Rugged Texas Cowboy

by Lora Leigh

  Before Jack was even aware of his own intentions he was out of his chair and pulling Angel into his arms. That smart mouth and haughty air made him crazy. It made his cock so damned hard he wondered how he managed to contain it beneath his jeans. It should have been bursting through the material and aiming directly at that hot little pussy between her thighs.

  “Jack, you wouldn’t dare…”

  He broke the exclamation by the simple means of covering her lips with his own. His head tilted, slanting over those pouty curves as he pressed home his advantage and speared his tongue between her lips.

  She was one of the most infuriating, aggravatingly smart-assed women he knew. She was also the softest, sweetest bit of female he had ever taken in his arms. Her gasp against his lips inflamed his lust, the way her body tensed and shuddered, the obvious fight to hold back the response he could feel trembling through her.

  Her hips jerked against his, the soft pad of her pussy tilting to accept the pressure of his cock as he bent his knees to drive it against her.

  There was that little gasp again. Shock and pleasure as her tongue tangled tentatively with his, as though she were wary of her response to him. But he could feel the flames burning inside her, reaching out to him, heating his own hunger.

  What was it about this woman? His little thief. If he wasn’t careful, she would attempt to steal more than just the torque she came looking for; she would steal a part of him he had sworn no other person would ever hold.

  His arms wrapped around her, one going around her shoulders as his fingers tangled in the soft weight of her witchy black hair. A fine payment for the slender fingers clenched in his own now, holding him still against her as she allowed him to eat at her lips.

  She was as sweet as sugar, as hot and spicy as a ripe cayenne. He had always been partial to the little fire-hot peppers, and even more so now. She was a temptation, a challenge; everything about her dared a man to tame her, to take her, to find the nasty, sexual creature lurking behind that innocent, too-cool gaze.

  He would find that woman.

  He lifted his head, staring down at her, feeling some emotion clench his chest as she stared up at him in equal parts dismay and arousal.

  “On your knees,” he whispered then, dying inside, craving the feel of her lips around his tortured cock in a way he couldn’t explain, even to himself.

  She stared back at him, her expression such a challenge that it had every bone and muscle in his body clenching.

  “And if I don’t?” she whispered, obviously, deliberately pushing him.

  “Then I tie you down and see just how long I can tease and tempt that pretty little body. And how long it takes you to beg me to let you on your knees before I put out the fires both of us know I can stoke inside you, baby.”

  She seemed to think about that one for a moment before a mocking little smile of submission crossed her lips.

  He got more than he bargained for.

  Standing in the middle of the Mexican-tiled kitchen, the rays of the sun sending shafts of fire washing over his body, he watched as slender, graceful fingers began to loosen the buttons of his shirt.

  “Straight to my knees?” she asked him as her violet eyes darkened in response to his warning growl. “Or may I play in between?”

  What was that little warning at the back of his brain? The one screaming at him to get her the hell away from him, out of his home, out of his life?

  Whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it.

  He didn’t want to hear anything but that pleased little murmur that escaped her lips as she spread his opened shirt back from his chest. Her face flushed, her eyes nearly black as she lowered her head to lick at the skin teasingly.

  Jack had to grit his teeth to keep back the groan that would have escaped. He allowed his hands to hang loosely at his sides, wondering how far she would go. How brave she would get.

  She licked her way across the expanse of suntanned flesh to a hard, flat male nipple. He expected no more than a perfunctory little lick. What he got instead had his fingers clenching into fists as he fought for control.

  Those sharp little teeth of hers raked against his nipple slowly as her hot, wicked tongue licked over it. Flickering flames danced across his skin, scouring his nerve endings and causing his cock to jerk in painful need.

  He stared down at her, entranced by the apparent enjoyment she was receiving from touching him. One hand moved lower along his side to the tense flesh of his abdomen as the other tweaked and caressed the mate to the nipple she was tormenting with slow strokes of her tongue and gentle nips of her teeth.

  He had never known how sensitive his own nipples could be. It was a vaguely disconcerting feeling, that tingle of awareness that shot straight to his balls and tightened them painfully.

  Then those wicked, mischievous lips moved across his chest to the small nipple her fingers had tormented with such insidious heat. He was going to explode, he thought in surprise. Surprise, because he had never known a time when a woman hadn’t gone straight for his dick, or hadn’t demanded a romantic, deeply involved kiss before going down.

  Women were strange creatures, but he could always count on those two rules to remain steadfast and true. Until now. Now one small bit of Irish fluff was blowing all he had known straight to hell and burning him alive in the bargain.

  She licked, kissed, and stroked his chest. Her tongue painted circles around his nipples as her teeth scraped erotically against the hair-spattered flesh. Sweet heaven, her mouth was hot. If she managed to make it to his cock, he would burn in the inferno.

  “You’re so hard, so warm,” she whispered as her lips began to ghost along his tense stomach. “I can feel your muscles just under the skin. They feel so powerful. So strong.”

  She bit into the hard flesh of his upper stomach, and his head fell back with a groan. Son of a bitch, his knees were even growing weak.

  He reached out, his fingers burying in her hair, intending to halt her play, until he felt her fingers at the buckle of his belt. He had to fight to keep from trembling like a weak-kneed greenhorn. Dammit to hell, she was destroying him, her fingers moving at a snail’s pace as she tracked each corded muscle of his abdomen with her destructive mouth and heated tongue.

  And for all the protests against allowing her to continue his mind was throwing out, she was delaying his pleasure—hell, no, she was accelerating it to a depth he could have never imagined. He had demanded a blow job, not a damned map made with her tongue across his flesh, but what pleasure that seemingly aimless journey was creating.

  He stared down at her, seeing her on her knees now, just as he demanded, her hands parting his jeans, pulling them lower, revealing, inch by thick hard inch, the erection straining beneath it.

  He expected her to devour it. To take it in her mouth and begin the hard, fast suckling that would have the event quickly finished. Hell, this was one time he wanted nothing more than to release the pressure building in his balls.

  But did she know that?

  Was she kind enough to do as any other of her sex would have done?

  No.

  “Fuck!” Thighs were not supposed to be fucking sensitive. Son of a bitch.

  Her teeth raked over the inner flesh before her lips opened, pulling a bit of the skin into her mouth for a heated caress.

  Once again, her mouth was an aimless destroyer, moving from one thigh to the other, licking and stroking, destroying him as he felt his legs shake. Yes, his fucking legs were shaking. So what? What man’s legs wouldn’t shake with such beauty worshipping something so seemingly undeserving as the sensitive flesh of his thighs?

  “Witch!” His strangled groan surprised him, but the liquid heat washing over his balls shocked him more.

  Almost timid now, searching, learning, her tongue moved over the tight sac, probing at it, circling the hard spheres beneath the flesh before she gently, tenderly sucked one into her mouth, tonguing it like a favorite treat.

  Pre-cum spurted f
rom the tip of his cock, running in a silken trail down the throbbing shaft as she tortured him with her mouth. And it was fucking torture.

  Lightning bolts, whipping fingers of white-hot heat shot through his body, searing nerve endings and curling his toes inside his boots as she began to lick at the creamy trail of liquid that had escaped the pulsing crest of his erection.

  She moaned in pleasure, as though his taste pleased her.

  The woman was fucking crazy.

  His hands tightened in her hair as he watched her unman him. Bit by bit she was ripping away his preconceived notions of a head job and replacing them with pure, undiluted ecstasy.

  “So hard and hot.” The thick Irish accent had to be the sexiest sound he had ever heard in his life. “Throbbin’ as though it has a heartbeat all its own.”

  He would have replied. He was certain he could have found some kind of smart-assed mocking comment drifting around in his mush-head if she hadn’t chosen that moment to envelop him in the dark, lava-hot depths of her silken mouth.

  His abdomen convulsed. He could feel his balls tightening further, drawing close to the base of his cock as warning fingers of impending release scraped up his spine. Her mouth … God help him if he thought another man had known such pleasure from that mouth … it was making him crazy. He felt like howling with the sensations.

  Instead, a broken groan tore from his chest as he thrust in deeper, feeling her tongue caress the sensitive underside, her lips tightening on him, her mouth drawing on him.

  Hell, yes! A rebel cry was building in his head. “Fuck, yeah. Suck me, baby. Suck my cock…”

  His hands held her head in place as he stared down her, meeting the pitch black of her eyes as he watched his cock shuttle between her stretched, reddened lips. Her cheeks were flushed bright, her eyes glowing, his dick glistening with the moisture from her mouth.

  She sucked him, all right. Her tongue twisted around the head, probed at the underside, flattened and stroked while she moaned. The sounds of her pleasure vibrated against the crest as he pushed it nearly to her throat, feeling her fingers caress the rest of the shaft as her honeyed mouth sucked him to his destruction.

  Then the fingers of her hand became a devilish instrument of erotic devastation. They began to play with the tight sac below, cupping and caressing, nails raking as he fucked against her lips with a hunger he knew he would never forget, no matter how long or how hard he might try. Her mouth, lips, tongue played in harmony, drawing on the tortured flesh of his cock as her fingers tortured other areas. He could feel the warning tingles of impending release. Knew there were only seconds, no more, before he erupted.

  “Angel…” He groaned her name. He couldn’t, wouldn’t spill his seed into her mouth without her permission, without her knowledge. “I’m going to come, dammit. Stop now, or you’re going to get something you might not want.”

  “Mmm…” Her mouth tightened and her stroking fingers moved faster as she sucked at him harder.

  Destruction.

  He gritted his teeth as his head fell back and he felt his release explode through his system. The white-hot flares of pleasure exploded through his body, tightening his muscles, his bones, sending a cry of near pain past his lips as he felt the semen shoot from the tip of his cock to the depths of her mouth. The stroking, swallowing, taking-every-damned-drop-of-his-cum mouth.

  He could feel her cries, echoing from her throat to his erection. Aroused, hot little sounds that sent his blood pressure soaring back to the boiling point.

  Not yet, he cursed viciously, his head lowering, his eyes opening to stare down at her as he eased his still hard flesh from her lips.

  “Jack?” She whispered his name, the sound echoing with her own arousal, her own needs.

  Hell. What had he done? What had she released inside him? He could feel an unnamed, unknown emotion riding on the back of the pleasure still pulsing through him, one that intensified not just his lust, but his pleasure as well.

  “Witch,” he whispered again. “Hot, seductive little witch. I’m going to fuck you until you scream for mercy…”

  EIGHT

  Angel gasped breathlessly, anticipation rising hot and hard inside her as Jack pulled her ruthlessly to her feet. Staggering, she cursed her weak knees and the arousal blistering through her body. She wanted to climb him, to wrap her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips and ride. What was that saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy? Oh yeah, she could definitely adopt that sentiment as her own.

  Never had she done anything so erotic in her life. The sheer sensual sexuality of the act she had just performed left her dazed, her body throbbing in agonized arousal. Every nerve ending, every cell was screaming out for relief, for release.

  “Come on.” He took only the briefest moment to secure the snap of his jeans before he impossibly, surprisingly, lifted her into his arms and headed for the stairs. The world tilted on its axis as her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips moving for the strong, tanned column of his neck. She needed the taste of him, any part of him. Strong, heated, all male, it was an aphrodisiac she wondered if she was now addicted to.

  “Little witch,” he growled as he started up the stairs. “Keep that up and we’ll never make it to the bedroom.”

  Who the hell cared? The stairs suited her fine.

  Her teeth scraped his neck, her tongue stroking the tough skin as her hands buried in his hair to hold his head in place. She wanted more of him, now. She gripped the flesh between shoulder and neck, gripping the tough muscle there with her teeth as she began to draw on it erotically. God, he just tasted too damned good.

  “Son of a bitch!” He stumbled against the wall, breathing in harshly as a hard shudder racked his body. “Woman, I’m going to fuck you on the stairs if you don’t stop that.”

  Good. She wasn’t alone. She was horny and ready now. Readier than she had been for the tough American who had invaded her life, possessed her torque, and now possessed the very essence of her pleasure.

  “I’m game if you are,” she whispered against his ear as her lips lifted from his neck, her tongue curling over the lobe of his ear.

  “I’m going to paddle your ass,” he grunted as he continued to the bedroom. “And not in a good way, Angel-mine.”

  Her womb clenched at the very thought of another of those erotic spankings. As though he could do anything more sinister. The sound of his voice did not lend itself to a painful beating, but rather to a sensual firestorm of pleasure.

  “Any paddlin’ you gave, cowboy, would be no less than pleasure.” She smiled up at him as he placed her on the bed, staring down at her intently.

  Her breasts were swollen, pressing against the T-shirt demandingly as her nipples rasped against the material. Below, her pussy was a rioting, gluttonous heat that pulsed and wept in hunger.

  She licked at her suddenly dry lips as he began to strip. First the white shirt, revealing the powerful muscles of his chest and shoulders. Sitting on the bed, he pulled his boots from his feet, tossing them carelessly to the floor with his socks before rising again and jerking his jeans loose. Seconds later he stood before her, completely naked, a sun-bronzed warrior, a sensual conqueror.

  His rampant erection stood straight out from his body, a heavy, sensual weapon intent on impalement.

  “Take off the shirt.”

  His voice was a rough growl, sending tingles of sensation rioting over her flesh.

  She sat up on the bed, removing her shirt slowly, watching him from beneath lowered lids as one broad hand circled the shaft of his cock and began stroking it lazily.

  It was a mouthwatering sight. That lovely, pleasure-giving cock, the dark stalk, the purplish crested head, the pre-cum glistening at the tip. She licked her lips slowly.

  “Now the bra.”

  She unclipped the bra, discarding it slowly, panting for breath.

  “Lie back.” He moved closer to the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips heavy with lust. He looked like a dark, lustful warr
ior. A man determined and willing to take what he wanted. To give what he knew she craved.

  How could he know what she craved? How had he tapped into a hunger, a need that even she had been unaware of until now?

  Angel lay back on the bed, her breath rough, ragged as he stopped at the mattress. “Take off the panties,” he whispered. “Slowly.”

  Slowly. She smoothed her hands over her abdomen, allowing them to meet at the silken band just above the rise of her aching pussy. Her thumbs hooked in the elastic as she peeled the material over her hips with excruciating hesitancy.

  Tension thickened the air, burning her lungs with the incredible, sexual heat.

  Jack watched every move, his gaze intent as the panties passed over the swollen folds of her aching pussy, down her thighs, until she was able to move her legs to aid in discarding the last shield between her and his eyes.

  She lay still beneath his regard then, fighting back the whimpers of anticipation as he watched her.

  “How pretty.” His voice was a hard rumble. “Spread your legs for me, Angel. Let me see paradise.”

  Angel shuddered, the sensual blow to her womb nearly kicking her into climax. A man should not have such power over a woman that his voice and gaze alone could cause such a response.

  She opened her thighs slowly, her hands smoothing up them, framing the mound of her pussy as he placed one knee on the bed, his cheeks flushed a brick red as he watched her hands.

  She watched, entranced, as his head lowered.

  “Open yourself for me,” he demanded roughly. “Part that pretty pussy for me, Angel-mine.”

  She whimpered, shocked that the hungry mewl had actually come from her throat. Her fingers moved, parting the swollen, sensitive folds as he hovered over her.

  “Oh God, Jack…” She breathed the small prayer for mercy as he blew a waft of breath over her throbbing clit, sending the hot juices flowing freely from her vagina.