Mastering Her Will (Dirty Texas Love Book 2) Page 3

  I had no idea what the song was, but the line worked, and tears sprung to Carrie’s eyes as she released me from her tight clutches. “Well, isn’t that so sweet? Go on, go on, Jake. Dance with your bride.” I gave her one more smile over my shoulder as she made shooing motions, sending me off to Buttercup.

  Willing my nerves to chill, I walked over to the man who was dancing with my bride, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  My voice came off more threatening than I had meant it to as I asked, “Mind if I cut in?”

  He turned to me and a momentary flash of anger crossed his face—the same I had seen on the face of Tom when I demanded he leave town.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my fist clenched, prepared for anything.

  Holding out a hand, he shook mine, introducing himself with a wide grin. “Hi, Jake. I’m Ryder. It’s nice to finally meet you—Buttercup has told me so much about you.” He spoke amiably, kindly even. Had I imagined the threatening look?

  Shaking his hand apprehensively, I said, “Wonderful to meet you, Ryder. And how do you know Buttercup?” At the firmness of his handshake, I threw in, “Forgive me that I didn’t know your name—she hasn’t mentioned you before.”

  A smug look came over his face.

  Sensing my unease, Buttercup casually made her way between us. Her green eyes locked on mine, flashing with concern. “Jake, this is Ryder. He’s… Tom’s brother.”

  “Thomas, actually, is how I know him,” Ryder added lightly. Giving Buttercup a warm glance that made my skin crawl, he said, “I think only Buttercup calls him Tom.”

  “Called.” My voice was hard as steel. I didn’t feel sorry for sounding impolite.

  Ryder quickly corrected himself. “Forgive me. Yes—called. That was a long time ago and she’s in much better hands, now. Isn’t she?” His words were right but something dancing in his eyes seemed wrong.

  Looking a few years younger than Tom, Ryder had the same vampire look that I supposed some women found attractive. Pale skin met his blond hair, gelled perfectly with one strand hanging casually over his forehead. His blue eyes were cold, icy almost as they stared at me. His crisp black suit completed the look—giving him a movie star, bad boy feel. Same height and build as me, I wanted the stranger as far from Buttercup as possible.

  “You’re a spitting image of your brother,” I said. It was a fact—not a compliment.

  Ryder gave a good-natured laugh, “Yes. I get that a lot. Same face, just missing the black hair, huh?”

  “Dark hair to match his dark personality.”

  Buttercup shot me a wary look. Not wanting to upset my bride, I held back the rest of the derogatory remarks that threatened to escape my mouth and instead said, “Ryder, you’ll excuse us?”

  Not waiting for an answer, I wrapped my arm protectively around Buttercup’s shoulders, turning her away from her former lover’s good-looking brother. I narrowed my eyes as a glimpse of a smug smile appeared on his chiseled face. I hurried her away.

  Buttercup gave Ryder a little wave over her shoulder—her ‘sorry my husband is overprotective wave’—I had experienced the familiar wave a few other times such as when I had steered her tipsy self away from Carrie, who was pouring a little too generous of glasses of wine at her Christmas party, and it was time to go home.

  When we were out of ear shot of the golden-haired vampire, I whispered into her ear, “What were you doing with him? What is he doing at our wedding?”

  Buttercup looked up at me, distraught. “I bumped into him at the Five and Dime a few weeks ago. He is completing his residency at the hospital in Clinton. I told him all about you and our wedding. I told him he should come—I was just being polite. It seemed rude not to invite him.”

  “Clinton isn’t Poke Town. What was he doing here?”

  “He went to med school in Texas. He’s lived here ever since. And Poke Town is growing at a rapid rate. He has friends here.”

  “I don’t want you hanging around him. Do I have to remind you we have a restraining order against his brother?”

  “No.” She gave a little shudder at the mentioning of it. “I never should have let Tom manipulate me into meeting him—especially alone—to supposedly say ‘goodbye.’”

  “Even though he left town and I couldn’t prove anything, I’m glad we have a restraining order against him. Good riddance.” It was an old conversation, one we had had many times in those first few months. What guy stalks his ex, and tries to drive her somewhere? The thought of it all still makes me jumpy. After that Buttercup and I had a good, long talk that left her unable to sit down the rest of the day. There was no excuse for her disregard for her safety having met Tom alone. But that didn’t stop my Buttercup from trying to explain to me how Ryder was different. She was such a softie.

  “I was with Tom ten years. Yeah—he’s a total jerk and a creep but Ryder was his little brother and I’ve known him a long time. He’s a sweet guy.”

  “Not sweet enough to warn you to steer clear of his brother.”

  “He didn’t know. No one did. I hid it well.”

  There was a sad look on the face of my bride on her wedding day—and I had put it there. Quickly mending the situation, I grabbed her in my arms, holding her close and swaying to the music. “No worries, baby. This is our day, and nothing is going to ruin it, okay?”

  I felt her head nodding against my chest.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked quietly.

  My spine tensed, unsure of what she would say.

  “I loved the wedding and I love our reception and I really appreciate you working all those extra hours and paying for all of this, so we could have a nice celebration… but…”

  “Spit it out, Buttercup.”

  “I’m just ready to be alone with you.”

  “Me too.” I kissed her softly on the top of her head, careful not to mess up her beautiful hair. “Let’s cut the cake and get out of here. What do you say?”

  The look that flashed in her eyes screamed, “Yes!”

  Chapter 2

  Buttercup

  I was no virgin. But when I walked into that hotel room, Jake’s broad hand resting on my lower back, guiding me, I felt no older than eighteen. I could feel the flush creep up my cheeks. The nervous butterflies taking flight in my stomach—even my fingers trembled. I felt like a girl who’d never been kissed, much less one who knew what to do in the bedroom.

  Flashing me a panty melting smile Jake took his hand from my back. Reaching into his pocket he retrieved the key to the door, sliding it in the silver box above the handle. There was a quiet click. Jake swung the door open.

  The suite was gorgeous. Like one of those hotel rooms you dream about—seeing them in movies growing up—but knew you would never stay in. Gold and white and red velvet. Champagne and strawberries. Glass tables with cut crystal vases of red roses. A bed as big as our room back home with what looked like a hundred pillows piled high against the tall brass headboard. I tried to memorize every detail of the room, knowing our wedding night was a first and last experience.

  Jake had me feeling dizzy. The scent of his musky aftershave, the heat from his body against mine, the strong muscles of his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I was almost unable to enjoy the elegant room I knew he had splurged for. Nervous excitement overtook me, making me tremble right down to my core.

  Unable to face my husband I stared into the ornate room, the fabric of my gown swishing around my feet as I slowly moved further past the threshold. Taking a deep breath, I willed my nerves to settle, my eyes gazing over the suite.

  The door closing, and the click of the lock instantly brought my nerves right back to the surface, a little chill running over me.

  Jake’s footsteps fell softly on the carpeted floors. Coming up behind me, his body pressed against mine, the muscles of his broad chest warm against my back in the cool ivory silk. His arms slipped around my waist pulling me tighter towards him. I could feel a slight bulge from hi
s crotch pressing into my bottom. Jake’s hand wandered up to my breasts, caressing them through the thin fabric of my satin bodice. His touch made my nipples harden into stiff peaks—to remain that way for the rest of the evening.

  His mouth met my ear, his voice husky with desire murmuring, “I want you,” sending a thrill through me. Fingertips brushed my hair back over my shoulder exposing the bare skin of my neck. His lips kissed the place just below my ear, made their way down my neck, biting and kissing.

  My head leaned back against him, my eyes closing as a moan escaped my lips. Raising my arm, I wrapped it behind his head, caressing his thick hair as his mouth made its way to the base of my neck. His teeth reached what he had determined to be my ‘sweet spot,’ that little hollow of my clavicle. As his mouth bit and sucked, my hips began to gyrate, pressing further into the beginnings of his erection.

  “Easy,” he whispered.

  His hands moved to my shoulders and he turned me to face him.

  “My blushing bride,” he said with a brash smile, which only further ignited the warmth he had brought to my cheeks.

  His dark eyes flashed with desire—he looked as if he would devour me. I shuddered as his lips met mine in a hard, punishing kiss. His mouth pressing against mine, his hands went to my lower back, smashing my breasts and stomach against his hard chest, claiming me with his tongue.

  When he pulled away, I was left breathless, panting, my body begging for more. At the sight of my desire a flash of amusement crossed his face. Leaning down he kissed my cheek. “Get undressed. I’ll be right back.”

  My eyes widened in shock. We had just gotten into the room. I had been so anxious to have sex with this man, then had to work through a bundle of nerves to get to the state I was now in—hot and ready for him to fuck my newlywed brains out. He could not leave this room without popping my ‘born again virgin’ cherry. Flabbergasted, I managed to spit out, “Where are you going?”

  His fingertip pressed against my lips, shushing me. Eyes locked on mine, his tone commanding, he stated, “You don’t get to ask any questions tonight, little wifey. You are under my complete control. That is all you need to know. Understood?”

  A look I had only caught glimpses of before was fully etched upon my husband’s handsome face. His dark eyes narrowed, an almost dangerous glint within them. His jaw was set, his lips pressed together. A look that didn’t need words to command, ‘do as I say—or else.’ Unable to form a response on my tangled tongue, I gave a nod.

  Jake’s gaze devoured me. My eyes lowered in embarrassment. He could read me like a book, flushed cheeks, perked nipples, he could probably smell the desire that had dampened my panties beneath my silk dress. Sneaking a peek at his face, a shiver ran through me. My husband meant to own me—mind, body and soul.

  And I had no doubt that he would.

  Turning on his heel, the door opened, closed, the lock clicked—and he was gone.

  Shaking out of my daze of desire, I paced the floor nervously. Carrie and Jessica had gotten me into this dress. How was I supposed to get out of it? Still being in the gown by the time Jake returned was not an option—that much was made clear by the dark gaze he gave me as he left the hotel room.

  A delicious shiver trilled through my body as I replayed Jake’s possession in my mind. The way he looked at me as if I was plaything—his to do with what he would. The way he had kissed me so hard my lips were left feeling bruised, the way his hands pressed me hard against him until I was breathless. Did he know I desired to be taken completely out of control? To bend and break under his will? To learn the freedom of complete submission? Pleasure in pain?

  Jake Hargett was a good man. A builder, a craftsman, a painter. He loved nothing more than to try his mostly failed attempts at cooking for me. To join me in taking my three boisterous nephews to the ranch to ride horses all day while I stayed behind chatting in Carrie’s cozy kitchen. Opening doors for everybody, carrying little old ladies’ groceries to the car. Renovating his own house, running a business. Painting abstract art that was nothing but strokes of color, but somehow gazing upon it moved you in a deep way.

  Jake Hargett was already beyond the man of my dreams. I couldn’t ask for more from a husband. And yet, I had this thought… a tickling sensation in the back of my mind. What if my man could not only blow my mind by his achievements in the daylight, but also by his skills at nighttime, in the bedroom?

  If this man could fuck half as good as he could deliver a bare bottomed spanking… maybe Jake would dominate me during sex. The idea had my pussy gushing, my buttocks clenching. Did my classic boy next door, all American, baseball playing man have a dark side too? Something beyond domestic discipline? Something, I had craved from a man all my life; had I now found it in my husband, the man I would spend the rest of my life with? My pussy dripping and throbbing, my nipples uncomfortably tight, I tried to focus on getting this dress off.

  I shuffled over to the full-length mirror, turning and almost tripping over the flowing material of the long skirts in my haste. Reaching my hands up and over my shoulders, I strained to undo the top couple of buttons, training my eyes on the mirror. My breasts stood high and to attention, my nipples clearly visible and begging to be stroked, to be pinched until I was left gasping. I moved my hands back around my ribcage, unbuttoning the dress from my midback to my waist.

  Having no more patience for the tiny pearls I shimmied, pulling the material down over my hips. The heavy dress fell to the floor. I stepped out of it, lifting it reverently and placing it over the back of a chair.

  Standing before the mirror, my green eyes were bright with excitement, my lids darkened seductively by the professional hand of Jessica’s kohl liner and smoky eye shadow. High on my cheekbones a pretty pink flush had found a permanent home against the pale skin of my face since meeting Jake. My hair hung in long tendrils over my shoulders, coming down over my lace covered breasts, my peaked peach nipples showing through the shimmering fabric of the ivory silk slip I wore.

  Carrie had insisted on taking me lingerie shopping for this special occasion. We had gone to her favorite store—just the name blazing proudly on the neon pink sign had me ready to hide my face in embarrassment. Naughty. Who names a store that, knowing you are going to have to walk right under that sign to get inside?

  My only saving grace from dying of humiliation was that the store was one town over in Clinton. Luckily, as we made our way through Naughty with Carrie squealing “ooh, cute,” every aisle we turned down, we hadn’t bumped into anyone we knew.

  Underneath the slip I wore nothing save the ivory lace G-string that Carrie had talked me into. Not able to get over the steep price tag for such a small amount of fabric, she had snatched it from my hands and paid for it herself, declaring it ‘the sexiest strip of cloth’ she’d seen.

  Now, they were probably ruined. Should I change? Sliding my hands beneath the slip, I rubbed the material at my crotch, my pussy pulsing harder at my tentative touch. The G-string was beyond damp. It was soaked. What else had I brought with me? Mentally unpacking my suitcase, my stomach sank. All I had were my comfy, sensible bikini cut Hanes Her Way everyday panties—though I had checked them for stains before I threw them in my case—they were not appropriate for a wedding night.

  The click of the latch startled me, my hand flying out from under my slip. My fingers had maybe strayed a little longer down there than necessary for the dampness test. Perhaps even exacerbating the problem.

  The door swung open revealing Jake, looking like any bride’s hottest fantasy. Holding the door open with one hand, a black duffle bag hanging in the other, he looked completely at ease. His white tux shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. His black pants hung perfectly around his trim waist.

  And his face. That tanned beautiful face. His brown wavy hair hung down over his brow in the sexiest way, but nothing could compare to the look in his eyes. It cut me to my core. There was a dark almost animal like look in t
hem. Predator sizing up his prey.

  My arms fluttered over my chest, wanting to cross in front of my breasts and cover up the sheer lacy fabric and the peaked pink nipples showing beneath. His gaze left me feeling naked, stripped down bare, no secrets hidden.

  With a shake of his head, he placed the duffle down beside him. “Don’t,” he commanded.

  My arms fell to my sides, face flushing as my nipples further tightened under his hungry gaze. Shutting the door and turning the lock, Jake faced me.

  In the center of the room I stood, very aware that I was barefoot wearing nothing but a scrap of silk and a G-string and willing my arms to stay by my side.

  A wave of heat flooded me as he neared. Standing before me, my stomach tightened with nerves as he looked me over. My eyes closed as his fingertips brushed the side of my cheek. They lightly grazed my neck, trailed down my collarbone, over the low neckline of my slip. I opened my eyes looking up at him from under my heavy lids as he lightly ran his finger over my nipple.

  An electric current ran though the space between our bodies—we were not touching except for the tip of his finger connecting with my hardened nipple. My body went rigid and I held my breath as he took the sensitive bud between his fingers, squeezing lightly. I moaned, my knees weakening and bending slightly.

  Leaving my breast, his fingers trailed down my torso, over my hip bone, stopping at the hem of my slip. The gentle pressure from the tips of his rough fingers catching the material of the silk slip had goosebumps raising on the flesh of my arms. A gentle tug at the bottom of the short slip, Jake murmured, “Very pretty. Did you pick this out just for me?”

  I gave a nod, my eyes widening as Jake moved in closer, the distance between us closing. His crisp shirt and hard chest pressed against my thinly clad body and peaked breasts. One hand wrapped around me, resting on my lower back, heat radiating from his palm. The other hand still rested at the hem of my slip.