up, tiptoed to the door, and peered out, then slowly closed it. It creaked a little, and Hanna winced. But the others didn’t hear.

  “We’re not supposed to be here,” a woman said.

  Hanna’s lungs seized.

  Damn! Tibby!

  Why did it have to be Tibby?

  Of all the people in the world, Tibby was the last one Hanna wanted to discover this shameful secret.

  What a disaster that would be!

  Fear—of Zack finding out—skittered through her.

  “No one will know.” The sounds of a wet kiss. A moan. “In here.” Hinges groaned as the interlopers entered the empty stall next door. Hanna was about to release her hold on the reins, to free herself and seek escape, but her hot cowboy kneeled beside her and put his fingers on her lips. “Hush,” he whispered. And his head dipped again.

  Hanna winced when he touched her with his tongue. A gentle dab to her clit. He thumbed her aching nipples, then pinched. It was all she could do to hold back her howl.

  Noises rose in the stall next door. Sighs and whispers. Grunts and groans.

  Hanna shivered. Excitement, dread, the possibility of being discovered, whipped through her.

  Her cowboy Dom sank his fingers deep inside and he worked her, even as he continued tormenting her hard nipples, drawing her back up to her previous heights. Rivulets of pleasure swept through her. Then the drizzle became a rain, a storm. She ground her teeth into the bit, thankful for it now.

  Her head thrashed back and forth. She labored to hold still, though her body wanted to reel, to fly. Deeper and deeper he delved, teasing her, drawing her tauter and tauter on a rack of pleasure. He found and hit that spot.

  And the dam burst.

  Rapture flooded her, co
ursed through her. He increased his pace, whipping in and out of her with one hand while pressing on her belly with the other, drawing her higher and higher. She thrashed, groaned, spit out the bit.

  Stillness next door.

  “Did you hear something?” Tibby asked. Her partner mumbled a response and she warbled a moan. The sounds of passion resumed.

  Hanna let out a breath in a soft gush.

  But her relief was premature.

  Because he started again, her evil lover. Started working her and playing with her until the tension in her body peaked once more. This time, when she came, he kissed her and swallowed her moans.

  Chapter Five

  “Did you like that?” Logan asked, after the intruders had finished and, chattering to each other, left the barn. It had been a little uncomfortable listening to the sounds of their passion, with his fingers deep inside Hanna. But only because he’d wanted something else up in there.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, at least.

  She’d surprised him with her proposition.

  He didn’t have his wallet with him.

  And Logan had one hard-and-fast rule when it came to making love to women—even Hanna Stevens. No glove . . . sorry dude, no action.

  But he’d enjoyed this. Hell yeah, he had.

  Touching her. Tasting her. The sound of her panicked moans. The sight of her splayed before him, naked, with her wrists tangled in the reins.

  Hell, it was nearly more than a man could take.

  In all of his fantasies—and there had been a lot—he’d never imagined she would be this glorious.

  Her lashes fluttered. She wiggled a little, releasing her wrists from the makeshift restraints. “I did like that.” She sat up and shyly kissed him. His cheek, just to the side of his mouth, as though she were too timid to take what she really wanted. “Thank you.”

  “Oh,” he chortled. “We’re not done yet.”

  “We’re not?” She bit back a smile.

  “No, ma’am. My fee covers the whole weekend.”

  “The wh-whole weekend?” He liked the way she blushed. Her gaze flicked over his chest and down, down to his groin where his passion was firmly outlined by too-tight jeans. Her blush rose.

  “Yes, ma’am. We can continue this tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her brow rumpled. “Tonight is the Hunky Hoedown.”

  “We can sneak away after dinner. Meet back here?”

  He loved the way her expression tightened. Loved the light in her eyes and the way her lips parted as she thought things through. She nodded and a flare of anticipation burned him.

  Because he was going to have Hanna Stevens. Finally. After all this time. After all this need. After all this ache.

  He was going to plant himself inside her and take her to heaven.

  And tonight? Come hell or high water, he was going to have a condom. Maybe six.

  ***

  Cody, damn his hide, threw a wrench in the works. Apparently, he had other plans for Logan.

  When Logan showed up for dinner—after a quick shower, which didn’t include a shave because she’d seemed to enjoy his scruff so much—his friend cornered him in the foyer of the big ranch house. The guests milled about the dining room to their left, laughter and music twining. The tantalizing scents of supper rose on the air.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Cody asked on a growl.

  “Working. In the barn.” Logan couldn’t hold back his grin. Cody didn’t need to know what he’d been working on. Or whom.

  “Goddamn it, Logan.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You’re supposed to be mingling with the women.”

  Logan didn’t understand Cody’s clipped tone. The situation hardly warranted that level of aggravation. “The bet was for a weekend working on the ranch.” He shrugged. “I was working.”

  “The bet was a weekend working for me. You assumed I meant ranch work.”

  “Naturally.” What man in his right mind would ever agree to a bet to wiggle his ass in a pair of Speedos?

  “Well, balin’ hay wasn’t what I had in mind. I need you to join the games tonight.”

  Logan frowned. He had other games in mind for tonight. He intended to sneak Hanna back to the barn at the first opportunity. “You know I hate games.”

  Cody gored him with a dark glower. “You like poker well enough.”

  His gut roiled. “I had three jacks.”

  “You lost.” Cody slapped him on the shoulder and affected a sympathetic look. It was not terribly convincing. “Sorry, bro. You’re in it for the weekend. The full Monty.”

  Logan winced. “I am not doing the full Monty.” No way. No how. A bet was a bet, but he was not stripping for a room full of drooling women. Even if one of them was Hanna.

  Cody chuckled. “No nudity required. Just play along.”

  Annoyance riffled Logan’s gut. “What do you need me for, anyway? You have plenty of . . . them.” He waved at the herd of strippers, oiling up on the stage.

  “I needed a twelfth man,” Cody grumbled. “And besides, you owe me.”

  Logan snorted. “I’m beginning to suspect I was bamboozled.”

  “Suck it up, bro. And relax. You might just enjoy yourself.” He glanced around, a quick skim of the hall, and leaned closer. “I saw you with her on the hayride.”

  Logan’s heart stuttered. Heat sluiced through his bowels. “Who?”

  “You know damn well who. Did you talk to her?”

  His fingers curled into a fist and he shoved his hand in his pocket. There was no call to flatten Cody’s nose, just because his eyes lit up as he spoke of her. He set his teeth. “We, ahem, spoke.”

  Cody’s grin was evil. “Excellent. Still pretty as hell, isn’t she?”

  Logan growled in response. She was pretty as hell. Prettier than she’d ever been in high school. Of course, in high school, he’d never been able to gaze down at her features, fixed as they were, in rapture.

  “Excellent. It’s a start, I suppose. Well. Have fun tonight,” Cody said, as he handed Logan a purple bandanna. “And wear this.”

  “What the hell is this for?” Logan asked as he followed Cody into the dining hall. And why purple?”

  Cody grinned and winked. “You’ll see.”

  The first thing he saw when he entered the room was Hanna. His gaze stalled on her. His heart set up a manic tattoo. She’d changed her blouse but still wore jeans. Her one concession to the “party” atmosphere was a pair of strappy heels. Her hair caught the light of the hurricane lamps set on the long low tables; she glowed.

  God, she was beautiful. All the other women paled in comparison; in fact, he barely noticed them.

  When her eye caught his, she stiffened. Her lips parted. Their gazes tangled across the room; a bolt of lightning scored him to the core. He was still hard for her, still aching for her, but this was something more. He’d had a peek at her true self, the Hanna beneath the mask she always presented to the world. And it intrigued him.

  Her smile was tiny, but an unmistakable invitation.

  As was her wink.

  He started for her. How could he not? It was as though an invisible thread connected them, drawing him closer. As he approached, a slender blonde with enormous breasts sidled up to her, hooked arms, and whispered something into her ear.

  Logan’s pace slowed as he recognized the blonde. He remembered her from high school. Though she’d been three years behind him, he couldn’t help but remember her. Tibby was Zack Pucey’s sister and a holy terror. Their father had owned the whole town and between them, the siblings had made everyone’s lives a living hell.

  No surprise, then, in the shift in Hanna’s demeanor at Tibby’s approach. She went from relaxed and playful to hard and cold in a second. As
Tibby drew her toward an empty spot at the table in front, Hanna threw a glance over her shoulder at him. He was certain it was a rescue me look.

  Naturally, he shifted his trajectory and headed for that table instead.

  Just as he pulled out a chair and took a seat across the table from her, just as their eyes met once again and a shiver sizzled through him, a screech howled through the room followed by Cody’s low tones. “Testing. Testing.” Logan winced as the microphone sent off another ear-splitting howl of feedback. Everyone clapped their hands over their ears and groaned. Cody tapped the mic, glared at his brother Cade—who adjusted the volume—and tried again.

  “Okay, ladies,” Cody said. “Welcome to the Double Stud Ranch. Our first activity of the evening is an icebreaker.” He waggled a brow. “You ladies want to break the ice, don’t you?”

  Very unladylike hoots and hollers rose.

  “Okay. Cade is coming around with a bag. Reach in and draw out a disk. And . . . try to keep your hands to yourselves, ladies. Cade is not on the menu tonight.”

  Logan’s gut lurched. Shit. The games had already begun. He glared at his friend, who responded with a smirk.

  With something akin to horror, he watched as each of the twelve ladies pulled a disk from the bag, each one a different color. He wasn’t sure if the horror stemmed from the fact that someone out there was going to draw a purple disk, or the sight of Cade’s ordeal.

  These ladies were not very well behaved. They did not follow orders. More than one of them made a grab for Cade’s ass. Or worse, his junk. Judging from Cody’s laughter, he wasn’t very sympathetic to his brother’s plight.

  But it served Cade right. For helping.

  “Does everyone have a disk?” Cody asked.

  A chorus of “yeses” rocked the room.

  Logan flicked a glance at Hanna’s disk. It was yellow. A swirl of trepidation ran through him. It solidified in his gut when Cody boomed, “Your partner for dinner is the lucky gentleman whose bandanna matches your disk.”

  Damn. He’d wanted to sit next to her at dinner. Stroking her surreptitiously beneath the table, reminding her of what had passed between them . . . and what was yet to come.