Every Second Counts (12 page)

It was so clear now. How could she not have recognized that back, that ass the moment she walked in? Her breath caught.

They were faint and nearly healed, but those were definitely scratches across Ryder’s left butt cheek. The vivid memory nearly stole her breath. Her nails digging into Ryder’s ass, urging her to thrust harder, faster as she was about to come. Bridgette sat on the desktop and squeezed her legs together to stop the throbbing in her crotch. Heat rose up her neck and she glanced around to see if anyone noticed.

But they were all sketching. Karen, too. She took a few deep breaths and refocused on her job. She moved from student to student, offering suggestions, commenting on their work. When the buzzer sounded, she pulled the curtain to conceal the stage while Karen switched on the overhead lights.

“You’ve got twenty minutes to work on your sketches, and then the model will return with a different pose for the second half of class,” she told her students before slipping behind the curtain to confront Ryder.

She picked up the robe tossed onto a padded bench that would be used for the next pose and held it up as Ryder pulled off the helmet. She put her finger to her lips and pointed to the door of her small office that served as a dressing room.

Ryder drew the robe around her shoulders but left it hanging open as she followed. Bridgette closed the door and whipped around to glare at her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hushed voice.

“I came to do what I said I’d do.”

“Keep your voice down. These walls are thin.”

Ryder’s hair was soaked from wearing the metal helmet under the hot lights. Sweat trickled down her neck, between her breasts, and over the bands of her abdomen.

“Close your robe, please.”

“I’m hot,” Ryder said, exposing a breast as she lifted the terry-cloth collar to wipe her face. “Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Ryder took a step closer and she breathed in her spicy scent. “Something I’d be happy to show you again, if you want.”

God, she did want. Badly. This room was too small. Ryder was too close. She needed to get out of here.

“There’s bottled water in the small fridge over there. I’d suggest that you drink enough to stay hydrated under the lights.” She pointed to the right. “The bathroom’s through that door.” She was babbling. Ryder obviously was acquainted with the bathroom because that was where she’d stripped before the class started.

Bridgette pressed against the door at her back when Ryder took another step forward. The robe had fallen back on her shoulders, baring her breasts. Her taut nipples were so close, Bridgette could almost feel them touching her own. Ryder’s eyes were liquid chocolate, her gaze melting.

“Don’t,” she whispered as Ryder’s lips brushed hers.

“I can’t help myself,” Ryder murmured.

The kiss was slow and languid. Ryder’s tongue was hot but her mouth gentle. She clutched Ryder’s robe to push her away but instead pulled her closer. Pressed between the door at her back and Ryder’s hard body, she whimpered and slipped her hand downward to clutch Ryder’s firm ass. Carefully. No fingernails, no marks.

Ryder’s fingers brushed her cheek and slipped around to grasp the back of her neck. The calluses of Ryder’s hand were rough against her skin.

Then she remembered why Ryder had calluses on her right hand. She pushed her away.

“Stop. This is not going to happen.”

“After class, then.” Ryder’s voice was hoarse.

“Never. It’s not going to happen again. Ever.” She smoothed her shirt and wiped at her lips, as though she could erase the kiss. “You have fifteen minutes before Karen comes back in and gets you ready for the next session. You’ll pose for fifteen minutes, take a five-minute break, then pose for fifteen more. After that you’re done.”

“When’s the next class? Karen said it was a two-night deal.”

“You won’t be here for a second night.” She slipped out the door before Ryder could say more.

When the lights dimmed and the curtain was drawn back for the next session, she was pleased that Karen had carefully followed her instructions.

Ryder was a Greek warrior, lounging on the padded bench, propped up by her left arm, shoulders turned toward the students. Her healing left leg lay flat on the bench, while the right was bent to support her arm casually resting on her knee.

But she wasn’t fully nude. Leather armor covered her shoulders and breasts. They had purposefully left off the matching belly plate to expose her muscled abdomen. Attached to the armor, a crimson cape draped down her back and swirled across her hip to discreetly cover her crotch.

Still, the female identity was obvious to Bridgette. The lack of body hair, the shape of the rib cage, elegant wrists, and finely boned hands were telling. Would her students recognize them?

Despite her frustration that Ryder was here, in her classroom, she reveled in the lesson this session would provide her budding artists.

The eye ports in the helmet were fathomless black holes under the stage lighting, but she could feel Ryder watching her. She stared back, careful to keep her expression stoic even though her mouth was parched and her heart pounded.

She watched the tight abdominal muscles contract and expand with each breath. Then they stilled, as though Ryder was holding her breath, and she realized she was unconsciously licking her dry lips. She ran her tongue over her lips again, inexplicably pleased when the muscles jerked, confirming she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity.

Feeling more in control, she went to the easel Karen had prepared for her and began to draw. Soon, she was immersed so deep, she sketched through the breaks and never looked up when Karen pulled the curtain on the stage and instructed Ryder how to exit without walking through the classroom after she dressed.

“Do you want to stay a while longer?”

She was surprised to glance up and see the classroom empty. Karen had already put the supplies away and stood near the door.

“I was about to head out,” Karen said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. Gosh. I didn’t realize it was so late. You go ahead. I need to wash up. I’ll lock the classroom.”

She carefully stored the drawing in her office and washed the charcoal from her fingers. The robe and costume Ryder had worn lay across the short sofa. She stared at the crimson cloak and realized the color had not triggered another anxiety attack. In fact, she was so focused on Ryder, she hadn’t even hesitated as she sketched the cloak. Relief flooded her, and she made a mental note to return the helmet and armor to the drama department tomorrow.

It was late when she stepped out into the cool evening, but she felt surprisingly good. A few students were still moving between the buildings and her car wasn’t that far away. She hummed to herself as she walked, enjoying the clear night. Then she stopped.

A dark figure sat on the trunk of her car. She slowed and glanced about. A young couple sat a short distance away on a bench, so she wasn’t alone. As she cautiously approached, the figure turned and the streetlight revealed Ryder’s face.

She let out her breath and walked directly to the car.

“If you need a ride, I can call a cab for you,” she said, unlocking the door. The hurt that flashed across Ryder’s features made her instantly regret her caustic offer.

“I don’t need a ride.” Ryder slid off the trunk and hobbled around to face her.

She was surprised to see Ryder using the cane again. She hadn’t had it in the art building. Standing while she posed for thirty minutes apparently had taken a toll.

“You’re a real faucet, you know. Off, on. Hot, cold.”

She sighed. “Marc, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ryder’s smile was bitter. “Good thing I’ve got a thick skin. But I always finish what I start. I told Karen I would be here next week to pose again.”

“I won’t need you next week. I’ve already promised someone else the job.”

It was a small lie.

“I don’t believe you.”

She rubbed her temple. “Look. I don’t usually know the models personally, and I realized tonight that I don’t want you up there naked in front of my students. It makes me uncomfortable.” Her earlier euphoria evaporated. She suddenly felt tired and deflated. “You make me uncomfortable.”

“I like the way you say Marc,” Ryder said softly.

Damn it. She wasn’t listening.

“I don’t want to go out with you. I don’t want to sleep with you again. Please leave me alone.”

This was a big lie.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her feet, refusing to meet Ryder’s gaze. There was a long silence.

“I won’t bother you again.”

She stayed propped against her car until she heard the diesel engine of the truck parked nearby rumble and didn’t look up until she was sure Ryder was gone.

“Well, well, well. You must be the big bad bull rider the children are all talking about.”

Ryder turned from brushing Wind Walker to study the attractive redhead who was assessing her, undressing her with every sweep of her gaze. “I’m Ryder.” She brushed her lips against the back of the woman’s hand. “At your service.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Not from the children, I hope.”

“No. They wouldn’t know of such things. But your reputation has preceded you.”

“Has it?” She stepped closer. The woman’s perfume was expensive. Her riding breeches hugged her curves like a BMW on a mountain road. “And you are?”

“Alexandra.”

Ryder’s interest—and other parts—swelled.
A redhead with big tits, the impulse control of a two-year-old, and the sex drive of a teenage boy.
She cocked her head, letting her gaze settle on Alexandra’s full breasts. “Exactly what does the rumor mill say about me?”

Alexandra traced her fingers along the muscled shoulder exposed by her black racer-back tank. “That you are strong and a fantastic rider.” Her hand trailed down and tugged at the waistband of Ryder’s jeans. “Rumors say you can give a lady a good ride, too.” Alexandra’s smile was predatory. “But maybe I should find out for myself.”

She moved closer, forcing Alexandra to step back. “A lot of rumors aren’t true.” Another step and Alexandra was against the side of the stall. “But I can guarantee that one is.”

Alexandra lifted her chin, her eyes challenging. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Ryder thrust her hips forward, pinning Alexandra against the oak paneling. She drew the shimmering red hair back and lowered her head so that her words, her breath washed over the pulse throbbing in Alexandra’s neck. “I think I should be the one to judge. I’ve heard a few things about you, too.” Alexandra’s neck arched toward her, as though seeking her kiss. But she denied her, keeping the sliver of distance between skin and lips.

The tables had turned between predator and prey, and Alexandra whimpered. “What have you heard?”

She slid a thigh between Alexandra’s legs and pressed against the heat of her crotch. “That you are one bad girl.” She rolled her hips and nipped hard at the plump earlobe. Word around the barns was that this one liked it a bit rough. “Bad girls sometimes need to be punished.” Another whimper, accompanied this time by a deep shudder. “Are you a bad girl, Alex?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I’m very bad. I cheat on my husband because he doesn’t give me what I need.”

“Tell
me
what you need.”

Alexandra seemed hesitant, her voice breathy. “I need to be spanked. I need to be pulled across your lap and spanked. Then fucked, hard, really hard.”

She bit down on the soft flesh of Alexandra’s neck and encouraged the jerking hips with her hands. “I can give you what you need. I can redden your ass and fuck you until you can’t sit down.” She abruptly stepped back, leaving Alexandra to thrust against empty air. “But not here. I need privacy and a bit of equipment.”

Alexandra’s face was flushed, her expression briefly stunned. She stared at Ryder. “I know a place. It has everything we need.”

*

“This is good, Bridgette. I like it.”

Leah surveyed the series of sketches Bridgette had taped to the wall.

“When I was watching Sure get the best of the larger colt, I thought maybe this could be a lesson on dealing with bullies or a story about learning to accept who you are, use the talents you have, it takes all sizes and types to make a team. Something along those lines.”

Leah nodded and pursed her lips. “The bully theme is important but a little overdone. I like the team idea. It’s more positive.”

“I like the teamwork idea, too. I could throw in a soccer ball.” She flipped the pages of her sketchpad to a clean sheet.

“A soccer ball. I like that.” Leah opened her laptop on the desk and surveyed Bridgette’s drawings again while it booted up. “We could start with the yearlings observing a group of kids playing soccer. Sure is standing at the fence, watching, when his friends join him and they get the idea to snitch a ball and see if they can kick it around.”

“Gotcha.” Bridgette began to sketch as Leah sat at the desk and typed out the story in her head.

They both looked up at the sound of a door slamming and footsteps. Leah glanced at the ceiling.

“Must be Skyler. There’s an apartment overhead that was hers before she moved into the house with Jessica. She’s probably looking for something she left up there.”

Although Leah and Bridgette both had work spaces in their homes, they found the office in Creek Barn, with the smell of leather and hay all around them, stimulating when creating their popular children’s stories about Leah’s Chincoteague yearling.

When they offered to donate ten percent of their book royalties to the Young Equestrian Program in exchange for work space, Skyler was happy to share her old office since she mostly worked out of the main office in the house now.

They heard more bumping above, then giggling.

Leah paused her typing. “You don’t think it’s some of the older kids, do you? No telling what they’re doing up there.”

A low moan, then murmuring. Bed springs squeaked and several thumps sounded, like shoes hitting the floor. It was pretty clear that whoever was up there wasn’t rummaging through a closet for lost boots.