Moisture trickled from her pussy, slipping between her ass cheeks, pooling on the pillow beneath her. She twitched and squirmed, needing him to fill her and stop the ache deep inside her. Please, Zach, please, she pleaded silently.
She heard the crinkle of a paper bag. “I went shopping, you know. I found an adult bookstore. In the mall! Can you imagine? The windows were all painted. There was a guy on a stool outside, checking IDs so kids couldn’t sneak in.” He leaned close. His breath brushed her cheek, scented sweetly of strawberries and kiwi. “I bought something for you. Can you guess what it is?”
Alex shook her head against the pillows. She began to tremble. She could only imagine what was inside the bag—and she knew she wanted it, whatever it was. If it would make her come.
He rolled it over her skin; it was small and cold, as if made of some kind of metal. In a minute, it began to hum and vibrate. What…? She “mmphd” at him.
“Here…now. If I rub it here…” He drew it over one of her nipples. It tickled and tingled. Then the other. And then he slid it over her belly, down over the curls at the junction of her legs. She began to twitch and buck, hoping she’d get close enough to it to feel it on her clit. But he didn’t relent. “It’s small. Would you believe it’s battery operated? They had one that had a remote control. I could have put it inside you and then pressed ‘play.’ But then I saw this little silver bullet and decided it was more Rhett. What do you think?” He brushed it over the tops of her thighs, then slipped it around, between the cheeks of her ass.
Under the blindfold, Alex’s eyes widened. He wasn’t thinking about putting it…there, was he?
Ow. No. That wouldn’t be good. She bucked some more, tugging at her restraints, trying to get him to stop. But he didn’t. She felt some more of the oil trickling over her, dripping down between her buttocks. And then, the teasing, whirring little vibrator pressed against her anus.
She expected it to hurt. But it didn’t. He rubbed it back and forth over the tight opening; she felt his mouth on her breasts again, then his tongue, drawing a line down her belly to her clit. When he flicked his tongue over her, she gasped under the blindfold, thrashing her head from side to side. She was going to climax. And then, he pressed the bullet vibrator against her anus. It whirred as he slipped it inside her, and hot trails of pleasure zinged through her body again and again. She felt the head of his cock poised at the aching opening of her pussy. He rubbed against her clit, right at the place she’d shown him she liked. She nearly came right then. Maybe she did, a little. Abruptly, he slid his cock into her. Alex felt full of the tiny vibrator and Zach. It was wonderful.
Her body moved of its own accord, bucking and sparking with pleasure that pulsed from her center outward, bathing her in a shower of sparkling white stars. Zach plunged against her, pushing her to climax again and again and again. She felt helpless and powerful all at once, with Zach thrusting and the little toy whirring inside her.
“Oh…Alexxxx!” Zach called out, and then she felt him grow larger, hardening even more. “Can you feel it? I can feel it there, inside you. It’s…it’s…” He began trembling violently, and she knew he was about to come.
He yanked the blindfold from her eyes and she drank in the sight of him, his face tight with pleasure and the pain of holding himself back, his eyes wide and dark. “Alex,” he moaned again, then fell against her, pressing his mouth to hers in a deep kiss that promised her a lifetime of pleasure. He pumped into her, and together they rose into a heaven of their own making, where they flew on wings of sensation.
I’m his, Alex thought. And he’s mine. She would love him until the day she died—and, she hoped, it would be a very, very long time. Because a lifetime of Zach wouldn’t be enough. She needed to love him, forever.
Except…what would she do, she wondered, if he didn’t love her back?
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Alex stood in the center of the riding ring, watching the scads of women and a few men lining the fence. Holy crap. I knew Zach’s workshop was going to be popular, but did everyone show up?
Most of the attendees wore business casual attire, as befitting a conference. Some of them, most likely the ones who packed for any situation, wore jeans or casual pants. Others, probably those who had met with editors or agents earlier in the day, had on skirts or dresses. And heels.
“Okay. Here are the headset mikes. These are the only ones I could find in the van. I think we used them last week for some high-school event.” The production man hired to record each workshop came up from the end of the ring. He handed one unit to each of them. “You put it over your head and put the earpiece in—if you push this button here, you can talk to each other. Or, if you push this button, you can talk over the PA system. That’s what I want to record. Just be careful not to hit the wrong button.”
“Thanks.” Alex put the headphones on and pushed her button. “Test?”
Her voice blared over the barn’s PA system, installed for the horse shows the barn owner held every Sunday during the summer.
“Ooh. Crap!” She hurriedly turned the mike off. She didn’t do public speaking.
Zach grinned. He didn’t mind talking in public. As a teacher, it was what he did. Which was why she knew he’d be a good presenter. She grinned back at him, then pointed her chin at the women lining the fence.
She could see many of them wrinkled their noses at the dust, and though she stood in the center of the large ring, Alex could hear them making comments about the horse smell.
Too bad for them. There wasn’t a better, more comforting scent in the world than the smell of warm horse. Which, come to think of it, was a little bit of the Zach scent she loved to inhale. Not horseshit, of course, but dusty horse, sweet hay, old leather, and sweet grass.
Either way, warm horse or horse shit, their complaints of the odor didn’t stop any of them from pushing their way as close to the fence as possible, to peer at Zach like he was an animal in a romance writers’ zoo exhibit.
She imagined turning on the mike again: Good afternoon, ladies. What you see here is a prime example of the alpha male human, with heartbreak-blue eyes and raven-black hair cut into the traditional unruly tousle so prized by many cover artists. Please note how he stands at six feet, three inches—taller than the average male—yet not so tall as to appear freakish. Also, he has a wide-shouldered physique, moving down to his narrow waist to create the “inverted V” shape rhapsodized about by hundreds of writers. Notice the nicely rippled torso and proportionately muscular arms suitable for any cover, especially one also featuring a large sword. Speaking of large swords: I’d like to draw your attention to the size of his feet, which—as the urban legend goes—indicates the size of what some of you might term his “manhood.” In this male’s case, the feet do not lie…
She sighed and, as he came up beside her, said, “I think that was the last shuttle bus from the hotel. You might as well get started before they jump the fence and rush you.”
He lifted the crown of his black hat, shifting it back and forward to shade his eyes. “Hold Stars for me, will you? Be careful. I’m not sure he won’t startle if the microphone feeds back. But I need to be hands free to demonstrate tacking up.”
Alex took Stars’ reins. While Zach began his talk, Stars’n’Stripes twitched his ears and rumbled a whinny at her. As if he couldn’t care less about the sound of the PA system or the two hundred plus romance writers lining the rails, the horse dropped his head down to rest his forehead against her chest, sighed hot breath over her belly, and let his lids fall low over his eyes. “Startle, my ass. Zach just didn’t want you leaning on him while he talked, you lazy beast.” Alex chuckled.
Stars began to snore.
She began playing with the horse’s forelock, pulling it out from under the brow band of his bridle, combing it with her fingers until it lay straight and flat over his broad bay face while he snoozed.
Zach continued to talk, walking around Stars, lifting a stirr
up and then saddle flap to discuss how the saddle is cinched, different styles of saddles, and on and on. The sad thing was, Alex realized, he could be talking about the price of tea in Bangladesh and it wouldn’t matter. The women weren’t listening. They were lusting, practically drooling on their shoes, and probably rewriting their heroes in their minds, to look just like him.
She couldn’t blame them. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Zach was high-def eye candy in black chaps. His tight jeans were faded in all the right places—ripped in some even better ones— like under the curve of one ass cheek. She could see the dark hair on the back of his thigh as he moved about, and when he hitched his jeans up, she caught one small glimpse of his silky black briefs.
When he’d slid the briefs on that morning, she’d practically come on the spot. They cupped him perfectly, outlining the shape of his cock and emphasizing the bulge of his balls, inspiring the desire to touch and to feel the cool, sleek fabric against her lips…
Even now, in the middle of the dusty ring, in plain view of her colleagues, friends and even her editor, she imagined sticking her index finger and thumb in that telltale peek hole, enlarging it, tearing it wider and wider until she could place her entire hand under the denim and slide it round to cup the heavy pouch of him, held snugly in those briefs. Maybe push her fingers under the waistband, to wrap them around his thick shaft, stroking it until—
“And here, Alex is holding the reins, which are attached to the bit.” He bumped her with his hip. The heat of his body enveloped her, and her treacherous body responded by readying her passage for him, until the crotch of her panties was damp and uncomfortable.
When the last workshop participant left, she promised herself, she was going to drag Zach to the barn for a real roll in the hay. Maybe a few rolls.
Zach slipped the reins over Stars’ head and handed them back to her, then slid the bit out of Stars’ mouth and held it up to show the women how it was attached to the bridle. He talked about how the bit worked in the horse’s mouth—its purpose and different types—and then showed them how his horse accepted it back in his mouth.
“Stars’ bit has what’s called a roller on it. He likes to play with it, with his tongue.”
I’d like to play with you with my tongue, Zach-boy. You know you can ride me, anytime… Alex sighed. She was addicted to Zach. As dangerous as she knew it was, she was going to tell him. Waking up in his arms that morning, the thought had come to her: how could she have ever thought Tim was the One, when it was obvious that Zach was her One all along? She could tell just from the way he’d opened his eyes to meet hers, and smiled.
Tim had usually groaned and pulled his pillow over his head.
Zach had pulled her into his arms.
What an idiot I was. All that time wasted…
Now in the center of the ring, his eyes met hers; he winked. Alex’s heart thudded, and it took all of her willpower not to leap against him, tackle him to the dusty ground, and tear off his clothes.
But then he swung his leg over Stars’ back and settled into the saddle, and she sighed with pleasure. Zach on a horse was poetic. Like a sunset or a symphony or the finest chocolate or even great sex—the sight soothed the soul and brought a sigh of pleasure. He appeared to be a part of the saddle, so comfortable and at ease, moving in telepathic tandem with his horse. It was breathtaking. She couldn’t explain it any other way.
She held the reins while he retightened the cinch from above—not usually an easy feat, but one he performed with ease—and explained how many horses blow up their bellies when you first saddle them, so it was a good idea to have your character recheck the cinch or girth before galloping away.
Unless the writer wanted their character to find him or herself upside down under a running horse, that is.
The women laughed, but Zach had the feeling it wasn’t true laughter, just a patronizing chuckle to get on his good side. He was used to it.
Only Alex laughed for real. That was why he loved her. And that was why she was the only woman he’d ever consider giving his heart to. He wished the women watching him with assessing eyes, making him feel like a piece of meat instead of a person, realized that he was with Alex not only as a friend, but as a lover.
Easy enough. When she handed up the reins, he leaned down to her, tilting his hat back and pressing his mouth to hers, flicking her lips with his tongue in a way that mimicked how he’d teased the sensitive flesh of her clit. Alex slid her hand up onto his neck. He could feel her turning to jelly beneath his kiss and heard her whimpering with need. When he ended the kiss, she grabbed on to the stirrup and sagged against Stars’ shoulder, breathless.
This garnered more appreciative laughter. But he ignored the women. Instead, he gave Alex a wink and touched his finger to the brim of his hat in salute. “Miz Scarlett,” he drawled, settled back in the saddle and rode onto the rail, gratified to see her collapsing onto the mounting block with her hand over her chest, as if she were trying to stop her heart from beating out of her chest and across the ring after him.
Satisfied he’d made his point, Zach tilted the microphone into place and talked about warming up your horse, how a good rider wouldn’t really race away. He talked about the history of horsemanship and the relationship of people and their horses, showing off the fact he’d minored in history as an undergrad in college. Satisfied his horse was ready, he urged Stars into his usual easy jog and then his comfortable, long-stridden lope.
For fun, he did some fancy tricks, like fast stops, slides, and all manner of barrel racing moves. And then, as planned, the barn owner put some honky-tonk on the PA system—and Stars danced.
Zach explained how he gave the horse cues to move just by shifting his weight or the pressure of his legs, the nudge of a heel or the tilt of the rein against his neck, and the women were held completely spellbound. He was glad. Finally they were watching his horse, and not him.
But he wasn’t done. As the music ended, he and Stars moved to the center of the ring, where they stopped. Stars made a one-legged bow in front of Alex—at Zach’s urging—and Zach held out his hand. “Finally, I want to talk to you about riding double.”
Alex took his hand, placed her foot on his—in the stirrup—and let him swing her up in front of him, where she balanced precariously, the horn of the saddle pressing intimately between her thighs. He had to push all the way back until he sat on the edge of his saddle.
Stars stomped his feet, angry that he had to deal with a saddle poking into his back, as well as the additional weight of an unbalanced rider. “I just want you to notice how uncomfortable this all is,” Zach said. “We wouldn’t be able to travel very far this way, even at a walk, never mind a gallop. So forget the scenes where your hero and heroine ride into the sunset to live happily ever after. In reality, their hero’s horse—probably not a stallion, by the way—would probably pull up lame. And neither the hero nor the heroine would be in the mood for any blanket-bingo by the campfire that night, because they’d be too sore. And on that note—I’m going to end my presentation before we get too sore ourselves.”
He turned off the mike to a thunder of applause and swung down. Alex remained perched in place, peering down at him.
“You’re such a show-off,” she told him.
“You love it,” he answered.
She rolled her eyes at him.
Zach couldn’t help but grin. Only his Alex would call him on his shit. All the other women he met bent over backwards to compliment him and simper. Which was nice, but fake. Because he didn’t deserve that much adoration based on his looks alone. He was just a guy, a human being, and Alex never forgot that. She never treated him like meat, or a pretty face.
“I’ve got something to show you.” He winked.
She gave him a grin and swung her leg over to dismount; he helped her down, sliding his hands over her body as she did. Alex shivered, turned in his grip to stand on tiptoe and kiss his chin, pressing her body into the front of his jeans. “I
can’t wait for everyone to leave. I have plans for the hayloft. You in?”
“Oh, yeah…” he growled, feeling the front of his jeans growing uncomfortably tight. But first things first. “I’m going to walk Stars around to cool him off. Mind finding a safe place for my saddle and pad? I’ll load it up in the pickup later.”
“Not a problem.” She waited while he un-tacked Stars, huffing a bit when he placed the saddle in her hands. “Too heavy?”
“Got enough nickel trim? Geez.” She made a face and rolled her eyes at him. “Is that a turquoise inlay?”
“Nothing but the best.” Zach grinned. “That’s our show saddle.”
“Great,” she teased, turning away. “Meet you in the hayloft.” She opened the gate and left the ring.
Zach watched her go. She had a fantastic little walk, enough to make him want to forget cooling off his horse so he could cool off the heat Alex generated in his groin.
Behind him, Stars stomped, snorted horse snot on the back of his neck, and pushed his hat over his eyes. Zach laughed. “All right, all right. I know. Come on. Let’s walk.” He started around the ring, the horse plodding along beside him.
As they walked, Zach tipped the microphone part of the headset under his chin. The production guy wasn’t at the machine, outside the far end of the ring, so he couldn’t turn in the equipment yet. He decided to keep it on, where at least it would be safe and not covered in ring dust. If he put it into his pocket, it would be just his luck to drop it and have his horse step on it.
No, that wasn’t his luck. Right now, he was the luckiest man in the world. He’d told the woman he loved how he felt, and though she hadn’t said the words, he knew she returned the sentiment, in spades. Plus, he knew she was true—she wasn’t using him for a trophy or to show someone up. She was with him because of who he was, not what he was, and she was his match in every conceivable way.
Suddenly, his microphone crackled in his ear. Zach turned his head to look, but the production guy still wasn’t at the recording table.
In The Cards Page 7
