Down and Dirty Read online

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  Copyright ©2008 by Desiree Holt

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  DOWN AND DIRTY

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  About Desiree Holt

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  A Total-E-Bound Publication

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  www.total-e-bound.com

  Down and Dirty

  ISBN #978-1-906811-32-7

  ©Copyright Desiree Holt 2008

  Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright November 2008

  Edited by Michele Paulin

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2008 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  DOWN AND DIRTY

  Desiree Holt

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Dedication

  This one's for Michele, queen of the editors, who has the most infinite patience and skill.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Lone Star Beer: Pabst Brewing Company

  Stetson: John B. Stetson Company

  Botox: Allergan, Inc.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Krista North pulled the souvenir bandana from the pocket of her jeans shorts and used it to blot the perspiration gathering on her cheeks and neck. Damn, it was hot. Not even the faintest of breezes stirred the leaves of the giant oaks surrounding the party area or the crepe myrtles standing guard in their rock beds.

  She didn't think she'd ever seen so many people jammed into one space at the same time, even though the space was huge. At the bar. At the barbecue buffet table. Seated at the round tables that had been set up. Or just jammed together in clusters claiming whatever space they could find. And all of them seemed to be talking at the same time, at a fever pitch loud enough to be heard over the band playing off to one side.

  Leaning against a tree at the edge of the crowd, she let her eyes travel to the horizon. The Lone Eagle Ranch stretched as far as she could see. Lynn had told her it was more than fifty thousand acres, one of the five largest in the state, and ran an enormous herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle. Besides the ranch, the owner, Clint Brody, had invested his money in real estate, electronics and an oil recovery firm. The chatter on the street was that whatever he touched made money.

  She had yet to meet the man himself. She'd seen photos of him in the newspaper, usually with some gorgeous female on his arm, sometimes two. He smacked of arrogance, although he'd probably earned the right. He was also, at least in black and white, the sexiest man she'd ever seen. She wouldn't mind having him star in a few of her sexual fantasies. Of course, her chances of meeting him in this unruly mob scene were slim to none.

  Krista tilted the bottle of Lone Star beer in her hand and took a long, refreshing sip, wondering how the hell she'd ever let herself be talked into coming here to begin with. Oh, yes. Lynn. Her new self-appointed social director.

  "Come on,” she'd urged, waving the invitation in front of Krista's face. “I don't want to go alone, and you can't spend your life cooped up in your apartment."

  "Where's Scott?"

  Lynn and Scott lived in the apartment just below hers. Except for work hours, she seldom saw one without the other.

  "Taking care of family business in Montana.” She heaved a sigh of exasperation.

  Krista's eyebrows lifted. “On Labour Day weekend?"

  "Yeah. He was ready to leave for the airport when they had a huge storm. The roads are washed out. Can you believe it? Everyone in Texas wants to go to Clint Brody's annual bash and poor Scott is stuck in the boonies."

  "Just how did you get the invite?"

  "Our firm handles the web site for the ranch so we all get to spend one day a year pretending we live up there with the rich folks. Scott insisted I go, and I refuse to show up solo.” Lynn put on her poor-me face. “Come on, sweetie. You've been here five months and you've hardly met anyone."

  True, but for good reason. She'd had enough of people in her other life, especially Douglas who'd freaked out when she'd wanted to spice up their sex life. No, she was better off at home with her prized collection of toys and her fantasies.

  Yet, here she was, wearing one of the ridiculous straw cowboy hats every guest had received on the way in, drinking beer which she normally hated and trying to convince herself she was having a good time. Maybe if she finally met a real cowboy, it would be worth the outing. Tall, dark, and sinfully deadly, a man who knew how to turn a woman inside out. Ride her like the sleek horses tossing their heads in the nearby corral.

  Sighing at the knowledge that fantasy was probably all she'd ever get with him, she turned to dispose of her beer bottle only to have a woman bump into her and splash a drink on her halter top and shorts.

  "Oh, Ah'm so sorry,” the woman said, in the phoniest Texas drawl Krista had ever heard. She pulled a hankie from the cleavage of her denim halter top and began patting at Krista with it.

  "It's all right.” Krista pushed the woman's hand away as nicely as she could. “No problem. I'll take care of it."

  She forced her way through the throng of people, heading for the sliding glass door that she figured had to lead to some place where she could clean up. She opened one door just enough to let herself through and found herself in a huge, darkened room with richly panelled walls and an enormous fireplace crawling up one wall. Letting her eyes adjust to the change from bright sunlight, she searched for some place where she could repair the damage from the drink and spotted a bar against one wall. Sure enough, it had a sink with hot and cold water.

  Setting her hat on the bar, she slid behind it and turned on both faucets. Wetting her hands, she splashed water everywhere the drink had landed.

  "I've got what people tell me is the biggest shower in the world. It would probably do a better job than that."

  The voice was rich as sin and warm as melted chocolate. Krista's head snapped up, and she nearly melted into a puddle at what she saw. Six foot five of the most mouth-watering male she'd ever seen. Thick, curly black hair
crowned a face that the word ‘rugged’ was made for. Lashes equally as dark shaded eyes of smoky silver. A thin cotton plaid shirt and soft jeans barely concealed the hard musculature of his body. Crisp dark hair peeked out where the shirt was open at the neck, and the rolled-up sleeves revealed arms with well defined muscles that didn't come from any gym. As her eyes automatically swept over his body, they strayed to his crotch where an impressive bulge pushed against his fly.

  "Would you like a closer look?” There was amusement in his tone.

  Krista felt heat rise in her face. Was it possible for the floor to open and swallow her?

  "Sorry. I'm just...” She wildly looked around for paper towels or a cloth or something to wipe herself with. Remembering the bandana, she pulled it out and began blotting herself.

  "Here. Let me."

  He was so close to her now that she felt as if he surrounded her. The heat of him, the male scent, clogged her senses. A smart woman would probably move or push him away. Actually run from the room. Except her feet seemed glued to the floor. Here he was, right in front of her, the type man who starred in all her darkest fantasies. She wondered if he noticed her suddenly hardened nipples poking against the thin fabric of her top or the way she squeezed her legs together to still the throbbing that beat in her pussy like a jungle drum on adrenaline.

  He took the bandana from her unresisting hand then gently wiped the places she'd splashed water on herself.

  "I saw Sue Ellen splash that drink on you,” he went on in that melting voice, “and figured you'd come in here to clean up. Thought I should come introduce myself since you're a guest in my home and we hadn't met before."

  One large hand was clasped around her upper arm, holding her steady, while the other one continue to pat and wipe.

  "I'm Clint Brody, host of the three ring circus going on out there."

  "I-I know,” she stammered.

  He stopped wiping and tilted up her chin with two broad fingers. “Now you're supposed to tell me who you are. That's the way it goes."

  "Krista.” She swallowed. God, this man was truly larger than life. “Krista North."

  "You must be new in town,” he commented. “I promise you, if you'd lived in San Antonio more than five minutes I'd know about it."

  "Six months,” she whispered, drowning in his eyes. “I moved here six months ago."

  "And this is the first time I'm laying eyes on you? I must be losing my touch, then. Well, Krista North.” He went back to easing the bandana over her throat and into the hollow where her pulse beat madly. “Welcome to Lone Eagle. Allow me to show you some good old-fashioned Texas hospitality."

  His hands came up to cup her face as his head bent and his mouth covered hers. His hands set up tingles in the skin of her cheeks and the touch of his lips sent sparks of sensation showering through her. Her breasts suddenly felt full and moisture flooded the crotch of her thong. He nibbled at her lower lip, teasing at it, tugging it between his teeth. Krista clutched his wrists, unable to do more than hang on and hope she didn't fall. When she opened her mouth on a sigh, his tongue moved inside without hesitation, brushing every interior surface, the tip of his tongue tracing lines against the roof of her mouth.

  His body moved fractionally against her, enough that his legs bracketed hers and the hardness of his cock pushed at her through his jeans. Heat consumed her, the walls of her pussy vibrated and she couldn't have pushed him away to save herself.

  When he lifted his head, she was dazed and breathless, her eyes held captive by those unusual silver ones, now darkening to a stormy grey. His tongue swiped lightly across her mouth.

  "I think we need to take this somewhere a little more private. Don't you?"

  Her brain seemed to have taken a vacation. “Wait. I don't ... I can't ... You can't..."

  "Oh, yes we can, darlin'. Just hold on.” Sliding his arm around her to hold her close to his side, he moved them effortlessly around a corner just as she heard the glass door slide open again. Clint fished a small back rectangle out of one pocket and pressed a button on it. “Hardy, you out there?"

  The sounds of the party crackled at them from the instrument. “Holding the fort. Where you at, boss man?"

  "Taking care of a little business. Keep those animals off my ass for a while, will you? Flash your pearly whites at ‘em and crack open the rest of the bourbon."

  "Okay,” the voice came back. “Just make sure you're out here when it's time for the little speech you always make."

  "No sweat.” He shoved what was obviously a two-way radio back in his pocket and lifted Krista easily in his arms.

  The sensible thing, Krista knew, would be to push him away, take care of cleaning up alone and find Lynn. Yes, that would be the sensible thing. But Krista wasn't in the mood for sensible. Clint Brody was every wet dream come true, every sinful man in her fantasies, dropped into her life by circumstance. No, she wasn't about to run away from this.

  "I'm taking you away from your guests,” she protested in a feeble voice.

  His smile was slow and the look in his eyes was ravenous. For her. “Hell, they won't even miss me as long as the bar keeps going. Now, let's see. Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was suggesting you might want to take a shower, wash all that sticky alcohol off your skin."

  Krista's heart pounded as he carried her down a long hallway and into the biggest bedroom she'd ever seen. He kicked the door shut with his booted foot and set Krista on her feet. His hands went to the knot of her halter at her neck.

  "Now, let's unwrap the present and see what the gods have sent me."

  She was lost in his eyes and his touch, this man who could easily be the central character of her fantasies. Her halter top fell away from her body and his big hands cupped her breasts, gently squeezing them.

  "Jesus. You have the most gorgeous breasts in the world. And your nipples. What a beautiful shade of rose. I love that they're hard already.” He bent his head and lightly bit each one in turn.

  Krista moaned and arched into him. His tongue licked each place his teeth had touched, and his warm breath blew over the wetness. Again she clutched at him, steadying herself.

  "I could suck these all day, darlin', only I want to see the rest of my present."

  God, his voice was like a narcotic, slithering over her like molasses. She heard the snick as he opened the snap on her shorts and the rasp of the zipper being lowered. Then his hands hooked in the waistband and drew down the shorts and thong in one swift movement. He bent, lifting her again, brushing off her shorts and shoes off with an impatient gesture as he carried her to the bed and laid her on the edge.

  She made no protest when he knelt in front of her and arranged her legs over his shoulders, giving him free access to her cunt. Someone seemed to have taken over her body and dropped her into one of her fantasies.

  "What a pretty pink cunt,” he murmured, his thumbs stroking her labia, then opening her wide to his gaze. “And already so nice and wet. And that tiny little clit, trying to hide from me. We'll have to do something about that."

  His pushed back the hood covering her clit, already throbbing in its demand for attention, and pinched it between thumb and forefinger, tugging on it.

  Her hips arched off the bed. “Oh, God,” she hissed.

  "Like that, do you, darlin'? I think you'll like this even better."

  He moved his head, and his tongue traced every inch of her slit, his tongue first flicking at her clit then tracing the seam of flesh from the bundle of nerves down to the opening of her vagina. When his tongue probed into that opening, she tried to squeeze her thighs together but his shoulders prevented her. Her pussy demanded something to fill its clutching walls, and he was teasing her.

  "You taste so sweet.” His voice hummed against her flesh. “Like strawberries and ice cream. You know, maybe we'll try that after a while."

  After a while? How long did he think she was staying here? In the next moment, when he slid two fingers inside her cunt, she didn't care. Pushing her
hips forward, she silently urged him to penetrate her more, give her more. Fill her more.

  "You have the most responsive body, darlin'. Jesus. How did I get so lucky today?"

  A third finger joined the other two. Then he captured her clit with his mouth, and as his fingers plunged in and out of her slick channel, her body began to clench, the rising wave of an orgasm moving through her so fast it stunned her. In seconds, she convulsed, the walls of her vagina clamping down on his fingers as her liquid cream poured from her. He never let up on his dual assault on clit and pussy until the spasms died down and he eased her through the aftershocks.

  At last, he shifted her legs from his shoulders and lowered them slowly to the floor, reaching forward to slide his hands beneath her and pull her towards him.

  "That was gorgeous,” he told her. “Watching you come like that made me so hard I don't know if I can walk. I think we need to do something about that, don't you?"

  Krista drew in deeps breaths, trying to find some measure of control in the situation. How had this happened? One minute she was washing a drink off her clothes and the next she was naked with a man who made her hot enough to self-ignite.

  "Um, don't you have to, you know, do your hosting duties and all? Smiling and shaking hands with all those people out there?"

  He laughed, and the sound set up a flutter low in her tummy. “As long as there's plenty of booze and plenty of food and they can all pretend how important they are, they won't miss me a minute. Let's go take a shower."

  "But...” She started to offer a mild protest. “You don't even know me."

  He grinned, and a dimple winked at one corner of his mouth. “I think we're taking care of that right now, aren't we?"

  Oh, yes. Let's definitely take care of this. Thank you, Sue Ellen or whoever the hell you are, for spilling that drink on me.

  By then, they were in the bathroom, as massively proportioned as the bedroom and a symphony of marble and glass and gold. Clint set her on her feet then reached into the shower to turn on the faucets. Jets of water sprayed from tiny heads set into the walls at a variety of heights and angles. He toed off his boots then stripped off his clothes and tossed them over a bench against one wall.