Acres, Natalie - Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts [Cowboy Boots 3] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever)

by Natalie Acres

  Brock snarled. “You were late. If you’d been on time, you would’ve seen the spankings, heard the cries for more, listened to Sydney beg for her punishment, and seen the kind of tools a Dom often uses when he trains his sub. Instead, you only saw the loving.” His hooded eyes were filled with the aftermath of sex. The lust was still there, the intense longing evident. Brock Donovan was an interrupted man.

  If Abby spared a guess, he was the one Donovan who didn’t get his rocks off. He was too worried about her observing what she needed to see in order to gain an education. “Did Sydney realize I was out here?”

  “She knew you were.” His eyes met Ace’s. “I believe Abby has been properly introduced to the lifestyle.”

  Ace growled. “I’m glad to hear that.” He started at her ankles, and his gaze worked over her like a slow-moving train, gliding uphill on a rail headed somewhere.

  What she’d give to waggle her caboose at the conductor. All aboard!

  “There’s nothing I appreciate more than a willing and informed sub,” Ace added.

  Abby felt her skin heat. Ace’s guttural response made her delirious. She ached for his touch, for his hand and fingers soothing that internal burn.

  “You weren’t supposed to indulge,” Brock told them.

  Fowler didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “Way I see it, you should’ve finished before we got here. It’s five after six. We got stuck in traffic. You got tied up with your woman. None of us meant for any of this to happen.”

  “Next time you take center stage, find out who you have in your audience or else shut the curtain,” Ace suggested.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Brock said, studying Abby as if he could see straight through her, as if he knew beyond reasonable doubt what she was thinking.

  Brock was so cocky she couldn’t figure him out. Still, she had her suspicions about his motives. His shenanigans weren’t just for her benefit and training purposes. Oh no, he wanted to see how she reacted in front of the team. Either that or he really thought he’d provided a service.

  The Donovans introduced her to Domination and submission, not to mention exhibitionism which she now believed she might thoroughly appreciate.

  She shot Ace a quick glance.

  Might? Right. She’d pay money to drag Ace, Brantley, Fowler, and a few others straight into the throes of passion on public display.

  Why didn’t Donovan and company just toss her a video? If Brock thought she had a thing for the men in her division, it might have been more effective, and far more gratifying, if he’d insisted she practice techniques with the boys.

  Immediately, her gaze met Brantley’s. Then Fowler’s…and then Ace’s once again. Damn. What she’d give to escort them to the barn and experiment.

  Hell. That was the only way to describe what she was feeling. Pure hell.

  She’d watched the most exquisite sexual performance. She enjoyed a good view of the Donovans as they screwed Sydney without reservations. They’d deliberately withheld her orgasm like they alone could dictate when she had a right to come, when they felt she’d earned the chance to take that delicious ride and grab on to her share of satisfaction.

  Whew. What a trip. She’d felt the energy, that hotness between them, and now she wanted a piece of the action for herself.

  Again, her gaze skipped across the men she longed to use for her own pleasure.

  Abby turned back to the window in an attempt to hide her expression from the men who knew her all too well. The Donovans were dressing. Sydney wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  Riley tossed up his hand. Jett shot her a wink. Damn flirts.

  “You know what your problem is?” Ace whispered at her ear.

  “Yeah, Ace,” she replied, thinking she was wet enough to fuck her way through a fraternity. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  Chapter Three

  Two days later

  Chicago

  “I’ve been on worse assignments,” Porter announced as he joined Fowler, Ace, and Casey at a corner booth. He was still in a somewhat-sour mood after standing in line to enter Club Sex. It was bad enough that he had to wait, but to pay thirty dollars at the door in order to enter a criminal’s establishment was a little more than he could stomach.

  The scenery around there might help his attitude.

  “Me and you both,” Ace said, thumbing the air over his right shoulder. “Check out the stage. Babe in leather keeps looking our way. She’s got a thing for Casey.”

  “And I’ve told you several times, only one woman holds my attention for more than a second.”

  Ace sneered. “She’s off-limits. Remember?”

  “So you say,” Casey grumbled. “I’d like to take an hour and tell a man the error of his ways if you’d give me a name. Who handed down that order?”

  “You mean other than Donovan?” Fowler asked.

  “Donovan has no room to talk,” Ace said, nursing beer from a bottle.

  Casey agreed. “Yeah, Donovan started playing with Sydney Kane from the time she was legal. Her old man hired him to safeguard her from their enemies, and rumor has it, Brock took her away from Virginia to keep her away from his brothers, too. Look how that turned out.”

  “Well, Casey, look at the bright side. Until this mission is over, you can always play with Mendete’s help,” Porter said, pointing at the woman crawling toward the platform’s edge. Her breasts were covered in spike cones and a collar adorned her neck, obviously placed there for one specific reason—to entice the Doms patronizing the club. The stripper couldn’t have been a Dom’s sub. He would’ve punished her like nobody’s business for maintaining eye contact with a customer.

  The entertainer, which was her apparent role, wore red thigh-high boots and a short, black leather skirt, held in place by tiny pearls that matched those sprinkled across her collar, as well. More buttons fastened around the top of the triangular-shaped cups covering the only goods Porter cared to see.

  Taking a seat, he motioned for a nearby waitress. “I thought the Club Sex waitresses were topless,” he said sourly, tossing his arm over the back of the booth.

  “After eleven,” Ace informed him.

  A redheaded babe approached. She placed four cocktail napkins on the table, and then struck a pose with her chest forward, shoulders back. “What can I get for you?”

  Porter stretched his neck so he could look her up and down. Following a grunt, he said, “Damn, baby, I sure hope you’re ours after eleven.”

  She smiled. “I can be yours for a price anytime.”

  Ace cleared his throat and tapped his ear. Without drawing further attention to himself, he said, “Just bring the table a pitcher of the house beer.”

  “Chicago’s finest,” she chirped. “You’ll love it. We brew twelve of our own, but the finest is—”

  “The finest?” Ace asked, obviously ready to brush her off and focus on their purpose, their sudden call to duty.

  When the waitress disappeared, Casey said, “There went Porter’s first and last fantasy.”

  “Leave it to Abby,” Porter said, studying Ace. “Where is she?”

  Ace turned his head and searched beyond the stage area while Porter scanned the crowd, too.

  “I don’t see her,” Ace replied, standing.

  “She’s here,” Fowler said, rubbernecking like he thought she might be under the table.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Porter asked, raising the tablecloth to check out whatever it was that just bumped against his ankle.

  “I lost my shoe,” Fowler replied, behaving like a geek. Sometimes Porter wondered how Fowler made it through training much less became one of the most respected agents with the Underground Unit.

  Ace tapped his ear. “I lost transmission. Maybe she went back outside.”

  “I’m here, Ace.” Abby’s voice filled Porter’s ear. Everyone at the table jerked to attention as her sultry voice came through the equipment loud and clear. “If you and Porter hadn’t been checking out t
hat waitress, then you would’ve known this. Give me a minute and I’ll join you.”

  “Where are you?” Porter asked, immediately on guard when he couldn’t find her. “How the hell are we supposed to provide backup if she won’t stay where we can see her?”

  “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be home soon,” she teased.

  The others laughed, and Porter shook his head. “I swear, by the time this mission is over, we’ll all stand in line to spank her.”

  “Yeah, buddy,” Fowler mumbled, shifting in his seat, an apparent last-ditch effort to slide his foot back into his shoe. “I’ll be sure to tell her to hold still.”

  Porter felt a grin tug at his lips. Fowler was right. The day Abby submitted to any of them would be one for the record books. And if any of them tried to paddle her ass, they’d probably start a war, complete with guns, bombs, and grenades.

  Ace pulled out his wallet and slapped a credit card on the table about the same time their drinks were delivered. “Start a tab for us.”

  “No problem,” the waitress said, batting her eyelashes as she picked up the plastic.

  “That’s gonna get real old. Real fast,” Ace said after the cute one walked away. A beat later, a long whistle fell from his lips. “Holy fucking shit!”

  Fowler went from bright eyed and bushy tailed to just plain pale. Porter turned around and immediately stood, rushing the source behind Ace’s gasp. And apparently Abby put the other two in cardiac arrest. They lost their ability to speak.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Porter asked, grabbing Abby’s arm and squeezing the daylights out her warm skin. Good Lord, she smelled so sensational, but the scent of warm vanilla lotion and berry shampoo wasn’t his undoing. The fact that she was dressed for sex and looked hotter than a sizzling iron skillet was enough to make him forget his place.

  His cock immediately stretched forward. He was hard, so painfully erect, he thought for sure his tip would rip through his khaki pants. Unfortunately, they were snug enough for his dick to leave a mighty visible impression.

  “Watch it, Porter,” Casey said, wagging his finger toward his breeches. “You look like you’re ready to reach out and touch someone.”

  Fuck someone was more like it, and not just anyone, which was the problem. In recent months, Porter tried to hide his growing interest in Abby, but putting aside emotions had become more difficult. He was hopelessly in lust with Abby Rose and she knew it, along with everyone else on the team. Hell, anyone within a hundred feet could see the way he responded to her.

  “Porter, you’re hurting me,” she whined, trying to wiggle free.

  “Like hell I am,” he said, pressing his thumb to the underside of her arm. “What are you doing wearing this?”

  “Let her go,” Ace said, taking a gulp of beer. When his gaze met Abby’s, Porter could’ve sworn Ace was about to grab her by the arm and pull her out of that club.

  Tossing her golden hair over her shoulders, Abby deliberately bowed her head and lowered her eyes, acting as if she were already practiced in the school of submission. Every man seated at the table stared at her breasts.

  He could only imagine what they were thinking.

  “Keep that up and I may toss you over my shoulder and haul you off to a private room, darlin’,” Ace told her.

  Leave it to Ace. Porter didn’t have to wonder what was on his mind for longer than a minute.

  Abby raised her eyes. “Careful, Ace, don’t play the high card until you’re ready to win.”

  He chuckled, threw his arms over the back of the booth and looked around the room, acting uninterested in further friendly banter.

  Porter couldn’t imagine why. “Didn’t you have anything decent to wear?”

  She tried to break free of his grip. “If you don’t let go of me right this minute, I’ll knee you where the sun never shines and make you whip that thing out right here so I can kiss it and make it better.”

  Ace turned his glass up and drank to that. Ducking his face under that ridiculous dirty blond cape he typically wore in a ponytail, he grumbled, “If you kiss, you’d better be prepared to suck, love.”

  “I will,” she snapped, glancing at Ace before addressing him once more. “I mean it, Porter. Let me go or you’ll have more than you can handle.”

  “Promise?” Porter asked, wishing. “I’d love to see a pretty vixen on her knees just for me.”

  Abby’s gaze darted to the table. “Would someone put a leash on this tiger? The other patrons are starting to stare.”

  “No wonder,” Ace said, refilling his beer glass. “They’re looking at the hottest piece of ass to ever walk in this place.”

  “Ah, Ace,” Abby crooned. “You’re making me blush.”

  Porter studied Abby’s chosen attire. Sweet sunshine, she made his dick hard.

  Wearing a liquid tank with matching spanky shorts, Abby sported a garter belt attached to studded black stockings and boots. A black leather choker clung to her neck for show while the matching cuff bracelet closed around her right wrist. Topping off the sexy siren, a sleek, charcoal, biker-style cap was pulled low above her eyebrows.

  After a head-to-toe appraisal, Casey whistled. “Let me guess. Brantley took you shopping.”

  Abby shook free of Porter’s tight clasp. “For your information, I had this in my closet.”

  Ace started to tilt his cup again but paused short of a sip. “You what?”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Porter said, reclaiming his seat.

  “You heard me, Ace,” she purred, licking those too-red lips.

  Porter couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen a better-looking woman. Oh sure, he’d had an itch for Abby since they’d first met. But now he knew how a woman could make a man burn. The yearning was intense, too, he thought, as he slipped his hand under the table and adjusted his cock. He didn’t care if Abby noticed.

  She pretended she didn’t. Something he viewed as a true act of defiance.

  “Well, I can’t say we don’t learn something new about you every day,” Fowler said, pouring a beer.

  “Boys, you really should get a grip on those weapons in your pants if you’re tagging along on this ride.”

  Ace sneered. “I’m not the one playing with my poker.”

  Porter grunted, leaned back in the booth, and let his eyes take a vacation. “Goodness gracious, sakes alive, I’ve never in my life seen…” He stopped midsentence and bowed his head. “Our man is here. He’s at your four o’clock, princess.”

  Abby leaned over the table, pressed her arms against her breasts, and flaunted the best rack Porter had observed all year. “Make this good.”

  “How good do you want it to be?” Porter asked, letting a broad grin claim his lips.

  “Give me your best shot,” she hummed, backing away from the table.

  She took two steps, maybe three, when Porter leapt to his feet, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her back against his chest. Locking his arms around her body, he nipped at her ear. “Wiggle that sweet ass against this.” He ground against her and then gave her a twirl, forcing her to face him.

  The blood drained from her face. “Damn,” she whispered, evidently unable to get beyond the pump and grind.

  “I thought you might like a nice stiff one to get your juices flowing.” Finding a moment and determined to make it his own, if only because Porter had spent years wondering what it might be like to kiss her, he lowered his lips to hers.

  She immediately shoved him away which garnered a few snickers behind them. “I told you! We’re over. That’s it and that’s all. Why can’t you seem to understand that?”

  Ace snickered. “Shucks, Porter. Looks like you’re out of the race before you can lock that thing in the chute.”

  Catching a glimpse of Juraz Mendete, Porter copped a wicked grin, allowing Ace’s comment to slide. He continued his pursuit of Abby. “Sub, this isn’t over, until I say it’s over.” He cupped her nape and drew her to him, taking the kiss he should’ve
given her privately a long time ago. Only, much to his dismay, she resisted, remaining tight-lipped.

  About the time Porter thrust his tongue through the seam of her lips, two heavy hands landed on his shoulders. “The lady said she was done with you, buddy.”

  Stumbling backward, Porter glared into the eyes of Satan, the beast he and his team couldn’t wait to send straight into the fires of hell.

  * * * *

  The confrontation was short-lived. Mendete’s bouncers stepped in and encouraged Porter to return to his seat. After Juraz issued a stern verbal warning to Porter and the others, Abby found herself in bad company.

  Abby was accustomed to compliments. She’d been told she was sexy and beautiful, witty and charming, but this superficial prick was the easiest mark she’d ever met in her life. For a man who watched for trouble, Juraz sure didn’t protect himself from all forms of danger.

  “Are you all right?” Juraz asked, compassion in his voice.

  “Yes,” she replied, allowing him to guide her away from her team’s table.

  “Must’ve been a bad experience,” he whispered, smoothly escorting her to a nearby table. “But you’re sure that man didn’t harm you, right?”

  “Yes,” she rasped. “Thank you.”

  “I’m Juraz Mendete,” he told her, gently taking her hand.

  “Abby Rose,” she said, allowing him to raise her fingertips to his lips. “Thank you again.”

  “The pleasure is mine. This is my club. I can’t have my guests upset by other patrons.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Really.”

  His gaze traveled over her, and with a cocksure tilt of his head, he said, “That’s precisely what I thought when I first saw you tonight. I haven’t met another woman like you. That’s for sure.”

  She forced a shy smile. Instead of brushing up on Domination and submission, she should’ve been working on her acting skills.

  “I’ve made you blush.”

  “I’m not used to compliments,” she said sourly, shooting a cold glare in Porter’s direction. She hoped the stare wasn’t overkill. Porter frowned. After the heated kiss he took for the sake of the mission—bull hell—she didn’t want him to misinterpret her meaning.