Buck Me, Daddy

By Ruby Steele

My happy endings only come in one variety.

Then she rode into my life.

Nannies are supposed to minimize distractions, not cause them.

She’s got the kind of sweetness that makes a man want to sink in his brand.

And she’s connected so deeply with my spitfire of a daughter, she has me thinking I’ve found my match.

But I have time for two things in my life. My little girl Lyssa and working my a@@ off to stockpile my baby a fortune.

I should be focused on the ranch and my investments.

Instead, this cowboy’s aching to break a wild mare.

I’m usually the one who tames the wild things around here.

But just when I’m ready to give her the ride of her life, she pulls in the reins.

This stubborn cowboy’s set in his ways, but even I realize something needs to give if I’m going to keep her...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steamy eReads
• Release date: Mar 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005641146

Book preview

A sneak peek inside...

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We backtrack into the living space of the hotel suite, and the back of my knees hit the couch, upending my balance and sending us a both to the cushions. Rhett falls over top of me, holding his weight, but lowering his hips between my thighs. I bend my knees, lifting my legs around him, and he grinds his hardness into my sex, his lips crushing onto mine. He pulls at my button-up, popping the buttons free, and his hand goes directly for my breast. He pushes my bra down, and the panic comes swelling back — until his lips close around my nipple, and he sucks. My eyes roll back, and I moan freely, my thighs clenching around his sides.

He moves over top of me, his cock rubbing against my jeans, and I know that now is the time to bring it to a halt — but instead of saying a word, my hips rise up to press even more closely against his hardness. That tight package of his grinds into my clit, feeding my desire for more. His hands drive me crazy, his rough palms grazing over the smooth skin of my sides and belly. He angles down and unbuttons my jeans with a practiced hand.

Rhett, I don’t know—

But I’m cut off as his fingers dip below the waistband of my panties and rub against my swollen clit. I gasp, and air is taken from me as he slides one big finger between my wet slit.

His voice has a deep, husky quality to it as he asks, What don’t you know? I know you want to come with me. You’re so wet, Sophia.

He doesn’t expect an answer, nor does he give me a chance. His finger exploring between my slit enters me and curls up as he grips my pussy. His hand moves with his hips in the motion we had on the dance floor — in the motion of making love. The back of my head hits the cushion, and I cry out as a second of Rhett’s thick fingers presses inside of me.

He thrusts in and out, massaging me from the inside. You want me to stop?

He must know the answer already. I shake my head, my eyes shut firmly.

He asks another question. You want me to make you come?

I finally find my words and open my eyes. Yes. Please.

Rhett gets up onto his knees and strips my jeans off, yanking his button-up over his head as well. He’s built like a football linebacker, hard muscles cut clearly into his thick torso. Years of riding wild broncs have defined his shoulders while keeping his abdomen lean. He makes eye contact, and a wicked grin comes over his lips before he dips his mouth down to my panties. He runs his tongue over the fabric, making me grip into the couch to keep from bouncing off the walls — or from grabbing him.

His nose grazes up the skin of my belly below my navel, and he takes the waistband of my panties between his teeth, pulling them down a little before he lets go. He opens my legs wider and licks at the skin closest to the leg of my panties. He pulls the fabric aside, licking at my mound underneath. My hips begin to rotate and move of their own volition as he teases.

1

Sophia

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Nothing but country hills and fields have been speeding by the windows for miles. This is all his land?

My yaya watches the scenery go by in the passenger seat, and her accent has grown slight over the long years. Over four hundred acres on his home estate. There are a couple of satellites with a couple hundred acres each.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and adjust the air conditioning. It’s a hot summer out there, and I’m grateful that one of the few things that works on this old beater of mine is the AC unit. So, he gets this all from ranching?

Yaya gives me a good-natured chuckle. Lord, no. That’s how his family got started. That was well over a hundred years ago. Since then, they’ve gotten into growing crops and then breeding horses and rodeo steer, but Rhett was the one who really brought the Wallace’s into the twenty-first century. He’s into a little bit of everything. Real estate, investment in farming technology, even veterinary hospitals. A real modern-day rancher, he is.

Sounds like he might not be as backward as some of the traditional farmers in these parts, I venture. If I’m going to be spending a week at this guy’s ranch, the last thing I want is to be surrounded by a bunch of cowboys straight out of the eighteen hundreds.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, sweetie, Yaya says. Rhett Wallace likes his broncos fast and his liquor strong. The man works too hard, and he doesn’t stop. That’s why I can’t thank you enough for coming with me this week. I haven’t felt the same since that bout of pneumonia, and little Lyssa is her father’s daughter. That girl doesn’t stop moving.

I take a side glance — not exactly a big risk taking my eyes off the road for a moment in this flat, open country. I’ve been worried about you since you got out of the hospital, Yaya. I’m happy to help.

She puts a hand on top of mine — a hand which has become a bit more thin. I know. You’ve always been a good girl. I don’t like that you’re missing that... what do you call it — get together?

I have to laugh at her. Yaya has never been interested in cars. The Tuners Expo in Houston. I don’t have to go to an expo in order to see all the newest and greatest in the automotive industry. There is this thing called the Internet, after all. And most of the movers in the industry will be at various functions throughout the year.

But I know how much you were looking forward to getting your hands on some of that equipment and attending the demonstrations. Watching it on a little screen on the computer just isn’t the same as — what do you call it? Smelling the rubber?

I smile at the sensory memory of burning rubber as wheels spin. The burnout competition at that expo is legendary. But — I can watch videos online.

She pats my leg comfortingly. I know. But that’s exactly why Rhett is down in Rio de Janeiro right now. There’s a ranching expo like the one you should be at this week, and he usually takes Lyssa and I with him. But between my being a bit weak these days and the exposition not exactly being child friendly, he’s had to leave us behind this time.

We pull up to a private gate, and Yaya bends over practically into my lap to wave at the camera through the driver’s side window. The big, wrought iron gate swings open slowly, and I putz my little sedan through. Further up the private drive, the fields and pastures turn into manicured grass with perfectly rectangular hedges lining the driveway. The house comes into view — a house which, the closer we get, turns into a mansion.

I park outside of the massive structure, a blend of colonial and Victorian architecture three stories high: a hundred-year-old monstrosity completely outside of what I am used to, and yet kept up with immaculate detail. Yaya swings her legs out of the car, and we both exit just as a miniature, blond haired spitfire comes racing out of the front door with a massive, good old boy close on her heels. She’s all geared up in pint-sized chaps and a cowboy hat, her outfit completed by a leather vest with deputy star pinned to it. The good old boy descends the front porch in the act of removing a lasso from around his shoulders.

Rosemarie!

Yaya bends over and opens her arms to accept the seven-year-old into a true grandmother’s hug, kissing her hair for good measure. It looks like you roped poor Timothy into playing a little cops and robbers.

Sheriffs and bandits, the young girl corrects. Come on, Rosie, I have something for you.

Timothy — a