Page 46 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy (Wild Hearts Ranch #1)

I run the towel down her back, across her hips, trying to be thorough but gentle. When I kneel to dry her legs, I’m eye level with perfection, and my control starts to crack.

“Ridge?” Her voice is soft, uncertain.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been aching for someone to touch me and make me feel wanted and alive.” She turns to face me, and I’m still on my knees, looking up at her like she’s a goddess. “Will you?”

My control doesn’t just crack; it shatters completely.

I surge to my feet, capturing her mouth in a kiss that’s all desperation and need. She responds immediately, opening for me, her tongue sliding against mine as she presses closer. She tastes like river water and sweetness underneath, and my head spins.

My hands tangle in her wet hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She makes a sound—half whimper, half moan—that has me pressing closer with need.

She gasps against my lips. “Please. I need?—”

“I know what you need,” I growl, walking her out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. “The question is whether you can handle what I want to give you.”

The corners of her lips curl upward. “Try me.”

The challenge in her voice triggers that primal side of me. The same rush I used to get right before the gate opened, eight seconds of adrenaline waiting on the other side. Except this time, I plan to last a hell of a lot longer.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I tell her. “I’m not gentle. Not soft. I take what I want, and right now, what I want is to make you scream until your throat is raw.”

Instead of fear, heat flares in her eyes. “Then why are you still talking?”

Brave little Omega. She’ll soon meet the beast she’s provoking.

I spin her around, pressing her face-first against the wall beside my bed. She gasps, hands splaying against the wood, and I cage her in with my body.

“You sure about this?” I murmur in her ear, giving her one last out. “Because once I start, I won’t stop. Not until you’re marked, claimed, and so thoroughly mine that you’ll feel me for days.”

She pushes back against me. “Stop threatening and start delivering, cowboy.”

That’s all I need.

I grab the rope from my gear bag in the corner, not the rough stuff I use for the ranch, but the soft cotton rope I’ve had since my rodeo days. I always keep it close. Some habits die hard, and the need for control is one of them.

“On the bed,” I order. “On your stomach.”

She moves immediately, crawling onto my bed with a grace that leaves me drooling. The sight of her, all that pale skin still damp, hair falling like wet silk around her shoulders, it’s enough to drive a saint to sin.

And I’m no saint.

“Wrists,” I command.

She extends her arms toward the headboard, watching as I loop the rope around one wrist, then the other, securing both to the headboard with enough slack that she can move but not escape .

“Why do you like this?” she asks.

I run my hand down her spine, feeling her shiver. “Because you’re mine to pleasure. Mine to worship. Mine to wreck.” My hand reaches her ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “And because you trust me enough to let me.”

She moans, dropping her head between her arms, lifting her ass so she’s on her knees. “I do trust you.”

“Good.” I move behind her, spreading her thighs wider with my hand. “Because I’m about to ruin you for anyone else.”

The sight of her like this, open, vulnerable, trusting, it feeds something dark in me. The same part that used to crave the adrenaline of riding bulls, the knife-edge between control and madness.

“You’re already so wet,” I observe, running a finger through her folds. She jerks at the contact, a whimper escaping. “From being at my mercy.”

She gasps. “Everything. You.”

I drop to my knees behind her, the sight of her all flushed, trembling, dripping with slick, burns into my brain. My hands grip her hips, thumbs stroking the soft curve where her ass meets her thighs. She’s shaking, not from cold now, but from anticipation that hums between us.

I part her slowly, deliberately, my thumbs coaxing her lips open until I can see every swollen, glistening inch of her .

“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “Perfect little Omega pussy, wet and ready for me.”

She lets out a breathy whimper, her fingers tightening on the bed blanket, knuckles pale.

I lean in and drag my tongue over her, from the very bottom of the swollen bud of her clit up to the slit, tasting her, savoring the shiver that runs through her. When I circle my tongue there, she cries out, hips jerking, but I hold her still, my grip firm.

“Stay right there,” I tell her, my mouth brushing her as I speak. “You move, and I’ll start over. And you don’t want me to start over, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God… Ridge…” Her voice breaks into a moan as I seal my mouth over her and suck gently, then harder, until her thighs start to quake.

I explore her with my tongue like I’ve got all day, because I do, mapping her with deliberate strokes. I find the exact pressure that makes her moan louder, the rhythm that makes her writhe faster.

“That’s it,” I growl against her. “Let me hear you. Louder.”

I slip two fingers into her, gradually at first, just enough to feel her squeeze around me. She’s so tight, so wet, it’s almost painful not to be inside her yet.

Her moan turns desperate, broken. “Please… more.”

The plea punches right through my control. I add a third finger, stretching her open inch by inch.

“Fuck, your pussy holds on to me like you’re scared I’ll stop,” I rasp, pumping into her. “I’m not stopping, sweetheart. Not until you’re shaking so hard you can’t even say my name.”

Her head tips back, releasing a needy cry.

“You’re going to come for me,” I tell her, dragging my tongue over her clit while my fingers fuck her steadily. “Again. And again. And again. Just like that filthy demon book you wrote about in your blog. Seven times, right?”

Her eyes fly open, cheeks flushed. “You… read?—”

“I had to buy and read the book after you recommended it.” My mouth curls into a wicked smile against her. “Now I know exactly how to ruin you.”

“Oh, fuck…” she breathes, and I feel her clench around me at the words.

“That’s right. You want someone who’ll worship your body until you can’t take any more. You’re going to get it, Omega.”

I work her faster, harder, curling my fingers with every thrust until she’s trembling so violently I have to hold her steady. Her moans turn into frantic gasps, the wet sound of my fingers working her filling the room.

Then she breaks, her whole body locking up before she comes around me, crying out my name like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered.

I draw my fingers out slowly, watching her collapse against the bed, panting.

“That was…” She’s still catching her breath, voice wrecked. “That was intense.”

I grip her hips, move forward, and lie over her so my mouth is at her ear, my chest pressed against her bare back, and slide my cock along her slick folds. The heat of her against me blurs my vision.

“We’re just getting started,” I promise, letting the head of my cock nudge against her entrance, teasing her with the threat of what’s coming.

Her hips shift under me, the curve of her back arching just enough for her to glance over her shoulder at me.

“You’re… so big,” she breathes, eyes wide with something between want and doubt. “I don’t know if?—”

“You’ll take me,” I cut in, my voice low, certain. I press the tip deeper into her, slow, deliberate. “Every inch. You were made for me.”

The first push draws a gasp from her, her arms outstretched, wrists tied up. She tenses, so I still my hips. “Breathe,” I say. “Let me in, beautiful.”

She exhales shakily, and I pull back and start to move again, inch by inch, feeling her body stretch around me. The sight nearly undoes me. My grip on her hips tightens, holding her steady as I sink deeper.

“That’s it,” I coax. “Good girl. You’re taking me perfectly.”

By the time I’m fully inside her, my pulse is pounding in my ears. She’s trembling.

“Move,” she whispers, almost pleading. “Please, Ridge… move inside me.”

“Careful what you ask for,” I warn, but I draw back and thrust in again. The bed creaks beneath us, her soft sounds spilling into the room with every push.

She presses back into me, giving as much as she takes, and my control frays fast. I grip her hips hard enough that she’ll feel it tomorrow and drive into her like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for this moment.

Her body bows, a strangled cry ripping from her throat, and she clenches around me so tightly with her orgasm, hitting so fast, so intense. I have to grit my teeth at how hard she grips my cock.

“That’s two,” I growl against her shoulder. “Five more to go.”

She shakes her head weakly. “I can’t?—”

“You will,” I tell her, already pulling her hips back to meet mine again. “And when I’m done, you’ll be begging me for more.”

Her thighs start to shake, her knees threatening to give way, but my grip on her hips is iron. I keep her right where I want her, my body slamming into her. I keep at it, living a dream, thrusting in and out, each plunge taking me into Nirvana. I lose track of time, lost in my own heaven.

“Oh, fuck—” she cries, the words splintering into a scream as she comes again, her body locking tightly around me.

“That’s four to go,” I grit out, not easing up, fucking her through the aftershocks until her moans break into ragged little sobs of pleasure. Her body is trembling beneath me, slick and perfect, but I’m nowhere close to being done. “Next ones will be on your back.”

Before she can catch her breath, let alone protest, I pull out, then flip her.

The rope at her wrists has enough give to let her turn without biting into her skin, bringing her arms closer together above her head.

She gasps at the sudden movement, her hair tumbling over flushed cheeks, eyes hazy with lust and a touch of surprise.