Strokes, Vol. 3

by Delilah Devlin

  I didn’t know a thing about his personal life. He didn’t wear a ring, but what did that signify? And what had that “moment” back there on the ridgeline been about? Was he mocking me because he knew I was attracted? Or was he interested too?

  And if he wanted me, was it because I was the only female for miles in this wilderness? I hoped like hell not. I hadn’t been with a man in a long while, and I didn’t think I could handle something as shallow as a convenience fuck.

  If fucking was even something on his mind, I couldn’t tell. He didn’t glance back. Not once. If he was interested in me, wouldn’t he be as curious as me and slyly watchful?

  We followed a dry creek bed with a gradual decline toward the river bisecting the park. As it was early summer, the water was still high against the banks. Inviting. My horse was certainly eager. I let her have her head, and she trotted toward the edge of the water. I dismounted, dropped her reins and let her step into the water, her head ducking to snuffle and drink.

  The chink of metal and dull thud of leather hitting the ground sparked my interest, and I came around my horse, watching as Zane tossed his saddle beside the packs already on the ground.

  “I take it we’ll be here for a while.”

  “We’ve pushed the horses hard.”

  He didn’t give any more of an explanation, but I read the challenge in his gaze. I nodded slowly and turned back to my horse, following his example to relieve my mare of her burden.

  When I loosened the cinch around her abdomen, the saddle lifted away unexpectedly. Zane hadn’t helped me with my gear since we’d started. Now the simple action turned me on more than a hot glance might have. His body was tight. His movements a little less graceful than usual. When he set down the saddle and straightened, I could see why. The bulge that lay trapped against his thigh was unmistakable.

  My mouth went dry. “Think the water’s cold?” I asked, inanely. The water was certainly cooler than the air. But, I needed to say something other than: “I hope that erection’s for me.”

  I did my best to keep my gaze on his face, but couldn’t help flitting down to check out his impressive hard-on. I felt as gauche as a teenager.

  “Bathe,” he said quietly, then turned and began to strip.

  I liked his economy of movement. The unfussy way he tugged and pulled and quickly dropped his clothes in a heap beside his feet.

  I admired his nakedness, the round firmness of his backside, the ropey muscles framing his spine. When he reached behind him for his ponytail and began to sift the braid free, my mouth pooled with saliva. His hair was black and shining blue where the sun hit it. Thick. My fingers curled at my sides.

  And then he turned, his gaze raking over me. His mouth tightened. Was that annoyance? I noted his expression, only fleetingly, because my gaze dropped straight to his cock, which was extended, the blunt cap glistening with a hint of moisture. It was long and thick, the shaft straight and rising from a dark, sparse thatch of hair.

  “Do you need help?” he asked, voice silky like I’d never heard it before.

  A quiver shook my belly, making my knees weak, and I knew if I tried to take off my boots standing, I’d fall on my face. I didn’t answer, simply waited as he narrowed his eyes and strode toward me, his height and masculine breadth casting a shadow.

  He reached first for my hands and pulled off my leather riding gloves. Then with an arch of his brow, he knelt on one knee, tapping the side of one boot until I gripped his shoulder and lifted my foot. He took off each boot then swiftly undid my belt and jeans and pushed them roughly down my legs, taking my cotton underwear along with them. He didn’t pause to stare, didn’t say a word as he waited while I stepped free of my clothing. Then he stood, hands going to the buttons of my plaid shirt, opening them with determined efficiency, and then dragging my sports bra over my head and off my arms.

  His gaze raked my nude body, and then he turned and walked back to his bags. He shook soap and shampoo from a plastic carrier and walked to the river’s edge where he dropped them on the rocks before striding into the water.

  I worried that he hadn’t been impressed by what he saw. I wasn’t overly endowed. My breasts suited my lean frame. I was well muscled, my ass nicely rounded, but not excessively so. And my legs were long. My best feature, or so I’d been told by the men I’d slept with.

  He hadn’t given me the benefit of a single compliment. Still, my nipples tightened; the tips stung with anticipation. A heavy pulse throbbed between my legs while moisture slid down my channel.

  I glared his way and strode for the water. The bottom of the creek bed was rocky, and I winced when I stepped on a sharp stone. But the coolness of the water was refreshing compared to the heat of the air. I kept my groan of appreciation as quiet as I could and turned away from Zane, giving him my back as I ducked beneath the surface to wet my hair. When I came up, I swiped at my eyes to clear them then gasped when hands slid around my waist and lifted me, dragging me against a hard chest and belly. A thick cock snuggled between my buttocks.

  I stood rigid, confused, and began to get irritated. “I don’t like you very much,” I whispered.

  He didn’t respond, unless one considered the upward scrape of large hands as they enclosed my breasts an answer. His unwillingness to talk had me frowning. I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t you care that I’m mad at you?”

  His mouth curved. Just a slight smile. Not quite a smirk. And it fascinated me.

  His fingers clamped harder around my breasts, kneading them, his thumbs and forefingers pinching the tips, lightly at first, then harder, stinging me and causing me to lean harder against his chest as I drew in a hissing breath.

  I barely noticed the knee sliding between my thighs, not until I sagged, straddling it. With hard muscle pressed against my engorged pussy, I hissed again—and dipped—rubbing against him.

  His hands smoothed down my belly. One folded over my mound, the other scooped into the corner where thigh and swollen labia met. Thumbs parted me and cool water invaded the opening of my channel a second before fingers pushed inside.

  I tried to remain quiet and still, but the inward stroke of his long fingers drew a groan, and I arched my back, my bottom pushing hard against his cock. I reached over my shoulder to grip his long hair and pull.

  He finger-fucked me with slow glides until my hips undulated, following his motions. His mouth lowered to my ear. “I want you on hands and knees on the bank.” His hands glided away. His thigh retreated.

  A nudge against my backside sent me forward, stumbling toward the riverbank, and I fell forward, crawling to the edge, my breasts dipping into the water, my ass raised high. I spread my knees and waited, not glancing behind me because any sign of masculine satisfaction, a widening smirk for instance, would have tilted me toward anger. I was hungry. Needy. And if he wasn’t going to take me, I would find my own damn satisfaction.

  Leaning on one hand, I cupped my pussy and slid my middle finger inside, gasping at the pleasure, knowing he watched.

  Water sloshed behind me. Hands roughly gripped my ass. I reached deeper between my legs and wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft to pull him toward me.

  A gust of laughter sounded, but I wasn’t going to let his humor over my impatience slow me down. I pushed back and pulled him closer, fit his crown at my opening and circled to take him inside.

  I withdrew my hand and lowered my chest, giving him permission to thrust, waiting while I held my breath.

  He pressed forward, but not deeply, sinking only an inch more inside.

  My pussy clenched around him, and I dropped my head to the wet sand. I panted so hard my breaths were nearly ragged sobs. A hand smoothed over my ass, dipped into the hollow above it, then glided up to my shoulder. Fingers dug into my scalp, twisting, and then jerking on my hair.

  I cried out, coming up on my arms and curving my neck to ease the sting.

  Only then did he slam deep. The tension of his fingers never relented, the painful tug kep
t my back arched, my ass raised high, and he powered into me, slamming deep and hard, his balls banging against the tops of my folds. My neglected clit swelled, and I wriggled, sobbing openly now, because the strength and depths of his thrusts were a harsh tease. He didn’t intend for me to orgasm. He withheld the rasp of a fingertip and my posture prevented me from relieving the painful ache myself.

  Still my pussy softened, grew lushly hot. My buttocks warmed to the slap of his flesh against mine. My nipples tightened while my breasts grew hard. I’d come like a rocket if he’d show me the slightest mercy.

  His hand released my hair. His cock pulled free.

  My chest sank to the sand, and I dragged in deep breaths, waiting until they grew steadier before I scrambled forward and turned to give him my meanest glare.

  His expression was set. His gaze shuttered. If not for his thick, reddened erection and the tightness of his jaw, I might have believed him unmoved.

  A deep inhalation expanded his chest. And I knew. The next move was mine. I lay back half in and out of the water and spread my legs, lifting my knees and using my fingers to spread my folds.

  I let him look, waited as his breaths deepened and his nostrils flared. My pussy clenched—something his watchful eyes couldn’t miss. And then I reached back my free hand and slipped it under my head. Letting him know, I was his, that I surrendered everything—pride and pleasure—for the privilege of giving him the use of my body.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed around a hard swallow. His glance trailed from my breasts to my open legs, then back up, locking with my steady gaze. I slowly tugged up my folds, exposing my clit to the air, letting it grow rounder, harder, and I stretched the muscles of my inner thighs to present my clit, my pussy—a supplicant.

  Who was this woman? I liked to ride a man. Take my pleasure. But here I was, offering myself. Hoping he’d show me mercy and claim me. “Take me,” I pleaded aloud.

  Zane’s black gaze burned. He crawled between my spread thighs and slipped his palms beneath my ass. When his head lowered and he tongued the edges of my folds, I held my breath.

  Without looking up, he pushed away my fingers and replaced them with his own, lifting my folds to bare the ripe knot. The first tap of his tongue had me closing my thighs, trying to trap the sensation, trying to hold him right there.

  Fingers stroked inside me. Two thick digits, rooting deeply, swirling. Lush, wet sounds, not unlike the lapping of the water at my bottom, rose. His fingers withdrew only to be followed by three twisting deeper.

  My opening burned, stretching to accommodate him. The relentless push and pull juiced me up, eased me open. And then he was adding another, his fingers cupped to push inside.

  “No, no, no,” I chanted, unsure if I could take more. But my hips pumped, inviting the penetration.

  He grunted, ignoring me, and then pushed deeper while he continued to tongue my clit.

  Fuck, his whole hand was inside me. My head thrashed. I smoothed my free hand over my lower belly, stroking the top of my mound and then his face, urging him on until he pushed deeper.

  I keened, holding my pelvis still as he slowly pushed a couple of inches deeper then pulled back.

  “Too much,” I whimpered.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “Yeah, so good…so fucking good.”

  His hand pulled free, and he plunged upward, covering me. His weight blanketed me, pushing me into the dirt, but I didn’t care. Everywhere he touched me I burned, no place hotter than my cunt where his cockhead teased just my opening.

  He rolled his knuckles over my lips and I licked them, tasting me, while I kept my gaze locked with his.

  His eyes closed, his expression tightening. When he opened them again, there was no mistaking the need burning there, mirrors of my own. “I wasn’t sure you’d be into this.”

  “Into what?” I asked, breathlessly waiting for him to move.

  “Letting me play with you.”

  “Now I feel like a mouse.”

  “Am I the cat, batting you between my paws?”

  I licked his knuckle again trailing my tongue over the strong ridges. “You’ve just spoken more words to me than you have all the time we’ve been out here.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied my face.

  But I was stubborn too. I jutted my chin and waited.

  His lips curled up at one corner. “My brother said I should stay away from you. That he could see wildness in me whenever I looked at you.”

  “When have you looked at me?”

  “That night the couple got separated when the river swept through their camp.”

  “You never looked at me.”

  “You came out of the water after swimming the rope to the sandbar to help the wife cross. I could see your nipples. Every man could. My brother said I looked ready to pounce.”

  I opened my mouth wider to drag in air. “I wish you had. Why didn’t you want me coming with you to look for the boys?”

  “I had to make some noise. Make sure you were mad at me. Only way I could keep from pulling you off your horse to fuck you standing.”

  My heartbeat thudded hard against my chest walls. “I wasn’t ever mad. Fact is, when I get irritated with you, I just get hornier.” I raised my eyelids and let a grin stretch my mouth.

  He smiled slowly, his harsh, rugged features softening. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

  “’Bout time. Thought you’d forgotten where your cock is.”

  “I’m gonna set up camp here. Might stay a couple days.”

  I frowned. “I have to get back to work.”

  He shook his head. “When you didn’t arrive with the helo and the boys, my brother called your boss. Told him you wanted to take some time off.”

  “You were pretty sure of yourself.”

  “About some things.”

  I arched a brow. “It’s important that we do things your way?”

  “Yeah. I like bein’ in charge.”

  I swallowed hard, surprised how much I liked hearing that. “I’m not sure…what you mean.”

  “Yeah, you do.” He brushed a hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “You want me to own you, Melanie. You want me to tell you when to strip, when to suck me, when to bend over and take it. And you know I’ll give it to you good.”

  I shook my head, shock rattling through me. “I’m not like that. Never have been. A little wrestling’s fine, but I’m not…some submissive.”

  His smile was undiminished. “I can’t wait to tie you down and lick every inch of your skin. Would you like a blindfold when I do it?”

  My eyes widened, and I dug my fingertips into his shoulder. But I wasn’t pushing him away or withholding my words. My mouth was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof.

  He leaned down and pressed a surprisingly soft kiss against my mouth. “We have time to explore. You’ll be spendin’ more of yours at my ranch.”

  “Will I?” I asked, surprised my voice rasped like a rusty hinge.

  “Your days off. Your nights. I’m gonna prove everything I’ve said.”

  My pussy squeezed around his thickness.

  “Are you eager to begin?”

  I shifted my legs from underneath his, opening to him.

  He shook his head. “Be right back.”

  He rolled off, coming gracefully to his feet, and walked to his saddle. He gripped the horn and swung it up, returning to me. He tossed it to the ground. “Bend over it.”

  I came up on my elbows, locked gazes with him and tilted my chin. “Make me.”

  Before I had time to add a smile to the dare, he was on me, hands flipping me to my belly then grasping my wrists behind my back as he pushed me over the saddle. My lower belly rode the curve. My chest was shoved against the dirt, my nipples bitten by rocks. My hands were raised high behind me, leaving me no room for maneuvering. With his free hand, he shoved apart my thighs. And then his cock slid between my cheeks and I worried for a second he’d decide on a different sort of punishment,
but his cock slid into my folds, found my center and shoved inside.

  He rocked against me, still holding up my arms while he braced himself on one hand stuck in the dirt beside my shoulder.

  I could see him from the corner of my eye, liked the feral hardness of his jaw, the way his lips pulled away from his teeth. While he was rough with me, he wasn’t abusive, seeming to know just how much tension my shoulders could take, how hard to thrust.

  My cunt was juiced, burning from the friction. My breasts were being scraped raw by the sand as his sharp thrusts pushed me forward and back.

  The restrained violence wasn’t enough. “More, please, Zane.”

  He released my wrists to slide a hand beneath me. To please him, I clasped my freed hands behind me, and continued to lie against the dirt, waiting for the pleasure I knew he’d give me.

  A finger flicked my clit, and I jerked, widening my thighs, trying to get my knees beneath me. With his weight and thrusts keeping me pinned, his fingers plucked at my nub, squeezing and scraping.

  My clit was sensitive, so engorged, every rough touch electric. I groaned and grunted, rubbing my chest in the sand, wriggling my butt because that was all the movement he’d allow.

  “Now, sweetheart,” he whispered, “come now.”

  He toggled my clit and I exploded, crying out, shuddering and jerking, chanting his name. When I finally fell still, he kissed my shoulder and pulled away. Gentle hands rolled me. He thrust his arms beneath my back and knees and rose with me in his arms, carrying me into the water.

  Once there, he let my feet drop and gripped me under my arms.

  I didn’t need instruction. His cock was insistent, poking at my belly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and eased down on him, resting my cheek on his shoulder while he filled me again.

  Grit floated away from my chest as I rubbed my breasts against him. “I’m going to have a rash.”

  “Sorry. I have ointment I’ll rub into them.”

  “I don’t mind. My nipples are on fire,” I murmured, smoothing my cheek on his hot skin.