Riding High Read online

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Pry? Intrude? No, I’m sure you didn’t.” She was getting huffy and she couldn’t help it.

  “I am sorry, really. I guess we’ve ruled that avenue out then.” His voice crept around her, soft and sensual, heading straight under her defenses. She blinked, feeling her shoulders drop, feeling the anger suddenly switch off. Maybe he was just trying to help, but her father was a story she really wasn’t ready to tell.

  “Yes.” She shoved her hands under her bum to stop the tremble. “I guess we have. What’s next on the list, then?”

  “I’m not sure.” He suddenly stood up, as though he couldn’t bear to sit with her any longer. “We’ll look at the books later; let’s go have a look around the estate first, shall we?”

  ***

  Fuck. Saul watched her haul herself into the battered Land Rover and resisted the urge to put his hand on her toned bum and help her in. Those jodhpurs were going to be the death of him, although the way his dick reacted every time she got within ten yards it wouldn’t matter if she’d been wearing coveralls and a hockey mask.

  He marched around and yanked the other door open. What the hell was he supposed to do now? She was making him feel uncomfortable, like he was some hyena waiting for her to weaken before he went in for the kill. Except it wasn’t funny and he wasn’t playing. And he didn’t want to hurt her. But it was just a frigging farm at the end of the day, a run-down farm with some ponies and a few horse-mad girls coming for riding lessons and not paying enough to cover the cost of the horse nuts and hay, let alone a mortgage. Sitting with her in that shabby kitchen had made him feel everything except businesslike, but coming out here wasn’t helping either.

  She was giving him a quizzical look. “You still want to look around?”

  “Sure.” He smiled, trying to release the tension in his jaw. “Try and stop me.” His eyes traveled down over her body. “I want to see every single thing.”

  She gave that small, self-conscious laugh that made his stomach turn deep down. He’d come up with something. Eventually.

  “Hit the gas, girl.” He looked out of the window; countryside and battered chic wasn’t really his thing. The landed gentry definitely weren’t his thing. But getting his hands on her again was, even if she was one of them. Out of his league, right out of his stratosphere.

  Saul felt the tension ease as she nosed the Land Rover down the steep hill. She was relaxed now, confident; she’d lost the bossy edge and she handled the battered vehicle with a familiarity that said she’d probably been driving cross-country since she could reach the pedals.

  “That wood”—she pointed to the trees on the edge of the field—“is my boundary.”

  “Any other boundaries I should know about, Roisin?”

  The green eyes met his. “Not very subtle, are you? But seeing as you ask…Oh, sure, I have lots, lots of boundaries.” Her mass of hair was still tangled from their earlier tumble in the straw, and he could smell the alluring scent of woman that surrounded her. Her smell, her own unique, distinctive blend of want, of need.

  “Do you mind if I explore them?”

  She had pulled the handbrake on, knocked the gear lever into neutral. As he looked into her eyes, they darkened with an invitation he couldn’t ignore. Her lips had parted slightly, lips he could imagine wrapped around his hard cock, lips that held a promise of something more than quick satisfaction.

  “I thought you’d already done that.” The husky edge set the hair on the back of his neck bristling.

  The alabaster skin of her stomach was pale against his tanned hand as he pushed her top up, leaned forward to kiss its soft curves just so he could hear her moan of satisfaction. “I’ve only just started.” Her breast filled his hand perfectly, and she let out a little whimper as his fingers tightened around the hard bud of her nipple. He squeezed harder until her breath quickened and she tipped her head back, exposing the long, slender column of her neck. His eyes narrowed as she ran her damp tongue over the full red lips, circling, caressing her own mouth, and it dragged a groan from him as his balls tightened painfully. The green eyes shot open; and for just a moment she stared unseeing at him, before she reached out, her hand fumbling at his belt, dragging at his zipper impatiently.

  The coolness of her long fingers against his hot cock sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with temperature. She hesitated, then slid her soft hand down the length of him, slowly leaning forward and dragging another groan from him as she lapped around his rim, her warm, damp tongue flicking at the sensitive underside before circling the top of him, spreading his precome in a long, sensual lick that made his hips jerk forward and his balls tighten.

  Soft lips wrapped around him, a warm, firm caress, and he pushed his fingers deeper into her hair, swearing under his breath as his cock threatened to explode. Reciting the alphabet backward might be some people’s idea of a distraction, but right now he couldn’t think of anything that could help him. Dammit, he just couldn’t think. He threw his head back, shut his eyes, tried to distance himself from the sweet torture he wanted to prolong. Her fingers tightened around the base of him as she slid her red lips down his length with a slow stroke that made him want to scream, her hair brushing against his stomach with the lightest of touches that made every nerve-ending cry out for more.

  “Oh Roisin.” She eased up, her tongue flickering against him until he was almost out of her mouth, and he glanced down. “Don’t stop, for God’s sake.” She flicked a look at him under those long eyelashes, then dipped back down again, slowly taking him into her mouth, her hand twisting as she pulled up again. He groaned and she seemed to take it as a cue, sliding her mouth up and down with slow strokes that grew faster and more confident, her tongue flicking into the sensitive V on every upward stroke, sending a shard of need to his throbbing balls. He fought the urge to thrust into her throat, but he didn’t need to thrust; she took him deeper until he could feel her tight throat muscles closing in around his tip, squeezing and then releasing just at the moment he felt he couldn’t hold back. Then she was building up the rhythm, the warm dampness of her teasing, until he couldn’t hold it any longer. He gripped her head, thrust his hips, and dimly heard the guttural roar that was dragged out of him as he came in uncontrollable, strong bursts that left his stomach trembling.

  “Shit.”

  She was still licking him, licking her lips, as she lifted her head up; she paused to circle the head of his cock one last time before she sat up straight.

  “Is that much, you know, come, normal?”

  He knew he was grinning like some stupid, gawky teenager but he couldn’t help it. He tried to keep a grave face. “I really wouldn’t know. I’ve never sucked a cock in my life.”

  “Oh.” She colored, skin flushing bright red almost before he’d finished talking, but she grinned back. “Are you going to put it away, then? ’Cause some of us have to go shoveling shit.”

  “Eh?” He blinked, trying to clear his head.

  “Muck out the stables.”

  “Ah.” He zipped up his trousers. “Do you never bother tidying away after giving head?”

  She stuck out her tongue as he straightened himself. “I’d hate to have an accident with the zipper.”

  “Ouch. Well, anyway, you’ve just given me an idea of how we can save this place. Want to hear it?”

  “Normally I’d say yes, but if a blow job gives you ideas, I’m worried.”

  “Trust me, it could work.” He watched her shove the 4x4 decisively into gear and wondered what it would be like making out as the vehicle bounced its way over the rutted field, him in the driving seat, her astride him in his lap. Later, next time. There had to be a next time. Which meant she had to at least consider his idea.

  ***

  Roisin stared at him, which seemed to be something she was doing a lot these days, the
n shifted her eyes back to the windshield as they hit a big rut and the steering wheel nearly yanked her arms out of their sockets.

  Trust me, he says, and then he suggests she let him use half the place to run an altogether different type of riding school.

  “You want to what?” She couldn’t have heard right; her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Run a sex counseling place here. Hey, even without looking at your books I know you can’t afford to rent the lot and you can’t afford to buy it back, right? So we share the place. You pay rent for your bit and they pay rent for theirs, and we see how it goes. I’ve been struggling to find premises for them and it just hit me how perfect this place is. It’s private, tucked away, and”—he was grinning, she didn’t need to look, could hear it in his voice—“no one can hear the moaning and screaming.”

  “Saul!”

  He leaned around to kiss her, smelling of sex.

  She screwed her head away. “Sex. Counseling.”

  “Yup.” She couldn’t look at him, but he still sounded too bloody pleased with himself. “I’m involved with this company…”

  “Involved? Funny type of company to be involved in, like they’re friends?”

  “No, like they’re clients.” He ran a finger down the side of her face, along her jawbone, setting off goose bumps.

  “Clients?”

  She ignored his sharp expulsion of air. “It’s a business interest. Look, are you prepared to listen or not?”

  She shrugged. “Not” would probably be the safest answer.

  “I’d make more money just selling off this place, but for some mad reason I’m trying to help and I’m willing to bet this could work.”

  “It doesn’t mean you get another blow job.” Why did any kind of sex with him put her brain into happy camper mode and distract her from the real issue: impending homelessness? He was harrumphing: sex, it seemed, was an on-off switch for him. “Okay, okay, carry on.” Although she’d really rather he didn’t.

  “These clients of mine, they’ve got a good client list but nowhere to go. And you’ve lots of space you don’t need. It would be perfect to combine the two; you can carry on with your horses if you want, and we can run this business alongside. These guys are more than capable of dealing with all the day-to-day running; they just don’t have premises or money, and I reckon in the right place they can get back to turning a good profit.”

  “Combine the two? Alongside? Alongside?” She was getting screechy; she mustn’t get screechy. “Are you mad? I’ve got kids coming here, and middle-aged moms who want to learn how to ride horses, not, not…”

  “To learn how to ride their husbands?”

  She tried to ignore him, tried not to let visions of naked bodies filter into her head. “And what do you mean, we? We, since when has this been we? And if it’s such a good business, how come they had to get you involved?” She frowned as she pulled into the yard and switched off the engine. He was making it up, kidding her; he had to be.

  “They were being screwed renting premises, then one of the partners bailed on us with some cash.” He paused and his eyes met hers, but he was seeing through her; she could almost see the cogs whirring. “Which just about finished them off. But sex sells, Roisin, believe me. And these guys know what they’re doing, but they’re happy for someone else to take the financial responsibility. I bet they get more takers for their riding lessons than you do for yours.”

  She scowled. “Smart-ass.” Tried to ignore the dirty grin on his face. A grin that was dangerous. A grin that told her he was getting more into the idea by the second.

  “I’m not kidding. People are happy to pay for pleasure, real pleasure.” His voice deepened back to that liquid chocolate point.

  She tried to ignore the warmth swirling in the pit of her stomach. He was mad. What type of girl ran a place like that? “A brothel? That’s your solution, that I turn this place into a brothel?”

  “It’s not a brothel and it won’t be you running it. They are trained counselors with clients who pay for therapy, couples who want to improve their sex lives, not just pay for a quick and dirty shag.” He smiled. “And as for the ‘us’ bit”—he leaned in closer until his breath warmed her neck, sending a new tingle down her spine—“we’re in this together. I’ll let you stay and run your stables, but I want something in return. I want you to act as manager for me and oversee the other side of the riding school, which means you pay even less for your rent. We’ll try it for six months, then if you think you can remortgage I’ll listen, or I’ll let you know if I’ve decided it’s not working and I need to sell.” He moved back, and she let go the breath she’d been holding.

  “Gee, ta, that’s so generous.” But she supposed it was generous, and a stay of execution for six months.

  He put out a firm hand then, and she flinched as he took her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Have you got some other solution?”

  “Why? Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

  She could swear he clenched his jaw. “Call it a gesture of goodwill, belief in you.” He paused, shrugged, and she could have imagined his tension. “I still make a profit, I can’t lose. Anyhow, it’s your choice, but that’s my offer.” His hand settled on her knee; a warm, firm hand that sent a tingle straight between her thighs to a pussy already throbbing with frustration again. Swallowing his come, feeling that rock-hard cock twitch in her throat, had turned her on more than she could have imagined, and for a moment she’d wanted to just clamber over the gear lever and settle astride him on the seat. She blinked hard to get rid of the image.

  “I don’t want to shut you down, but I’m not going to sit by and do nothing.” The warmth drifted higher. “Every day you think about it is costing me money. I can leave now, be out of your hair within an hour, and you can have a month to move out.” He leaned forward and kissed her neck, his teeth nibbling a path of want that made her juices flow. “Or you can go into business with me.” He sucked at her soft skin and she clenched her fingers, trying to stop the moan that struggled to escape. “The sex business.”

  She did her best to ignore him, did her best to ignore the distracting sensations that were tingling their way through every inch of her. She could move away, but she didn’t want to. And she didn’t really want him out of her hair. Even though it would be the clever thing to do, to just let him go, let it all go.

  “I need to keep this place.” Her voice trembled as his breath heated up her skin. She had to keep the last thing she had. She’d relied on other people for too long and now she needed to take charge. She dropped her hand on top of his, stopping his steady progress up her inner thigh. “Show me more, and then I’ll decide what I want to do.”

  He moved back then, and the cold air hit her skin where his mouth had been. “Good girl.” The smile was warm, but his eyes were burning into her like hot coals, making every muscle in her stomach clench with need. “We’ll go video conference them, then you’ll decide?”

  “Yup.” She swung her legs out of the confines of the Land Rover, away from him. She’d look, listen, and then decide. Except she had a horrible feeling the decision had already been made for her, but however dangerous the sex business was, it couldn’t be anything like as dangerous as the man who was uncurling his six-foot frame out of her vehicle. And if she did this it had to be alone. No “us.”

  “I’ll help you with that shit shoveling first, then.”

  “Dressed like that?” Roisin grinned. “It’s not the kind of stain that comes out of a designer suit too well.”

  “Ha, funny. Give me two minutes and I’ll be changed into my jeans.”

  “Designer jeans?”

  “Naturally.” He gave her a toe-curling grin. “Don’t go away.”

  ***

  She wasn’t about to go away, but she was torn between wishing she had and wishing she hadn’
t as she watched him muck the stables out effortlessly. A thin sheen of sweat coated his nut-brown torso, a trickle running down across his well-defined abs, giving her a sudden urge to move forward and taste the salt of the droplets, the musk of his skin.

  “You don’t look like you shuffle paper all day.” The words slipped out before she realized.

  “Who said that’s what I do?” He grinned, straightening and running strong fingers through hair that had curled with the damp.

  “But I thought you…”

  “Worked in the City pencil pushing, robbing the rich to make myself even richer?” He chuckled dryly, didn’t seem offended. “I was a bricklayer when I left school, and I guess the habit never left me; being physical still keeps me sane.” The curl of his mouth was wicked, making her breasts feel heavy, aching for his touch. “Don’t you find the same? That there’s nothing like a good workout?”

  He winked, then lifted the pitchfork again, his muscles tensing and flexing under his skin with each swing. Roisin gave up the pretense of work, stopped trying to drag her gaze away from the jut of hip bones she could just see over his low-slung jeans, the worn denim hugging his hips and the muscled thighs, and just stood and admired the view.

  Just who the hell was he? That was the bit that really sent a wave of unease through her. For a moment, she considered turning tail and running before she gave in to the urge to jump him. Mucking out would never be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  ***

  Roisin stared at the laptop screen and tried to ignore the hunk of masculinity at her side, which was tricky when he’d pulled her between his thighs and was breathing down her neck. Very tricky. The heat of his chest was pressed against her back, the smell of raw male teasing her senses, his cock nudging her bum. She wriggled self-consciously, then froze as he groaned in her ear.