by L. A. Fiore
“She’s lucky she has all of you.”
He swung his leg over his bike, reached for my hand as he closed the garage door. Once inside, he led me right to the shower. As the water warmed, he peeled my clothes off. It was the only way to describe how he removed each layer. His fingertips touching and exploring every part of me he discovered. When he had me down to only my bra and panties, he took a step back and just looked his fill. His gaze moved up my body before settling on mine. Grabbing the back of his tee, he pulled it forward and dropped it on the pile of my clothes. I’d seen his chest before, the defined muscles and the flawless tan skin, but my focus lingered on the scar of his gunshot wound.
“How did you get that?”
“Carly.”
My eyes jerked to his face. “She was high?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s why you didn’t want the hospital or the cops.”
“She has enough problems, she doesn’t need to get hauled into jail on top of it.”
For as cocky and smug as he was, there was so much more to him. And I liked the combination, the smug dick and the gentleman. It worked.
His hands moved to his jeans and taking his time, he worked the button and lowered the zipper. I felt his focus on me, but I couldn’t look anywhere but his fly. Then those jeans dropped, his boxer briefs followed. My mouth went dry, a thirst that demanded be quenched. He moved, like a big cat, slow and graceful. His thigh muscles drawing my attention, his abs and chest, those arms with biceps that would take at least four of my hands to span. As he grew closer, my gaze moved to his cock, the tip ending almost at his waist. His fingers brushed along my shoulder before he pulled one bra strap down. His lips followed his fingers, down my arm, across the swell of my breast. With a flick, my bra opened and he moved the silk away from his target—the material completely forgotten as his tongue traced my nipple, first one then the other. Reaching for him, I stroked him, lingering on the tip before slowing moving down the shaft. He was wide, my fingers came nowhere near touching, and I wanted every inch of him between my legs. I wanted to feel him moving inside me. His mouth closed over my nipple, sucking me deep as his hands moved to my hips to work my panties off. Remembering all that he wanted to do to me, the images he so vividly detailed that day at the trail, I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and dropped to my knees. He growled, long and deep.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes.”
My eyes stayed on his as I touched the tip with my tongue. And just that taste had moisture pooling between my legs. I ran my tongue up the length of him, a slow deliberate lick. Squeezing my thighs on the quivers that were growing stronger between my legs, I closed my mouth over him and pulled him deep into my throat. His hands laced through my hair as his hips jerked.
“Touch yourself.” He demanded.
And since I was so close, I did. Sinking my fingers in as I sucked him hard.
“Make yourself come.”
Every nerve felt electrified as I worked myself, pressing down on my clit while my head bobbed up and down as I worked him. My body spasmed around my fingers and he pulled me to my feet and reached for the hand I’d had between my legs, bringing each finger to his mouth to savor my taste. Then he dropped to his knees, spread me and drove his tongue in deep. I’d just come, but his tongue was relentless, his fingers working my clit and my body responded—writhing under his touch as the next orgasm moved through me.
“Twice and I haven’t even gotten my dick into you,” he said as he stepped me backward into the shower, reaching for a condom from the box on the counter. I watched him roll it on and felt like a junkie because I needed more, suspected I’d never have enough when it came to him. He learned my body…where I liked being touched, where I loved being touched, and when I couldn’t bear another second he lifted me and brought me down hard on his cock. Curling my legs around his waist, my hands reached up for something to hold as my back arched to take him deeper. His hips moved faster as he pounded into me until my body was helpless but to give him what he wanted. It felt as if I was splintering apart as my third orgasm of the night ripped through me. My body was still tingling from it when I touched his face, held it and watched as he came. His hips stopped, his eyes closed, his face harsh with pleasure. Glorious was how I felt, not self-conscious or embarrassed by my behavior, or even guilty. I felt wonderfully glorious. I traced his lips with my tongue, his eyes opened.
I reached for the elastic and pulled it out, his hair fell to his shoulders, black like midnight. Running my fingers through it, we spoke no words, just stayed where we were, his body inside mine, mine wrapped around his. He made the position even better when he pressed me tight against the wall so he could cradle my face in his hands to tilt my head for his kiss.
Working at Hellar Farm, my thoughts were divided between the horse I was tending and Abel. For two days, I’d been walking around in a daze as I fantasized about Abel and the night we’d shared. After the shower, he took me to his room where we spent the night discovering each other. I had behaved wantonly, but it felt good to feel again—to have that fluttering in my chest, to feel both anticipation and longing. I’d missed that, missed feeling connected to someone.
Carly had been admitted to rehab; Abel had spent the past two days helping to get her settled. I truly hoped she beat it and having so many rooting for her, she had a good chance of doing just that.
Cain had come into the house. Sandbar objected, but he was smart enough to stay out of his way. As I suspected, Tigger and Stuart stirred from their naps long enough to glance at him before falling back to sleep. Cain spent a few hours inside before he wanted back out. It was progress.
“Hey you.”
Looking up from my examination of Chocolate Cake—the Hellar boys were nuts—I saw Rylee strutting over.
“What are you doing here?”
“We were slow at the clinic, so Doc suggested I check on you. How’s Chocolate Cake?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the suspensory ligament. Not bad though, very slight, but there’s definitely some heat and it’s swollen.”
“I knew she was favoring that leg.” Chris, the barn manager, said as he joined us in the barn. “Do you want me to ice it?”
“Yeah, a couple times a day and I’ll prescribe an anti-inflammatory. Hand walk her, start with ten minutes a day and we’ll increase that as the ligament heals.”
“You got it, Doc. Thanks for coming out so quickly. I’ll let the groom know.”
Rylee waited for Chris to leave before she asked, “So, how are you doing?”
She was asking about Abel.
“I’m doing great.”
She studied me for a minute. “You aren’t upset he hasn’t called?”
“He’s dealing with Carly.”
“Takes a second to call.”
I started collecting my things, knew Rylee watched my every move.
I looked around to make sure we were alone. “I know what you’re worried about. I’ve been resistant to dating, but with Abel we completely skipped right over dating and went straight to bed. Out of character for me, absolutely. Jake was my first and only. What we had was beautiful, sweet, and passionate, but being with Abel was exactly what I thought it’d be. It was raw, almost selfish as we used each other to reach fulfillment, and it too was beautiful. Do I hope to have another night like it? Hell yeah, countless nights. But if I don’t I wouldn’t change one thing about our night together. He made no promises, Rylee, just the opposite.”
“And you’re okay with that, a one-night stand?”
“It was more than that.” Whispering I added, “I gave him a blowjob, well he didn’t let me finish, but I so wanted to finish. It took me years to work up to that with Jake. It was an intimacy that I struggled with but with Abel it was more like a craving. I can’t describe it. What’s between us is primal, elemental. If I only get one night with him, it was a fucking fantastic night.”
She studied me before she said
, “Well, the sadness behind your eyes is fading and I’m happy about that, I am, but you were being all philosophical not too long ago and now you’re jumping in with abandon. What’s that all about?”
“I like how I feel when I’m near him, like who I am with him, and I’ll take what I can get from him because I’m finally finding happy.”
“Well, I like Abel for that alone.”
“Me too. Let me call in the prescription and then we can go. I’m hungry.”
“I’m not surprised, if I worked here I’d be eating all the time. A horse named Chocolate Cake. What the hell were they thinking?”
As soon as Rylee and I stepped into the Brass Bull, our names were shouted from the direction of the bar where Ichabod and Jeshaiah were bellied up.
“Let’s join them, it’s my turn to buy the round.”
Rylee looked comical. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I think they’re a hoot.”
“I knew you would.”
“Hey, gentlemen. Can we join you?”
Ichabod was already pulling a stool out for me. “Hell, yeah. I’m feeling parched.”
I signaled to the bartender and ordered the next round; Ichabod was looking around me to Rylee. “You haven’t called me.”
Rylee rolled her eyes, Jeshaiah howled with laughter.
“I’m not thinking the feeling is mutual, Ichabod. You might want to focus your attention elsewhere.” I realized the error of my comment immediately because his eyes zeroed in on me. “All you had to say was you wanted some of this.”
“What have you guys been up to?” Rylee asked to change the subject.
“Not much. The cops came around last week, asking questions about suspicious and unfamiliar cars coming in for gas. They’re working Belinda’s case, but they were grabbing at straws. It was probably some transient who is long gone by now.”
“Really? I thought most people held to the belief it was a local,” Rylee said.
“I’ve lived here my whole life and I can not believe anyone I’ve shared air with is a cold-blooded murderer. Belinda hung with a bad crowd and if she was as nasty to them as she was to everyone else, one of them probably did her in.”
I felt bad for Belinda, though had I known her when she was alive I was sure I wouldn’t have liked her, but not even in death did people have nice things to say about her. I liked Ichabod’s take on the crime, one he shared with Mr. Milburn, because the idea that a murderer lived in our midst was rather unsettling.
“How’s Spike?” Rylee asked.
“Feisty. He likes roaming; he’s gone most of the day. I haven’t a clue what he’s getting himself into.”
Roaming around, that concerned me. “You do know there’s a mountain lion prowling the area.”
“Yeah, I heard about it but I don’t think Spike’s in any danger. He hangs mostly around Main Street. Probably too much noise for the cat.”
I hoped so. Spike was a big dog, but against a mountain cat, I wouldn’t hold out hope he’d be the winner.
Ichabod bought the next round before he and Jeshaiah called it a night. Rylee and I moved to a table and were in the middle of dinner when the door opened to Jayce, Duncan and Abel. The sight of him physically moved through me—a chill that swept my body like a wave. His hair was down tonight and I wanted my hands in it, wanted to feel those silky strands between my fingers. His eyes collided with mine before the others, as aware of me as I was of him. He moved through the tables and reached my side. He didn’t say hi, just reached for my hand and pulled me from the table to the dance floor. I didn’t know what song was playing; I couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart in my ears. His arms banded around me to hold me close as he buried his face in my neck and breathed me in. His big body was tense, the muscles hard like a rubber band stretched nearly to its limit. Something was wrong.
“Is it Carly?”
“She’s okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m experiencing withdrawal.”
My heart rolled in my chest. His head lifted and that pale blue gaze moved to my mouth. Drawing in a breath, he rubbed his hips against mine. His lips parted and his breath tickled my nose. “I haven’t used my daily quota of fuck today.”
It took me a minute to realize he was teasing me. “You’re a tea—”
He silenced me with his mouth; his invading tongue exploring with a hunger that literally left me breathless.
We returned to the table after the song and I tried to eat, but what I hungered for I wouldn’t be getting until later. At some point, my lust took a back seat as I watched Abel with Jayce and Duncan. When I first saw them together I had trouble imagining them as friends, but I saw it now. As Carly healed, it seemed that they were too.
Abel had pulled his hair back—I really liked his bun—his focus on his burger as he listened to Duncan and whatever story he was sharing. And it was while I studied them that I realized outside of his entrance Abel seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid me. I wasn’t self-absorbed, I didn’t need his undivided attention, but every encounter with him his focus had been fixed solely on me. And now it felt as if he was going out of his way to do just the opposite. Realization dawned. He was going home. I guess when he said he wanted me, that want had a time limit. Regret hit first because under that cocky exterior was a man I’d really like to get to know better, but self-preservation followed shortly after because I no longer suspected, I knew unequivocally, that given time I would fall hard for him. And it was the realization that I was okay with falling, taking that risk with my eyes wide open that terrified me.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Abel’s head jerked to me, he saw more of me than anyone, maybe even more than Jake. “Yeah.”
I stood, tried to pay, but Abel wouldn’t let me.
“See you at home, roomie,” Rylee said with a wink.
And she would, far sooner than she knew. Abel followed me outside; we reached my car.
“You’re going home.”
He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah.”
“You weren’t sure how to tell me that, were you?”
“No. Not after the other night, but Carly’s in rehab. I have to get back.”
“It was a good night.”
“It was a fucking fantastic night.”
“There’s that word again.” And even knowing this was right—his life was in Cheyenne, his job—I felt my heart break in a different way. Not one that left me shattered, but sad over the missed opportunity.
“Are you okay?”
I wasn’t. Shying away from my feelings to protect my heart seemed kind of stupid now seeing as the one who had the power to hurt my heart was leaving—walking out of my life. I’d survive, we hadn’t grown so close that losing him would cause permanent damage, but would I ever meet someone who made me feel as Abel did? And should I let him walk away without telling him just how affected I was by him? No, I shouldn’t. “I knew this day was coming, but I do wish we had more time to explore this because I’m wildly attracted to you…” I needed a second to swallow down the lump that had formed in the back of my throat. “I like who I am and how I feel when I’m around you.”
He rubbed his beard, his downcast eyes lifting to mine and there was regret, maybe disappointment, looking back at me. “My life is in Cheyenne, my business. And if it was just me, I’d be so fucking tempted…” He looked down again, just for a second, his struggle very evident before his focus shifted back to me. “But it isn’t just me. I have employees, a partner. And maybe what you feel for me isn’t so much about me specifically and more to do with me being the first man you let in since your husband died.”
Before I could argue, he kissed me. His lips lingered as he struggled with letting go, and then he took a step back and reached for the door. Stunned by not just his kiss but also the longing that fueled it, I absently climbed into my car and keyed the engine. He leaned into the window. “Take
it back to Jimmy and tell him to give you a fucking tune-up for free or he’ll have to fucking deal with me.”
And even feeling blue he could make me grin. “I will fucking tell him.”
He smiled, one of those magnificent smiles. “Take care, Sidney.”
“You too.”
He stepped back, pushed his hands into his pockets again. It was hard to say the words because I was acknowledging out loud something I’d only recently realized. And even being the truth, it hurt to say. “What I feel for you is more than you being the first since my husband. I loved my husband with every fiber in my being, but given the chance I know what could be between us would eclipse even that.”
I drove away because the tears were so close and he didn’t need that. He was leaving, I knew he was leaving; putting my shit on him wasn’t fair. I waited until I reached the house before I dropped my head on the steering wheel and let the tears fall.
I heard his bike, roaring down the street, pulling up behind me. I tried to wipe my eyes before he reached me, but the door opened and he pulled me to my feet to press me up against him. His heart beat hard and fast, his body tense.
“You fucking drop that on me and then drive off.”
“I didn’t want you to go thinking what you were, but I’m not asking for anything.”
“Leaving you feels like I’m ripping out my fucking soul and then you tell me that.”
“It does?”
“I feel you. You’re inside me, in my blood and bones. Never fucking felt anything like it. I need you, crave you, and now you’re telling me you feel it too.”
He sounded pissed at me, like it was my fault he cared so much. I couldn’t help the smile. “I do feel it. The intensity scares me a bit.”
His hold tightened. “Four and a half hours of good road on my bike isn’t all that fucking long,” he whispered in my ear.
Oh my God. Did he just say that? “Are you serious?”
“In my bones, baby. Yeah, I’m serious.”
There weren’t words, so I buried my face in his chest and just gave myself a moment to let it penetrate. He felt it too.
