Hung: Like a…

by Snow, Jenika

  I focused on the here and now. I was cleaning the living room, and although I did it daily, the truth was the wind brought in dust constantly through the screen door. But it was just too nice to keep everything shut in—that and I’d be sweltering in here like a furnace was on. But cleaning kept me busy, and the pride I felt when things were in their rightful place, when everything looked nice and organized, made me feel good.

  I had two jobs to do, cook and clean. And I sure as hell was going to kick ass at them.

  I picked up one of the few pictures he had and stared at it. I assumed it was a young Dalton and his parents. His mother held him in her arms, a smile on her face. Over the last couple weeks, we talked here and there about personal things, conversing about our families. I knew his parents were gone, that he had no one else to take over the ranch when he retired. I’d seen the disappointment in his face after he said that, but he’d quickly hidden it, masking his feelings.

  I’d come to realize that Dalton didn’t like to show what he perceived as weakness. I didn’t know if that was man thing, a rancher personality, or maybe it was just all Dalton.

  I gave it a good wipe-down with my rag and set it back where I found it on the fireplace mantle. Once all the glass was cleaned, I did the vacuuming, fluffed the couch pillows, wiped off the leather sofas, and gave the room a good onceover to make sure I didn’t forget anything.

  It was going on lunchtime, and although I always made a huge breakfast spread for Dalton and the brothers, I knew they were always famished come the next meal.

  I headed to the room I now called my own and started putting away the load of laundry I’d gotten done folding and ironing this morning. I’d already done it with Dalton’s clothes, and although it wasn’t a requirement he’d asked of me in this position, I didn’t mind helping out any way I could. He helped me out so much already, even if he’d never fully understand that.

  Once done, I made my way into the kitchen to start lunch. Most days, it was something cold and easy, quick things they could eat, because that’s what they said they preferred. It was only breakfast that I went overboard, because I knew how much energy they’d need. Then dinner, I made sure to have a really good meal prepared for Dalton. By then, Jax and Charlie were gone, and it was just us. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t really look forward to our dinners, when we’d just sit and talk, when things were comfortable and relaxed.

  I headed into the kitchen and stopped by the window above the sink to watch Dalton. He was close enough that when he lifted up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat and dirt from his face, I saw his toned, six-pack abdomen in clear view. He had a trail of dark hair starting below his navel that disappeared into his jeans. Everything in me tightened, and I actually reached out and gripped the edge of the counter.

  Girl, get your mind out the gutter.

  And that’s exactly where my thoughts went. What did he look like naked? How accurate was that bulge he sported?

  I turned away and went through the task of cooking lunch, having decided on sandwiches, homemade potato salad, fresh-squeezed lemonade, watermelon slices, and some chips. Once everything was prepared and on the table, I was about to holler for them to come eat but noticed they were already headed up to the house. I couldn’t help but chuckle; their stomachs were better than any damn clock around.

  I focused on washing dishes just as I heard the front door open and the screen slam shut. Jax and Charlie started arguing as they headed into the bathroom to clean up.

  This was my new normal, and God, I was loving it.

  * * *

  I was just cleaning up the mess from dinner when I felt Dalton step into the kitchen. He’d taken a shower right after the meal, and I swore I could smell the pine soap he used wafting from the bathroom and filling the kitchen.

  Or maybe I just wanted him so badly I was losing my mind.

  I looked over my shoulder and wore a friendly smile, but his expression had that smile fading and something hotter taking its place.

  He looked at me like he was still hungry for something other than food.

  “Hey,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Hi,” I tried to respond in a calm manner. I didn’t want him seeing, the affect he had on me. It was starting to get uncontrollable.

  There he was, standing before me in nothing but a pair of black sweats and nothing else. No shirt, no shoes, just all his hard, sun-kissed skin on clear display. His abdomen was a work of art, his forearms defined with sinew and tendons, this raw masculinity pouring from him. His hair was slightly damp from the shower, and I curled my fingers into my palms at how good he looked.

  I couldn’t help the thought that slammed into my head of him throwing me onto the table and having his filthy way with me right here and now.

  I turned around and cleared my throat, drying off my hands with a rag and pretending that I wasn’t aroused right now, or that I hadn’t been checking him out. I tried to think of something more innocent, nonsexual.

  He moved into the kitchen, and my heart started pounding a little harder, a little faster. God, he looked and smelled so good. And the whole time, he watched me. It was probably nothing, but it sure felt like something.

  We said nothing, just stood there, watching each other, the heat seeming to grow in the room. And then I watched as he inhaled.

  “You smell good,” he murmured, and I saw the way he lowered his eyes to my chest before snapping them back up, as if he hadn’t meant to get caught.

  “It’s the lavender dish soap.” I could have slapped a hand over my mouth. God, that sounded stupid. The sight of his chest, of his broad shoulders and tanned skin, of the droplets of water that he didn’t quite get with the towel sliding down his flesh, had me wanting to lean in and lick them off.

  I was so needy and wet.

  He took a step closer to me, and I found myself taking a step back, the sink stopping my retreat. What was he doing?

  I found myself licking my lips, unsure what to say, unsure what the hell was even going on. The room was unbearably hot all of a sudden, and I found beads of sweat starting to dot my forehead. Dalton’s jaw and cheeks still had several days’-worth of scruff covering them, and I found that so incredibly attractive for some reason.

  “What are you doing?” I finally found my voice and whispered those words. Was I imagining this, having some kind of mental breakdown, because my desires were so strong in my head I was seeing them come to life?

  Oh my God, you’re losing your mind.

  I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the couple shots he’d had after dinner. Was he drunk right now? Buzzed? I stared into his eyes and saw the glossy hint in them, wondered if this was why he was being so bold, so… unlike himself.

  He cleared his throat, blinked a few times, and then stepped back, as if he realized what he’d been doing. “I—I’m sorry.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “It’s the whiskey. I don’t really drink the hard stuff, but it was one hell of a day with the horses and trying to get the stables in order. I guess the alcohol went right to my head.” He lifted his arm and ran his hand over his hair, mussing the dark strands even more. “Sorry. That was highly inappropriate, crowding you like that.”

  I felt my throat tighten and licked my lips. I didn’t know what to say. I was holding onto the counter behind me like it was a lifeline. In fact, I wanted to tell him to crowd me again.

  But before I could make a fool of myself and say that, he said goodnight and left me standing alone in the kitchen and wanting nothing more than to go to him and beg him to fuck me.

  God, this man was like a drug to me. My body was on autopilot, wanting him and knowing he was the only thing that could sate this fire inside me.

  And with each passing day, I didn’t know if I was strong enough to deny myself being with him, to stop from throwing myself at Dalton and begging him to just give me what I wanted.

  And that was him.

  And as I stared after Dalton, I realized what I felt fo
r him might not be rational, might even be fast and crazy, but it felt like it was right.

  It felt like I was moving in the right direction.

  I wanted more with this cowboy, but would giving myself over to Dalton be the right move? I was starting to finally feel stable in life, was saving up, trying to build myself up again. The thought of leaving Falls View seemed so… wrong.

  The thought of never seeing Dalton again seemed abhorrent.

  But if I gave myself to him, would he break my heart? Because as of right now, I was already falling for him, and I didn’t know if emotionally I could handle his rejection.

  But on that note, I also knew I didn’t want to stop what was naturally happening. I wanted to see how far it would go.

  Chapter Seven

  Dalton

  It had been two fucking weeks since I’d been working on the damn chicken coop and saw her dress fly up, since I told myself I’d keep things professional.

  Fourteen days, I’d kept to that promise, kept my hands to myself, my dick in my pants, and acted like her employer, not a man totally head-over-heels for her.

  But here I was, that self-control totally fucking unraveled, gone out the damn window. It had been hard the last two weeks, that little voice in the back of my head, that devil on my shoulder, whispering to just have her, claim her—fuck professionalism. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her looking at me, the desire on her face, even though she thought she masked it.

  She didn’t, just like I didn’t try to hide it.

  But despite all that, I turned away from her, left Macey standing in the kitchen probably thinking I was fucking insane, crossing all the damn professional lines. I shouldn’t have had those shots of whiskey.

  But with each I took, I found it harder to move away from her. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go to her, embrace her, pull her into my chest, and cup the back of her head so I could devour her mouth. And as I found myself right at my bedroom door, I looked over my shoulder and stared at the long hallway. God, I had to go to her.

  I had to be with her.

  It wasn’t the booze talking. It wasn’t the arousal pumping through my veins. I felt this pull, this connection to her as soon I’d seen Macey standing right outside my front door. And it had taken everything in me not to claim her then.

  This might be the biggest fucking mistake, but I turned around and headed right back to her. But when I took the stairs two at a time, rounded the corner, I watched as she was striding right toward me, as if she’d been coming to me, as if she needed this too. I stopped, frozen. She did the same, both of us just staring at the other, the room hot, my body sweaty despite just showering.

  I couldn’t stop myself from groaning at the sheer sight of Macey. God, she was beautiful. And when I heard her sharp inhale, saw the way her breathing changed, could see how hard her nipples were beneath her shirt, I found myself right in front of her a second later, cupping the back of her neck, holding her close to me. I’d been picturing doing this so many times over the weeks she’d been working here… living under the same roof as me.

  I couldn’t let her go if my life depended on it.

  I listened to her breathing hitch as I wrapped my other hand around her waist, curling my fingers into her lush body. I squeezed the flesh ever-so-gently, just to see what her reaction would be. The way her pupils dilated and her breath caught had my cock jerking behind my fly. I wanted her naked, spread out before me on my bed, my scent surrounding her, Macey’s sweet fucking aroma engrained in my head.

  I wanted to feast on her body.

  She shifted on her feet slightly, and the scent of oranges and vanilla, like delicious sweet sherbet on a warm summer day, came from her. I held in my moan of approval, tightened my hand that was wrapped around her waist, and breathed out, trying to control myself. I’d have her soon enough; there was no doubt about that.

  “I need you in my room, Macey. I don’t want to rush this, to rush you, but I need you so fucking badly.”

  And when she nodded, when I knew she wanted to give herself over to me as badly as I wanted to give myself to her, I didn’t stop as I took her hand in mine and led her to the one place we could really be together in every filthy fucking way. I mean hell, I could have here anywhere in the house, but the thought of laying her out on my bed, my things, my scent covering her, made this primal part of me rise up.

  Once up the stairs, down the hallway, and in my room, I let go of her hand and watched as she stepped farther inside. She turned and faced me just as I shut the door, closing us in.

  Things were going so fucking fast, but I didn’t care, and I could see neither did she. Macey was right here in this damn moment, ready for me, going with it, because it felt so fucking right.

  I could have switched on the light in my room, but the glow from the moon coming through the open curtains washed her in this pretty silvery glow. It turned me on.

  “The bed, Macey,” I found myself grunting out, and when she turned around and started walking toward it without any hesitation, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the perfectly round globes her ass. I needed her out of those damn jeans now.

  When she reached the bed, she turned around, and I forced myself not to grab my cock and stroke myself through my sweatpants at how fucking hot Macey looked. I felt this insatiable need to be with her, to fuck her like I was some kind of damn animal. And right now, all I wanted to do was rip off every stitch of her clothing, lay her back on my bed, spread her creamy thighs, and shove my dick deep in her body, making her take every last inch of me.

  That thought had me stilling. What would she do? How would she react when she finally saw what I was packing? I wasn’t an arrogant bastard, especially not where looks or physique were concerned, but I knew my dick was huge, thick and long, a good ten inches of hard steel when erect.

  My cock was throbbing, aching, and my balls were drawn up tight to my body. I could feel how much I needed to fill Macey full of my cum, my balls heavy with my seed.

  Her long, brown hair was in a braid, some strands hanging loose from it, wisps moving along her temples. I was about to tear Macey up in only the best of ways.

  “You look like you want to eat me alive,” she whispered, and I heard the underlying moan in her voice.

  God, she had no fucking idea how true that statement was.

  “Tell me what you want, Macey, and I’ll give it to you.” I wanted her to talk dirty to me, to be obscene in what she needed from me.

  She took a moment to answer, and then I watched as she swallowed, her chest rising and falling faster and quicker as she started breathing harder.

  She was primed for me. I could tell.

  “I just want you,” she whispered, and I groaned.

  I took a step forward, my focus trained right on her.

  There was no way I could control myself where she was concerned. I wanted her too fucking badly. Macey had big breasts, ones that tightened the material of her shirt every time she inhaled. Her nipples were hard, and I wanted to tear the material away and feast on her tits, run my tongue along her neck, taste how sweet her skin was. I wanted to suck on her nipples and see if I could make them harder.

  Macey licked her plump, red lips.

  I stopped when I was a foot from her. “Take your clothes off, and do it nice and slow for me, Macey. I want to appreciate the view as you reveal yourself to me.” My voice had gone so fucking deep from my arousal.

  She listened to me right away, and I felt a thrill of pleasure move through me at the fact that she obeyed. When she had her shirt removed, I stared at her breasts all but popping free of the confines of her lacy bra. My mouth watered. I reached down and palmed my cock through my sweats. My dick was harder than I’d ever felt it, and I had no doubt pre-cum lined the slit and started to make a wet spot in the front of my boxer briefs. The image of her on her knees in front of me, lapping up the seed that spilled out the crown of my dick for her, played through my head on repeat.

  My body po
sitively fucking ached, craved to be inside of her, to feel how tight, hot, and wet her cunt was, if her body would squeeze me like a vice.

  She let her shirt fall to the ground then went for her bra, removing the material so damn slow it was almost torture.

  “Yeah, just like that, baby,” I said low, watching as she let the bra fall to the floor. I stared at those big, glorious breasts, tipped with dark-pink nipples, the peaks taut, hard as if she needed my mouth on them. My tongue swelled, and I could practically taste her flesh.

  I was by her in the next second, tearing at the rest of her clothes, needing them off of her. When her pants and panties were nothing but tattered remains by our feet, I pressed my chest to hers and just revealed in how good she felt. But I only allowed myself that pleasure for a second.

  I pulled back and reached out, grabbing both breasts in my hands, molding my fingers around the soft flesh, and then lowering my face to those luscious mounds. I licked at the turgid peaks, sucked on them until she was breathing hard for me and had her hands on my shoulders, her nails in my flesh. I didn’t stop, couldn’t, didn’t even think about ending this moment. But if I didn’t slow the fuck down, I wouldn’t be able to feel how tight and hot her pussy was.

  I pulled back and looked down to see how red her areolas were, how tight I’d made her nipples. The tips were elongated from my suctioning, and the scent of her desire filled my head.

  Straightening fully, I glanced down at her and rubbed my thumb along her bottom lip, thinking of all the nasty fucking things I wanted to have her do with that pretty mouth of hers. God, I was filthy in this moment.

  I was to the point where I was almost too far-gone that if I didn’t control myself, I’d end this before it started because I’d come in my damn pants.

  There was no more waiting. I couldn’t I all but ripped the sweatpants and boxer briefs off my body, grabbed my dick, and stroked it from root to tip, all the while staring at her. The crown of my shaft was slick with pre-cum, and I used my thumb to smear the fluid around the tip. And the way Macey looked down at my cock had me groaning.