by Desiree Holt
When he reached her pussy, he drew his thumbs along the inner flesh of her labia, smiling to himself when he found her drenched.
She gave a somewhat hysterical laugh. “I guess I haven’t forgotten everything after all.”
“I think we’re going to replace all those bad memories,” he told her. “This is all going to be new. I’m going to make your body sing, make you come harder than you ever imagined.” He lowered his head and placed a kiss right at the top of her slit. “And then we’re going to do it all over again.”
“I’ll be happy for just one,” she breathed. “I think— Oh!”
He placed his mouth right over her clit and tugged on it with his teeth. She lifted her hips to him, and he slid one finger into her hot channel. Tight! She was so damn tight! His penis twitched just thinking about what a snug fit it would be.
As he sucked on the heated bundle of nerves, he thrust his fingers in and out of her in a steady rhythm, slow at first then picking up the pace just a little. Not too fast. He wanted to draw this out for her, make it last, make up to her for all the pleasure she’d missed out on all these years.
As he continued to stimulate her clit and plunge his fingers in and out of her very tight clasp, her whimper turned into a moan and then into a full cry of pleasure. He tongued her slit from top to bottom and back again, lapping at her as he drove her closer and closer to release. Her hands fisted in his hair, and she arched her hips to him.
In an instant, she exploded, riding his hand and his tongue, her inner muscles spasming and her juices flowing. He played her body to keep her on that whirlwind ride as long as he could. Finally, the tremors subsided.
Ben eased his fingers out and carefully licked them clean. Grace watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, a deep blush creeping up her cheeks. Before she had a chance to regret what he’d done—what she’d allowed him to do—he stripped off the rest of his clothes, fished a condom from his wallet, and rolled it on. He moved up her body and rubbed his mouth over hers.
“Taste yourself on me, Grace. It’s better than any wine we could drink.”
While he had her focused on that, he bent her legs to give himself better access, positioned the head of his cock at her entrance, and very slowly inched his way inside. He kept her gaze locked with his as he entered her little by little. Even with the one orgasm, she was still so tight. He had to reach for every ounce of discipline to keep from coming right then and there. Age had nothing to do with his eroding control. It was all this woman who had turned out to be as sexy as he’d imagined.
“Oh God!” The words left her mouth on a sigh as at last he filled her completely. “Oh my God.”
“I could say the same thing.” He was breathless with the power of their connection and the sensations running through him.
Bracing himself on his forearms, he touched his mouth to hers, drinking in her taste. He loved the feel of her body beneath him, soft and giving. The tightness of her cunt clasping his shaft like a wet fist nearly took the top of his head off. Ben had what he considered a semi-active sex life for a man of his age. He’d had relationships on and off, enjoyable interludes that gave both partners pleasure and satisfaction. But he was completely unprepared for the chemistry with Grace Traynor. If he had the stamina, he could stay like this forever.
He dipped his head to take one gorgeous nipple in his mouth, and she gave a soft cry of pleasure. Her inner muscles tightened around him, and he knew he was at the end of his control. Something age had diminished. He prayed he could hang on long enough to give her the satisfaction she deserved.
He moved as slowly as he could, well aware this was the first time for her in decades and the memories she carried were painful. So he pulled out until just the head of his penis was lodged inside her before thrusting back inside. Her eyes darkened almost to an ocean-blue. She reached for his shoulders, her grip tight.
“Put your legs around me.” His voice was hoarse with need.
She wound her legs around him in a movement at first tentative and then, as he pushed into her again, with more force and strength.
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Hang on tight, Grace. I’m taking you for a wild ride.”
And wild it was. He was hanging on by a slender thread when he felt the signs of Grace’s impending orgasm. His hips pistoned in a steady rhythm as he plunged again and again. And then they were both tumbling over that steep cliff, bodies shuddering. Her legs unlocked from their grip on his body, dropping to the quilt. He held her tightly through the aftershocks, both of them dragging air into their lungs until at last the tremors subsided.
Ben slipped from her body with great care and rolled to the side. He disposed of the condom in the little bag he’d brought for trash before wrapping Grace in his arms again and gathering her to him. He placed slow, tender kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her chin. His heart was still pounding, and he could feel an answering beat from hers.
“Ben?” Her voice held a tremulous sound to it.
He tensed, wondering if she was going to tell him she regretted the whole thing. “What is it, my sweet?”
She tunneled her fingers through his hair. “This is the best picnic I’ve ever been on.”
He gave a lusty laugh, joy coursing through him. “Me, too, Grace. Me, too.” He looked into her eyes, now a warm blue and sparkling with joy. “Did I wipe away all the bad memories?”
She smiled at him. “What bad memories?”
He chuckled. “Okay, then.”
“Um, do you think we could do this again sometime? Soon?”
He kissed her, a long, tender kiss, his tongue searching her mouth with affection rather than passion.
“Grace, I’m hoping we can do a lot more than picnics. And very soon. In fact, I’m wondering if you’re up for a casual dinner tonight.”
She did that thing with her lower lip again. “I think I can get with that program.”
“I’m glad I hired you to decorate the models and clubhouses. A lot more than your designs are sexy, my sexy lady.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Remind me to send Jack Hamilton a big thank you gift.”
A faint blush crept up her cheeks. “As long as you don’t tell him what it’s for.”
“Right now, I need to radio Alan to come pick us up. It’s going to get chilly before long and, at our age, lying out here naked for much longer might not be such a good idea.”
She lowered her lashes in a shy gesture. “Then maybe we should find a warmer place.”
Ben laughed, a sound of pure joy. It occurred to him this had started out as a way to develop a relationship where two people could enjoy each other’s company, but, somehow, in one afternoon, it had turned into more. Much more. Yes, he really owed the Hamiltons a huge thank you for bringing Grace into his life.
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Hard Lovin’ by Desiree Holt
Chapter One
Gypsy rover came over the hill, down through the valley so shady
He whistled and he sang ’til the greenwoods rang and he won the heart of a lady.
Erin Braddock slipped into the ill-lighted bar through the back door, squinting against the darkness, and found her way to a tiny booth in the corner. The area was so small, a second person would be hard pressed to find room in the space, but that suited her fine. She hadn’t come here looking for company. Unless it was the cowboy up on the postage-stamp sized stage, alone in the spotlight with his guitar and his smoky voice. Ebony hair curled down to the nape of his neck, and a work shirt and worn jeans clung to his lean body like a second skin. The muscles in his arm flexed as he picked at the strings of the guitar, coaxing a tune from it.
The lights were dim in the smoky club, a sea of black with the man in the searing white glow of the spotlight a stark comparison. The air was heavy with expectation as he strummed the melody of a love song that whipped its sound over the crowd, only
to slow like the stroke of a lover’s caress.
You are so out of your mind for doing this.
So what else was new?
She’d had to get out of the house. Away from the ranch. Away from…everyone. Her father, Rance, who was suffocating her with his protective kindness. T.J. Elliott, the fiancé she couldn’t seem to break away from. The houseful of people all gathered to celebrate a wedding tomorrow.
Hers.
A wedding she didn’t want.
The memories of the nightmare with Cal hadn’t yet faded and her father was suffocating her with his protective kindness. The far too wealthy Rance Braddock was like a tidal wave swallowing people up. And then there was T.J. Elliott, her father’s choice for a “safe” and well-connected husband. A way to guarantee her future. No danger there.
Not like Cal, the worst mistake she’d ever made. And she’d wanted safe. Needed it. Her father and T.J. treated her like some child too fragile to be let out on her own. Well, maybe she was. Look what she’d gotten herself into. And didn’t want to get out of, until she’d had no other choice. Now, at thirty, she suddenly didn’t seem to be able to put one foot in front of the other anymore.
Until now.
The bad part about being rescued from a situation like the one she’d been in was people were afraid to take their eyes off you. She didn’t even seem to have the strength to tell them they could let her be. She went along to get along, letting herself be swept up in a courtship she didn’t want and a wedding suddenly bearing down on her like a tornado.
She’d come to the bar a few nights ago with her girlfriends, who had practically dragged her out of the house.
“Have fun,” her father said.
“You’ll be fine with the girls,” T.J. told her. He’d kissed her on the cheek and teased, “Last night out before becoming Mrs. Elliott.”
She was safe with her friends. Girls’ night out was okay. Both her father and T.J. had relaxed.
But her friend, Lili, had whispered in her ear, “Wait until you see Grady Sinclair. He’s hot, hot, hot. And his music!” Lili rolled her eyes. “Just listening to him makes your pussy get wet and your nipples poke like diamonds.”
Erin had shivered, skeptical but hopeful. She didn’t think she’d ever have that reaction again. Or want it. The best thing about T.J. was he was nonthreatening. She could always fake orgasms. She’d become a very good actress living with Cal.
So she’d let them coax her out and come to Smoky’s with them, and damn but Lili was right. Wrapped in the almost mystical cloak of the music drifting to her from the stage, she’d felt stirrings she’d thought long dead. Responses she didn’t think she was capable of anymore. And then she’d come back with them. Again and again, to hear the troubadour with eyes as black as his hair and a rugged face, drawn by the clear, mesmerizing notes of his songs and the sadness in his voice.
Tonight, when the reality of what was happening in her life crashed in on her, when she’d felt herself squeezed by the juggernaut rolling over her, she suddenly had to get out, get away. For once, no one’s eyes were on her. Her father and T.J. were both busy in the mob of guests at their pre-wedding celebration. How easy it had been to slip into the kitchen and out the back door. With all the vehicles coming and going, no one paid attention to another truck pulling out of the driveway.
And she’d headed straight here like a homing pigeon, to the cowboy minstrel whose music gave her the first real pleasure she’d ever known. A pleasure all her own. So, now, here she sat, listening to him sing about love lost, a heart broken. Cruelty. Well, she certainly knew about that.
The waitress came by, and Erin ordered a soft drink. She didn’t drink alcohol anymore. Not since….
Don’t go there. Do. Not. Go. There.
The song ended, and he moved right into the next one. This was about loving and being free, about giving and being given to, and something in the words unlocked a part of her she’d kept stored away. Freed the emotional cage she’d been keeping herself in. Free. That’s what she needed to be. And the ranch and T.J. would never give her freedom. She saw it so clearly now. It had been eight months since she’d come home to the ranch. Eight months away from Cal. Eight months of counseling and pampering and dealing with her own responsibility for what happened.
Tonight, she’d run because she didn’t want to exchange one kind of prison for another. And she’d come here because maybe she saw Grady Sinclair as the first step on the road to freedom.
Applause broke her concentration, and she realized the song had ended. The sound of clapping filled the space left by the absence of music, but the heat of his voice still filled her ears. Yes, she’d done the right thing, coming here. She closed her eyes to recapture the feeling the song had given her, the melody playing again in her mind.
“Okay if I sit here? Or are you waiting for someone?”
For a moment, she thought she’d imagined him speaking to her—she was still so focused on the song. But a warm hand touched her wrist lightly, she looked up, and those dark eyes were fastened directly on her. She was stunned she didn’t feel the least bit of fear with him. Especially after….
Don’t go there.
She realized he was waiting for an answer and tried a tentative smile, amazingly soothed by his touch.
“No. I mean, yes.” She wet her lips. “No, I’m not waiting for someone and, yes, you can sit here.”
“I saw you when you came in with your friends the past few nights.” The waitress brought him a bottle of beer, ice-cold drops still sliding down the glass. “I thought how beautiful you looked. How I wished you’d come back by yourself.” He smiled, a crooked grin making every pulse in her body pound with sudden fierceness. “And here you are.”
Yes, here I am. Shaky and calm at the same time.
For one brief moment, panic coursed through her, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. His scent, a mixture of earth and musk, drifted tantalizingly across her nostrils. Oh, and his eyes. A deep blue, like the shifting colors of a stormy sea. Eyes that ate her up but also held shadows of sorrow and pain.
“I…like your music.” It helps me find escape. And calls to me.
“I’m glad.” He took a long pull at the bottle, the muscles of his throat working as he swallowed the liquid.
“I love your whole show, in fact. You’re very good.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you been doing this a long time?”
He shrugged. “Some might say.”
“Where are you from?” she wanted to know. His drawl was definitely Texas.
He shrugged. “Here and there.”
“No, I mean originally,” she persisted.
“Just a place.”
Someplace he obviously didn’t want to talk about. Erin could certainly relate.
“You wander from place to place?”
It must be nice to have no one to answer to, nothing to tie you down. Able to make your own decisions.
For a moment, she was seized with a fit of jealousy, but she smothered it. What she should be feeling guilty about was sitting here talking to the first man she felt comfortable with since that day in the hospital instead of being back at the ranch getting ready for her wedding.
“Right. Wherever there’s a gig. I can walk away any time I want.” He drank some more of the beer.
Must be nice. I’m thirty-one years old, and I don’t think I’ve ever really been able to do that.
“You look so sad and lonely sitting here,” he commented, his gaze a caress on her skin. “Are you okay?”
Was she? Not by a long shot. But, somehow, sitting in this bar, listening to Grady Sinclair, everything else fell away, and this became her only reality. She’d thought never to trust a man again, not one who made her body respond in any way. Never put herself in such danger. But something about Grady Sinclair said you can trust me. It was the damndest thing, but she had a feeling she could. Either he was a rare find,
or she was losing her mind.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, cutting through her fog.
She realized he’d asked her a question. Was she all right?
She shrugged and fiddled with her glass, wondering how long it would be before she was missed at the house. Before her father and T.J. began cross-examining everyone. Her bridesmaids, especially Lili, mounting an all-out search for her.
As if he sensed her uneasiness, he asked, “Can you stay for the last set? I’ll sing a song especially for you.” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “Please?”
Erin should probably get out of there. Hooking up with a stranger after the disaster with Cal was probably the worst thing she could do, but something held her in place. The pull of this man. The very distinct sexual awareness, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Arousing, but nonthreatening. And the lure of freedom. She’d never really had it before. Someone had always been pulling the strings, even when she fled to Houston on her own.
Oh, yeah. I certainly made a real success.
Well, she had, as far as her career went. She’d built a life for herself there. A job she loved. Friends who were…okay. Of course, she’d mostly been working her ass off to prove to her father she didn’t have to be Rance Braddock’s daughter to be successful. She’d tried, damn it. Come home to the ranch with her shiny diploma and started to learn the vast ranch operations with the business manager. Only her father had been breathing over her shoulder every damn minute. And still trying to choose her friends and her dates.
The biggest fights they’d had were when she demanded he give her room to breathe.
Maybe if she hadn’t been trying so hard to prove something, she’d never have fallen under Cal Stadler’s spell. Talk about disasters.
But this was different. She knew it. Could taste it, smell it. Feel it.
