I arched my ass against his belly, tightening my walls around him. “Quit playing with me,” I said. “If I wanted to be teased mercilessly, I’d have asked Waylon to come.”
“Quick and dirty, then,” he said, giving my nipple a squeeze that shot straight to my clit. “You asked for it.”
He drew his hips back, slowly dragging his cock out while he kept my nipple pinched tightly between his thumb and finger. When the head of his cock was right inside my entrance, he slowly slid it back in, stretching me wide until he hit my depth and a dart of pain throbbed through me.
“Where’s the quick and dirty,” I panted, grinding against him.
“I’m just getting you warmed up,” he said, nuzzling the back of my neck. He drew his hips back and gave a vicious thrust, this time so hard his belly slapped against my ass.
“Yes, just like that,” I cried.
“Spread ‘em for me, Princess,” he said, pumping into me rhythmically.
I widened my knees on the bed, letting him get even deeper. He pushed off the bed and stood behind me, gripping my hips and slowing his motion. His cock strained inside my sheath, filling me to the brim and then some. “Pound me,” I whimpered, needing it to be over, to find my relief.
“What’d you say? I can’t hear you with your face in a pillow,” he said, swiveling his hips and hitting all the right spots inside me. I cried out wordlessly, not able to form a coherent thought.
I pushed up onto my knees and threw my arm around his neck, turning my head to bite down on his ear. “I said, pound me,” I growled.
Sawyer crouched slightly and then thrust upward, rocking me forward onto the bed. He fell onto me, driving into me faster and faster, his cock slippery with my juices. At last, he collapsed onto me, his hips locked to mine. When his cock lengthened inside me, it hit that spot one last time, and I cried out again and again, my walls clenching around him as his come flooded into me.
His chest heaved on top of my back as we lay there catching our breath. His cock pulsed with contentment inside me, and I squeezed back in answer.
“Damn, girl,” he said. “I should have encouraged my dad to get married a hell of a lot sooner.”
4
Amber
A few days later, when the guys were out, I got a phone call. This time, I knew that it was no renter. “You probably shouldn’t be calling me,” I said as an answer.
“Tell Sawyer that when he doesn’t answer his phone, I’ll call you instead,” Cody said. “Then I won’t have to.”
“Calling their girlfriend is probably not the best way to earn forgiveness for running off with Waylon’s fiancé,” I said. “Just FYI.”
“I reckon,” he said. “Well, you can tell my brothers that I’m heading that way. Haven’t been around in a few years. Wanted to get a look at the ranch.”
“Um…I don’t know if that’s really the best idea,” I said. “I mean, I believe you’re sorry. I even think they believe it. But that doesn’t mean they’ve forgiven you.”
“Thing is, I tried staying away and leaving them alone,” he said. “And that didn’t work. So I reckon it’s time for a new approach.”
“If you say so.”
“Let them know I’m coming by,” he said. “I’m not going away this time. Guess they’ll just have to get used to that.”
“I’ll tell them.”
When I’d hung up, I texted the guys. When I didn’t get an immediate response, I figured I’d better head out and tell them. They probably had the tractor running and couldn’t hear a text alert over the engine. I didn’t think they’d enjoy coming home to find Cody there again, probably sitting in their kitchen chatting with me. I could be mean and tell him to go fuck himself, but I didn’t think I could be as cold as Waylon. I felt bad for Cody, and I’d probably cave before the guys got home.
With that in mind, I bundled into my snow pants, parka, gloves, and hat before I headed out. It was cold as hell outside, though it hadn’t snowed in a week. The guys had headed out that morning, though I wasn’t sure where they’d gone. I thought about taking Van Gogh, but Holden had mentioned recently that she hadn’t been shoed in a while, and I didn’t want to risk her getting snow packed up in her hooves.
I passed the barn, outside which the horses were huddled under their blankets in the corral, eating hay from the round bale. Van Gogh lifted her head when she saw me, gave me a withering look, and sneezed.
“Love you, too,” I said, blowing her a kiss. I waddled out to the shop, bundled up so big I felt like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Inside, I looked around, considering my options. The guys had taken the giant tractor, which meant I could take either the side-by-side, the four-wheeler, or the T-Bird. Though I really wanted to drive the convertible, Waylon would literally murder me for even looking at the vintage muscle car he’d rebuilt from scratch. It was the love of his life. He’d probably rather I slept with his treacherous brother than touch the T-Bird.
That thought made me laugh as I climbed into the side-by-side. I’d never driven it by myself before, but I had driven it. Waylon had given me two lessons, and the last time, I’d basically done everything myself. It would be exactly the same this time, minus the bossy, demanding cowboy in the passenger seat.
I started it up, smiling to myself. It wasn’t so hard at all. And yeah, I might have almost run into the door of the shop, but I managed to stop in time to roll up the garage-style door. The driveway to the shop was packed firmly from the frequent use, so I rolled the cart right out onto it. I gave it some gas, and after an initial lurch, I was on the move. As some slim person in Virginia once said, I’d come a long way, baby. During the past year, I’d learned my way around the ranch so I wouldn’t get lost, taken on almost all of the horse duties, and now I was handling the equipment like a pro.
Without Waylon there barking orders at me, I could really enjoy myself on the side-by-side. I sped up, bouncing along one of the drives that wound through the ranch. My hair spilled out of my cap and whipped in the wind. It was almost as much fun as riding a horse. And unlike Van Gogh, the cart didn’t take its sweet time speeding up when I told it to. All I had to do was press down on the gas pedal, and it lurched forward and roared along the road like a beast.
As the cart crested a small swell and then dipped down the other side, my ass bounced a foot off the seat.
“Yee-haw,” I yelled, clutching the steering wheel and laughing like a maniac. This must be how Waylon felt driving his slick little convertible. Hell, if driving a car was half this fun, I might never walk anywhere again. Now that I knew how much fun it could be to drive this thing, Van Gogh better shape up and suck up to me good. She was in serious danger of being replaced as my main mode of transportation around Coyote Ranch.
In the light of the morning sun, the whole ranch was like a glittering winter wonderland. In times like these, I was so glad I’d left New York with its stinky exhaust and grey slush. Nothing in the world could compare to the sparkling purity of snow in Wyoming. The sight of thin white trees ahead drew my attention. I gazed up at them, awestruck by the beauty of the aspens, now camouflaged against the snow. Their white bark and black, horizontal stripes blended right in. They were every bit as beautiful in the winter as the fall.
They were in the exact same spot, too. Which meant I was about to nose-dive the cart into a giant riverbed.
With a shriek, I wrenched the wheel around. The side-by-side farted in protest, lurching madly as I fought to straighten the wheel. It plowed through the snow like a champ, careening over lumps and bumps buried under a foot of frozen white fluff. If I knew anything about ranch life, those were probably old cow patties.
The cart leapt up a slight bulge under the snow and straight through the barbed wire fence where I’d once been caught.
Craptastic. I was in a runaway golf-cart, and the only thing I could do was wrestle the wheel around and take my foot off the gas. After a few seconds, it slid and sputtered to an abrupt halt, throwing me forward against
the steering wheel. For a minute, I sat there trying to catch my breath. And then I saw the cows.
They were headed in my direction, about a dozen of them, probably coming to gloat at my incompetence. Despite what my stepbrothers said, I didn’t believe for a minute they were harmless. Just like Van Gogh, they were different beasts when the guys weren’t around. It was like they could sense my fear. Maybe they were jealous that the guys didn’t pay as much attention to them as they once had, or maybe the smell of the city was baked into me and they didn’t like outsiders. Either way, they were determined to drive me all the way back to Manhattan.
Too bad for them I wasn’t a pure Manhattanite anymore. I could drive a side-by-side like nobody’s business, current predicament notwithstanding.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to get the stupid thing into reverse. I yanked on the shifter, but it wouldn’t move. The wheels just spun in the snow. Heart hammering, I leapt out and ran around to the front to push. By then, the cows had trotted over. They started to make a circle around me, cutting off my escape. And then they started mooing at me.
I didn’t want to turn my back on them and let them sneak up on me. Not that I could do much about it even facing them. But at least I’d see death coming right at me.
I turned around, pressed my butt to the front bumper of the side-by-side, and started pushing. One of the cows started creeping through the snow toward me, so I threw up my hands and screamed. That stopped her in her tracks, and I remembered that they weren’t so fond of my screaming. Yes, I had learned that the hard way from another near-death cow experience. And now it was coming in handy.
So I opened my mouth and screamed like seven demon cows were surrounding me, mooing their satanic cow chant. Wait…seven seemed like an awfully low number. I chanced a moment to turn, and what I saw made my blood freeze colder than a cow patty in a Wyoming winter. They were making a break for the hole I’d made in the fence.
I turned back and started shoving harder on the side-by-side. No way could I chase down a bunch of cows. I didn’t have a lasso or even a horse to herd them. Though I knew there was no way it could happen, I had to hope my screaming had carried across the entire ranch. Because otherwise, I was on my own.
I jumped back in the cart and tried to back up again. The cart still didn’t move, but the cows closed in. I jumped out, waving my arms, and they danced back a little. With renewed effort, I started shoving my ass against the front of the cart.
A minute later, my voice was about giving out, and I smelled exhaust. My heart swelled with relief. I turned, and there, just inches from me, stood Cody.
I jumped back with another shriek of surprise. He’d stalked in quiet as a cow. I’d expected one of my stepbrothers—well, another one besides him.
“You okay?” Cody asked with a frown. “I saw some cows in the road, and when I stopped, I heard you screaming.”
I leaned against the side-by-side again and tried to pretend I was just casually sitting there, resting like I might sit on the bumper of a car. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just a little stuck.”
“Let me help,” Cody said, hopping in the side-by-side. With a lurch, it shot backwards. I fell flat on my ass.
Cody hopped out and held out a hand to me, pulling me to my feet. I stumbled against him, my squishy parka forming a pillowy barrier between us. For a second, I didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure why. His warm breath kissed my cheeks as he looked down at me, but I fixed my eyes on his chest, unable to look at him. When I did, Cody’s expression was bland, but I saw something in his eyes that made me quiver in ways that should’ve been reserved for my men alone.
With an abruptness that almost sent me sprawling, Cody stepped away from me. Shit. Had he read that look on my face as easily as I’d read his? Because it wasn’t true. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t, that I didn’t like him. I had my hands full—and then some—with his brothers. It was just my stupid, traitorous, horny body that responded to being so close to a man. After all, I had only been that close to three men for the past year, and every one of them made my body alive in ways I couldn’t comprehend. Of course it thought, in its brainless way, that being this close to a man meant he could drive me absolutely wild with desire and pleasure.
“We’d better get the cows back in,” Cody said, swinging back into the vehicle like he’d been doing it all his life. Like nothing had just happened. It hadn’t, I reminded myself. He’d just pulled me up from the ground. I was grateful that he didn’t laugh at my predicament or blame me for letting the cows get out, the way a certain Westling brother would have. So of course, I had to explain exactly how much of a dumbass I was after I got in beside him. Awkward silence was so not my thing.
“I’m really sorry for your trouble,” I said. “I was just out here, and see, I haven’t driven the side-by-side much, and I kinda lost control, and then—.”
“No trouble,” Cody interrupted, whipping the side-by-side around and heading for the hole in the fence.
I gaped at him. He’d actually interrupted me before I could get going on one of my verbal tirades. No one ever interrupted me out here. They’d just let me ramble on and on while they looked more and more amused until I ran out of steam. Back home, everyone interrupted my word vomit. New Yorkers didn’t have time to listen to nonsense.
“Okay, then,” I said, feeling strangely exposed, like he’d stripped me bare. Without my words to fill the awkward silence, I had nothing.
The cart dipped as we reached the road again, and I swallowed a squeal when my stomach dropped out. Cody stopped the cart right in front of his Jeep, which was parked even with the hole in the fence. When he turned and saw the cows plodding our way, he jumped up into the gap in the fence and hopped around waving his arms like a crazy person and cawing at them until they backed off.
“Come on,” Cody said, dropping down onto the road. “Let’s get the rest in, and I’ll patch up the fence.”
He started off, and I followed with a good amount of trepidation. “You know, I wouldn’t have let them get out on purpose,” I said.
“Course not.”
“It’s just that they had me trapped. I was afraid they’d attack if I turned my back.”
“Cows don’t attack people,” Cody said, hurrying along the road to where five cows were standing in the snow next to the fence, probably plotting their strategy.
I didn’t believe Cody for a second. They’d tried to attack me plenty. “Well, they sure like to run at me,” I said.
“They probably think you’re bringing them food,” Cody said. He skirted around the cows on the loose, though. “Just give them a good slap on the ass to get them moving.”
“Won’t they kick me?” I asked, watching with suspicion as Cody smacked their asses.
“Hya, hya,” he said, really getting into it.
I stepped up beside him and gave the last cow a gentle swat. There was a chunk of fur on its rump that was matted and crusted with something of a greenish hue that looked suspiciously like poop.
She didn’t move.
“You gotta let her really have it,” Cody said. “Urge her along.”
“Hya?” I said, giving her a little swat, thankful I was wearing gloves. Unlike the horses, she did not look super clean.
“Say it like you mean it,” Cody said. “Put some authority into it.”
“Move, you big poop-dropping cud-chewer,” I yelled, smacking her ass for all I was worth.
The cow moved! She started following the two Cody had gotten going. Cody smiled and shook his head. “That’s one way to do it.”
“I did it,” I yelled, pumping my fist in the air. Without thinking, I threw my arms around Cody in celebration. He stiffened, his hands dropping to my hips and holding me back a few inches so our bodies didn’t touch below the chest. It was the most awkward hug in history.
I quickly pulled away. “Sorry.”
Cody rubbed his jaw where a nasty bruise had formed. “I don’t guess you should go doing
that,” he said. “I’d like to keep the rest of my teeth.”
“It didn’t mean anything,” I said indignantly. You’d think I’d been hitting on him, not celebrating my victory of crusty, hostile cows.
Without a word, Cody stepped around me and trotted ahead to block the cows from going past the hole in the fence. I waved my arms and chased them down the road. Pretty soon, they’d lumbered up the step from the road to the pasture and gone right back through their fence.
“I can’t believe they went back in so easy,” I said as Cody picked up the broken fence and examined the wire. “I thought they’d put up more of a fight. They basically walked right back into their cage.”
“They’re herd animals,” Cody said without looking up. “They like to be together.”
“Still,” I said. “Seeing as how they were free for a second, I figured they’d make a run for the border.”
Cody smiled and shook his head. “They’re not that smart.”
“Obviously not,” I said.
“You’re really something, you know that?” he said. Before I could answer, not that I had an answer to that, he had hopped down onto the road and was jogging toward his Jeep. A minute later, he was back with a pair of plyers and a small roll of wire.
“You just carry that around in your car all the time?” I asked, edging away a little. He seemed pretty normal, but I couldn’t think of any reason to carry wire around unless you were a serial killer. Or, you know, you needed to fix a fence.
“It was in my tool box,” he said. “Here, hold this.”
He held out a piece of wire, and I decided that I would know about it if he was a murderer, so I stepped closer and took it from his gloved hand. He held the broken pieces of fencing together while I wound the wire around it. After repeating the process with the other two strands of wire, he stood and brushed snow off his clothes. Unlike me, he wasn’t wearing snow pants, and it occurred to me that he must be freezing his balls off out here. And now I was thinking about his balls.
Get a grip, Amber. This is the enemy.
Wrap Me, Cowboys Page 3
