The Ranger's Rules

by Lily Harlem

  “Damn it,” she muttered, flipping over to face the other way. She didn’t want to find Rhett sexy. He was a bossy, overly confident man who was far too free and easy with his spankings.

  Yet he was also lonely—she was sure of it—and passionate about the animals he lived with. His heart was soft despite his spikey exterior.

  She rubbed her eyes, willing sleep to steal her away. But she couldn’t get Rhett off her mind. His face, his eyes, the way his mouth stretched into a smile that seemed to melt his bad mood or surliness away in an instant.

  The cicadas outside continued their noisy song and amid them came the sound of the morning’s first bird, a finch, claiming its territory. Great, now she knew she was going to be tired all day; she’d fallen asleep too early and woken too early.

  But not wanting to risk disturbing Rhett, Casey continued to lie quietly, trying to make her hot limbs relax and her mind settle. Eventually she fell into a pleasant doze. It wasn’t a deep sleep. She was still aware of the air flowing over her as the fan whirred and the ever-mounting chorus of birdsong outside.

  Eventually, sensing the day was heating, and with her stomach craving food, she stirred and stretched. She had photography on her mind now, which was a more familiar thought process, and after using the toilet and freshening up in the sink, she pulled a robe over a bra and knickers, grabbed her camera, and wandered into the main area of the lodge.

  Rhett was no longer on the sofa though his hat had been left in the center along with his shades. The photograph was gone, as were the whiskey and tumbler.

  As she set the kettle to boil and munched on a slice of bread and butter, she glanced around. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Outside, on the veranda, Buddy was batting at a butterfly with his paw. An empty bottle of his milk was on its side next to him.

  She wondered if Rhett had already headed off on a foot patrol. Perhaps she’d slept way too long.

  But the clock showed it was only eight.

  After pouring a coffee, she wandered outside. It was breezy and she tucked her hair behind her ears.

  Buddy gave her a cursory glance then continued his game with the fluttering insect, which seemed to be taunting him.

  She smiled, then studied the horizon. A hundred meters away a funeral bird hovered on the wind. It was a small dark creature but had grown an elaborate display of black tail feathers to attract a mate. The problem it now found was it had made itself almost too heavy to fly. The resulting battle with the wind as it tried to head into it, made for a dramatic sight.

  Eager to catch the image on camera, Casey set down her coffee and strode past several cactus bushes to the fence. The bird was higher than the mesh and she clicked away, getting a bunch of shots she was pleased with.

  It was then she noticed the sound of water splashing.

  With her camera still held high, she turned.

  In her excitement to catch images of the funeral bird, she’d walked beyond the screen of the shower.

  Rhett was in it, washing his hair. A slim stream of spray fell down onto his naked body, as with his eyes shut, he worked the lather into his scalp.

  Casey’s heart skipped a beat. The man was beyond beautiful. His underarm hair was as dark as that on his head, and his chest coated in the same. His abdominal muscles were defined and his torso stretched taut. His heavy cock hung flaccid amidst a patch of black pubic hair and his thigh muscles, though they didn’t bulge, were clearly strong.

  She raised her camera and took a shot of him. The reasons for doing it were unknown. Perhaps it was instinct to capture objects of beauty, or a streak of her wild child coming out. She knew it was wrong as she did it, but couldn’t help herself.

  She took another.

  Rhett opened his eyes and stared straight at her.

  She gulped.

  Surprise washed over his face. It quickly turned to a dark, unreadable expression.

  Shit.

  Her heart thudded, her belly clenched. What the hell had she been thinking? There was no denying what she’d just done. Heck, she was still angling her camera at him.

  Her feet felt rooted to the ground as she watched him turn, showing her his ass, and rinse the soap from his hair and body.

  She lowered the camera, but didn’t take her eyes from him.

  A few seconds later, the noise of the water stopped. He dragged a towel that had been slung over the screen and began to dry. As he did so, he turned to her.

  Yet another flicker of surprise crossed his face.

  Yes, she was still watching.

  Why?

  Mortification swept through her, and she turned, with a pathetic gasp, and rushed back to the lodge. She sped past Buddy, the sofa, and the kitchen and into her bedroom.

  After placing the camera on the dresser, she wrapped her arms around her waist and stared at it. She should delete the pictures, of course she should. It was immoral to take nude shots of someone without their permission, probably illegal too.

  What’s he going to do?

  Nothing. Perhaps he’d do nothing. There was no harm done, and it wasn’t as if she was going to do anything with the photographs, they wouldn’t end up in Wild World or anything.

  Is he going to spank me again?

  No, surely not. That only happened when she’d put herself at risk. There was no breach of safety with a few pictures.

  Suddenly she was aware of him behind her. His footsteps, barefooted she guessed, quiet on the floorboards.

  She snatched in a breath but didn’t turn.

  He came up close, so close she could feel his body heat radiating onto her back.

  “You photographed me showering,” he said, his voice low and serious.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “You didn’t mean to?”

  “No, I was taking shots of a funeral bird, I didn’t know you were there, and then I turned and you were and…”

  “And your camera was handy so you took a few pictures.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll delete them, of course.” She spun to face him.

  He was bare-chested though he had on his usual sandy-colored trousers. They weren’t completely fastened; the top button was undone and the brown leather belt also hung undone.

  She couldn’t help lingering her attention on his body, admiring the tantalizing strip of hair that ran from his navel to the opening of his trousers.

  As she stared, he took hold of the buckle end of his belt. He tugged it, and slowly the opposite end disappeared, slipping through each loop before falling free. The end trailed on the floor.

  She looked up at him.

  “Hold your hands out,” he said. “Wrists together.”

  “What?”

  He lowered his head, so his lips were only a whisper from hers. “You’ve been a bad girl, Casey, and now you must be punished.”

  Oh, God. Another punishment? She should be telling him where to go, shoving him away as hard as she could. But something about the dark, sultry tone of his voice, the flash of excitement in his eyes, and the way his body seemed to be calling to hers, had her raising her hands between their chests, wrists together.

  “That’s it,” he said, pulling back.

  He wound the belt around them, then did up the buckle, holding her secure.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, then swallowed as nerves churned in her belly and up to her throat.

  “You’ll see.” He stepped away though kept a hold of the belt. “This way.”

  She had no choice but to follow him to the bed.

  He indicated for her to lie down.

  The sheets were cool on her back and the pillow soft under her hair. But there was nothing soft about the belt around her wrists or Rhett’s hard torso looming over her.

  He sent his gaze down her body; the robe had gaped slightly, and with his free hand, he released the knot that held it secure and flicked the flimsy material aside, exposing her underwear.

  She curled her toes and he
r breaths quickened as he seemed to feast on the sight of her. She enjoyed it, his appreciation of her body, and arched her back and filled her lungs with air, jutting out her breasts.

  A flicker of a smile caught his mouth, then he leaned over her, his belly just a few inches from her face, and after tugging her arms over her head, fiddled with the belt.

  Her arms were locked in position. “Hey,” she said, twisting to see what he’d done. He’d used the belt to harness her to the slats on the bed frame behind the pillows.

  “So now you know how it feels to be at someone else’s mercy,” he said, straightening.

  “What are you doing?” She yanked her arms. Was he just going to leave her like this all day? Surely not.

  He walked around the base of the bed. Slowly, as if in no rush, and with his chin tilted.

  “Rhett!” She stared at the confident swing of his shoulders.

  “Yeah?” he asked, not looking at her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere.” He turned around the base of the bed and came to stand on the opposite side to where she was lying. “Absolutely nowhere.”

  Chapter Nine

  A tremble went through Casey as Rhett stretched out on the bed next to her. He propped his head on his left hand, his elbow bent, and set his gaze on hers.

  She pressed her lips together, not daring to speak, hardly daring to breathe. This man was an enigma. There was no way she’d bet on what was going through his mind or what he’d do next.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Badly behaved, but beautiful.”

  She’d expected the unexpected and his words were exactly that. With her concentration on his lips and the peppered stubble over the top one, she didn’t reply.

  He smiled, just a little and his attention dropped from her face, down the column of her throat to her chest.

  Hyper-aware of her breasts shifting with each breath and her hard nipples rubbing on the inner cup of her bra, she once again enjoyed his gaze on her.

  The robe was bunched at her sides, her belly and knickers exposed. And with her arms trapped over her head, Casey had never felt so vulnerable, but also safe.

  What is it about him?

  “Do you regret what you did?” he asked softly as he traced the tip of his finger over her nose, lips, and rested it on her chin.

  “It was wrong.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  “I…” She hesitated. He’d said it, so why couldn’t she? “You’re a beautiful subject,” she whispered.

  “Hardly.” He huffed.

  “To me you are.” There was a freedom in saying what she thought and she continued, “Unusual, solitary, dominant, but still beautiful.”

  “I wonder if you’ll still think that in ten minutes.”

  “What do you mean?” A wave of panic washed through her.

  “You’ll see.” Very gently he pressed his lips to hers. Not an open-mouthed kiss, just a soft touch, no tongues. At the same time he slid his hand lower, dipped through into the hollow of her throat, then over her sternum to her navel.

  She moaned, his touch stoking the fire of her lust. Tensing her muscles, her body seemed to rise for more.

  He lifted up and stared down at her.

  “Rhett,” she managed.

  “Shh…” He slipped lower until the tips of two of his fingers were positioned over her mound. He hadn’t dipped beneath the waistband of her knickers and was touching her over the material. “Open your legs, just a little.”

  Her throat was tight, her belly knotted. She did as he’d asked.

  “Good girl.” He moved a fraction lower so he was pressing directly on her clitoris.

  She whimpered. It was so good to be touched there by someone other than herself. But it wasn’t nearly enough. Should she ask him to fuck her? Just say it and get the deed done. She’d gone beyond denying her attraction to him, and clearly he was attracted to her, it was shining as bright as any star from his eyes.

  “You’re hot,” he said, rotating her clit with sure steady movements. “Even through this material I can feel how hot you are.”

  “Yes.” She widened her legs, hoping he’d take the hint and drag off her knickers. They were in the way, surely he thought that too.

  “Give into it,” he whispered, tipping to kiss her cheek. “Give into the pleasure.”

  She fluttered her eyes shut. His stubble scratched her jawline, his breaths were warm and soft. And damn it, he was good with his hands. The pressure on her clit was just right. He was building up the tension and the need inside of her.

  Again she tugged at her hands. She wanted to touch him. Feel more than his cheek and fingers. She wanted to stroke his chest, undo those last buttons on his pants.

  “Are you wet?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Yes, for you…”

  His touch traveled lower, to the patch of material covering her entrance.

  She knew she was damp with arousal, and when he pressed it against her pussy, spreading the moisture, she moaned. How long did he intend to draw this out?

  “Mmm… you are,” he said, his mouth still by her ear. “I wonder how much wetter I can make you though.”

  “Oh, Rhett, please…”

  “Please what?”

  “Just do it.”

  “What exactly?” He lifted up and swept his lips over hers. “What do you want?”

  “You. I want you to…”

  “Fuck you?” He raised his eyebrows and stared down at her.

  “Yes, fuck me. Now. Please.”

  He chuckled and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, no, bad girls don’t get fucked, they get punished.” He moved his attention back to her clit. This time he worked her harder, faster.

  “Oh!” She screwed her eyes up tight and grasped the first threads of her climax. So he wasn’t going to fuck her, but damn, this felt good. She’d happily come with his fingers. It was hardly a terrible punishment.

  She bucked her hips. Bent then straightened her legs. It was there, about to overspill. A glorious climax she knew would tear through her body spreading white-hot streaks of pleasure. “Ah, yes… oh… don’t stop.”

  He stopped. Lifted his hand and hovered it over her belly.

  “Rhett!” she wailed, glaring at him. She twisted and turned, pressed her thighs together. She’d been about to topple into a wonderful orgasm.

  He raised his eyebrows and bit on his bottom lip.

  “Damn you,” she said, fighting against the belt. The headboard rattled but she couldn’t get free. “Why the hell? What did you do that for? Why stop?”

  “Bad girls don’t get to have orgasms,” he said, cocking his head.

  “What?” Had she heard him right? “Are you some kind of weird sadist?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe a little sadistic, but not weird.”

  “I think you are. Let me go.” Again she tugged the belt.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t really want to be released.” He pressed his palm on her belly. “Because if I did that, I wouldn’t do this.” He slid his fingers beneath the material of her knickers.

  “Oh…” Her mouth fell open and she spread her legs. He was going to make her come after all. “Yes.”

  He smiled, just a little, and dipped lower so he was again pressing her clitoris. “What do you say?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant. Was he after an apology for the photograph?

  “What do you say?” he repeated. “When you want to come.”

  “Please… please, Rhett, make me come.” God, when had she been reduced to pleading? She knew exactly when. In the middle of the night, when she’d admitted to herself that she found her ranger attractive, that she wanted him. Never would she have thought it such a difficult task, though, to get his cock inside her.

  He was fretting her clit hard and fast again. Her orgasm was quick to build, her body responsive and ready for it.<
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  Closing her eyes, she fisted her hands and drew her knees up so her heels were pressing onto the bed.

  “So fucking sexy,” he murmured against her lips. “And all mine.”

  His words mingled with the beat of her pulse in her ears. All she could concentrate on were his fingers on her clit. The heat and pressure reached a pinnacle and she held her breath, preparing to come.

  He pulled his hand away.

  “Rhett!” she cried. It was actually painful to lose his touch at the very moment before tipping over the edge. And damn it, once again she hadn’t fallen over, the orgasm was still inside of her, yet to be released—a huge swirl of frustration desperate to escape and ravage her.

  She writhed and cursed, tugged her arms, banged her feet onto the mattress. How could he? Not once but twice.

  “Hey, shh… it’s okay.” He caught her chin, his fingers damp against her skin. His mouth hovered over hers, his breaths breezing over her face. “Calm down, breathe.”

  “No, I wanted to come… damn it. I was just about to.”

  “I know. And maybe next time you’ll think twice before doing something you’re not supposed to.”

  “You’re sick, you know that?”

  “I’ve been called worse things.” He kissed her, gently, softly, as if they were in no rush and she wasn’t being ripped apart at the seams.

  She tore her mouth from his. “No.” All she wanted was to get her hands free, shove them between her legs, get herself off. She’d go for it harder than ever before, erase the burning need that was about to set her soul combusting.

  He lifted up, right up, and knelt beside her. “You really need to come?”

  “Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “Yes, please.”

  “Are you begging?”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. After a moment she nodded again, just once. “Yes.”

  “Not nearly enough.”

  She flicked her eyes open.

  Rhett had an infuriating smirk on his face as he looked down at her. But his cheeks were flushed and his brow had a slight sheen on it. She’d bet good money on him being hard. That touching her had sent a rush of blood to his dick.

  Why couldn’t he just do something about his own needs? Get them both naked, shove in, and take them to the place they needed to go.