Clay: Armed and Dangerous Page 8

  The orgasm flamed through her body, and she cried out from the searing pleasure of her release. Her hips jerked against Clay’s hand as he continued to move his fingers in and out.

  “Stop.” She put her hands on his shoulders, her body throbbing. “No more.”

  Clay eased his fingers from her core and raised his head. His eyes fixed on her and he licked his fingers. Every slow stroke of his tongue was like he was touching her, tasting her. She couldn’t stop trembling from her climax.

  “Damn, you taste good.” He brushed his mouth over hers, his mustache tickling her lips, the warmth of his breath adding heat to her blood. “I’d better see to dinner before something burns,” he murmured, then turned back to the stove.

  Too late, the thought went through Rylie’s fuzzy mind. She was burning all over.

  After they’d eaten a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream for dessert, Clay took Rylie on a tour of his ranch-style home. He enjoyed showing it to her, and how she seemed to appreciate the custom- built house. He’d had it built only a year prior, and it was his sanctuary away from the demands of his job and the political aspects of being the county sheriff.

  They ended up in his den, where he worked at home from time to time. He flicked on the track lighting, which illuminated glossy oak furnishings and floor-to-ceiling shelves lining two walls. Books on Arizona, Native American, U.S., and world history lined the shelves, along with professional journals and handbooks, biographies, and anything else that had caught his interest.

  Navajo artwork that he’d collected over the years covered the walls as well as dotting the shelves, along with pictures of his family. The room smelled of books, lemon oil polish, and of the case of cherry pipe tobacco that he kept to remind him of his dad.

  From off the oak credenza, Rylie picked up a carved wooden caricature of an old cowboy with a drooping mustache and a ten-gallon hat that looked like it had a hole shot through the top of the crown. “This is great. Who’s the artist?”

  “I am.” Clay smiled when her gaze cut to his, her eyes wide. “Wood carving is a hobby of mine. I have a little workshop in the back of the house.”

  Wrinkling her nose, she placed the cowboy back on the shelf. “That’s disgusting.”

  He raised a brow. “You don’t like it?”

  “Love it.” Rylie poked his chest with one finger. “What’s disgusting is that you’re not only fantastic in bed, know how to cook, have great taste in decorating, and are well read, but you’re artistic, too.”

  His mouth curved into a grin. “Don’t forget kind to animals and small children.”

  “So I see.” She walked away from him to the shelves and ran her fingers along one of the framed photographs. “Whose kids?”

  “Between two of my three sisters, I have six nieces and nephews. That’s Brian, the youngest of the bunch. They’re good kids.”

  Clay eased behind Rylie, gripped her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Do you want to have rug rats of your own one day?”

  A tingling sensation sparked in her belly, but she refused to dwell on it. Instead she shrugged and moved her hand away from the picture. “I don’t plan on ever getting married, so likely not.”

  Clay turned her around and moved her so that her butt was backed up to the massive oak desk. “What’s spooked you?” He hooked his forefinger under her chin and raised it so that her eyes met his. “Why are you afraid of getting serious about anyone?”

  “Because relationships never last.” Rylie’s gaze was defiant, but her hand went to her earlobe and she tugged on the gold earring. “And the ones that do, most of those go to shit. I wouldn’t put any kid through what I grew up with.”

  With a gentle hand, he swept a strand of blond hair from her face. “And what’s that?”

  “Being torn between parents who hate each other while they play tug-of-war with you.” Her jaw hardened and she pulled harder at her ear. “Having your mom play doormat for years, then take off with some man, and never seeing her again because she’d rather run away and play than be around her own kids. Watching your dad marry and divorce so many times you can’t remember the names of all your stepparents or stepbrothers and sisters. All I ever heard was yelling and fighting, Clay. That’s what I know about real relationships.”

  He brushed his knuckles along her cheek to her ear and captured her hand in his, pulling it away from her lobe. “Honey, just because your parents didn’t know how to make a relationship work doesn’t mean you’ll follow in their footsteps.” Clay released her to let his hands slide down to her waist, then drew her closer. “You’re not them.”

  Rylie could hardly think with him pressed against her belly. Now was not the time to think about her history, or her future. She wanted him again, and she wanted him now. Bracing her hands on the desk behind her, she widened her stance. “Shut up and get inside me.”

  Clay’s green eyes flared. In a quick movement that left her breathless, he raised her up and placed her on the desk, its polished surface cool beneath her bare ass. He yanked the shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, then unfastened his jeans and shoved them with his briefs down his hips.

  She spread her thighs and he guided himself into her depths in one quick thrust. Pure pleasure rippled through Rylie at the feel of him inside her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She flattened her hands on the desktop and tilted her head back, lost in the sensations.

  “Watch.” Clay’s voice was gruff as he grasped her thighs with his hands. “Watch me take you.”

  Rylie looked down at where they were joined. The mere sight of him thrusting in and out was enough to drive her closer and closer to peak.

  Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth against hers, urging her up to meet him. His tongue slid between her lips, matching the motion and rhythm of his movements.

  She moaned into his mouth, dizzy, wild with lust. The smell of their sex was an aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal, sending her senses spiraling. Her body was hot, her nipples tingling with every brush of his solid chest.

  He raised his head and glanced to where they were joined, then back to her eyes. “You fit me perfectly, Rylie Thorn.” He drove into her, harder and harder yet.

  She gasped and her eyes widened as her body trembled with the oncoming climax

  “That’s it.” Clay gripped her legs tighter, never slowing in his motion. “Come on, honey.”

  Rylie cried out as the muscles in her belly contracted with each wave of her orgasm. Every thrust sent another swell of pleasure throughout her body. It seemed like her climax would never end. Like she’d be locked with him forever, her body shuddering with every crest and ebb.

  Even as he shouted her name, even as he jerked and throbbed within her core, Rylie was swept away in a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to drown her.

  Threatened to steal her heart and never let go.

  The telephone’s incessant ring broke into Clay’s climax-fogged mind. If it didn’t mean pulling out from Rylie’s warm depths, he would have reached over and thrown that damn telephone out the window.

  “You’re in hot demand, Sheriff.” Rylie’s teasing voice murmured in his ear as the answering machine clicked on and she heard a standard message being played. “You gonna get that?”

  “No.” The word was a rumble in Clay’s chest as he kissed the soft skin of her neck. “Whoever it is can go to hell for all I care.”

  The outgoing message stopped, and then Deputy Quinn came on the line. “Sheriff, I need a word with you. It’s about—” The moment he heard Quinn’s voice, Clay moved so fast that he was able to pick up the phone just as the man said, “Levi Thorn.”

  “I’m right here,” Clay growled, yanking up his jeans and looking away from Rylie’s frown. “What’s so damn important that you had to call me at home on my night off?”

  “Uh, well...” The deputy sounded like he was uncomfortable with the news he was relaying. “Wade Larson said he was out checking his fence line the other night. The sa
me night someone tried to steal trucks from the MacKenna’s. Claims he saw a horse and rider leaving the Flying M Ranch—and he recognized the horse.”

  Clay’s gaze flicked to Rylie. She was still naked, but now looking at the carvings of old cowpokes that he’d done. “And?” he prompted Quinn.

  “Larson says it was Rylie Thorn’s Appaloosa and the rider was the same size as Levi. Larson wasn’t sure, but he thought Levi was following a group of men who were running from the scene. Could have been chasing them instead of getting out of Dodge—but then, why wouldn’t he have told us that?”

  “Shit.” Clay drew in a harsh breath and Rylie’s gaze shot to him. She bit her lower lip and scooped the T-shirt off the floor and left his den, probably to give him some privacy.

  “What do you want me to do, Sheriff?” Quinn asked in an even tone.

  “Nothing yet. Let me check a few things out.” Clay stared at the door Rylie had disappeared through. “You just see what else you can dig up. And I still don’t want you to narrow the focus. Got me?”

  After he hung up with Quinn, Clay stroked his hand over his mustache, trying to puzzle through what was going on. Levi Thorn had motive and opportunity, but did he have the connections to swipe trucks, make it seem like one of Guerrero’s gang rackets, then liquidate the trucks for cash?

  Could Levi be desperate enough to be working with Guerrero?

  A big brother trying to save the ranch and look after his little sister...

  Although the evidence was starting to point to Thorn, something in Clay’s gut told him it was all too neat. There was a hell of a lot going on around here. More than what met the eye.

  He picked up the receiver and dialed up Rocky Brogan, a buddy of his that could do some quick, efficient research—beyond anything he could manage to scrape together through the sheriff’s department.

  “Brogan here.” The man’s baritone came on the line.

  “Clay Wayland.” His eyes remained on the doorway, making sure Rylie didn’t come marching through, and he kept his voice low. “I need you to get some down and dirty on a few of characters, and I need it completely off the radar.”

  “Shoot, pardner.”

  “All currently reside in or around Douglas, Arizona.” Clearing his throat, Clay continued, “Zack Hunter: ICE agent, recently married to a local ranger, Skyler MacKenna. He’s from these parts, but stayed away a long time.”

  Clay waited until Brogan gave him the go-ahead. “Wade Larson, general malcontent, owner of the Coyote Pass Ranch.” He hesitated, then tacked on, “And Levi Thorn, part owner of the Thorn Ranch. And see if your sources drag up anything about new Guerrero activity in this area. I’m particularly interested in stolen vehicles.”

  Brogan repeated all the information and punctuated it with a small grunt. “Give me a couple of days.”

  “Thanks,” Clay replied. “I’ll look for it Monday.”

  After he placed the receiver back on the cradle, Clay rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the beginnings of a headache. Damn, but he didn’t like the way things were turning. Didn’t like it at all.

  Chapter 8

  Golden light of a new morning spilled through the shutters and onto Clay’s eyelids, but he was too comfortable holding his little wildcat. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, filling his lungs with her perfume of vanilla musk and the scents of their mingled sex.

  Rylie stirred next to him, her hip rubbing against his hard-as-iron length. “Better watch it,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Or I might just have to wake you properly.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her tone was light and teasing as she caressed his forearm.

  But then he heard a familiar metal click at the same moment cool metal clamped around his wrist.

  His eyes shot open and he yanked his arm, only to have metal dig into his flesh. He was handcuffed to the bed rail.

  Rylie giggled, rolling away from him and off the bed before he had the chance to grab her with his free hand. She dragged the comforter along with her so that he was completely naked, then dropped it to the floor as she said, “I told you that you’d pay.”

  “You sure did.” Clay couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her eyes glinting with laughter. But his smile faded as his gaze traveled down her length, from her tousled hair to her pert nipples, on past her flat stomach and below.

  He was so hard he was afraid he wouldn’t last but a few seconds. “Over here. Now.”

  Her grin widened. “Don’t you know? Paybacks are a bitch, sugar.” Letting her gaze linger on him, she licked her lips. Something told Clay he just might enjoy her version of paybacks. But then again, when it came to Rylie Thorn, nothing was a certainty. And nothing was easy.

  “I have to teach you a lesson.” She walked around the bed, studying him like a buyer examining a bull at an auction. “Now, I could just leave you locked up... Take your truck and go on home.”

  Clay frowned. “Uh, honey—”

  “Hold on, I’m thinking here.” Rylie held up her hand, a look of serious consideration on her face. “Or, I could force you to have wild sex with me.”

  “That’d be a hardship.” Clay’s cock jumped against his belly, and he held back a grin. “But I think I could manage.”

  “Hmmm.” She strolled closer to his side of the bed, but kept her enticing body out of reach. “Of course, I could always get my revenge in another way.”

  A rumble of sheer lust rose up in his throat, and he bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

  “Do you want to touch me, Clay?” Slowly, deliberately, she ran her tongue along her lower lip while she cupped her breasts in her palms, her chocolate eyes focused on him.

  “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he swallowed, hard, then swallowed again as she pulled at her nipples. Nipples he wanted to suck, and lick, and nip at with his teeth.

  A sensual smile teased the corner of her mouth as she let one of her hands drift down her flat belly to her silken sex. “Would you like to see me touch myself?”

  “Rylie…” Clay groaned and pulled against the restraint, wondering if he could bust the rail, snatch her before she knew he was loose, and take her ten ways till Sunday. He was so hard his erection practically pointed toward the ceiling.

  “How about if I make myself come while you watch?” She widened her stance and slipped her fingers lower. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered as she stroked herself with one hand while tweaking her nipple with her other. “I like how you feel inside me, Clay.” Again she licked her lips, this time her gaze focused on his erection. “Would you like to be inside me now?”

  “Hell, yes.” The cuff rattled against the rail as he strained against it.

  “What if I sit on your face?” Rylie seemed lost in the sensations of taunting him while stroking herself. “Would you like that?”

  He clenched his fist and practically growled at her. “Why don’t I show you?”

  She turned her back to him and bent over, her legs parted so that he could clearly see her beautiful shaved skin, and her fingers teasing, teasing, teasing. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Would you like to take me from behind?”

  Clay roared and slid his legs over the side of the bed, trying to grab her with his free hand. The cuffs slid along the rail and held fast, keeping Clay only inches from reaching Rylie.

  She taunted him as she looked over her shoulder and gave him that sexy smile. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  He yanked so hard against the restraints that the bed moved a good six inches.

  Rylie gasped as Clay hooked his free arm around her waist and pulled her ass tight against him. “You need to be punished, woman.”

  “I have been a bad girl.” She bent even lower, rubbing her ass against him. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Ride you until you can’t walk straight.” Clay stepped back against the bed, dragging Rylie with him. In a quick motion, he flipped her around. She squealed as she found herself spra
wled on the bed, her ass sticking up in the air. It was a tricky maneuver, considering he was handcuffed to the rail, and it didn’t leave a lot of room for error. But he was a man on a mission.

  He guided himself into her wet folds, nudging her legs farther apart. The walls of her core gripped him tight and he damn nearly came.

  She moaned as he sank deep inside her. Gripping the bed sheet in her hands, she pressed her ass back against him. “I’ve been a real bad girl. I think you’d better take that into consideration.” The cuff yanked against Clay’s wrist as he powered himself within Rylie’s slick depths. Her passionate cries added even more fuel to his frenzied thrusts.

  He didn’t have much more time before he came. This woman drove him crazy, made him so damn hot with lust he couldn’t think straight. As he pumped in and out of her, he reached around her hips and stroked her swollen center.

  That was all it took. She screamed into the bed sheet, her body tensing against him, the muscles of her core clenching him tight. Clay bit back a shout as he came. He throbbed and pulsed as he collapsed against her backside, doing his best to keep his weight off her.

  “Mmmm.” Rylie sighed, enjoying the feel of Clay’s muscled body pressed along her length. She wiggled her hips and was rewarded by the feel of him hardening inside her. “What’s for breakfast?”

  Clay chuckled and pressed his lips to her hair. “Depends on whether or not you unlock this cuff.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I keep you right here where I’ve got you.”

  “That’s not so bad.” She shimmied her hips again. “I kinda like it.”

  “Uh-huh.” The cuff rattled against the bed rail as he shifted. “I’m getting a cramp here.”

  “Ahhh, poor baby.” Rylie tried to move out from under Clay’s weight, but he had her pinned tight to the mattress. “Okay. Let me go and I’ll get the key.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Clay withdrew from her core and eased his weight to the side, but still kept his free arm around her waist. “After all, you are a real bad girl.”