by Em Petrova
“New horse coming soon?” he asked while stripping off her top and bra. When he sucked her nipple into his mouth, she moaned and clasped his ears.
“Yes,” she cried, and he didn’t know if it was an answer to his question or desire talking. He smiled against her silky skin. God, he was aching for this woman and she loved him.
A sudden thought hit him, and he reared back to gaze at her again. “This isn’t rebound. We clear on that?”
She yanked him back down to her breast. “Crystal. Now shut up and take me, Ridge.”
* * * * *
She sensed the change in him immediately after her words cut through his fog of lust. He stilled, pushed back onto his knees. His eyes darkened, and she knew the master had come out to play.
“Who gives the orders in this relationship?”
“You can in the bedroom, but it’s equal outside.”
“Deal.” He gripped her thigh and lifted her leg up by his ear to remove her boot. The other followed. Then he worked down her jeans with a swiftness that left her breathless and throbbing.
As he stretched out between her thighs, the past weeks without Ridge vanished and she knew only his tongue. Soft licks up and down. Deeper swipes that penetrated her folds, gathering her cream. And a hard thrust of his tongue as he thumbed her clit.
She dug her heels into his shoulders. “Ridge!”
The horses in the other stalls stomped in protest to her yell, but she ignored them, focused only on the burning point between her legs, like a mini sun—
“Ridge, my tattoo. It’s for you.”
His eyes cleared in understanding. “Well it’s all wrong then. The sun and moon can collide.”
A smile spread over her lips as she burst with a muffled cry, biting down on her lip while waves struck her. Ridge continued to lap at her, bringing her down slowly.
Then he got to his feet. Watching a beautiful cowboy strip off his boots and Wranglers was the prettiest sight she’d ever seen. Nothing could ever compare, and the moment would be forever etched in her memory.
She massaged her breasts, still humming from her orgasm.
“No touching yourself. That’s my job.”
“Yes, Master.”
Tanned skin greeted her senses. His thick cock sprang free, and he didn’t waste a second sheathing it in a condom. When he stared at her for a long heartbeat, she knew the most happiness of her entire life.
“Spread them wide.”
A shiver of need ran through her. Slowly, she did his bidding, feeling her wet folds exposed to the air.
“So fucking wet for me.” He eased on top of her. His weight felt so good that she moaned, and he answered with a groan of his own. With his cock poised at her entrance, he paused to stare into her eyes again. “Say my name as I enter you.”
She leaned up to whisper into his ear, “I’ll never say another. Ridge.”
With a jerk of his hips, he thrust deep. Her inner walls parted and clenched around his length. As he withdrew, she scored his back with her nails. He bit her lower lip and plunged back in until his mushroomed head struck her innermost point.
He gyrated his hips, grinding into her. She began to pulsate, already on the edge. If he planned a countdown, he’d better do it quick because she wasn’t able to hold back. She’d been pent up for this man for too long.
“Hell, I can’t last,” he grated out.
“Ten,” she began automatically.
He kissed her silent, and she continued the numbers in her head. As one neared, he stiffened. She screamed. And they came together for the second time in their lives.
As her bliss stole her senses, her mind locked on Ridge. How the cords in his neck bulged as he roared his release. And the way his eyes looked before he collapsed atop her.
She knew they wouldn’t always have this moment, but she could see a beautiful view of their lives together. He lay his head on her breast and his breathing was slow and heavy.
“I’m gonna try to get back on the show, Kashley.”
She toyed with the hair on his nape, curled slightly where his hat brim had pushed it out. “Are you sure?”
He nodded, his beard scruff searing her skin in the most perfect of ways. “Need the cash.”
“To buy a tractor? I heard you talking to my pa.”
“No, to build a house and buy a big bed. I’m not taking my beautiful woman in any more horse stalls.” He raised his head and gave her a dark, crooked smile that set libido on fire again.
“I doubt we’d only use the bed.”
He bit her lightly on the crest of her breast. “True. I plan to put some shackles in our barn once it’s built.”
She sucked in a breath as he skimmed his teeth over her peaked nipple. “In that case I’ll need a safeword.”
“How ‘bout forever, honey?” His stare pierced her.
“That’s not a safeword—it’s a promise. I hope you have enough condoms because I’ve spent a lot of time wanting this.” She reached between them and gripped his already hard cock at the base.
He pushed into her hand. “Come home with me. I got a bunch in my drawer, and we can tell Ma the good news.”
“What about the rest of your family?”
“Word travels. They’ll know about five seconds after I hit Calhoun ground with your hand in mine.”
A happy squeal left her, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. With her face buried against his neck and his weight upon her, she couldn’t think of a better place to be.
THE END
West
Rope ‘n Ride Book 4
All Rights Reserved
West
Copyright Em Petrova 2017
Ebook Edition
Electronic book publication February 2017
All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.
West
Rope ‘n Ride Series
Book 4
By Em Petrova
It’s hard to resist a bad boy who’s a good man.
But that’s exactly what Malou Bullers, M.D. is trying to do. While working as the rodeo doc, she turns a blind eye to the bulging biceps and Wrangler butts that pass by. Except for one cowboy—and he’s worst of all. West Calhoun is a womanizer, plain and simple. The tie-down roper and reality TV star is never seen twice with the same woman.
When he’s not busy on his family’s growing ranch or trying to keep the TV cameras on his good side, West has his eyes on that big win. But he’s distracted by the eccentric new-age rodeo doctor. After a one-night stand with Malou, he’s hooked, but convincing her that he isn’t with a dozen other women might be more challenging than taking on a herd of angry bulls.
Meanwhile, a new TV producer is luring West with the promise of a spinoff show and big money that will help his family. But with Malou avoiding him, he’s got troubles that won’t be helped once her secret is revealed, sending West into a tailspin. Can she walk away from the best man she’s ever known?
Chapter One
The glossy magazine smacked the kitchen table in front of West. He glanced away from his cold turkey sandwich to the cover, featuring himself flanked by two blonde bimbos with the brains of potatoes.
That weekend in Cabo was far too fresh in his memory. He winced now, but in the photo he was smiling.
“What the hell is this?” he asked the producer who stood waiting for his reaction.
“You’re the new it, West.” Andrew was the new producer on his family’s reality show, Rope ‘n Ride. The last one, after a not-so-hidden relationship with their sister Wynonna, had quit.
West swung his gaze from the magazine and back to his plate of chips. He popped one in his mouth and crunched while staring at the producer. He wasn’t clear on what exactly the new guy meant and how he factored in. Around the food, he said, “What’s the new it?”
“You.” Andrew pulled up a chair and clasped his hands with a smile. He stuck out like a Trojan horse on the ranch. But none of the Calhoun brot
hers figured he was old enough to interest their little sis, so they were satisfied with the crew change.
West didn’t have time for riddles. He had a herd of cattle and a thousand-acre spread to look after. He waved his hand in the air to indicate Andrew should speed things up.
The producer leaned forward and his words came out in a rushed whisper. “You bring the new show intrigue. Your brothers are married, and they continue to bring in the family viewers, but we need the singles. You’re it, West. While Buck, Ryder and Ridge keep the hearts of families full with their wives and kids, you’re the one bringing the scandal that drives rankings.” He tapped a forefinger on the magazine photo, right over the left blonde’s breast implant bulging from a white bikini top.
It’s a wonder it doesn’t pop.
He tugged the magazine from under Andrew’s hand and tossed it across the kitchen like a Frisbee. It hit the cupboard and fell with a whoosh to Momma’s brand new gleaming hardwood floors. The show was bringing money—and happiness—to everyone in the family, it seemed, except for West. He hated being in the spotlight.
Hated the Paparazzi plastering his face all over the celebrity mags. So he’d had a few too many in Vegas over Christmas and his impaired judgment had landed him between two sexy blondes on a flight to Cabo San Lucas. The crystalline blue waters and pristine sandy beaches had made for a helluva Christmas, but his ears still blistered after Momma’s tirade.
She liked her kids around her during the holidays, and his antics had pissed her off good. West had also faced Buck’s glares, which were unnervingly close to their late father’s. Buck must have been practicing on his own small children, because he’d perfected the look.
But worst thing about West’s transgression—worse than two fake women who liked drinking until they threw up—was that he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
The rodeo doctor. Malou Bullers.
He picked up his sandwich and bit off a chunk so big it would take a while to respond to whatever Andrew was going on about.
His mind moved from the hippy new age doctor to Andrew’s words.
“…the new look of Rope ‘n Ride. Keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing. We want to see bar brawls, huge wins in your tie-down roping event and, backstage, we want scandal. Like your weekend in Cabo with the Doublemint Twins.”
A growl left his throat, and suddenly he couldn’t swallow his sandwich. He took a swig of sweet tea to wash it down.
The producer plowed on. “If you play nice, we could get you a spinoff, West. You’re the brother nobody noticed until now.”
“Gee, thanks.” He pushed back the chair and stomped to the trash with his plate. He dumped the half-eaten sandwich and most of the chips into the can. Gently, he set the plate in the sink. Momma wouldn’t appreciate him not coming home for Christmas and busting her dishes.
He’d been toeing the line with her for weeks. Soon the rodeo would start back up, and thank God for it. He could get off the ranch and find a little breathing room.
Except, the camera crew would be following him. And more girls just like Kylie and Kooper. That was all he remembered about the women Andrew referred to as the Doublemint Twins. Both of their names started with a K.
Actually, they’d introduced themselves to him that way—
Hell, he was losing his mind now. He had to stop this train before it derailed.
Settling his hands on the table, he leaned forward to stare Andrew in the eyes. “I don’t want a spinoff.”
“You aren’t interested in the three-million dollar paycheck that comes with it.” He picked imaginary lint off his yuppie version of a western shirt, not meeting West’s gaze.
Or too afraid to.
West’s lips quirked at one corner.
“If you play this right, West, you could be the Calhoun empire. The household name. The face in the middle.”
“I was born in the middle, Andrew.”
“Exactly! We’re going to work your middle child syndrome to the max.”
“I don’t have middle child syndrome.” He started for the door.
Andrew scrambled after him. “Think about it.”
“I have. I don’t want that many people talking about me.”
“Do you know what Johnny from the Redneck Brothers earns a year? Between his show, guest appearances and merchandise line?”
“No.”
“Seven mil. That would buy a lot of cattle or boots or whatever you Calhouns buy. You could own a house in Cabo and spend every Christmas there.”
Now that left a sour taste in West’s mouth. He tried to picture Doctor Malou in the tropics of Mexico and couldn’t. She wouldn’t be wearing a bikini but a flowy skirt and a loose, long-sleeved shirt that would flutter in the ocean breezes. Though… her warm, buttery brown skin would look fucking gorgeous under the sun.
And she wouldn’t be scuba diving to see the wildlife—she’d likely be trying to rescue it. Tucking birds with hurt wings into her fringed purse that hung against her rounded hip and—
West shook his head and looked around, his focus on the sprawling Oklahoma landscape and all the work that needed done on his ranch.
Andrew was still squawking at his back as he walked to the barn. West held up a hand over his shoulder to indicate he should stop. “I’ll think about it.”
The producer’s mouth snapped shut, and West went on in peace. Or as much peace as he could gain when Malou was fresh in his mind and he sported half an erection. The first time he’d set eyes on her, he’d gone from zero to full wood in a blink.
She’d been bent over a chest, rummaging through it, her dark hair slipping forward to conceal her face. When she’d straightened and met his gaze, his heart had undergone a flipping sensation that left him feeling as if he’d been kicked by one of the cows he roped and tied.
As he’d approached, he’d seen her eyes were a strange combination of dark and light. An odd color he still couldn’t name. Not green or brown or gold. Strangely, they reminded him of a violet in the twilight.
Dusky.
As he’d neared, he’d seen her curls were really thick ropes. Some were knotted on the back of her head, and others framed her beautiful oval face. Her gaze had been bright with interest, and he’d leaned against the hospital bed and totally forgotten why he’d come to see the rodeo doc.
And later when they’d thrown themselves at each other with abandon, and she’d let him lift her skirt and finger her soaking wet pussy while kissing the hell out of her, he didn’t care about his ailments at all.
He walked into the cool, shadowed barn and dragged in a breath of fresh hay and animals. But all he could smell was Malou’s earthy incense. He didn’t know what it was called, but he wanted to inhale it again. And she used some sort of oil on her hair that had been like an aphrodisiac to him…
He took down some horse tack from a nail and started toward the end stall. His horse caught his scent and pawed at the floor. “Eager for your ride, Ruger?” He’d named him after the gun for the horse’s shiny black coat.
As he readied his mount for riding, he was caught up in memories of taking Malou back to his room and watching her beautiful face as she came undone for him. Over and over.
In the morning, she’d been gone. She hadn’t even left him a note, and it had never crossed his mind that he wouldn’t find her down in the clinic. But she’d pulled out of town. The next time he’d seen her had been when Ridge had fucked up his knee, but Malou hadn’t given any indication that she wanted more from West.
He’d gone away with a thumping heart but hadn’t run her to earth again. She hadn’t come to the last two rodeos he’d attended. He’d spent extra time searching for her in Vegas after the Cowboy Christmas festivities.
Eventually he’d track her down. In the meantime, he’d better figure out a plan of escape. As soon as Momma saw that magazine, she’d hit the roof.
A footstep made him look up from his task, and he spotted his sister through the dimness.
&
nbsp; “Dude, you’re in deep doo-doo,” she said without preamble. She shifted something bulky in her arms and he realized it was a child. Buck Jr. She came into a shaft of sunlight, and the little boy squirmed to be set down.
His T-shirt said, If you think I’m a hunk, you should see my uncle.
“Deep shh—uh, crap… for what?” Buck Jr. likely had heard some language before, but West wasn’t going to contribute to his delinquency yet. “Nice shirt, Junior.”
“Momma saw that magazine. I had to hide the knives. Here—the producer wanted me to come find you and bring Buck Jr. so you can give your interview this afternoon with him.”
“With him wearing that shirt.” They really were trying to make him the new face of Rope ‘n Ride, weren’t they? Fucking great. “I don’t have time for this crap. Got work to do.”
West looked at the little boy. His dark hair swooped across his forehead in exactly the same way Buck’s did. “Buddy, you don’t want to give an interview with your Uncle West, do you?”
He shook his head, making his hair flop.
“You’d rather ride, wouldn’t ya?”
He nodded wildly.
West crossed the barn to him, and Buck Jr. ran the rest of the way into his arms. West swung him up and carried him back to Ruger’s stall. Ignoring Wynonna’s protests, he led the horse out, saddled him and settled the boy on his back.
“If you think you’re making yourself less appealing to the audience, you’re wrong,” Wynonna called as he mounted behind Junior and tugged him firmly against his chest.
He glanced around and saw the cameras trained on them. Damn, she was right. He could almost see how the production crew would edit this footage—with a shot at the empty interview seat and West galloping with his nephew across the land.
He shrugged. “Buck Jr. and I don’t want to talk to anybody. We’re ridin’.” He kicked his horse lightly in the sides to get it moving.
