Bucked: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book

by Brill Harper

  This is good. Talking. It’s helping me stay distracted from the things I really want to do to her body.

  “Yeah, eventually, I want to be able to have about fifty guests at a time. We’ll serve three squares in the chuck house, and have events like dances in the saloon. Those cabins will all be outfitted with fireplaces and quality amenities. And we have ten rooms here in the main house.”

  I get to a decent-sized knot in her back and work it with more pressure until she groans happily. “That feels better already. So where does all the horseback riding take place?”

  “We ride in the surrounding Buckhorn National Forest. It’s pretty spectacular. You ride?”

  “Horses? No.”

  My hand stills. Fuck. So much for distracting me away from thoughts of sex.

  “I used to ride quads with my dad and brothers in Ohio.”

  Right. Quads. “Ohio is where you grew up?”

  “Yeah. I lived there until I moved to Los Angeles.”

  Eventually I start moving down, stopping every now and then to readjust the towel so that it covers less and less of her body.

  “That feels really good. What you’re doing.” She moans again, and I feel the precum leaking from my dick. I want to hear that sound again, only I want to be balls-deep in her when she makes it.

  “You have magic hands, Dusty.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of anything at all to distract me from the feel of her flesh under my hands. The sound of her pleasure. The scent of her mixed with the oil.

  Does she know how much I want her? Does she want me back? Is that what this is? Her request for a massage. The comments. Or is she innocent? Just telling me I’m doing a good job. Just trying to make the best of her vacation gone awry.

  I’m probably going to die of blue balls, but the right thing to do is stay professional.

  “Tell me more about yourself, Ruby.” Maybe she’s a horrible person, and the more I get to know her, her terrible qualities will shine through. Maybe then I’ll forget all about her silky skin and tender thighs.

  “There’s not much to tell. I’m not like you, working hard on my dream.” She pauses. “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t even have a dream anymore.”

  My hands still on her skin. “What’s your dream, sweetheart?”

  “I used to want to be a famous actress. But I’ve been in LA for a long time, and other than a few commercials, I’m just...surviving, I guess. I can’t even say I’m still trying, really.”

  I resume my massage, determined to help her feel better. “Maybe your dream has changed. There’s nothing wrong with that. I went away to college to get away from ranching, and look where I ended back up.”

  “LA sort of takes it out of you. I just sort of...stopped wishing.”

  “That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard, Ruby. You just need to find your next wish is all. Maybe a week here in the mountains will help.”

  “Maybe.”

  She starts shifting, so I pull my hands back so she can get comfortable, only she rolls all the way onto her back.

  “Is it time to do my front?”

  Chapter Three

  Ruby

  The shocked look on Dusty’s face melts into pure lust.

  I’m being brazen as hell. But I need a new wish, like he said, and my new wish is to not sit on the sidelines of my life and wonder what it feels like to really live. I wish to know what it feels like to give myself to a man

  To have an honest-to-God orgasm in the company of another person.

  He’s staring at my breasts now. But still not touching me. The heat of my blush starts on my cheeks but radiates out. My scalp, my chest, it’s all on fire. Did I get it wrong? Is this not what he wanted too?

  Why am I so stupid? I’m as vulnerable as a person can get right now, half naked laying on a table in front of a full clothed man. He could do anything he wants to me, and he’s not interested.

  This cannot be happening. Am I really that clueless?

  If I were any kind of actress at all, I would get into character, any character, and save face. Pretend I’m not me. That his rejection doesn’t burn like cold fire.

  But, truthfully, I don’t think I can act my way out of a paper bag. That’s part of my problem in Hollywood. I loved being on stage in my high school plays, but being a working actress is a lot different. I’ve just been too stubborn to call it quits.

  I won’t make that mistake right now. I’m reaching for the towel to cover up when he finally speaks. “Are you sure about this? This is what you want?”

  I yank up the towel. “I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do, cowboy.”

  As for me, I’m moving back to Ohio. I’ll get a job just like the one I have in hopefully a better neighborhood and get seven cats and eat whatever I want and just... screw my dreams. To hell with them. They never got me very far.

  And screw men, for that matter. Or...the opposite of screw men.

  I have batteries. I don’t need a fantasy man. I don’t need racy red lingerie that’s probably uncomfortable to wear anyway. I don’t need to know what it’s like to be filled up with someone else. To lose myself to sensation. I’ll be just fine on my own.

  Who needs a husband or kids even? My brothers will settle down soon, and I can be an awesome auntie. I don’t need anything else. I’m not going to shed one more tear over being passed over again and again.

  I need to come to terms with the fact that something about me just isn’t good enough. Not for acting. Not for dating. Not even for a quick, no-strings, you don’t even have to work for it I’m already naked on a flat surface fling.

  “Darlin’, there’s very little I don’t want to do to you right now.”

  I roll my eyes and sit up, the blood rushing from my head. “Yeah, you seem like a man at the end of his tether right now. You’re barely refraining, I can tell.” I glance over and get a peek of the bulge in his track pants. He’s either really hard or he’s storing a hammer in there. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, ‘oh.’ The problem isn’t that I’m not at the end of my tether. I’m there. Believe me. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  It’s too late. I am not setting myself up for more rejection. Not anymore.

  One more try.

  No.

  C’mon, girl. One more, and if it doesn’t work out, you never have to try again.

  No. He doesn’t want me.

  It looks like he wants you. What do you have to lose?

  Nothing. I have absolutely nothing left to lose. One last shred of dignity isn’t doing me any good. He’d be a generous lover. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever been alone with.

  Maybe I’m not worth one more try. But he is.

  While I’m having this crazy internal argument with myself, that bulge keeps getting impossibly bigger. I draw on the memory of what it was like when I used to get on the stage in high school. Back when I thought, hell, everyone thought, I was a good actress. Back when I believed in myself. My talent. My worth. The big fish who didn’t know she was swimming in a very small pond. That girl still has to be inside me somewhere, right? And it’s time to make her a woman.

  One more try.

  I stare at his pants another second more and bite my lip as I raise my eyes slowly up the rest of his granite hard body until they meet with his. His nostrils flare slightly and his eyes get darker.

  Lights. Camera. Action.

  “Then I must not be doing this seduction thing right.” Which is no surprise. “I was hoping that maybe I had what it takes to bring out the very bad cowboy that I’m sure you’re hiding in there.”

  He’s grinding his jaw so hard, his mandible is ticking. “Be careful what you wish for, Ruby,” he tells me through clenched teeth.

  “That’s just it. I’m done wishing, Dusty. I’m ready for action, not daydreams. I promised myself a fling on this trip, and if you’re not interested, maybe I’ll just keep looking.”

  Liar.

  Shush.
Keep it up.

  His eyes narrowed. “Keep looking?”

  I shrug with exaggeration. “You have a nice construction crew working with you. About six men to choose from. Plus the wranglers. You’re my first choice, but—”

  His hand over my mouth stops my train of thought. “Don’t finish that sentence, little girl. I’m a man on the edge as it is. Nobody else touches you. You understand?”

  The flutter in my stomach understands. Growly, jealous cowboys are delicious.

  I nod and he removes his hand. “What’s it going to take to push you over the edge then, cowboy?”

  His whole body is tense, his muscles flexing under that T-shirt. So much strength and power coiled up in those beefy arms. I want to feel it. I want him wrapped around me. Trapping me. Caging me.

  He closes his eyes, letting out a resigned sigh. “Lay down, Ruby. Let’s finish this massage.”

  Not exactly what I was hoping for. What’s a girl gotta do to get a ravishing around here? But I do as he says, and he yanks the towel from my body in an economy of movement that startles me.

  “Relax, baby girl.” His voice is lower now. Gravelly. It jumbles my insides like rocks in a tumbler. He drizzles warm oil on my chest; it trickles little rivulets over my skin. “Are you ready for more, angel?”

  God, yes. “Please.”

  Once again, he starts on my shoulders, working the oil into my skin with his firm hands. They glide down my arms, and he picks up my wrists and ease them above my head. “Hold on to this pillow,” he orders, and I do, knowing my boobs are lifting up to him wantonly. “Good girl. I bet you don’t always do what you’re told, do you?”

  I snort.

  “I don’t mind a little sass. I like a challenge, city girl.” His hands roam down my sides, catching some side boob, but ignoring my hard nipples. I can feel them poking the air, so needy for attention. “I’m a little worried about not being professional here. You being a guest at my resort and a client on my massage table, and all. I don’t want any trouble, so we’re going to make sure that everything I do to you is something you’re begging for. How’s that sound?”

  The noise that comes out of me is a new one. A half-whimper, half-groan. This is nothing like my fantasies of a big city CEO taking my virginity politely. This is carnal, what he’s making me feel. I always thought sex would be like vulnerable pieces being plucked out of me one at a time by gentle, suave hands. Instead, it feels like he wants me to just filet myself open for him. No hiding behind shy sensibilities. He’s not taking anything, he’s making me give myself to him.

  His large hands rest just underneath my breasts. “Ask me to touch your tits, if that’s what you want.”

  “Please.”

  He circles around them with those talented fingers, but doesn’t touch the aching centers. “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

  I groan. “Please, touch my tits, Dusty.”

  “Good girl.”

  I’m rewarded with firm strokes as he cups and squeezes me. My hips start moving, desperate for more. His hands cup my breasts and he drags his fingernails in circles around my nipples, making sure not to touch. I moan and arch my back so my chest is thrust further toward him, begging for him to touch them, pull on them, anything. He pinches both my nipples at the same time, and I arch nearly off the table.

  “Easy, sweetness.” He gentles his touch, bringing me back down from the cliff of desire, and then he pinches them roughly again, revving me back up.

  I moan.

  "Does it feel good?" he asks in a quiet, low tone.

  God, his voice strums something deep inside me. "Mmmm," is all I am able to reply. Every circuit in my brain is overloading.

  He teases me some more, grabbing each nipple between his thumb and index finger and rolling them back and forth.

  "You like it when I play with your hard nipples, city girl?"

  I mutter words, I think. I don’t know what words. Just words.

  He pinches them harder and pulls, making me cry out in pleasure.

  "What's that, sweetness?"

  "Yes, I love it when you play with my hard nipples. God, it feels so good.”

  He lets go of them, replacing one hand with his mouth, slurping and sucking my tit while he gropes at the other. Oh my God. My pussy clenches hard like it’s directly attached to my chest. His tongue flicks, then he takes my nipple in his mouth and rolls it gently between his teeth.

  “Your tits are made for a man to fuck.”

  I don’t even know what that means, so I moan because it sounds fucking hot to me.

  Sure, yes, fuck my tits. I bet that’s amazing.

  Then he’s massaging my torso again. Bringing his hands down over my hips, down my legs and back up. I’m so wet I’m leaking onto the towel beneath me. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed by that or not. I don’t know if nice girls are supposed to get so wet. But I’m not supposed to be a nice girl right now, am I?

  Those large hands separate my legs so he can massage the insides of them. But he teases me by avoiding the apex where I’m literally drooling for his attention. A few more minutes and I’m trembling. “Dusty, please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Touch me.”

  “I am touching you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You’re the guest. You’re going to have to ask for what you want.”

  Someday, if I’m lucky, I will repay him in kind for this torture. “Cowboy, please touch my pussy.”

  "Bend your legs," he instructs. I plant my feet flat against the table and bend my legs, spread open for him. Vulnerable in a way I’ve never known.

  “Oh, baby. That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

  I blush at the compliment, which is ridiculous.

  He dips his fingers through the lips. “So juicy.” I squirm when he strokes my clit. “So creamy.” He slips a finger inside me. Then two.

  "Dusty!” I yell. I’m so thankful we’re alone in this house, but I feel like they could probably hear me all the way in Buffalo.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Oh, God.”

  He pumps them inside me, using his thumb to put pressure on my clit. "How about this? Does this feel good?"

  The sound that comes out of me is part moan, part prayer.

  "I asked you a question. Do you like it when I fuck your tight, wet pussy with my fingers, city girl?"

  "Oh, yes," I utter on an exhale. I love it.

  “Look at me, Ruby.”

  I angle my head as he lowers his, forcing me to keep eye contact with him while he puts his mouth on my pussy. It’s unbearably intimate. I can’t hide behind closed eyes. I can’t hide behind the mask of a character I’m pretending to be. It’s me. It’s him. It’s us. Earthy and raw. His tongue is exploring my folds, drinking me.

  Oh my God, he’s drinking me.

  I want to look away when he swirls the pearl of my clit in his mouth. But he holds me captive in his hungry gaze. The connection is too intense. Too much pleasure. Too much sensation.

  He moves his fingers just right, hitting the secret spot inside that I’ve never quite gotten with a toy. I jolt and he pulls his lips off me. "You're so fucking hot, Ruby. I wanted to fuck you as soon as you rounded the corner of that limo."

  I squeeze my eyes closed. "I'm going to come!"

  "Oh, no, you're not. Not yet." He takes his fingers out of me and rubs my wetness on my breast before he leans down and sucks it into his mouth.

  “I think I’m still going to come,” I say, the sensation of him tasting my pussy on my tits is so dirty, so nasty, I think it will send me right over.

  "I told you not yet. I want you to come when I’m inside you. I want to feel the walls of your pussy clutching around me, milking me as you come all over my dick."

  “Then stop talking dirty because you’re about to send me over the edge.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe you need a distraction then.” He brings one of my hands to the hu
ge bulge in his pants. God, he’s hard as iron in there. I squeeze and his eyes roll back. “Yeah. That’s it, sweetness.”

  That thing is probably going to hurt like hell. I can hardly wait. I want him inside me. I need him inside me. I tug on his waistband, bringing my other hand off the pillow to help. The beast springs free and hits me in the face.

  Two hands. I need two hands to hold it. It jumps against my palms, pulsing.

  Dusty groans and rips his shirt off his body. His chiseled chest and abs are ridged for my pleasure. The springy hair swirls lightly around his pecs and tapers in a dusting down rock-hard abs until it gets to his perfect cock. The one I’m holding in both hands. Oh my God. I have ideas about what I’m supposed to do with it, but I’m not proficient by any means. I’m going on pure instinct here and hoping I don’t screw this up.

  I take one hand off so I can see his cock better. It’s a perfect shade of pink and so damn thick and long. The bulbous tip is big. Too big. And it’s coated in clear precum. My mouth waters. I want that. I want to taste him there. I want to know the texture of him on my tongue, my lips. I’ve never gone down on anyone before, but I’m hoping enthusiasm will make up for lack of experience because I’m pretty damn excited about getting him in my mouth.

  “Like what you see?”

  “I think you’re perfect.”

  He leans down, his hand cupping my cheek then delving into my hair. “I can’t decide if I want to treat you like glass or fuck you like an animal, sweetness. You revved up a part of me that makes me want to say things to you that a man doesn’t say to a lady.” He’s searching my eyes. What does he see there? “Are you there with me, angel? Do you understand what I’m asking?”

  “I don’t want you to hold back. Let go with me, Dusty. I don’t want to be a lady right now.”

  “I don’t want to offend you or—” He stops talking when I squeeze his dick. “Fair enough. Do you think you can take this big cowboy cock, city girl?”

  “I know I can.” I hope.

  He takes himself in hand and rubs his cock on my lips. “Do you want a taste, darlin’?”

  I stick out my tongue and lick the underside of the ridge, letting him coat my lips with the clear fluid. I’m hooked on his taste instantly. He’s earthy and clean. It’s a weird angle, me laying down and him standing at my head, but I make the most of it and try to get more of him in my mouth.