"You're driving me crazy. Please take me all the way."
Wordlessly he moved his hands to her waist, and tightening his grip, he accelerated. Her cries rose in pitch, but as she threw back her head and let out a wail, he quickly withdrew.
"Oooh, no. Why did you do that?"
Her answer came in the form of several hot slaps.
"You've gotta lot to learn, Sassy Lassy, you'll come when I say you can, and not before. Get on your back and bring your knees up."
She quickly did as he asked, and with her face flaming with heat, and her eyes filled with need, she stared up at him.
"You liked me tellin' you what to do back then. Looks like that hasn't changed."
"I love it. I absolutely love it."
"Rub yourself until your on the edge, then ask permission to come."
"Ooh…"
"Now, Amber," he said firmly, sliding his hand down the inside of her thigh. "Don't make me wait."
But she did.
She had to.
His hand slapped.
"Ow, ooh, that stings."
"Do as you're told."
The burning smack on the tender skin heightened her arousal, and massaging her magic nub, she caught her breath and arched her back.
"I'm almost there, please may I come?"
"Please, may I come, Sir!"
"Please, may I come, Sir?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No. Take your hand away."
Whimpering with need, she dropped her arm at her side.
"Close your eyes," he ordered, lowering himself over her body. "I'm going to fuck you hard, and I'm not gonna stop 'til you climax."
Taking his cock in his hand, he pushed back inside her soaked channel, stroked slowly as he positioned himself, then pinning her wrists on either side of her head, he began to accelerate.
His driving piston consumed her, his chest hairs brushing against her nipples sent scintillating sensations through her breasts, and his firm hold fired a fresh wave of erotic energy through her sex.
Her orgasm threatened.
She held her breath.
"Now!"
His growled command sent her tumbling over the edge, and as her euphoric cries filled the air, his explosion rocketed through his loins.
"David, oh, my God, David," she panted as he slipped out and fell next to her. "Hold me. Hold me and never let me go."
"Don't worry, sweet girl. We're back together, and that's the way it's gonna stay, no matter what."
CHAPTER EIGHT
With only a few hours sleep and drained from their lovemaking, Amber sank into a blissful doze, but no stranger to late nights Brett became restless. Softly slipping from the bed, he took a quick shower, and trotting down the stairs to his office, he placed a call to Heath.
"Hey, Brett. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. I take it you have an update."
"Hi, Heath. I sure do. Everything came to a head last night."
"Damn. That was fast."
"I was shocked too, but I had one of those eye-openin' talks with Steve in the garden. He always helps me see things clearly. Bottom line, Amber and I have found our way back to each other."
"She told you what you wanted to hear?"
"Every word. I just wish I hadn't waited so long to reach out to her."
"Things happen when they should," Heath said solemnly. "There were times I wished I'd had it out with my dad long before I did, but thinkin' that way is no-man's land."
"I agree. Tell Carly I said hi. Oh, one thing I didn't mention. Amber pretended she knew how to ride."
"She honestly thought she could con a cowboy? She needs her head read."
"She needs something," Brett joked. "I'll talk to you later."
"Thanks for the news, and congrats. I'm real happy for you two."
"Thanks, Heath. Bye."
"Bye, Brett."
Ending the call, Brett rose from his chair and wandered across to the sliding glass door. As he stepped outside, a warm breeze flirted with stray leaves sending them into a merry dance. The day was full of promise. Needing a cup of coffee and some breakfast he headed into the kitchen, but as he poured granola into a bowl, Amber unexpectedly wandered in dressed in her robe.
She had stirred when Brett left the bedroom, a dark cloud casting a shadow over her new-found euphoria.
The unauthorized biography.
Twists and Turns.
Her ticket out of debt.
She couldn't possibly betray him.
As she'd pondered her dilemma, she'd begun to wonder if he really did have a plan to write his memoirs, or if the story had been concocted as an excuse to bring her in for the interview. Heath had called her out of the blue. It made sense the lifelong friends could have been cohorts in cooking up the scheme. Unable to relax, and determined to find Brett to ask him, she'd left the bedroom to look for him.
"What are you doin' up?" he asked, surprised to see her. "I thought you'd be in bed for at least a couple more hours."
"I would be if you were with me," she teased, sashaying towards him. "Aren't you pleased to see me?"
"Does this answer your question?"
Grabbing her around the waist with one arm, he abruptly jerked her into his body, and planted his lips on hers in a fervent kiss.
"Definitely," she panted as they broke apart. "You make my head spin."
"I'd rather make your knees weak and your pussy wet."
"Oh, my God. Saying that, you just did."
"I wanna throw you over that kitchen table."
"What's stopping you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling up at him.
"Nothin', and I will," he growled, then dropping his lips to her ear, he whispered, "but I want you thinkin' on it a while."
"I need to sit down," she muttered. "My legs are wobbly."
"Should I carry you to a chair, or do you think you'll make it?"
"I'll make it, but barely," she said, grinning up at him.
"You want some granola?"
"Yes, please. I'm starving."
"Not surprisin'. All you've had since lunch is a blueberry muffin. Go sit down. I'll bring it over."
"Waiting on me again. I like it."
"Sassy Lassy, don't be pushin' your luck. I might just grab myself a wooden spoon!"
"Just stating the obvious. Maybe we should reverse roles."
"Try. Please, please, try," he retorted with a wicked grin.
"On another subject, I know what I'm going to call you, and I—"
"Besides, Sir?"
"Ha. Very funny. I was going to say, I know what I'm going to call you," she repeated, sitting at the table, "and I have something important to ask."
"Tell me my new name first. Damn. Now I'll have three."
"I relate to you as Brett, so it feels weird calling you David, but knowing who you really are I feel strange calling you Brett. I'm going to call you BD."
"BD?"
"Yeah, Brett David."
"Oh, Amber. I like that. I like that a lot," he remarked, approaching her carrying a tray with their breakfast.
"All you need is a server's apron," she said with a giggle. "Shoot, I don't have my purse or I'd leave you a tip."
"Keep it up."
"Keeping it up is your job!"
"Not something you'll have to worry about," he said raising one wicked eyebrow, "and I've gotta hunch you don't know what BD stands for."
"Besides Brett David? Uh, I'm not sure I do."
"Bondage and discipline. The discipline you know. Now I have to introduce you to bondage."
"Huh?"
"You heard me, and every time you call me BD—"
"Ooh.
"What?"
"I can hardly stand it," she replied, dropping her eyes as her cheeks flamed. "The thing is…"
"Damn, girl, your face is as red as a ripe tomato."
"I've fantasized about this for so long."
"Bondage?"
"So many times, so many scena
rios, but always with you, and being controlled by you again is incredible. You're not mean or bossy—well, maybe a bit bossy—but in a sexy way. A really sexy way. And now you're talking about tying me up. Is this really happening?"
"Sure is," he said, dropping his voice. "Amber, I'm just as blown away as you are."
"I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."
"Yep. I've been there too. What do you want to ask me?"
"I've got a million questions, but here's the most pressing. Are you really planning a book, or was that just a plan to see me?"
"Yes and yes."
"Really?"
"A publisher's been chasin' me for a couple of years and my manager keeps houndin' me. When I found out you'd graduated and wanted to be a journalist, I tossed the idea around a bit, and yeah, I came up with the plan. I did talk to Heath, and he agreed to contact you."
"Why didn't you just call me yourself and tell me what happened? Why go to such lengths?"
"Lord, Amber, I didn't know how I'd feel. I didn't know how you'd react. I wanted the anonymity. Not fair, I know that, but that's the truth. When I said I understood why you left me," he said slowly, searching for the right words, "I still needed to hear it from you. Free and clear. No agenda. If you met me as Brett Preston and I was able to get you talkin', I was hopin' you might tell me about your past. I thought it was a long shot, and I sure as hell didn't expect you to open up so soon."
"That's why you left the truck by the barn that first day, and why you asked me to drive with you up to the house."
"I thought it might connect."
"No! You knew it would connect, and I kind of hate you for doing that, but I'm glad you did. I guess it was a means to an end."
"Yep, a means to an end."
"Oh, my gosh. The bedroom!"
"Uh, yeah. You talked about havin' a room like that all the time. I wanted to give it to you. Made me real happy to see the smile on your face when you walked in."
"Wow. Thank you. I do love it, but basically, you conned me. I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"Amber," he said, lowering his voice and leaning over the table, "you tried to con me too."
"When? How?"
"Your ridin' skills, remember?"
"Oh, that."
"Yeah, that. You've gotta get up way earlier in the mornin' if you're gonna con a cowboy. Even then you won't get very far. At least, not with this cowboy."
"Is that right?"
"Yep."
"Are you sure you want to throw down that gauntlet, cowboy?"
"Are you challengin' me, Sassy Lassy? Have you got somethin' up your sleeve?"
"This T-shirt doesn't have any sleeves."
"If you try to better me, the only thing you'll get for your trouble is a hot butt."
"Tell me about your engagement to Marianne Marks."
"Now you're just changin' the subject."
"Maybe, but I'm still interested."
"Uh-huh. Okay, have it your way, but don't say I didn't warn you."
"Marianne Marks?"
"You are somethin' else," he muttered, grinning as he shook his head. "Marianne. Not much to tell. I did love her, but she had no interest in—how do I put this?"
"Having her ass spanked?"
"Pretty much," he said with a chuckle, "and dang it, you were always runnin' around my head like a giant question mark. The heart knows what it knows, and you never left mine. I'll admit there were times I didn't want you to be there, but you refused to leave. Typical Amber. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn."
"It's not my fault you were so crazy about me. Or should I say, are so crazy about me."
"And what about you, Sassy Lassy?"
"What about me?"
"No great loves? What did you mean by not having you're backside properly smacked?"
"I think you know the answer to that. Guys wanting to please me and having no clue. Good grief. Is there anything worse? No great loves, only fleeting crushes, but I've been so riddled with guilt I haven't been open to much of anything."
"And here we are!"
"As you said last night, meant to be."
"I reckon so."
"Tomorrow morning, BD, I'll return the favor and make us breakfast."
"All I made was the coffee. It's not difficult openin' a box and tippin' out the contents."
"You still did it," she said softly. "Do you like pancakes?"
"Love 'em."
"Then that's what I'll make," she promised, then pausing, she casually asked, "Is the book still something you want to do? Do I have a job, or is it time for me to find other gainful employment?"
"You definitely have a job. How do we get started?"
"I've been thinking about that. If you want to begin with You Can't See My Heart—"
"No. Sunny Days, Foggy Nights. That was my first number one single. It won me my first Grammy and Country Music Award."
"I love that song, just like millions of other people," she said softly, staring at him. "I still find it hard to believe the David Cameron I knew is this superstar sitting in front of me."
"Yeah, I'm sure it is. You know my name is on a ton of hit songs out there."
"You mean David Cameron?"
"Yep."
"Really? I don't understand."
"You know Heath has a sales and trainin' barn."
"Yeah, sure. Dream Horse Ranch."
"One of his clients is a producer. Stuart Kelly. While I was healin' from the accident, my writin' and playin' kept me sane. I'd recorded a few songs, just me and my guitar, and Heath had it playin' while Stuart Kelly was at his house. Heath thought they were great, and hoped Stuart might ask about 'em. Well, he did. I sold him songs for a couple of years. My dad had insurance, but my songs paid the gap. I was able to get the best medical care money can buy."
"That's an amazing story. Can I put that in the book?"
"Nope. I don't want that connection exposed. My songs are written by David Cameron and Brett Preston records 'em. There are only a handful of people who know Brett and David are one and the same, and it's gonna stay that way. Are we clear, Amber?"
"Yes, of course. I won't say a word to anyone, I swear."
"How do we get this book off the ground?"
"The easiest way is for us to have conversation sessions."
"That sounds like a fancy name for interviews."
"Uh, maybe it is, but my questions will be vague and you'll just talk. When we're done I'll listen to the recording and use what I think are the most interesting bits. I'll write them up, then you'll read it and give me your feedback."
"That doesn't sound too painful."
"The best stuff will come through free-flow conversation. You can't beat it. I suggest we have a regular schedule. Talk in the mornings, have lunch, and I'll get busy in the afternoons and present you with what I've written over dinner, or after dinner. Whenever you want. We can sequence the chapters by the release of your gold and platinum albums. I'm sure you have plenty of stories about the recordings of each of them."
"Sounds a bit borin',"
"To you, maybe, but your fans will eat it up."
"If you say so, Amber Scott."
"I do, BD."
"When do you wanna get started?"
"Tomorrow, if that's okay with you. I'm pretty wiped out from everything, not to mention lack of sleep."
"Are you up for a little shoppin' trip? I'd like to take a run into the village."
"After I take a nap, sure."
"Great. We'll have lunch there. While you have your nap, I'm gonna pluck a bit."
"Does that mean write?"
"Yep. There's a song in my head drivin' me nuts," he declared, rising from the table and stepping around it to take her hand.
"We don't want that," she said softly, as he pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in his arms. "You're already nutty enough."
"Always with the sass," he said with a sigh. "Amber, I want you to listen. Whatever it is you've got cookin' in that he
ad of yours, I'd advise you to let it go."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yeah, right! You're gonna try to pull a fast one. I may not know what it is, but trust me, I'll figure it out long before you pull the trigger, and I'll be sittin' on a rock waitin' for you to walk through the canyon. The only way to avoid gettin' ambushed is not to take the ride."
Though her butterflies fluttered and her heart thumped, she held his gaze.
"I don't know how to handle a horse, remember? Why would I be in the saddle going through a canyon?"
A wicked grin curled his lips, and turning her around, he slapped her backside and pushed her forward.
"Go take your nap. I'll see you around eleven."
Without turning she flirtatiously waved her goodbye, but as she left the kitchen and headed down the hall she broke into a naughty grin. The conversation sessions would provide plenty of fodder for both books, and though she had no intention of publishing Twists and Turns, writing it under his nose without his knowledge held immense appeal.
So did her plan about what to do with it once it was finished.
CHAPTER NINE
Chip's saddlery sold saddles and tack, but also offered western clothing and riding gear, including custom-made chaps. When Brett insisted on both summer and insulated winter riding boots, Amber's heart soared. He looked to the future, just as she did. The helmet came next, but just like the one she'd been forced to wear taking lessons, she hated it.
"I'm sorry, but these make me look nerdy!" she exclaimed, ripping it off her head in a huff. "Why can't I just wear a cowboy hat like everyone else?"
"The smart riders all wear helmets now," the salesgirl said diplomatically. "I fell off on the trail last year and hit my head on a rock. I'm lucky to be standing here."
"Someone needs to invent—hang on. What about that one?" Amber asked, pointing to the bottom shelf. "The shape is different. Can I try that?"
"Of course. The Noggin. It's a less expensive brand."
"Why is it cheaper?" Brett enquired as the sales clerk bent down and picked it up.
"Probably because the company is entering the adult market," she replied, handing the helmet to Amber. "It does meet all the safety standards."
"This is so much better," Amber exclaimed, staring at herself in the mirror. "More comfortable too. This is the one for sure."
To Con A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 3) Page 7