Sexual Affection [Contemporary Cowboys 3] (Siren Publishing LoveEdge)

by Natalie Acres

  “Yeah,” Zak snapped. “Problem is, we don’t have anywhere to move the last of the guns and now we’re sitting here with trailers to unload, tens of thousands of dollars in stock, and if we’re busted? We’re sunk.”

  “Guess you’d better move some guns, big brother,” Mason said in a chipper voice.

  “Or maybe somebody should’ve taken your name off the farm account,” Zak said, pissed off.

  “Everything will be okay, Zak. Don’t stress the small stuff. We got this.” Dante started the march up hill with Mason.

  Hales glanced at Zak. “We got this about like an aging whore has a bright future ahead of her.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Zak grumbled, aware of Brandon screaming his bloody head off behind them.

  “Look on the bright side,” Dallas said. “We don’t have to worry about the kid spending any money now. By the time Brandon is through with the bank manager, Mason won’t be able to open his own account down at the Savings and Loan.”

  Zak, Hales, and Dallas remained side by side, staring up the incline leading to the loading barn. Finally Zak asked, “You fellas remember anything about the cattle business?”

  “Enough,” Dallas said, turning to Hales.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m twenty-three. Dad and Mom already had their hands good and filthy by the time I kicked my way into this world.” He clucked. “The only things I know are through observation. We’ve always had cattle grazing the land. How hard can it be to add a hundred more head?”

  Two additional trucks rolled by.

  “If only,” Zak grumbled.

  “Yeah buddy,” Dallas muttered. “Roll up your sleeves, little brother. You’re about to find out how hard it is to make easy money in the cattle business.” Dallas slapped him on the back hard enough to knock him forward.

  “I’m joining Brandon for coffee,” Hales said, leaving Dallas and Zak alone.

  “Brandon has a right to be bent out of shape over this.”

  “Yep,” Dallas agreed. “How much do we have left to move?”

  Zak considered the guns remaining. “With what we’ve got buried in the lower field pits, I’d guess at maybe two million in hardware and a few hundred thousand in ammo and supplies.”

  “Enough for felonies.”

  Zak rolled his eyes. “Is that a question?”

  “Just making conversation,” Dallas said, turning to him. “Look. Kid made a mistake. He couldn’t have known we were trying to get this other shit cleaned up before we started wading knee deep in something else. How about I help you? We’ll get the guns walking in no time.”

  Zak shook his head. “We can’t deal with the cartels right now. Our past customers think we’re clean. We want to keep it that way.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “No.” Zak dragged his palm down his face. “And I can’t think of options for worrying about Drina. The last thing I want is her mixed up in something like this.”

  “Then don’t do it. Leave the guns buried. Let’s move some cattle and go legit just like we planned.”

  “With the stock that just rolled in here, we’ll be lucky if there’s anything left in the accounts. What happens if we need the money?”

  “Don’t borrow trouble, Zak. We’ve managed to make it this far in life. We’ll make it the rest of the way. You’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right because at the moment, we can’t move those guns. We start hauling firearms out of here and the Feds will be all over us.”

  “So we keep the hardware buried and start moving the rest.”

  Zak slowly nodded. “I guess that’ll work.” He balled his fists. “Damn it. I don’t want this. I didn’t want it when Nate and Momma were running the business and I don’t want it now.”

  “None of us do,” Dallas said. “But the fact is, we don’t have a choice now. A lot of family members have to clean up their relatives’ messes before they can enjoy a life of their own. Let’s get that dustpan out and sweep up enough to make everything neat and tidy, at least cover our tracks a little better than before. With a Texas herd here, livestock buyers will be coming in from all over the place. It’ll be too easy for the Feds to get in here and take a look around now.”

  “And even easier for them to find justifiable cause for a warrant.”

  “Yep, that’s right, but we can’t run from the past now, Zak. We can’t keep hiding it and praying no one will snoop around and find what it is we don’t want anyone to find. We gotta deal with this and we need to deal with it quickly.”

  “You don’t understand. No one can afford the kind of stock we have except the mob.”

  “So we sell to them. Look at us. We’re not little fellas, Zak. They have more to fear from us than the other way around. We’re the ones with the guns, remember. I say we make the transactions, contact the cartel, the mafia, and whoever else we need to tell. Then we’re out and it’s over. One last deal.”

  That was just it. Brandon had been saying those very words for several months and there was no end in sight. One last deal should’ve been several transactions ago. Unfortunately, they kept uncovering more stock and the shipments kept coming in. They had inherited a business that couldn’t be sold. They were in an industry they couldn’t easily leave.

  He often wondered if that’s why his mother and Nate had lost their lives. They’d tried to get out and had discovered quitting the business was not an option.

  Chapter Two

  Zak was worn down to a frazzle by the time they finished their honest day’s work. Brandon hadn’t even made it upstairs. He was snoring on the couch. The others were dragging ass, slowly moving through the kitchen as they grumbled about aching muscles and tired bones.

  If Zak had thought he could make it to Drina’s, he would’ve already called and asked her if she felt like going somewhere for a nightcap but the fact was, he didn’t have the energy to walk much farther than the shower. He took the stairs one at a time, slowly moving over the twenty-five steps as he unbuttoned his dirty shirt and shot it down the hallway laundry chute in passing.

  “Farming,” he grumbled, entering his room and stripping off his jeans and underwear. Leaving them in the laundry basket, he walked in the bathroom, turned on the water, and nearly fell asleep on his feet before the water temperature rose and he stepped in the shower. He’d never been so exhausted in his life.

  A few minutes later, he stood in front of the sink brushing his teeth. He paused a minute, swearing he could’ve heard his bedroom door open and close. When he didn’t hear anything more, he continued with his ritual, scrubbing his teeth, flossing, and debating on a shave.

  “Nay,” he muttered. He’d clean up his rough face in the morning.

  He turned off the light and made his way to bed. Catching a scent he recognized well, he tilted his head and inhaled the vanilla and lilac fragrance.

  For a split second, he thought he was just plain crazy about a woman, so mad about her that he imagined her sweet scent, her perfume filling his room even when she wasn’t there, but then he caught sight of her shapely silhouette in the moonlight, the natural curve of her body outlined in the darkness. He sat on the edge of the bed, deciding to play this game of hers. He’d pretend she wasn’t there, waiting on him.

  After all, she started this little game and at one time he was a player who knew how to play. At least memory served him well in situations like this. The excitement of the unfolding evening gave his libido a swift kick and he caught his second wind. He dropped his towel and sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his balls and fondling his erection.

  How long had he waited for her? How many months had they been taking things slow?

  He gripped his dick and stroked. He still remembered the first time he saw her. They had been at Paddles and Picnics, a fetish club on the old highway. He hadn’t expected to meet his better half that evening, but as she’d danced for the crowd, he’d quickly reached a decision.

  He was going to love her.

  That nig
ht Drina gained the audience’s attention and Zak’s outright devotion. And even though he loved her, he hadn’t made love to her. They’d agreed to wait.

  Well tonight, tired or not, he planned to tease a woman.

  Tired or not, he should’ve stopped what he was doing and called her.

  She’d waited for him, dressed for him, and he hadn’t even called to say good night. Yet there he was in the moonlight, sitting on the side of his bed with his head dropped, his hand at work, and Drina suspected if she stayed real quiet, her name would soon slip from his lips.

  He propped up on his left side. His leg hung off the bed from the knee down and his right leg was bent, his foot flat against the mattress. Her mouth watered at the sight of him, that muscular leg bent, the way he stroked himself as he used his foot for balance and pushed himself up and down, going after some relief.

  She remained still beside him, wondering how he could’ve missed her lying there. He should’ve known she was there right next to him. Then again, he’d sat on the bed with his back to her and he seemed distracted as he haphazardly searched through his phone.

  A ragged breath fell from his lips and he grunted. “Fuck.” He stopped pumping that enticing cock of his and opened the drawer on his bedside table. A minute later he ripped a packet with his teeth.

  She swallowed. The knowledge of the forthcoming sounds would leave her pussy damp with desire and she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from taking what she’d wanted from him, what she now desperately needed.

  One squirt resounded. He bathed his cock in lube and the up-and-down motions quickened as he oiled his shaft and lathered his dick in a fruity scented lubricant that made her mouth water all the more.

  An inner debate began. Should she crawl over and surprise him? Should she clear her throat and let him know she was there or perhaps just…he paused and her thoughts went on standby for a moment.

  “Fuck. This is ridiculous. Lying here hurting for a woman and can’t even pick up the damned phone and call her.” He played with his cock then, slowly moving his hand up and down as he fiddled with his cell phone once more.

  About that time her phone buzzed behind her. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut realizing her indecision would now cost her.

  “What the hell?” The click-click sound of the lamp being turned on filled the room and she slowly opened her eyes, acknowledging the flickering dim light.

  “Well look what we have here.” Zak turned, threw his arm over her waist, and grinned like he hadn’t seen her in a year.

  “Hiya, baby,” she crooned, trying her best not to look at his cock, even though the outline of his long shaft had already driven her to the brink of excitement. The moonlight shining through his bedroom window and skylight had provided enough illumination to let her see the man she wanted, the man she’d yet to have.

  “Hi yourself,” he whispered, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?”

  That was simple enough. She wanted him. She’d longed for him in a way that didn’t make any normal sense, but she’d kept her distance, kept their bodies out of the equation for a variety of reasons, none of which mattered at all now, especially now when she was looking at a godlike creature who in turn looked about as confused as she often felt.

  The tip of his tongue settled at the corner of his mouth. “If I’d known I had an audience, I would’ve put on a show.” He flipped over to his side and flattened his hand on her stomach, rubbing and pinching the soft pink—and nearly transparent—sleeveless nightgown she wore.

  “You knew I was here,” she accused, trying not to check out his bare chest, those delectable abs, and the steely hard member pressing against her leg and practically poking through the cotton sheet covering her. “You had to have known.”

  “Why? Because I was sitting on my bed jacking off and thinking of you?” He smiled. “No, Drina. I do that every night.”

  “You do?”

  Instead of answering her, he tilted her chin to his and swept in for a kiss, his hand now harder against her stomach as he slipped the material up to her breasts. His head never dipped lower. Instead, he deepened the kiss, pressing against her until her hand throbbed to touch him, her fingers ached to stretch around his size, to lock around his width and cop a real nice feel.

  She rolled over and faced him then. Her short breaths embarrassed her and made her feel as if she had no measure of control.

  “Touch me, baby. Just touch,” he crooned, placing her hand on his chest. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “But I’ve seen you now.”

  “So?” His wicked grin was telling. He had to have known what she was thinking. He must’ve known what she was implying, too.

  “So what if I can’t resist you now?”

  “Oh I think you can, Drina,” he whispered, dragging her hand down his belly and leaving her fingers several inches from his cock. “I think you’ve been able to resist me this long and from what I can tell, you had big plans of resisting me for a little longer. What do you say you keep doing just that until I make an honest woman out of ya?”

  Chapter Three

  Cartwell Farm, Fletcher, North Carolina

  Kane Cartwell lounged on the recliner in the far corner of the master suite he shared with his gorgeous wife Peyton. He watched as his brothers, Evan and Braden, helped Peyton to her knees. Glorious and naked, Peyton was as perfect as the day he’d first met her and he loved her more with each passing hour—even when she was defiant as all hell.

  “Don’t look at me, Kane Cartwell,” she snapped, glaring at him as if she’d never been quite so angry. “I’ve put up with you for all these years and this is the thanks I get? You punish me by leaving me here in this room with a…a…”

  “Come on now, doll, you can do better than that. You know what I had stuffed between your pretty puckered folds and you know why.”

  “Argh! You frustrate the hell out of me!” Her blonde hair flung in her face when she bowed her head, and of course Braden brushed her locks away from her eyes. He was always the careful one, the lover she counted on when she wanted a slow hand, an easy lover’s touch.

  Kane rolled his tongue over his bottom lip, admiring his wife’s curves. Yes indeed. Peyton was still as beautiful as the day she’d first come to live with them.

  “And stop giving me the ‘you’re fucked’ look. It isn’t happening today. Do you hear me, Kane? I am not at all attracted to you at this moment.”

  He laughed. She still possessed that spunk, too.

  “This isn’t a bit funny,” she said, yanking her arm down when Evan freed her right limb.

  “Don’t ruin the fun for everyone just because you’re pissed at me.”

  “Pissed?” She balked at that. “I’m beyond pissed, you arrogant asshole!” She took a few deep breaths and then pivoted to her left, shooting Braden a very pointed glare. “And you? I expected more from you. The least you could’ve done was maybe notice I wasn’t around. Would it have been too much to ask for you to take a minute out of your busy day to check on me?”

  “You can’t blame Braden,” Evan said. “No one would’ve thought about Kane leaving you tied to the bed for half the afternoon and into the early evening. Under normal circumstances, he can’t manage an hour if he isn’t touching you.”

  Peyton seemingly tried to ward off a smile. Kane’s nose twitched. They both knew what Evan had said was true. Kane rarely let Peyton out of his sight and perhaps that was the problem. He’d given her an inch and what happened? She’d taken far more than a mile. Now, she’d been punished appropriately and she would remember this day should the urge to flirt ever cross her mind again.

  And he was pretty sure it wouldn’t.

  “Let’s test that theory of yours, Evan. Shall we?” Peyton fluttered her eyelashes and cocked her head. “After spending the day in bed with my arms and legs spread wide, I’d like to tie him to the bed and see how long he can stay there!” She thinne
d her lips. Her small nostrils flared. “Trust me, Kane, I have more willpower than you do. You couldn’t stand five minutes of restraint, let alone several hours!”

  “I didn’t forget about you, baby,” Kane said, stroking his chin and loving the flush in her cheeks. “I always know where you are.”

  “Hmm. Well yeah. I can believe that,” Peyton snapped. “Because you’re obsessed. O-B-S-E—”

  He hurriedly left his seat and grabbed her around the waist, bracketing his arm around her middle before yanking her forward. Her palms landed on his chest and he smothered her lips with his. He assaulted her feisty mouth with a driven kiss, loving the way she resisted at first before she finally relaxed in his arms, seemingly ready to concede.

  Peyton had deserved her punishment. She’d outwardly flirted with one of Clink’s new bartenders. Clink, owned by Patience McKay and his daughters Kimberly and Ansley, had begun to attract the older crowd. Part of the reason the forty-plus women often walked in the place had a lot to do with the bartenders in their late twenties. Each bartender there had apparently learned what it would take to earn a better living—flirt with an accomplished older woman and point her in the direction of the tip jar.

  Thinking of the stories that had been generated and how women in town had called the bartenders hotter than any male stripper or perhaps equivalent to Showtime’s Gigolos, Kane deepened his kiss, clutching the back of Peyton’s head as he thrust inside her mouth, willing her to see the error of her ways.

  Not only had Peyton openly come on to the dude, but she’d also told the young prick if she wasn’t happily married, she’d place his name on her dance card. As luck would have it, the bastard tracked her down and called her, pitching some kind of bullshit about providing Peyton with dance lessons. Kane was more than happy to tell the squirt her dance card was full seven nights a week, three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. Kane then went on to explain that three partners could dip and dive far better than any salsa dancer.

  “Dance card hell,” he muttered, smoothing his lips over hers before releasing her.