Cowboy Not Included: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 6 (10 page)

God, was she? Hell yeah. She bobbed her head, helpless to control it. Then a vibration seared through her.

“Ahhh!”

“Too much?” He was fiddling with what could only be a remote control.

“No. So good. Don’t stop.” She collapsed to the bed, hips canted.

For several mind-stealing minutes she could only feel. The deep massage in such an untouched place was so good. Her pussy pulsated and juices oozed down her thighs.

Booker gathered her into his arms and kissed her. The passion he poured into his kiss sent her sailing higher. The vibrations seemed to shake her apart.

“I…I need…”

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

She opened her eyes to look into his bright green ones. “I…”

He seemed to know. Reaching under her body, he locked his finger from his left hand over her clit. The internal buzz and the weight of his finger was all she needed. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she drank big gulps of his flavor. This memory would carry her for a long time.

And she was definitely taking the toy home with her.

Pressure mounted. She started to quiver.

“Come on, love. Come for me. Jesus, you’re beautiful.”

Higher, higher. So close. Oh God. She burst with a scream. Pussy contracting wildly, her ass muscles gripping and releasing. Booker’s kiss on her lips.

For long seconds she drifted in bliss. Good thing Booker’s arms grounded her or she might float away.

Chapter Seven

Booker raised the frosty beer to his lips and drank. Cool, earthy brew rushed down his throat. The dark variety was his favorite.

“Is it any good?” Skye asked, kicked back in the comfy chair before the windows in the grub house.

“Try it.”

She picked up a bottle. Watching her purse her plump lips around the opening did bad things to his self-control. He couldn’t get enough of her. They’d spent most of the day in bed sharing everything from fun romps to passionate stares while he moved with slow purpose inside her.

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Mm. It is good.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Her expression darkened, and he could have bitten off his own tongue and fed it to the ranch dog. The last thing he wanted was to raise bad memories between them. If only she’d trusted him about his whereabouts that long-ago night.

Biting off the urge to tell her about his brother, he changed the subject. “What was Findlee doing with Gramma today?”

She picked up a fresh strawberry. “They were going to the swimming pool.”

“She likes the water?”

“Loves it. I don’t doubt she’d be swimming like a fish if we gave her the run of the pool.”

“Let her jump in. She’ll figure it out.”

She gave him a glare and he laughed. “Kidding, Skye.”

“I wish Findlee would put her mind to potty training the way she does her pursuit of fun.”

The grub house was pretty quiet with only a couple sitting at the long table at the far end of the room. “What’s hard about potty training?”

Judging by the dangerous red flash of her eyes and the way her short hair seemed to stand on end, he guessed he’d said the wrong thing. “Don’t start plotting my death, Skye. I’m just trying to figure it all out.”

She relaxed slightly but her tone was stiff. “We’ve been trying for months. Just as I think she’s getting the hang of it, she relapses.”

“She wants to stay a baby.”

Shock flitted across her features. “Why do you say that?”

“Just a guess. It’s easier to keep playing and pee your pants. Then it’s not her problem—it’s yours.”

Under her breath, she said something that sounded like, “It should be yours too,” but he couldn’t be certain. “Okay, Mr. Child Psychology, what do you suggest to make her excited about growing up?”

His beer was empty, so he picked up hers and finished it too. The warm hum of alcohol was loosening him, and he liked it, especially when walking around the deadly landmines of a real conversation with Skye. “I don’t know about making her excited, but she’s little. Does she even know how to manage her clothing?”

“She’s getting it.”

“Why not let her run butt-nekkid? When she’s gotta go, she’ll find her way to the pot.”

She stared at him. Hair mussed by the fingers of the wind on the way here, eyes big and soft. Red patches on her throat where he’d kissed her. She took his breath away.

Stupid of him. He never lost his head over women. But Skye wasn’t just any woman—she’d always have a grip on his soul.

He pushed out a breath and shoved to his feet. “Just an idea. Wanna ride?”

She stood too. “Yes, I do.”

All the way to the barn, they were silent. It wasn’t until they were in their saddles and halfway across the valley that she spoke. “It’s a good idea, you know.”

Having lost the thread of their discussion, he cocked a brow. “What’s that?”

“Letting her run naked. I’ll try it when I get home.”

His throat closed up at the thought of her leaving. He liked being on even ground with her. She didn’t seem to hate him so much now that he’d given her more than a dozen orgasms.

“I’m coming to see Findlee the first weekend I have off. Is that okay?”

She handled her horse expertly, drawing even with him. “It’s a little frightening, but we’ll work it out.”

A lead brick sank to the pit of his stomach. “Frightening why?”

“Well I’ve been going it alone all this time. And Findlee responds to my direction. It worries me that she’d become confused.”

“I’d never do anything to undermine you, Skye.”

“I don’t think you would.”

“We can discuss all the rules before I come so I don’t mess up. But I want her to know me.”

Her words were choked. “Me too.”

Reaching between their horses, he skimmed her cheek with his knuckles. She gave him a faint smile and they rode on. The sun beat down on his hat, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

After a bit, she broke the quiet again. “What do you think you’ll do when you’re done being a Boot Knocker?”

Pressing his lips back against his teeth, he contemplated the question. He didn’t have the same drive as some of his friends. They knew they wanted to raise horses, beef or bulls for the rodeo or to follow their own pursuits. But not him. For now, he was content here.

“Are you going to think I’m an asshole if I don’t have a goal?”

She snorted and shook her head. “I think you’re an asshole anyway. But not really.”

“I like ranching. It’s in my blood.”

She shot him a sidelong look. “I know.”

“Someday it’d be nice to own a little place of my own, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have the cash to start.” He had plenty in the bank—but that was Findlee’s.

“Yes, money’s always a concern.”

“I wouldn’t mind working for a rancher, though. One of those good old guys who knows how it’s done.”

“Like my uncle.”

“Yeah.” He looked at her. “What do
you
want, Skye?”

Part of him feared she’d say she wanted to remarry, to have someone to share her life and help raise her daughter. He gripped the reins.

She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t know either, Booker. Guess we’re in the same boat.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “We’re both assholes.” He barely kicked his horse into a gallop before she lunged after him, her indignant roar echoing across the land.

Holy hell. Booker had heard of hell on heels before, but hell on flip-flops? To a group of horny cowboys, it was almost worse.

He angled his body in front of Skye to block her from their view, but she wouldn’t stay where he put her.

Teller stood at the front of the group, hands upraised for quiet. When the big group silenced, he said, “All right, everyone. Here are the rules of cornhole. You throw one of these bags of corn at that hole. If it goes in, you have to kiss the person nearest you. Man or woman, those’re the rules. Understand?”

Nodding all around. Skye glanced about herself, probably scoping out her first kiss.

“Those aren’t the real rules, Tell,” Booker drawled.

He flashed a grin. “These are today’s rules, mostly because I’m on my own this week and I’d like a little kissin’.”

Booker arched a brow and Teller waggled his in return.

“If you miss the throw, you have to remove an article of clothing. Something substantial—not a wristwatch. Everyone ready?”

A cheer rose up. Two cowboys loped forward to grab a handful of corn sacks and the game was on.

Skye bounced on her toes as the first toss was thrown. She’d been a little distant all morning and he couldn’t puzzle why. As she’d swam lap after lap in the pool, he’d watched and waited. But she never made a move. No splash wars or burning kisses against the side ensued.

Then she’d shut herself in the bedroom. He’d expected to hear the vibrator, but no sound came from within. Finally he’d knocked and asked if she wanted to grab food then go to the cornhole tournament.

At that, she’d flung open the door, a grin on her pretty features and frayed shorts showcasing her thighs in a way that made him grind his teeth.

No, he couldn’t follow her moods. Trying would only give him whiplash.

The first Boot Knocker made a toss. A rowdy laugh burst from the group as the cowboy turned to the closest person, bent her over his arm and kissed the hell out of her. The movement of his tongue in her mouth ignited Booker. Cornhole always gave him blue balls, but the kissing part added a little extra flair. Teller was a genius.

When the Boot Knocker pulled the woman up, she wobbled, hand flattened to her breasts and a flush on her face.

Another gal, gripping her corn sack, stepped up and swung her arm to aim at the small hole in the wooden target.

“C’mon, Leanne baby! Miss it!”

Laughter rippled through the group.

She threw a coy smile over her shoulder and blatantly hit the side of the target. The corn sack splatted and hit the ground. Then her obligatory one article of clothing, which happened to be a skirt, followed.

In nothing but a top and panties, she sashayed to the end of the line, and several men made grabs at her as she passed.

Skye watched with wide eyes. Booker knew what she was thinking—this was finally her time to have another cowboy’s hands on her.

She pushed past him and grabbed a sack. Before she could throw, Teller slid an arm around her shoulders. “Now, now, li’l lady. No cutting in line.”

Booker chuckled as she returned to his side, a pout on her pretty face.

Two Boot Knockers threw simultaneously, both missed and then stood side-by-side doing a striptease. Shirts were peeled off tanned chests and whirled in the air. One threw his to the ground and a lady rushed forward to grab it and sniff it.

Booker laughed and shook his head. But he was also getting damned hot and bothered. The line couldn’t move fast enough.

A woman hit the target and grabbed the closest person—another woman. As she pulled the brunette close, catcalls and whistles echoed from the group. They wrapped their arms around each other, looked into each other’s eyes and kissed.

Not just a peck but a tongue-twining, body rubbing kiss that had Booker aching. He put a hand on Skye’s back and she looked up at him, eyes dazed with lust.

He gave her a crooked smile as he contemplated her. Would she ever go for same-sex fun? They’d never really discussed it, but she had suggested the anal play.

Rocking his hip, he brought his erection against her side. She slapped him away. “You horny goat. Get away from me. It’s almost my turn.”

It was. Two more competitors had to strip, and then she was up.

Booker’s eyes hooded as he watched. He couldn’t predict her actions. If she hit, she could grab him for a kiss or turn to another cowboy, getting what she’d wanted from the start.

If she took off her clothes, they wouldn’t finish the game. He’d pick her up and fuck her against the nearest building.

Skye sidled up to the starting point. Wicked grins rippled over the faces of the Boot Knockers and one short, curvaceous woman eyed her.

Booker blinked and missed her throw. “A kiss!” she cried and hurled herself at Teller.

He caught her, gave Booker a strange look and claimed her mouth.

Watching one of his best friends kiss his wife should have sent him crazy with jealousy, but it only made him harder. His length bulged against his fly and he swore a thread or two popped.

Teller cradled the back of her head, her short hairs sticking through his splayed fingers. She clung to him as they did the tongue tango.

“Wooo! How’s that for kissin’ action, Teller?” someone called.

They broke apart. Skye was quivering.

Ripe and ready.

Booker’s cock throbbed.

“King! King! King!” Booker’s chanted nickname grew louder and louder.

“I put a bet on Booker’s miss. He likes taking his clothes off too much,” another cowboy drawled.

He knuckled his hat brim in acknowledgment, set his feet together and threw.

The sack struck the edge of the hole, too far to the right to go in, and slid down the wood face.

He turned to the group. Skye stood two feet away, eyes round.

With slow movements, he caught his belt buckle. Flicked it to the side.

A cheer resounded.

He tugged the leather of his belt free of the metal peg.

Skye’s throat worked.

Holding her gaze, he opened his button-fly with extreme slowness.

“King! King!”

“Booker’s way better than battery-operated.”

Skye jerked her head around at the Boot Knocker’s quip.

He pushed the denim down his hips. Dark eyes darted into his line of sight a split second before hard lips slammed over his.

Teller claiming a kiss even if it went against the rules.

A raucous cry burst from the group. Booker locked his arm around Teller and kissed him back. As he stroked his tongue over his lover’s, he wondered what Skye was thinking. As far as he knew, she didn’t realize all the things he did on the ranch.

“Go down,” a male voice urged.

And Teller did.

Dropping to his knees, he reached into Booker’s underwear and released his cock. In one smooth movement, he swallowed Booker’s length.

A choked noise escaped him and he threw his head back, ab muscles leaping as exquisite pleasure hit his system.

A faint gasp from nearby drew his attention to Skye. Her eyes were round, her hand pressed to her parted lips. The urge to plunge his tongue into her hot mouth while Teller serviced his cock was a firework burst in his mind.

She dropped her gaze to Teller.

Fuck, this was beyond hot. He cupped Teller’s nape and drew him in.

His cock hit the back of his lover’s throat. Hell yeah, this could go down as one of the best public orgasms he’d had.

The insane ecstasy was too fleeting, though. Teller sat back on his heels, licked his lips then jumped to his feet.

Skye looked stunned. And she had to be soaking wet. Hell, he needed to get her to the nearest bed, tree or hay bale.

He pulled off his boots then shoved his jeans and underwear down.

“That’s three articles of clothing. Four if you count the belt,” Teller drawled.

Booker gripped his cock at the base. The tip was purple and oozing pre-come. “What can I say? I like breaking the rules.”

Bare-assed, he swaggered up to Skye. She looked at him as if she didn’t know who he was—but was more than interested.

Her nipples were tight beads beneath her top and her chest rose and fell. He’d like to get inside her pretty head and listen to her thoughts.

He stood beside her, watching the antics of the tournament, which had spiraled out of control quickly. One woman was completely naked and sandwiched between two cowboys, who were taking turns kissing both sets of her lips. Teller took another turn and stripped entirely before giving Skye a slow wink.