by Em Petrova
“Come inside and wait for him,” Mrs. Wynton said to her.
“Thanks, I’ll wait here on the porch.” Maya Ray smiled at her, and the woman gave her a knowing look before vanishing inside the house.
Maya Ray twisted her fingers. She considered sitting down on one of the porch rockers but decided she had too much energy for—
A big cowboy appeared in the doorway. His gaze settled on her through the screen door. Then he put up a hand and pushed it open. “Maya Ray.”
His deep voice felt like a caress. God, she’d missed it.
He stepped outside, and she didn’t move back even a single step. “Noah, we need to talk.”
He went still.
She met his stare. “It’s been three weeks, and all I can think about is you. When I wake up, I wonder what you’re doing with your day. When I lie down at night, I wish you were curled up against me. I—”
He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her onto tiptoe and leaning in so his mouth was a breath away from hers. “What are you sayin’?”
“I miss you. I want to be with you. I’m stupid for turning you—”
He captured her lips, cutting off her words. The hard pressure of his mouth stopped more words from flowing out, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for more. As he swooped his tongue through her mouth, over hers, she moaned, and he answered with a low growl.
He tore free, breathing hard as she stared at her. “You wanna give us a try?”
“Yes. If you want to.”
“Hell, woman, I’ve been goin’ crazy for weeks trying to stay away from you. Want to? Maya Ray, I never wanted anything so much in my life as I want you.”
Tugging him down, she brushed her lips against his. “You don’t really want supper, do you?”
His eyes burned and then a wide smile crossed his handsome face, and she was rewarded with the flash of his deep dimple.
* * * * *
Maya Ray twisted the doorknob, and they fell through the door into her tiny mudroom. Noah had barely restrained himself on the ride over, and he wasn’t about to hold back another second.
He lifted her against him, grinding his thick erection into her crotch as he carried her through her living room.
She bit into his earlobe and lightly worked it between her teeth. “Bedroom’s on the right, cowboy.”
He grunted at the hot feel of her lips wrapped around his ear and burst into her bedroom as if he did this every day of his life. Honestly, he hoped to hell this was the beginning of a daily habit.
In five steps, he came up against her double bed. “We need a bigger bed as soon as we can manage.” He claimed her mouth, sinking his tongue in and out in a mimicry of what he was going to do to her just as soon as he got her clothes off.
She yanked off his shirt, and he pushed hers up her stomach to reveal the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra again. He groaned.
“I hate to think how many times I missed the chance to suck these beautiful nipples these past weeks.” He ducked his head to one, trapping the tight bud between his lips and flicking the tip with his tongue. She arched and scraped her fingers over his shoulders.
He froze. “You marked me before, you know.”
She looked at him. “I did?”
“At the party. A pink scratch on my side. It drove me crazy seeing it.”
“Oh God…when I saw those beard burns on my inner thighs…” She shoved him downward, and he took the hint that she wanted more. By the time he let up on her, she’d be lucky to walk straight.
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down. When he spotted the tiny silk triangle of silk covering her pussy, he damn near came in his Wranglers. He grasped the denim and whipped her jeans down and off, and her panties followed.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he settled his shoulders between her thighs, spreading them wide, and delivered a long, slow lap from bottom to top. She cried out and anchored her nails in his shoulders. Passion flowed up as he sucked and licked her sweet, wet pussy.
Three weeks without seeing her, talking to her—hell, tormenting their exes together—had been pure agony. He woke up depressed and fell into bed each night aching to storm up to her door and beg for her to give him a chance.
Then she showed up at his house to do that very thing. The woman had all the guts to survive him and his family both. He sucked on her stiff little pearl until her hips bucked wildly and a throaty cry escaped her.
He thrust his fingers into her pulsating pussy and fucked her nice and slow, thinking of fireworks in the bed of his truck as she came all over his fingers. Pushing to his knees, he watched her face twist in pleasure.
Her inner walls clenched at his digits, and wet sounds filled the air. Need gripped his balls. He needed inside her. He wanted to lose himself in Maya Ray and never come up for air. In one week, he knew he wanted more with her. After a month, he knew he couldn’t live without her.
“Noah! I want you!”
He plunged his fingers inside her one more time, holding the tips against her G-spot until he felt her juices soak his hand. Then he slowly withdrew, watching her face shudder with pleasure.
In a quick flick of his wrist, he loosened his belt and opened his fly. When he shucked his jeans, boots and the remainder of his clothing, she looked on, panting, pink-faced and running her tongue over her lower lip.
“Do you have any damn idea how freakin’ hot you are?”
Her gaze traveled over him. “Do you? Get that condom on. I need you inside me.”
Stomach dipping at her words, he took a condom from his wallet and jerked it over his stiff cock. Then guiding the tip to her entrance, he held her stare.
“I’m done pretending I don’t love you, Maya Ray.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut and then she opened them again. “I’m so in love with you, Noah.” She wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him inside her.
He sank in by degrees, holding her stare as he filled her completely. She gasped when he nudged her inner spot with the mushroomed head of his cock. His balls tightened, and he swung his hips back, easing out to the tip.
When he sank in again, balls-deep, they shared a moan. Need blasted up from the base of his spine. She kissed him, delivering strokes of her tongue and nibbling bites that drove him to the brink. His brain hazed over with passion, and he took her over and over, tunneling into her with jerks of his hips that grew choppier by the minute.
“Noah…I…” She bit down on her plump lip, and he slipped his hand between their bodies to strum her hard clit.
She trembled and cried out, spiking high with her release. He took one look at her coming apart for him and lost control. Cum burst from his tip and he threw his head back, churning his hips as the knot of his pent-up weeks unraveled.
“Come for me, sweet thing.”
“Kiss me.”
She didn’t wait for him to take charge—she yanked him down to plant her lips over his. He slowed their rhythm until she gave a final shiver. Braced on his elbows, he stared into her eyes.
“I missed the hell outta you,” he said.
She lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw. “I shouldn’t have turned you away that day.”
He shook his head. “You needed time to think. It was too soon.”
“This feels right, though.”
“So right.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth and lightly scraped his beard over the tops of her breasts.
“Marking your territory?” Her eyes gleamed.
“Damn straight. I’m not letting you go now.”
She tightened her arms and legs around him. “I’d like to see you try it.”
“My family’s going to be happy to see you around the house again. They’ve been asking about you so often that I thought I might need to move out.”
She chuckled. “I’ll come by and spend some time with everyone soon.”
“You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought home they approve of, you know. Especially my brother
s.”
“I’m glad. I love them all too. But…” She fished her fingers through his hair, tugging him down again. “I love you more.”
“Wait until our exes find out we’re together.”
She latched onto his earlobe again. “Who cares about them?” She rolled on top of him and showed him just how much she didn’t give a damn about anything but making this the very best reunion.
KEEP READING THE SERIES WITH RESCUED BY THE COWBOY
Ross raised the glass of whiskey to his lips, but he never got to take a sip because a sexy woman wearing only a red, sheer thong shoved his drink aside.
She grabbed him by the western string tie he wore and leaned in close. “You want a piece of this, sugar?” She lifted one dainty foot sporting a red stiletto with feathers and planted it on the chair between his thighs, an inch from his balls.
His brothers, a couple cousins and his lifelong buddies at the table hooted and started tossing dollar bills his direction. Music pulsed and the women dancing onstage looked like disco balls with colored lights hitting their scanty costumes. Two were completely naked.
“Who picked this place for our weekly meeting anyway?” He snagged a handful of crumpled bills off the table. The dancer swished around to present her ass. With a coy glance over her shoulder, she bent over for him.
“Stick the bills in her thong!” his brother called when Ross sat immobile for a heartbeat too long.
He pulled the string out of the crack of her ass and wedged the bills under it. When he let it snap back in place, she whipped to face him with a glare.
She sashayed to the next table and straddled a businessman who was three sheets to the wind and probably had more money to waste.
Ross took his whiskey in hand and relished the slow burn slipping into his stomach. Christ, what a week. The guys who made up WEST Protection probably thought that holding their weekly meeting at a strip club would be a good way to unwind. But he didn’t need a silk-covered ass waving her goods in his face to let loose.
Hell, he partied at least once a…
He thought long and hard about the last time he knocked down more than a drink or two or took a beautiful woman up against a wall. His brows scrunched, and he caught his little brother, Boone, looking at him.
“What are you starin’ at?” He slugged down his whiskey and breathed through the flames.
“You didn’t even look twice at that woman. She was waving her ass in your face! Did you even notice her clit was pierced?” Boone’s white Stetson flashed with rainbow lights from the nearby stage.
“She had her clit pierced? How did I miss that?” His other little brother jumped to his feet and waved at the dancer to come back, but she simply blew him a kiss and moved on to another table.
“Shiiiiieeet, Ross. Running a company’s making you old before your time.” Boone motioned to a waitress to bring the table another round of Jameson. They’d shoved together four tables to make enough room for all ten of them working for WEST Protection security company.
Wynton, Shanie and Trace made up three of the letters of WEST. A short year ago, Ross, his cousin and his best buddy had formed the company that served the Western part of the US, and Ross’s brothers jumped on board.
But only he seemed to be on task tonight. The guys were all either drinking, eyeing up beautiful women or both.
Maybe Boone was right—he was getting old before his time. But that happened to men who were driven to reach goals, right? His plan to scale up in the course of a year had exploded them onto the map, and now they couldn’t even handle the calls they were receiving for security details, requests for personal protection officers and even help with guarding identities over the internet with their tech branch.
Wait until he told the guys about putting his next plan into action in order to take over the western US before spreading south.
Boone said something to him, and he blinked away his thoughts. “What was that?”
“You got too much manure in your ears, brother! If you’re not on the ranch, you’ve got your head in a business plan or a case file. I said that dancer was waving at you from across the room.”
He didn’t bother to look. He wasn’t interested in a woman who would wiggle her ass in the face of any man waving a buck. He sipped his whiskey and kicked back instead, watching his employees’ interest in the scheduled meeting fade fast.
A dancer with big, perky tits headed their way, and all nine of his men whipped off their white Stetsons in her honor. Ross grunted, watching their antics as they plied her with money in trade for a peek at those big, hard nipples up close.
They needed to discuss so many things. The agenda he’d memorized floated away as he realized they weren’t going to talk about protecting the governor from death threats, or even how to reduce the hundreds he received a day to a dozen. There wasn’t an opportunity to go over details about security at the banks being hit with armed robberies or the countless security systems they were being paid to plug holes in.
The dancer moved on, and the guys placed their hats on their heads.
He tugged the brim of his own white Stetson, a trademark of WEST Protection, and raised his voice. “I have an announcement.”
They all stopped talking and focused on him.
“I received a call from a woman who heads the planning team for the Grammys.”
Nobody spoke.
“As in Grammy Wynton?”
Ross’s lips twisted. “Not that type o’ Grammy. I mean the Grammys. The big awards that happen annually.”
Everyone blinked at him. All except for Boone, who stared at Ross as though he’d lost the ability to close his eyelids.
“You got…us a job…working security…for…the…Grammys?” Boone spaced out the words in a slow drawl.
He shook his head. “Nothing’s finalized. No contracts signed.”
“But they’ll offer,” Boone put in with stone-cold conviction.
Ross ducked his head in the Wynton nod handed down through the men of his family, along with a deep dimple in each of their cheeks. “Looks like it might happen. And if it does, we need more men. The best of the best, ya hear?” He pointed to his youngest brother Noah.
“Damn, brother, I admit I never believed you when you said WEST would be the biggest security company in the US.” His middle brother Josiah pinned a stare on him.
“Not yet we aren’t. And if we do reach the top—”
“Which we will,” interjected Boone.
Ross went on, “Then we can’t get lazy. We have to actually be the best. We haven’t invested in all this training, infrastructure, top-of-the-line computer systems and other high-priced gear only to let it all go with laziness.”
“Look around you, Ross. Is there a single man here you’d call lazy?” Josiah spoke up.
If their determined expressions and muscled shoulders didn’t say enough, he’d witnessed firsthand how damn lethal every man seated at this table was. Upon inception of the company, the first thing he did was fly everyone to Michigan to a top facility for training with elite soldiers from all over the world. At this point, they could handle everything including hostage rescues, reconnaissance, military combative techniques and could even treat trauma patients. And that was only the bodyguard division. The tech team had their own top training.
He started to answer Josiah, but his phone vibrated on the table next to his hand. He glanced at the number and didn’t recognize it.
But he never let a call go. As a result, he listened to a lot of spam calls about his car’s extended warranty. Often, the people who contacted him were clients sent to him by word of mouth.
“That the girl you were twirling around the dancefloor the other night, Ross?” his brother teased.
“Don’t you guys know I’m older than my years and my personal life’s in the shitter?” His comment had them all laughing. He snatched the phone on the second buzz and brought it to his ear.
“Ross Wynton.”
“
Uh…Ross?” The feminine voice came off as breathy, but maybe it was the music drowning her out.
“Yes, who is this?”
“It’s Pippa.”
He froze. He only knew one woman named Pippa.
“Pippa Hamlin.”
His brain threw up a mental file of her containing her image and description. Pippa, daughter of his father’s best friend. Last he’d heard, she graduated Yale or some other Ivy League school with magna cum laude and a degree in molecular something or other. He hadn’t seen her since a big family barbecue when her family came from Seattle to visit his in Stone Pass, Montana. He couldn’t recall much about that last gathering besides her being in that colt-like stage of her teens where guys didn’t take notice.
That and she’d taken a fall off a horse, despite convincing him and his brothers that she could ride.
“Pippa?” He stood and wove his way through the club to the exit so he could hear her better. Passing several dancers who stopped to wink at him, he listened to the silence projecting into his ear on the other end of the line.
Once he burst outside into the cold, pine-scented Montana air, he said, “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
Her voice still came out too soft.
“Is everything all right?”
A beat of silence followed. Then she said, “No. All wrong. I’m boarding flight 68 to Montana right now. I need you to pick me up at the airport.”
His protective senses kicked in. “Pippa, where are you? What’s going on?”
Another long pause and then her whisper sent shivers through him. “I’m being followed, Ross.”
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Em Petrova
Em Petrova was raised by hippies in the wilds of Pennsylvania but told her parents at the age of four she wanted to be a gypsy when she grew up. She has a soft spot for babies, puppies and 90s Grunge music and believes in Bigfoot and aliens. She started writing at the age of twelve and prides herself on making her characters larger than life and her sex scenes hotter than hot.
She burst into the world of publishing in 2010 after having five beautiful bambinos and figuring they were old enough to get their own snacks while she pounds away at the keys. In her not-so-spare time, she is fur-mommy to a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff.
