“It was a selfish idea,” Devlin said. “I never would have acted on it. Not really. And now I know for sure that you’d never be happy here with just me.”
Jake’s mouth moved to Michelle’s clit and she rocked her hips to grind herself onto Devlin’s cock and against Jake’s mouth.
“I can’t stay here, period,” she said. “I have to work.”
“I could support you,” Devlin said.
A flash of Dee bragging about her husband being a good provider interrupted her enjoyment of the moment. “I wouldn’t want you to,” she said.
“I figured as much,” he said, “but we can meet here. The three of us. Whenever we’re able. What do you think?”
“You’re good at math, aren’t you?” she asked, riding Devlin’s cock now. Jake matched her pace by moving his head with her motion.
“Usually.”
“How many different sexual positions are there between a man and a woman?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “A lot.”
“How about between a man and a man?”
“Also a lot.”
“So when you combine a man and a woman with a man and a man and combine that same woman with the other man, what do you get?”
“A very happy Michelle,” Jake said.
“So I guess Jake is the one who’s good at math,” she said with a laugh.
“No, not math,” Jake said. “I’m just good at sex.”
“That’s why we’re going to keep you around,” Devlin said.
“Hey,” Jake complained rising up onto his knees to look at him. “What about my feelings?”
“I thought you didn’t want to involve your feelings,” Devlin said.
Michelle cupped Jake’s face between her hands and kissed his resistant lips. “His feelings are already involved.”
“Shut up,” he said and kissed her back.
“It’s okay. No one knows but me,” she said.
“And me,” Devlin added.
“Fuck you both.”
“We’re both willing. You know that,” Michelle said.
Jake looked from one to the other of them, appraising them closely. “You know what I think?” he said finally.
“What?”
“I think we have to find a way to make this work,” he said.
Michelle smiled. “I completely agree.”
Jake cocked an eyebrow at her. “Good. Now give me some room, Dev. I’m going to join you in there and fuck you both.”
“In where?” Devlin asked.
Jake slid a finger up Devlin’s cock and into Michelle’s pussy. “In here. You won’t even have to move, Dev. My piercings will rub you while I thrust into her. I’m sure I can make you both come that way.”
“Only one way to find out.” Devlin grabbed her thighs and spread her wider.
“Wait!” she said. “This isn’t what I meant when I agreed that we needed to find a way to make this work. I meant that we need to find a way to be together long term.”
“I know that,” Jake said, “and I agree. Is that what you want too, Devlin?”
“More than anything,” Devlin said behind her.
Jake grinned. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now hold on, sweetheart, I’m about to bring us all closer together.”
And he did. She should have trusted that Jake Tremaine knew what he was doing. Beneath the stars or with the morning sun touching upon his tattooed skin, the man always had her best interests at heart. No matter how unconventional.
About the Author
Combining her love for romantic fiction and rock 'n roll, NYTimes best seller Olivia Cunning writes erotic romance centered on rock musicians. Raised on hard rock music from the cradle, she attended her first Styx concert at age six and fell instantly in love with live music. She's been known to travel over a thousand miles just to see a favorite band in concert. As a teen, she discovered her second love, romantic fiction—first, voraciously reading steamy romance novels and then penning her own. She’s going to have to buy a new snow shovel because soon she’s moving from the warm beaches of Galveston, Texas to her hometown in western Illinois. Sometimes family trumps geography. But no matter where her itchy feet take her, she’ll continue to write about the rock stars that exist in her head. And her heart.
Jake Tremaine—the wonderfully pierced, dirty-mouthed, bad boy in One Starry Night—is a minor character in the Sinners on Tour series, which about the sinfully sexy metal band Sinners. Find out more about Sinners and Olivia’s other erotic rock-band-series—One Night with Sole Regret—at her website: www.oliviacunning.com.
Boots Optional
A Dead Heat Ranch Novella
Book 0.5
Nicole Edwards
Copyright © Nicole Edwards, 2014
All rights reserved.
Prologue
“What the hell?” Grant slurred as he stuck his head in the refrigerator, his plan for finding another beer not looking good. Either they’d already sucked them all down, or he was drunker than he thought. He doubted it was the latter, but the cool refrigerated air sweeping across his overheated skin told him he was feeling something.
Although “drunk” was a fantastic excuse, it wasn’t likely the culprit.
“What’s the problem?” Lane asked, poking his head damn near in the refrigerator beside Grant’s, his powerful shoulder pressing up against his arm.
Grant jumped back, stumbled a couple of steps before he righted himself by grabbing the edge of the Formica countertop. He stared back at his friend, noticing the way Lane moved ever so slowly as he turned around to face Grant.
Yeah, that hadn’t been at all subtle.
“Well, damn, Grant. I showered before I came over.” Lane ducked his head near his armpit and sniffed. “Nope, I smell like an ocean breeze. Did you know that’s what a fucking ocean breeze smells like?”
Grant fought the urge to smile. Lane did that to him. The man was always attempting to make him laugh but at the moment, he couldn’t find much humor in the incredibly awkward situation he found himself in. “What’re you talkin’ about?” Grant asked, the room spinning just a little, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol swimming in his system.
Although he did need another beer. That or he needed for Lane to go home. Either option would work for him.
Shit.
Lane closed the refrigerator door just a little too hard, a couple of glass bottles clanking together as the door shut tight. Grant kept his eyes on the taller man, wishing like hell he hadn’t opened the front door to let his friend in a couple of hours ago. Then again, everything had been fine as they sat in their respective recliners watching television up until about three minutes ago, but no, Grant had to go and need another beer.
Well, truthfully, everything hadn’t been fine but at least Lane hadn’t realized that. Grant was tense, but he seemed to always be that way around Lane. A reaction that had become increasingly more frustrating in recent months. Mostly due to the attraction he felt for the handsome wrangler who’d become one of his closest friends over the past couple of years.
“You got a problem with me, Kingsley?” Lane asked, his eyes dancing with amusement, his deep voice reverberating through Grant’s entire body as the man moved closer. Incredibly close.
“Just need a beer,” Grant said, his mouth suddenly dry.
“There’s another six pack on the table.” Lane motioned his head toward the kitchen table, his eyes never leaving Grant’s face.
Grant made the mistake of looking over and sure enough, there was a six-pack of long neck bottles right there.
How the hell had he missed that?
When he looked back at Lane, the man was even closer. Close enough that yes, Grant was well aware that he had showered – and shaved – before he stopped by. He smelled good. Too good.
“You’re actin’ weird,” Lane told him bluntly, tilting his head slightly as he studied Grant’s face.
“Weird?” Grant asked stupidly, swall
owing hard.
He wasn’t acting weird. He was trying to drink himself into a stupor since that seemed to be the only way he could make it through any length of time around Lane without wanting to jump the man.
Snapping back to the present, Grant put his hands on Lane’s chest, ready to shove his friend back because he was too damn close. Before he could do as much, Lane covered Grant’s hands with his own, holding them to his chest and preventing Grant from putting any space between them.
Lane’s heartbeat thudded rhythmically beneath Grant’s palms.
Double shit.
“What are you doing?” Grant asked, though the words came out breathless and rough, as he stared into Lane’s dark, dark brown eyes.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Hell if I know,” Grant lied. He knew exactly what Lane was doing and he’d be damned if he knew how to stop him, but that was only because he didn’t want to stop him. Grant had dreamed about this moment, but he’d never thought it would actually happen.
Not with Lane. Not like this anyway.
Lane’s chest was hard beneath his palms, his hands hot against the backs of his, and Grant found it rather difficult to breathe.
He hadn’t had that much beer, damn it.
“Man, quit fucking with me,” Grant bellowed, once again trying to push Lane away, pretending that he had no idea what was about to happen in three… two… one…
Oh, goddamn!
The instant Lane’s mouth touched his, Grant lost all ability to shove him away; instead, he was reaching up, grasping Lane’s hair in his fist and pulling him against him as the kiss exploded. Tongues, teeth, hands…
“Holy fuck,” Lane mumbled long seconds later when he pulled back, looking directly into Grant’s eyes before his mouth slammed into his once more.
Grant’s entire body went hot, his cock hardening. And when Lane pushed up against him, successfully pinning Grant between the counter and his massive body, he was at a loss. The only thing he could do was kiss this man.
Kiss him and pray like hell that what they were doing wasn’t the stupidest thing either of them had ever done.
□●□●□●□
To put it simply, Lane was shocked.
For one, he’d dreamed of this moment for months, never actually believing they would ever get to this point although they’d been doing some strange dance for about that long. Despite Grant’s attempt to hide his desire, Lane had felt the heat of Grant’s stare more than once.
And now, Grant had his hands in Lane’s hair, pulling him closer while their tongues played hockey, dueling for control. Lane couldn’t get enough of him. Grant tasted like beer and sex and – holy fuck – he wanted more.
With ease, Lane managed to spin them so that he was the one against the counter and Grant was in front of him. Holding him near while Grant continued to pull on his hair, Lane snaked his hand between their bodies and made quick work of releasing the button on Grant’s jeans. Within seconds, he had the zipper down and Grant’s jeans around his thighs. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to let this moment go. Not if he had any say in the matter.
When Grant groaned, Lane wrapped his fingers around his thick cock, firmly gripping him. Just enough to let him know who was in control. Not that Lane had much control left. Not after tonight.
For nearly two hours, they’d sat in the living room laughing at the television while Grant had tried his best to ignore Lane at every turn. Lane knew how it worked, he knew what to expect from Grant, because the man wasn’t going to outwardly pursue him, even if Lane begged. Yet here they were and his head was about to explode because he was touching Grant, kissing him.
Fuck. It was better than he anticipated.
“Holy shit,” Grant moaned as he pulled back, his attention immediately turning to where Lane was stroking him slowly.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yeah,” Grant breathed roughly. “Too good.”
“And to think you’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding me.”
Lane didn’t need Grant to admit it, he already knew the truth. But he’d promised himself that if they ever got to this point, he wouldn’t let the moment pass him by.
Something caught his eye and Lane looked up to see…
Christ. There in the doorway – behind Grant – was Gracie Lambert. She was staring at them, clearly mesmerized to the point she didn’t realize Lane knew she was there.
What he wouldn’t give for her to take a chance and erase the twenty or so feet that stood between her and pleasure the likes of which none of them had ever known. But he knew Gracie. She wasn’t going to act on any impulse; no matter how tempting the urge might be. She had been blowing them off since day one, and Lane figured that if she had her way, she’d continue to do so until hell froze over.
“Lane,” Grant moaned, his head falling back as Lane continued to stroke him.
“I want to taste you,” Lane admitted, his eyes still locked on Gracie, but she wasn’t looking up at him. She was completely unaware that he was watching her, which made it that much hotter.
Grant didn’t tell him no. He didn’t try to pull away and fuck it all, Lane just wanted to take him in his mouth and blow his mind. Something to ease the pressure in hopes that Grant would see that there was something between them even if he were scared to admit it.
Lane forced Grant back a couple of steps, enough to give him room to go to his knees on the worn linoleum floor. Looking up at Grant, Lane continued to stroke him while the cowboy watched, his ocean blue eyes glazed with desire.
With ease, he darted his tongue out and lapped at the bead of pre-cum slicking the head of Grant’s engorged cock. Another growl from Grant, and Lane sucked him fully into his mouth, their eyes still locked together.
Although he wasn’t looking directly at her, Lane could still feel Gracie watching them. It wasn’t that he needed any damned encouragement because shit, Grant was more than enough to make Lane hot, but he would admit that knowing the woman was standing there, probably heating up nicely from the free show going on before her, didn’t hurt.
Grant’s strong hand slid into Lane’s hair, holding him firmly as Lane continued to suck him deep and then retreat. Over and over, he continued to lave Grant’s dick while he fondled Grant’s balls with one hand.
“God, Lane. Fuck. I’ve wanted you to do this for a long damn time.”
Lane didn’t comment. He just sucked harder, deeper, faster.
“Fuck yes,” Grant groaned, his hand clutching Lane’s hair painfully tight, sending shards of electricity through his scalp. “God, don’t stop. Don’t ever fucking stop.”
Grant didn’t have to worry there. Lane had wanted to get his hands on Grant for a long damn time. He also wanted to get his hands on the sweet cowgirl still watching them from the shadows of the front porch. He’d openly admitted to the latter, but never had he out and out admitted the intensity of his desire for Grant.
Not until tonight.
“God damn,” Grant howled. “You’re gonna make me come. Fuck. You’re gonna…”
That’s exactly what Lane was going for. At least for tonight. Tonight was about Grant.
And the sexy cowgirl who might not yet realize just what she’d gotten herself into.
Chapter One
“I don’t give a damn what time he said he’d be here. I fuc–” Grace Lambert slammed her mouth closed, shutting down her own tirade before it was too late. As it was, she had…
“Abigail Grace Lambert! Watch your damn mouth!”
Yep, she’d gone and done it now. Pissing off her pop first thing in the morning probably wasn’t the best way to start the day. In fact, she usually preferred a little caffeine before he chewed her a new one.
Probably to avoid her father’s wrath, Casey – one of the wranglers who helped out in the kitchen each morning – hauled ass out the back door, the screen slamming shut behind him. Lucky bastard. Grace added “Pay Casey back for bailing” to her mental list of things to
do today as she turned back to her father who’d puffed up like a bullfrog, getting ready to lay into her a little more.
“I did, Daddy!” she exclaimed before he could continue. Lowering her voice about ten decibels, she followed up with, “Sorry.”
“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?”
The back door swung open and following that dark, rich Texas twang was none other than the bane of her existence, Grant Kingsley, Dead Heat Ranch’s pain in the ass head foreman. He looked at Grace then back out the door probably at Casey running full out toward the bunkhouse to find the cook who apparently thought he was on vacation.
“Watch your mouth, Kingsley,” Grace muttered beneath her breath as she poured her coffee, purposely not making eye contact. It was bad enough that the mere sight of him made her blush. Especially after… She had things to do, and the first thing on her agenda was to get away from Grant as soon as possible because she damn sure didn’t have time to think about what she saw last Friday night.
“Yes, ma’am,” Grant said in that silky drawl, his mouth much too close to her ear as he passed by her, using his quest for coffee as his excuse to touch her.
Grace did her damnedest to hide her unwelcome reaction to the cowboy who’d been working for her family’s ranch for more years than she had been. “Where’s Lane?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t noticed how close he was.
“Haven’t seen him yet this mornin’,” Grant answered easily as he reached for a coffee cup in the cabinet above Grace’s head. “You lookin’ for him? I can see if I can locate him for you.”
Holding her own cup with both hands, because yes, they were trembling slightly, she eased out from between the tall cowboy and the unyielding counter to join her father at the kitchen table. “Nope. Just hadn’t seen him yet.” And wanted to make sure I didn’t run into him too, she thought to herself.
Some Like It Hot: An Erotic Romance Anthology Page 8
