by HELEN HARDT
Warning
This e-book contains erotic scenes that some may find objectionable. It is intended for adults only as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Store your e-books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.
The Cowboy and the Cougar
Helen Hardt
Aspen Mountain Press
The Cowboy and the Cougar
Copyright @ 2009 Helen Hardt
This e-book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the Names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
Aspen Mountain Press
18121-C E Hampden Ave
, Ste 221
Aurora CO 80013
www.AspenMountainPress.com
First published by Aspen Mountain Press December, 2009
www.AspenMountainPress.com
This book is licensed to the original purchase only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. The e-book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-60168-261-1
Released in the United States of America
Editor: Celina Summers
Dedication
To all my friends at Colorado Romance Writers, and special thanks to Lizzie T. Leaf who suggested I write a story for this series.
Chapter One
"Sugar, you look like you just lost your best friend."
The voice was deep and husky. Very sexy. Holly Taylor didn’t look up from her empty martini glass. She speared the remaining gin-soaked olive with her sword-shaped toothpick, twirled it in the last drop of alcohol, and popped it in her mouth. The piquant saltiness exploded across her tongue. She closed her eyes and inhaled.
She’d get through this. She had no choice.
"What can I get you?"
Holly opened her eyes at the female bartender’s squeaky voice. Damned annoying, especially for a swanky hotel bar, but the woman poured a mean martini.
"Scotch, neat," the familiar male voice said, "and another for the lady."
Nope. Not another. Holly was driving. No matter what lay ahead, she couldn’t get drunk and drive home. She turned her head to thank the gentleman and met the darkest, smokiest, most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.
The rest of him wasn’t bad, either.
"You okay?" he asked.
Uh, yeah. Her mouth hung open and she quickly shut it. "Thank you, sir—" Sir? He had to be at least ten years her junior! "—but I don’t want another drink."
His eyes twinkled behind their ebony curtain of lashes. "I’m not sure anyone’s ever called me sir, sugar. And you look like you could use another."
Holly stared. She couldn’t help it. His eyes weren’t his only magnificent feature. His face was perfectly sculpted, with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. A few days’ growth of black beard dusted his strong jaw. Onyx hair fell to his shoulders in thick waves. And what shoulders they were—broad, meaty and clad in a white western shirt complete with silver snaps. His jeans, hat and boots completed the picture. Here was a real, honest-to-goodness cowboy in the middle of The Livingston Palace bar in Denver.
Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.
The bartender set down another martini. Holly opened her mouth to speak, but the stud next to her touched her forearm. Sparks crept to her cheeks and warmed them.
"It’s okay. I’ll take care of you."
Take care of her? She let out a sigh. If only her life were that simple. She fingered the stem of the martini glass with her free hand and looked into his amazing eyes. He smiled. What the heck? Maybe a few minutes in this handsome young man’s company would take her mind off her problems.
"Thank you," she said. "I may need to take you up on that."
"Any time, sugar." His lazy half-smile dipped as he picked up his drink with his other hand. When the tip of his tongue touched the rim of his glass, Holly’s pulse lurched. She imagined that pink flesh snaking around a hard nipple. One of her hard nipples, both of which currently strained against her bra, aching.
Her companion let out a soft laugh. "You gonna drink that? Or just squeeze it till it shatters in your hand?"
Holly looked down at her white-knuckled fingers wringing the glass stem. She exhaled and forced her hand to relax. Lifting the drink to her lips, she said, "Cheers," and gulped the martini.
The gin stung her throat as she set the glass back down on the bar.
She’d had a shit day.
But it was about to get a whole lot better, she hoped.
Her neck chilled, and she inhaled and gathered her courage. "You live around here, Cowboy?"
"Not too far. You?"
Not too far. He hadn’t asked her name. He was wise to keep the conversation impersonal. No names. That would be best. No ages, either. If this young stud knew she’d just hit forty he’d no doubt run for cover.
"I don’t think I’m going home tonight," she said. "I think I feel like a room. A suite maybe. A jacuzzi suite."
The cowboy’s full lips curved into a grin and his fingers tensed on her forearm. "Are you asking for company?"
Holly’s heart fluttered, but she steadied herself despite the two martinis. She wasn’t drunk. It took more than two drinks to get her tipsy. All signals from the man said go. She hadn’t had sex in a while. Damn, had it been two years now?
She was forty. Forty and alone, with no one to hold her and comfort her as she cried about what was to come.
She didn’t have to be alone tonight.
Tonight, she could escape, albeit temporarily, and make love to a hot younger man. If he were willing, which he seemed to be.
She pushed her empty martini glass toward the bartender and then covered his hand which still warmed her arm. His hands were as beautifully formed as the rest of him, with long thick fingers that would feel really good in lots of places. The soft hair on his knuckles tickled her.
Why not get straight to the point? She met his dark gaze. "If I were asking for company, would you be up for it?"
He downed the rest of his Scotch and smiled. "Can’t think of a better way to spend the evening, sugar."
Holly gulped. She was really going to do this. "Do you have protection?"
"I was a boy scout—" He leaned toward her, and his warm breath caressed her cheek. "—I’m always prepared."
* * * *
She wouldn’t tell him her name and didn’t want to know his.
She’d touched two slender fingers to his lips when he’d tried to introduce himself. "You’re Cowboy to me tonight," she’d said. "And I’m Sugar."
Okay, he’d play along, though he’d insisted on paying for the room. She’d stayed far from the front counter as he reserved the best suite The Livingston had available. She probably didn’t want to get curious and peek at the name on his credit card.
Fine. For now. He had every intention of knowing this beauty’s name and everything else about her before the night was over. Specifically, he wanted to know what or who put that forlorn look in her beautiful eyes.
His hand to her back, he escorted her into the empty elevator. The doors closed.
And she attacked.
His body slammed against the wall of the elevator and her smooth hands cupped either side of his face. She pulled him toward her luscious red lips.
"Kiss me, Cowboy."
She crushed her mouth to his. Though his int
ent was to play with her a little, hold her off, make her beg, he couldn’t resist the temptation of her honeyed mouth. When her tongue touched his, he sucked it between his lips. It was soft. So soft and wet, and she tasted like the martinis she’d drunk. Gin, a touch of vermouth and some spicy lime. Jack wasn’t sure where the lime had come from, but it was the perfect compliment.
Her lush body molded to his, and her bountiful breasts mashed against his chest. She was tall, his sugar. Tall enough that he, at six-three, didn’t need to strain his neck to kiss her. The silky fabric that covered her plump tits rubbed against him and ignited his loins.
Hell, his loins had been on fire since he’d first seen her. So beautiful and so sad. He’d wanted to help her, hold her, and take away whatever was hurting her.
If he could do that by fucking her, so be it. Yep, that was him. Jack Sherwood. Altruist.
Fuck.
She grabbed his ass and any further thoughts of altruism fled his mind.
This was not altruism. This was lust, pure and simple. He wanted her, and clearly the feeling was mutual.
The elevator dinged and opened, and he broke the kiss with a loud smack. Her lips, scarlet and swollen, curved slightly into a shy smile. She met his gaze then looked away quickly.
"Don’t get bashful with me now, sugar," Jack said. "You’re one hell of a great kisser."
"Who’s bashful?" She met his eyes and her own green orbs smoldered.
He smiled. "My mistake." He pulled her from the elevator and down the hallway to room 1145, and then trapped her against the door as he fumbled for the keycard in his pocket. Again, her body felt perfect against his and his arousal ached in his jeans. He pushed it into her soft belly and arched his eyebrow at her gasp.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, sure Cowboy." She grabbed his ass and pulled him harder against her. "I’m fine."
"Damn, sugar." Fine indeed. His jeans had tightened so much he had a hard time finding the keycard, but he had to find it, and fast. Otherwise he was about to fuck the daylights out of her right there in the hall.
He eased away from her to withdraw the card from his pocket. In a flash her warm hand was at his crotch, cupping him.
"Ah," he groaned and shut his eyes.
Thank God he’d decided to step into the Livingston bar after his appointment earlier.
This was going to be one hell of a good night.
Chapter Two
The cowboy had her in his arms before they were five feet into the room. He took her hand, drew her close and pressed his body into hers. Holly slid her fingers up the soft cotton of his shirt, grabbed the collar, and released the snaps one by one. She wanted to hurry, to rip the damn thing off him. But she’d tease a little. Take her time. He smiled—damn, he was gorgeous—as she pulled the shirt from his waistband and pushed it off his broad and beefy shoulders. It landed on the floor with a soft swoosh.
Cowboy trailed one finger over her breasts snug in her green polo shirt. Her nipples tightened when he grazed them.
"Fair is fair, sugar. You need to take this off." He pulled her shirt over her head and his calloused fingertips skimmed the sensitive bare skin of her belly. She shivered as white heat spread to her limbs. Soon her shirt joined his on the floor.
His chocolate gaze dropped to her breasts. Swollen and ripe, they fought against the lace of her bra. Instead of touching them—to her disappointment—he merely looked and then pulled her into his embrace. He squeezed the cheeks of her ass.
She slid her hands over the hard planes of his chest, through the soft smattering of dark hair, up his sleek golden shoulders and into his soft, dark waves. She sifted the silky strands through her fingers and thought she’d never felt anything quite so soft, so heavenly.
His lips lowered to hers. So close, they were, but he didn’t kiss her. Not even a centimeter separated them, but he didn’t bridge the gap.
The fact that he didn’t was incredibly erotic. She’d already kissed him in the elevator, but at this moment, she wanted to kiss him more than she wanted her next breath. His long, thick fingers caressed her neck, sending shudders through her which landed between her legs. She tried to press closer, to spear him with her painfully hard nipples. Still he tantalized her, warming her lips with his soft breath.
His fingers trailed from her neck down her shoulder and eased down one strap of her bra. She closed her eyes as the air hit her turgid nipple. Cowboy moaned and cupped her naked breast, then squeezed, and her nipple hardened even further. Her sex wept. Damn, if he didn’t kiss her soon, or touch her nipple...really, it didn’t have to be much. A little pinch to the hard bud and she’d explode on the spot. She withdrew from his hypnotic stare and kissed his sculpted shoulder. His skin was warm and slightly salty. Very, very masculine.
She turned in his arms, her back to his chest, and he squeezed her breast again. His other hand slithered down her smooth belly and under the waistband of her stretch capris. Into her panties he went and his long warm fingers sifted through her pubic curls.
She shuddered when he reached her clit. Slowly, methodically, he stroked her moist folds.
"Mmm, wet sugar," he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, unable to speak. His caresses made her blood boil. She squeezed his sinewy arms, his massive shoulders, then turned her head and bit his hard flesh.
His groan was her reward.
Enough of him being in control. As much as Holly was enjoying his ministrations, she needed to take charge. If he wouldn’t kiss her, wouldn’t suck her nipple, she’d show him what a tease she could be.
She turned in his arms and dropped to her knees. Her hands trembling, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. His hands fisted in her long dark hair, but she proceeded slowly, methodically. She’d tease him like he’d teased her.
She grasped the rough denim and pushed it down over his lean, sculpted hips.
Before her stood the most amazing cock she’d ever seen. Long, thick, and golden, it sprang from a thick nest of black curls. So much for teasing. That delicious-looking cock was going in her mouth.
She looked up at him. His eyes pierced her with scalding flames. She smiled and met his gaze. God, he was beautiful. She traced lacy patterns on his thighs and continued to stare at his massive erection. His muscle, his skin, felt glorious to her touch.
"Damn," she said under her breath.
"Hmm? What is it, sugar?"
Had he heard her? Warmth crept to her cheeks, but she steadied herself. Why be embarrassed now? She was staring at his naked cock. Time for embarrassment had definitely gone out the window.
"I’m thinking, Cowboy—" She reached upward and pressed her hands to his gorgeous chest, then scraped her fingernails downward. He sucked in his breath. "—that I’d really like to suck this beautiful cock."
His groan vibrated against the palms of her hands. Good, good. Right where she wanted him.
"Please," he said. "God, please suck it."
Holly leaned forward and took just the head between her lips. Mmm. Delicious, just as she’d expected. A drop of salty pre-cum tantalized her tongue, reminding her of the olives in her martini. She loved olives.
And she loved this cowboy’s cock.
He pushed forward and tried to nudge his way farther into her mouth, but she held fast, enjoying the feel of his sensitive head against her lips and tongue. She slurped a little, then drew back and rained tiny kisses to the tip. Mmm.
"Damn, sugar." He bent forward and smashed his mouth to hers in a kiss so raw and untamed, she nearly forgot who she was. His tongue tangled with hers, exploring, possessing.
When he ripped his mouth away, she inhaled a needed breath, and he grabbed her hair and forced her back onto his cock.
"Suck me. Please."
He didn’t have to say please. She took him deeply this time, let his knob graze the back of her throat. Then she inched back, let it drop from her mouth and licked the underside, relishing his moans. He still held her by the hair which�
�she wasn’t sure why—turned her on even more. When she took him in her mouth again, his face twisted into a grimace. She hummed softly, knowing the vibration from her voice would tease him.
"God! If you don’t stop that I’m going to come."
Holly backed off. No way. No coming until she’d gotten what she came for—a night of hot, heart-stopping sex. "So good I can’t remember my own name" sex. That’s what she needed right now.
To forget her own name.
To forget everything.
Cowboy gathered Holly into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed and quickly disposed of her bra. His eyes widened.
"Damn, sugar, you’ve got beautiful breasts." He pinched a nipple. She sucked in a breath. "Gorgeous nipples, too. Perfect."
Holly had always been self-conscious of her nipples. Resembling pencil erasers and surrounded by silver-dollar areolas, they were too big. At least, that’s what she’d always thought. The lecherous look in Cowboy’s smoking eyes eased her and drove that thought from her lust-filled mind.
When he finally tore his gaze from her chest, he removed her shoes and tugged off her pants. He inhaled sharply.
Was it the thong? Holly didn’t normally wear thongs, but this red lace number had been lounging in the back of her underwear drawer for far too long. She’d wanted to feel sexy and desirable this evening.
Able to conquer the world...by wearing crimson butt-floss?
Yeah, it was a sham, but what the heck? She’d worn the thong to accent the freshly trimmed black curls which peeked through the lace.
Clearly Cowboy appreciated the gesture. His dark eyes burned.
"Sugar, you are one sexy lady." He didn’t remove the thong. Instead, he spread her legs, positioned himself between them, and grasped the triangle of red satin. When he yanked it toward her navel, she shuddered. The red string rubbed against her clit and moisture dribbled from her, wetting the insides of her thighs. She groaned.
