Rope Burn: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5 (8 page)

His warm, wet fingers against her jawline brought a new blossom of heat to her chest. She blinked once.

“Let’s see how you take orders. Slowly pull your head back.”

No. She didn’t want to.

He released his hold on her. She paused for two heavy heartbeats before obeying. She moved back. His cock popped free of her mouth.

The slight ache in her jaw reminded her of his touch there. The places that remembered his touch were increasing in number. Soon she wouldn’t be able to count them all.

“Now press your lips to my cock. Kiss down to my balls.”

If anyone had told her weeks ago she’d be on her knees with a man giving her orders like this, she would have hurled an egg at the person.

Slowly, she kissed down his length. Three small kisses she hoped he felt as much as she felt his touches. When she reached his sac, she paused and waited for his next order.

His grip on her upper arms felt so right as he lifted her, spun her to the wall and delivered a single resounding slap to her ass.

Gulping a cry, she braced her arms where she’d done before.

“Don’t hold it in. It pleases me to hear you cry out. Try again.” He slapped her. The sting traveled through her body, escalating her need tenfold.

A long wail left her. So freeing. She waited for more but nothing came. He was doing something behind her, but she dared not turn to see. He hadn’t given the command.

So she’d become this person already.

He stripped her in a blink. As the slippery head of his cock eased over her folds, she cried out and pushed back. He didn’t give any orders—just filled her with one quick shove.

She grappled to find his hip, drawing him in with sharp, fast movements. He sagged at the knees, lifting her with each thrust. She felt as if she was sliding up the wall, but her mind locked on the places he was touching her.

Strong fingers pinched her nipples. His cock pounded her. Her pussy clamped around him, and his primal noises mingled with hers. If anyone walked in, they’d think wild animals were killing each other in the shower.

It was so damn good.

“I’m going to clamp these pretty nipples tomorrow. You’ll wear my jewelry until you know who you belong to.”

Her mind whirled. If this was normal, she’d been living in a bubble.

Then he pinched harder, fucked deeper. And she shook apart. With a scream of ecstasy, she came. Her body contracting, her mind floating far, far away as Stowe roared his release.

Her haze continued when he took her out of the shower, dried her and wrapped her in a fluffy robe. Only when he laid her on the bed and tucked her against his side did she fully understand what had happened.

He’d stolen her mind and given her escape.

Chapter Five

The scent of man filled Tabbart’s head. She woke slowly, aware of prickly-soft beard moving over her throat.

More marks.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Then she moved. Everything on her hurt.

She must have made a noise, because Stowe rumbled, “Sore?”

“Yes.”

“A hot bath for you then. I’ll pour it while you wake up. Then I’ll fetch us breakfast. I hope you’re hungry. You won’t want to miss Cook’s stuffed French toast today.”

Her stomach growled and she clapped a hand over it. Breakfast. She’d slept so long. Faintly she recalled him bringing a dinner tray, then caressing her. After that, nothing. She must have fallen asleep, exhausted by her day.

Stowe’s laugh sounded as he strode to the bathroom. Turning her head to follow his movements, she felt more stiffness. God, one day in bed with him was equivalent to running the Frisco marathon.

The sound of water rushing into the tub filled the room. She sat up and tucked the sheet modestly around her breasts. For some reason she was feeling vulnerable. Exposed.

Stowe emerged—tall, denim clad, wearing yesterday’s T-shirt. As if understanding her thought pattern, he rubbed a hand over his chest. “I’ll grab some clothes to keep here.”

A sliver of unknown warmth sidled through her body like an ice shaving on the inside of a glass, slowly making its way to her pussy. It had been a long time since she’d seen a man’s clothes next to hers. The intimacy was odd. She didn’t really know Stowe.

Her body sure did, though.

“I poured some soothing oils into the bathwater. It will help ease your stiff muscles. Then later, if you’re still sore, I’ll massage you.”

Oh God. Now she was needy again. The twist of his smile said he probably knew this.

She swung her legs out of bed, taking the sheet with her toga-style. When he put his arms around her and gently kissed her between the eyes, she couldn’t stop herself from melting against him.

His heart beat heavy and strong beneath her ear. He smelled amazing, and her nipples tightened.

She gasped at the burning sensation as tiny teeth clamped on each nipple. She stared down at his hands over her breasts. Then the long fingers vanished, leaving gold clamps.

She had to get into the bathroom to look at them. “H-how long do I leave them on?”

“Just until I get back. Not very long your first time.” Stowe rested his hands on her hips, over the fullest part she battled to slim on a daily basis. Somehow she didn’t mind her saddlebags in his hands, though.

“Take your bath, love. And don’t remove the clamps. Okay?” While his tone was soft, she heard the command there.

Nodding, she drew away and turned to the bathroom. With the door shut and steam rising from the big soaker tub, she released the sheet and faced the mirror.

Her jaw dropped but no air moved in and out of her lungs. She gaped at the twin gold clamps. A dainty chain connected them and a star dangled from it. When she finally sucked air, the chain shimmied against her skin. She shivered, nearly feeling Stowe’s touch.

That’s the point in him clamping my nipples. So I feel him even when he’s not touching me.

Her nipples were bright red under the small teeth, but she wasn’t really in pain so much as aware. She moved her hair aside and saw the marks on her neck. Beard burn dotted her flesh. As she leaned across the sink to peer closer, she saw the red spots of a love bite.

Her knees felt funny. Wobbly and close to collapse. She needed to get into the tub before she fell over. But first she had to see…

Pivoting, she looked over her shoulder at her behind. A big red handprint stood out on skin that rarely saw the light of day. A shiver zigzagged down her spine and she rested a hand over the spot—over Stowe’s hand.

Hers was a lot smaller. She caressed the area, testing for soreness. Yes, it was sensitive. Would he try to spank her again there? She didn’t think she could withstand it.

For several more seconds her eyes darted between the nipple clamps and the marks on her body, and then she met her own gaze. Shock tore through her.

She looked…happy. Happier than she’d seen herself in so long that she had no idea when she’d stopped looking happy.

Her eyes were clear and without the tiny lines of stress. Her mouth was swollen from kisses—and giving head. She flushed at the memory and her nipples burned under the clamps. And the glow she wore was undeniable.

Abandoning the mirror, she dipped a toe in the tub. The temperature was just right. Damn, he was good. As she sank into the heated depths, lavender, peppermint and eucalyptus engulfed her. Her sigh echoed in the room, sounding achingly like the moans she’d released last night without a hint of inhibition.

As she rested against the tub, she let the soothing oils work their magic like fingers stroking her sore bits. Parting her thighs, she realized the workout Stowe had given her pussy. She felt pleasantly aware of how hard he’d pounded her.

And how many orgasms he’d given her.

She closed her eyes and drifted. If any of her colleagues could see her now, they’d be stunned. She’d be a tabloid scandal, coming to a sex ranch. All the more reason to protect her identity while here. Stowe had been amazing at being discreet with her so far, and it seemed those ranch hands hadn’t recognized her. He wouldn’t have taken her there if he’d believed she’d be jeopardized.

Warmth crept over her and her mind drifted. Normally all her free time was consumed by food. Creating recipes, planning magazine features. But today she was far from her real life. Was it a good thing? Yes, it was exactly what she’d wanted. Amelia must have known this when she’d written Stowe’s information on the slip of paper and handed it to Tabbart.

She turned off the water and grabbed a shower puff on the edge of the tub. After dumping copious amounts of lavender-scented body wash on it, she ran it over her body. When she reached her breasts, she paused.

The chain was covered in a film of bubbles. She had to admit it looked pretty against her skin. A strange piece of jewelry she’d never considered in her life. Knowing Stowe had put the clamps there with his big, rough fingers sent goose bumps rippling over her skin.

The puff floated away from her hand and she skimmed a finger over one clamp. He’d said not to take them off. It was true she’d obeyed him up till this point, but that wasn’t really her. She was playing along. If she pushed back, there would be consequences.

She squeezed the edges together and the clamp loosened from her nipple. Relief was her initial sensation. Then all the blood her sensitive bud had been denied flooded in, making her nipple feel too hot, too swollen. Her eyes watered even as she recognized the wetness squeezing from her pussy.

Stowe had a firm hold on her—all of her.

After considering unclamping her other nipple, she thought better of it. Something told her it was going to hurt like a bitch when she put the metal teeth back around the scorching tip.

She had to or face Stowe’s displeasure.

She wasn’t afraid of him as much as worried about seeing disappointment in his dark eyes.

Biting her lower lip, she depressed the sides and snapped the clamp back on her nipple.

A low cry left her and she gritted her teeth, bearing more pain than she would have felt if she’d listened to her Master.

While she washed her hair, she considered her compliance. Calling a man Master broke all the rules of feminism and the modern notions she’d been raised to cherish. Funny how it didn’t feel wrong or bad to call Stowe Master when they were alone. There was no denying that giving up control had felt good yesterday. He’d taken care of her, from feeding her to giving her mind-blowing pleasure to cradling her on horseback. She’d put her trust in him.

That was another thing she needed to learn more about—that floaty feeling she’d experienced after their shower sex yesterday. After the spanking.

Her ass cheek throbbed to life at the reminder of his touch. She had to ask him about the odd relaxed feeling that had stolen over her while under his hand.

When she had all the shampoo and conditioner rinsed from her hair, she pushed into a sitting position. A light rap on the door alerted her that Stowe was back.

“All right, love?”

The endearment shouldn’t have sent her stomach into a tizzy like it did. She felt like a salad spinner, at the mercy of a flick of a wrist. Or in this case, a voice.

“Yes,” she answered. Should she add Master?

He didn’t correct her. “I have your breakfast when you’re ready to come out. Stuffed French toast.”

Stuffed French toast. She prepared it with cream cheese, strawberries and guava marmalade. Her mouth watered.

She hurried from the tub and dried off. Wearing the robe Stowe had wrapped her in yesterday and that had mysteriously made it back to the bathroom hook, she toweled her hair and ran a brush through it.

Actually, all her belongings were laid out. Had he done it this morning? She didn’t think the ranch had servants to do those things.

When she drifted from the bedroom, she expected to see him, but he wasn’t there. She went into the main room, and there he sat at the table for two. The rustic tray held silver domes and a silver pot of coffee.

He stood and gestured to her robe.

“What?” she asked.

“I need to remove the clamps. You can’t wear them too long.”

Feeling a blush rise to her hairline, she parted her robe. He reached inside and the pinch on each nipple vanished. Blood flowed back in and she gasped.

He shot her a crooked smile and motioned to her chair. When she pulled it out, she found a flower lying on the seat—a daisy.

For the second time her mouth dropped open. She lifted the bloom to her nose but it had a faint fragrance. No matter—it was so perfect. Far better than dozens of roses.

When she lifted her gaze to him, she found him smiling softly. “Feel better after your bath?”

“Yes, thank you. I wouldn’t have thought to combine the lavender, peppermint and eucalyptus, but it worked wonders on my muscles.”

“Let’s see if Cook’s French toast works on your stomach.” With a flourish he removed the dome. She smiled to see the exquisitely plated food. Two thick slabs of toast sprinkled in powdered sugar. A couple strawberries had been sliced and fanned on the side as garnish.

Her stomach clawed to get at the food, but she waited until Stowe had removed his dome too and had a fork in hand, tines down.

She stopped, prickling with awareness. He’d changed clothes and obviously had taken a quick shower. His hair was still damp, starting to curl at his nape. Without his hat, he seemed different. More approachable.

Less scary.

Or maybe that was knowing him intimately.

“Does the food meet your standards?”

I don’t know yet but the man sure does.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“Take a bite.”

She lifted her fork and cut into the toast. It had a crackly sugar shell and was done to perfection. When the cream filling oozed out, she inspected it. Then she brought the fork to her mouth and groaned.

“Milk, eggs, cinnamon. Cream cheese.”

He nodded. “Crème brûlée French toast. You like?”

She stuffed a bite in her mouth and had a food orgasm. Around the bite, she said, “Creamy and delicious. How does she get the sugary coating so perfect?”

He lifted a shoulder and savored his own bite. “I can take you to her to ask if you’d like.”

“It might be worth the risk of her recognizing me.”

“I’m at your service. Just say the word.”

She eyed him and chewed a second bite. “You’re at my service?”

“Of course.”

“But… How does that work?”

He polished off another bite. “I’m here to satisfy you, Tabbart.”

“But…”

His dark eyes were piercing. “Say it plain. There’s nothing standing between us. No barriers. No holding back.”

“Well, you want me to call you Master.”

“Because I am. But that has a very different meaning from that of your world.”

“Explain it to me.” She poured a cup of coffee for each of them and sat back to sip the black, earthy brew. It seemed everything was bigger and better in Texas, from cowboys to coffee.

“You think of Master and slave. It’s true in my lifestyle there are those who call themselves slaves. But in this case, it’s different. I’m not asking you to stay on your knees while cleaning. I’m not demanding certain rituals in hygiene. But I am your Master. I command you.”

“I don’t totally understand.”

“Things I command you to do help you as well. When I ask you to get on your knees and place your hands behind your back, it’s to bring you closer to me.”

Her brow crinkled. “I don’t get it.”

“In the shower, when I told you to hold me on your tongue and not suck my cock, how did you feel?”

At his words, her body flooded with need. Heat climbed her from damp inner thighs to throat and face. “I felt…” How? She’d hungered for more of him, to take him into her throat and suck until he shook with release.

“Closer to you.” Her words were faint, her mind spinning.

He sat back and drew his mug to his lips, eyes knowing.

She toyed with her second piece of French toast. Though her appetite was voracious after the long day of pleasure they’d shared, she needed to ask. “When you…spanked me…” Her face burned.

“It’s all right, love. Not a humiliation. A learning tool.”

“To bring me closer to you.”

“Yes. Spanking trains the submissive. I can set goals for you, even small ones that boost your self-esteem. For instance, I can teach you the perfect posture to receive my spanking, and when I praise you and pleasure you, you know you’ve done well.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my self-esteem.”

He lips quirked at the corner. “I know that. I watched you very carefully on set. And closer yesterday.”

“So what would…spanking…teach me?”

“Well, we don’t have much time together. I’d say your goal is to learn to give up a little control. You have a real problem unwinding, don’t you, Tabbart?”

Her throat closed off, emotion suddenly bursting like fireworks in her system. Having this discussion, all of it laid out between them, was better than the tens of thousands she’d spent in therapy over the years.