Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down Read online

  Tristan ate at her mouth, trailed a hand higher, feeling each rib as he trekked toward her breast. When he finally cupped the soft mound, she whimpered and arched into his hand. Her taut nipple prodded into his palm. He pinched and rolled the beaded peak through her shirt. It wasn’t enough.

  He backed away and tugged her tank top up and off. “Ah hell, Jaycee.”

  Damn, she was pretty. Rosy, nickel-sized nipples centered on gently slopping breasts. They were milky white against the tanned contours of her arms and shoulders. He recalled how sensitive and sweet she was. He bent and pulled one delicious tip into his mouth, slathering her with moist kisses. She moaned and cupped the side of his head.

  “I hate you,” she whispered.

  He chuckled and moved to the other breast, laving her nipple until it glistened. If she truly hated him, she wouldn’t be thrusting her hungry pussy against his belly. Heat scorched his flesh through her sexy cutoffs and his shirt. His tongue thickened with want of a taste of her sex. Sweet, musky—heaven.

  He splayed his fingers wide on her back, bracing her upper body and she writhed in pleasure. He worked her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, gently biting then sucking on her again.

  Mewling whimpers built to breathless panting.

  God, she was beautiful. So sensitive and responsive. She wasn’t afraid of her sexuality. He wanted her to come, wanted her to remember how good they’d been together. He thrust hard against her, rubbing her clit through the denim with a dry fuck. He could imagine how wet she was. His cock throbbed, and a constant stream of pre-cum oozed from the slit. His jeans were going to be just as wet as hers.

  Tristan flinched as Jaycee clutched his shoulders, her nails clawing into his skin like talons. She shuddered, trembling and gasping beneath his hands. Her muscles tightened, and her legs locked to his hips. Spasms rocked her body into his, and her pelvis continued to roll into his groin. Her brows furrowed and her teeth clenched. With her eyes tightly closed, she rode her orgasm, quivering in the maelstrom of sensations.

  Pressure tightened his chest. What if he couldn’t convince her that he’d changed? She made him want to be a better man. They still had chemistry, had a past, and he’d prove to her they had a future, too.

  Finally the storm receded. She rested her head against his chest. “You’re such a jackass.” She lifted her face and smiled. A flush tinted her cheeks.

  Tristan cupped her jaw and grazed his thumb over her skin. “I’m just a cowboy who knows what he wants.”

  “Well, wanting is good, but getting isn’t always a choice.” She pushed against his chest, and he stepped back. Jaycee grabbed her tank top and pulled it on. “We’ve always known you can make me come.”

  “And you knew I’d let you take my truck.” He picked up the keys and dropped them into her lap, right over her crotch. “After all, you’ve always known you’ve had me by the balls.”

  ****

  After Jaycee drove Tristan out to his family’s ranch, she stopped home, changed into her rodeo clothes—jeans, boots, and a western shirt—and headed back into town. His truck was nice. Big diesel engine, dually wheels, extended cab, and long bed. She stepped on the gas and giggled. The power in the truck matched the power in the man. Oh, and she liked riding them both. And both were dangerous if not handled responsibly.

  She gave a snort. Tristan wasn’t handled by anyone. Dangerous living was in his DNA.

  But not hers. Not since her parents’ passing. She couldn’t afford to fuck up. Chase and the ranch needed her. She lived on stress and obligation. Whereas Tristan and responsibility were a perfect dichotomy.

  A traveling carnival had set up in the field out by the cemetery. Earl Clifford was giving hayrides down Main Street, and she and Chase had organized the Trots for Tots with pony rides during the rodeo. Not to mention all the brouhaha that went with the county fair. Pickles, pies, pigs, and every other possible skill that could warrant a blue ribbon award.

  She pulled into the fairgrounds and drove the truck around the back roads to the arena. Spotting the Silverado and four-horse trailer, she pulled along side and turned off the ignition. Chase meandered over. Dirt caked his jeans, and his shirt clung to his sweat-soaked torso. Someday he’d make some lucky woman very happy. He tipped his Stetson back and squinted into the cab.

  “Who’s truck?”

  “Fred’s dead and out on the highway.” She climbed from the truck, walked around to the bed and grabbed the reins.

  He leaned into the cab, reached into the back, and came out with a black Stetson. “So what aren’t you telling me?”

  “That Tristan is in town, found me walking on the side of the road, and gave me a ride.”

  “I bet,” he mumbled.

  She snatched the hat from his hand. “Not that kind of ride.” Not exactly anyway. “I borrowed his truck.” She plopped the hat on her head. Wearing a man’s hat was like wearing his shirt. She could feel the warmth and scent of Tristan weaving through her senses.

  “Nice truck. You might be great with engines, but I’d hate to see you back this thing up. You won’t be able to see where you’re going without a booster seat.”

  “Thankfully, I haven’t had to use reverse.”

  Chase laughed. “I know Tristan. What does he want in exchange for the use of his new truck?” He grabbed a small saddle in each hand.

  “Me.” Jaycee walked ahead so she wouldn’t have to continue the conversation.

  “Whoa, I’m not letting you off the hook with that reply.” He jogged up beside her. “Out with it.”

  “Nothing to tell. Tristan and I are too different. All we have is great sex.”

  “Teacup was the toughest mare I ever had to break. I fought with that damn horse for weeks. But the problem wasn’t Teacup. It was me, and I just had to learn how to talk to her.”

  “Tristan and I don’t have a communication problem.”

  “No, little sister. My point is that there is more than one way to communicate. Maybe you need to decide if you have more than a physical connection to Tristan.”

  She was absolutely positive in her needs. Tristan was the wildcard.

  Bales of hay created a short maze for the horses to be led through and a metal fence framed the perimeter. Two Shetlands grazed on feed, waiting for their work to begin. For a dollar, kids could ride the pony through the maze.

  Jaycee looped the reins over the post. “Do you wish you were riding in the rodeo tonight?”

  Chase shrugged. His Stetson shielded his eyes. “Next year.” With the responsibility of the ranch, he hadn’t joined the rodeo circuit. Because of the accident with their parents, just like Jaycee, he was needed at home.

  “Can I get you a drink? I want to check on the sheep.”

  He nodded and heaved another bale of hay into the maze. “Get me a Coke.”

  The sheep were a handy excuse. She wanted to see the bulls and broncos before the cowboys arrived—before Tristan showed up. He rode wild and reckless. Actually, he was amazing on a horse and she did want to see him. That was the problem. These were her friends, neighbors, people she’d known her whole life. Like Tristan. And if they saw her with him they might jump to the wrong conclusion.

  Tristan was the same age as Chase. Growing up, she’d always had a crush on him even though he was a couple years older. It wasn’t until after she graduated from high school that she stopped being Chase’s little sister. Maybe because she and Chase stopped being siblings and grew to be friends. Chase still watched out for her, but now he could also have a beer with her and tease her about sex. Hell, he’d practically set her up with Tristan. Something he probably regretted now. But she didn’t.

  Perhaps if her parents hadn’t been killed in a car crash, she’d still be as reckless as the man who’d roped her heart. But they had.

  Jaycee needed more than Tristan McKay’s wild and crazy ways. That didn’t mean she didn’t ache for another toe-curling kiss like he’d given her on the side of the highway. Even
now, her pussy heated with awareness. She approached the pens and her nipples tightened. He wouldn’t be here, yet she couldn’t help but look for his dark head. His hair was cut short on the sides and left longer on top. She’d loved threading her fingers through his waves when he buried his face between her legs and tongued her cunt.

  Internal muscles twitched and moisture slicked her folds. It was a damn good thing he wasn’t here or she’d be on her knees in the tack room of the trailer with his thick, solid cock thrusting between her lips. Her eyes slid closed, and she leaned against the pen. She swallowed the spit in her mouth. Oh, how she loved sucking his cock. Ropy veins, deep ruddy color, pearly essence glistening at the slit.

  She moaned and remembered the taste of his semen. Holy shit. Her eyes snapped open, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Flashes of pleasure streaked from nipple to clit. Her body hummed with sexual energy. If Tristan was here, she’d jump on and ride him. Let him try to buck her off.

  She stepped onto the bottom rung of the steel fence and braced the top rung under her armpits. “Hi Stan, he’s pretty.” She pointed to one of the broncos.

  “He’s ornerier than piss. Feel bad for the cowboy who draws his unlucky hide.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Crazy Eights because he likes to turn to the left.”

  “Hey, you.” Arms wrapped around her middle.

  Jaycee squeaked. “Tristan.” She grabbed the rail before she lost her footing or before Tristan could pull her from the rung. “You’re here early.”

  He let her go. “Were you watching for me?” His smile melted her resistance.

  She jumped off the rail. “Nope, I’m supposed to be getting Chase a Coke.” They walked toward the concession stands. “Oh, here.” She plucked his hat from her head.

  He took the black Stetson from her hand but placed it back on her head. “I like the way it looks on you.”

  They moseyed over to get Chase his drink.

  “Do you want something to eat or drink?” she asked before ordering.

  “Can’t.” He winked. “My stomach won’t settle down until after I ride.”

  “Yeah, I seem to recall your appetite after a rodeo.” She didn’t want to think about those days. He’d want food, beer and then sex. Lot’s of sex. She didn’t want to remember the testosterone and adrenaline that would drive him. He couldn’t get enough of rodeo—or her. She shivered and tamped down the longing for those bygone times.

  After she paid for the bottle of Coke, they slowly made their way back to the Shetland maze.

  Jaycee liked Tristan’s presence next to her, comforting and warm like a southern wind. But those warm winds could bring dangerous storms. And she worried at the thundering of her pulse. Falling back in with him would cause her nothing but grief.

  Some aspects would feel damn good. They’d always had adventures, in and out of bed. It wasn’t until she’d seen him entangled with Heather that she realized her heart had become invested. Women shouldn’t love men like Tristan. Rodeos, buckle bunnies, always away from home. She shook her head. Rodeo cowboys promised nothing but heartache.

  “What are you thinking?” He draped an arm around her shoulders, and her tummy fluttered.

  “Wondering why you’re here.” She stopped and gazed up into his whisky-colored irises. He stared back, his eyes darkening with smoldering heat. Her breath caught and her knees weakened. His lips were firm yet soft and knew just how to kiss, not only her mouth, but her neck, breasts, and damn, what he did to her pussy.

  “My rigging bag is in my truck.” His lips moved, but all she could focus on was how much she needed that mouth on her body.

  “Damn it.” She took a step closer, wrapped one arm around the back of his neck, and branded her lips to his. His hat tipped back on her head, and he angled their faces.

  Tristan groaned and pulled her flush against his body. Hard, strong and male. His mouth opened and his tongue plunged inside hers. He tasted of licorice and the wild outdoors. He was all man and made her feel like she was all woman. She banded her arms around his shoulders, rose up on her tiptoes, and ravaged his mouth.

  Her breasts flattened against his chest, and the ridge of his erection dug into her belly. So hard. So tempting. She rubbed against the solid thickness. Cream drenched her jeans. Damn, she should have worn panties today, but she’d been in a hurry.

  Her arms loosened, but Tristan didn’t let her go. That they were in a public location was probably a good thing. She could tell herself that if they were alone, she wouldn’t bend over, wait for his cock with her legs spread and her ass in the air, but she’d be lying. She couldn’t keep a smile from her lips. Not even she believed her own bullshit.

  “I need to get back to help Chase.”

  Tristan let her go but not completely. He kept his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Your rigging bag?”

  “Yep. And I’d like to say hello to your brother. We’ve missed him on the circuit.”

  She nodded. “I know he’d rather be riding rodeo than working the ranch.”

  “Yep, family and responsibility should always come first.”

  She snorted.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” It didn’t matter. In truth, she was the one who ran out on Tristan. Seeing him with Heather cut deep. She and Tristan had fun, but they wouldn’t be good in a serious relationship. Fun, sex, and uncomplicated they could do. Anything more and she’d want too much. “We had good times, but everything changed.”

  “Yep.” He kept walking beside her. “Suppose that’s the way of things.”

  “I guess it’s not always easy to let go, but we all have to make choices.”

  Tristan stiffened beside her. “You made your choice and didn’t give me one.”

  “You should have said thanks and walked away. I made it easy for you.” She walked faster.

  “Damn, woman, do you think anything about you is easy? You are as stubborn as you are beautiful. Sometimes I wonder why I keep coming back for more. I’ve had broncs give me less trouble.” They approached the trucks. “Then I imagine my life without you.”

  She set Chase’s Coke on the hood of the truck. “I come with too much baggage, Tristan. You live for the next ride.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that anymore.”

  “What is it you think I want?” He grabbed onto her arm. “We used to tell each other everything.”

  And they did—even their secret desires.

  “I have to help Chase.”

  Tristan just snapped. The same way she had after Heather, Jaycee was shutting him out. Yet she couldn’t hide her response to him. Why in the hell would she want to?

  “We need to work this out.” The way they communicated best. He pushed her toward the horse trailer.

  “Tristan, let me go.”

  “Never.” He held tight to her arm, grabbed the handle and flung open the door to the small tack room. She stumbled up two steps. He released her to pull the door closed and slide the bolt home, locking them in. He turned toward her. She fisted her hands on her hips. Her lips formed a tight line, and fire blazed in her green eyes. Stoking her temper usually ended with violent, aggressive sex. Just the way she liked it.

  He took a step closer. “Six weeks is long enough to pout.”

  “I haven’t been pouting. Six weeks ago, we broke up. I told you to go to hell.”

  “And I’ve been there!” He tugged his shirt from his jeans and ripped open the snaps. “Now I want a piece of heaven.”

  “Tristan.” She sucked in sharply and swallowed hard.

  “Yeah, you know what I want.” He’d always told her that her pussy tasted like heaven and sinking into her heat was hotter than hell. He lowered his zipper. Fuck, his cock pulsed, blood surging into the shaft. He reached in and pulled his dick upright. He took a deep breath. “I want you.” The room was warm and getting hotter. Sweat trickled down his spine. Muscles tightened and his pulse raced. Getting ready for an
eight second ride didn’t come close to the adrenaline firing through his system now. “And you want me, too.”

  “We aren’t fucking.” She licked her lips.

  Tristan grabbed a set of braided hack reins from the hook. Out at the ranch, he’d bound her with leather in the barn, and when in bed, he’d caressed her wrists with silk. Her eyes locked on his hands as he stroked the length of rope.

  She slowly lifted her gaze. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “What about your rules?”

  “Rules are meant to be broken.” In the past, before a rodeo, he wouldn’t kiss her because then he’d want to touch her, and if he touched her, they ended up fucking. He needed all his strength for the ride. Right now, nothing mattered but the two of them.

  “So if you don’t last eight seconds, it’ll be my fault.”

  He smiled and winked. “I promise eight seconds won’t be a problem.” He backed her against the wall. “I’ll give you eight seconds to take off your clothes. Then I’m going to tie you up, bend you over, and ride you.” He leaned in, kissed her neck, and whispered into her ear, “Everything off…except the hat.”

  She turned her face and bit his ear. “Make me.”

  Tristan growled. With a tug, he had the snaps open, tugged her shirt down her arms and off. He spun her around and brought her hands behind her back. In three seconds, he had her wrists bound. Reaching around the front, he jerked open the button of her jeans, lowered the zipper and, squatting to his haunches, peeled the denim down her legs. The crotch of her jeans was soaked, and cream trickled onto her thigh.

  “Christ, woman.” She wasn’t wearing her usual thong. Eye level with her heart-shaped ass, he licked her cheek as he slid a finger along her slit.

  Jaycee leaned forward and rested her face against the steel wall. Behind her back, her hands clenched until her knuckles whitened. She tried to spread her legs, but the jeans bunched at her knees restricted her movements.

  “Please,” she whimpered, arching her back and pressing her ass into his face.