Tough Love: Back to Buckhorn

by Lori Foster

  In a sudden rush he brushed her hand away, opened the snap of his jeans, lowered the zipper and shoved the jeans halfway down his hips, freeing himself. He lifted her hand and, looking into her eyes, kissed her palm, then wrapped her hand around him again, this time flesh to flesh.

  His hand over hers kept her grip snug.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes closed and his jaw clenching. Now that she understood how he wanted it, he flattened both palms on the wall at either side of her head.

  She loved watching his face, the contraction of small muscles that signaled nearly painful pleasure. His posture gave her easy access to kiss his throat and jaw. She nibbled, licked, sucked on his hot skin—all the while working him firmly with her hand.

  Cheekbones flushed, he turned his face against her, rubbing his nose over her hair, growling softly, trembling a little.

  She brought her thumb up over the head—and his breath caught. “That’s enough.” Quickly he freed himself.

  The sudden halt surprised her. “But—”

  “Sorry, darlin’. I can’t take any more.”

  She tried a pout, but that only made him smile with heated wickedness.

  “Arms up,” he said, seconds before he whisked her shirt up and over her head. Now in a rush, he gathered her close and kissed her breasts, drew on her nipples. Wherever his mouth wasn’t, his hands were. She realized he’d opened her jeans when he easily slid both hands, fingers spread, into the back, covering her tush.

  She automatically arched into him.

  “Yeah,” he murmured in approval. “Damn, you have a sweet ass.”

  She wiggled, loving the sensation of moving against his body.

  “Nice.” He shoved the jeans and panties down to her knees, then scooped her up and took the two long strides necessary to reach her rumpled bed.

  He laid her down, then whisked away her jeans and panties. Keeping his gaze on her body, he shed his own jeans before putting two condoms on the nightstand.

  Vanity realized in that moment that she wanted this to be different. For her and for him. What better way to make it more memorable than to give him something she hadn’t given to anyone else?

  He came down over her, kissing her hotly, all that bare flesh accessible to her hands, her thighs, her belly. She arched against him to feel more, lifted her thigh along his hip, and he pressed her legs open.

  Knowing what he would do, she whimpered softly, and oh, God, when his fingers moved hotly over her, and then in her, it was even more electrifying than she remembered.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her cheek, “but I can’t go slow. Not this time.” He started to move away, to get a condom, she knew.

  “Stack, wait.”

  Breathing heavily, moving his hand to her breast, he admitted, “Not sure I can.”

  She nodded to acknowledge that. “Do you trust me?” Please, say yes.

  Instead he said, “Maybe.” Then kissed her again. “About what?”

  An idea that felt so right in her mind, also felt very daring to say aloud. She moved a hand up his arm, over his thick shoulder. Mustering her courage, she met his gaze. “Going bareback.”

  He stilled, groaned, squeezed his eyes shut. “Good as that sounds, darlin’, I never leave anything to chance.”

  “You wouldn’t be,” she rushed to assure him. “Because neither do I. I know you’re healthy as a horse. And I promise I’m covered.”

  “Covered?”

  “I won’t get pregnant. I get the shot every three months like clockwork, I promise. I’m every bit as healthy as you are. And I sooo want to feel you and only you—I’ve been torturing myself about that since I first propositioned you.”

  His thumb moved over her nipple. “Yeah.”

  What he did, how absorbed he looked doing it, made it hard for her to focus. “You’ve been tortured, too?”

  “You have no idea.” He lightly rolled her nipple. “But the reality of you is far better than anything I could have dreamed up.”

  Now, see, how could she not love him?

  “Stack.” Holding his gaze, she drew him back to her, opening her legs so he could naturally settle between them. Locking her arms around his neck, she whispered, “Please, Stack.”

  He wanted to, she could tell, yet he fought it.

  “Never, before right now with you, have I asked any man to skip the rubber. I swear it. You’d be the first—”

  His mouth took the rest of her words, voracious and demanding. Without breaking the kiss he reached between their bodies. His fingers briefly explored her, petting, teasing, opening her...and she felt the head of his erection nudging against her.

  She squeezed him tighter.

  Lifting his head, his gaze fixed on her every small reaction, Stack eased in.

  Moaning softly, she wrapped her legs around him, spurred him with her heels—and he broke, taking her in one powerful thrust.

  Vanity cried out at the sensation of being filled, then cried out again as he began the slow, heavy rhythm that they’d both been anticipating for so long.

  Keeping her crushed to him, Stack scooped an arm beneath her hips, angling her just right so that every thrust of his now slick cock stroked against her swollen clit. The feeling was so acute she tried to wiggle back, but Stack kept her locked in place.

  “Shh...” he whispered, and then, with his mouth against her jaw, he added low, “So wet and hot.”

  “Ah...” Sweet pleasure sparked, then caught flame. “God.”

  He took her mouth, stealing her breath, heating her skin, driving her to the edge with the steady way he moved over her, in her. She felt every part of him, inside her, against her breasts and the insides of her thighs, her belly... The man knew how to kiss, and how to utilize a whole body caress.

  Vanity tangled her fingers in his hair, locked her ankles at the small of his back, and let herself go. Less than a minute later an orgasm crashed over her.

  Trembling, clenching around his erection, she freed her mouth and cried brokenly as burning pleasure escalated, peaked, then gradually receded in throbbing waves, leaving her quiet, boneless and replete.

  Lazily opening her eyes, she found Stack watching her, blue eyes like live flames as he continued to gently ride her.

  “Me waiting,” he explained low, “until you finished. Now that was sweet.”

  She started to laugh, but he increased the tempo, rocking the bed with his urgency, and when he put his head back, shoulders straining, she watched him and concentrated on not speaking.

  I love you.

  The words burned in her brain, begging to be free. But more quickly than anything else could, they would drive him away when she didn’t even know yet if she’d have more than the moment.

  As his big body stopped shaking and he gradually slumped down against her, she stroked his now damp back, relishing the total connection.

  Total for her—because she really had no idea what Stack felt. For him, it could be no more than any other hookup. Satisfying, but never enough to really hook him.

  Sonorous breathing filled the room—hers and his.

  Content with his weight over her, his rich scent enveloping her, Vanity hugged him. Minutes passed.

  When he lifted his head to look at her, his crooked smile and mussed hair charmed her.

  Tracing the line of his jaw, she asked, “What?”

  “You.” He nudged against her, making her aware of the creamy wetness between her legs. “This.”

  “What about me,” she asked, then rolled her hips. “What about this?”

  His eyes darkened. “That happened too fast.” Taking her bottom lip in his teeth, he lightly tugged, licked and ended with a kiss. “I need more.”

  Her heart rejoiced, and tears tried to sting her e
yes.

  She blinked them away and joked, “I blame you,” then watched his eyebrow arch at the accusation. “If you weren’t so freaking sexy, I could have held out longer.”

  The corners of his mouth tipped up. “If that’s how we’re calling it, then I need to point out this body of yours.” He kissed her shoulder. “And your face.” His firm lips teased over her cheek. “And yeah—that smile right there.” He licked her mouth, then sank in for a toe-curling kiss. “I’m only human, you know.”

  Vanity couldn’t have rid herself of the silly smile if her life depended on it. “Oh, really?”

  He nodded, all slow and serious. “Smokin’ hot, darlin’.” Then, without even a hint of a smile, he whispered, “You breathe, and I want you. Laid out naked under me, making those mewling little sounds—”

  “Hey!” She went to swat him, but he caught her wrists.

  “—and holding on to me so tight...” He lifted her hands to his shoulders. “Yeah. I didn’t stand a chance.”

  Obligingly, she curled her arms around his neck. “I don’t make weak sounds.”

  “You make honest, real sounds, and I get off on it.” His hand went down to her hip. “How do you want to do this?”

  “This?”

  “I loved feeling you and only you.”

  Love. Hearing that particular word from him sucked all the oxygen from her lungs, making her mute.

  “But now we need to tidy up before I talk you into round two.”

  Yes, yes, yes. Expression composed, she asked casually, “Round two, huh?”

  His slow nod made her shiver. “Might turn into round three, or even round four.” He stroked down her side, over her hip, to her thigh. “What do you say?”

  “I like the way you think.”

  “No convincing?”

  “Hey, you’re still naked. I’m one hundred percent convinced.” She kissed his chin. “Let me up, and I’ll take care of things, then be right back.”

  “I have a better idea.” He eased away, and as he separated from her he drifted a hand down her thigh, then rolled from the bed. “Stay put.” Gaze shuttered, he looked her over, and his voice went husky. “Just like that works. I’ll see to you, then check on the dogs, then I’ll see if I can get you mewling again.”

  Dodging the pillow she threw at him, he laughed as he headed into the bathroom. Enjoying the view as muscles played over his back and his taut tush, Vanity dropped back to the bed with a happy sigh. Life, at the moment, was almost too wonderful for words.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AN HOUR OR so later, with Vanity tucked close to his side, Stack contemplated his next move. It was late. The dogs, brought in earlier, were now snuffling at the closed bedroom door. He was starved, so Vanity had to be, too.

  But this was nice. Vanity close, her arm across him, her lips occasionally brushing his ribs. The thought of driving home to his own bed didn’t appeal, so he hesitated to disturb the moment.

  When her slender thigh moved over his, he lifted his head enough to look down at her.

  Her eyes, still sated, a little dazed, stared into his. With uncharacteristic shyness, she said softly, “You need to make the first move.”

  “We’re here, now, because you already did.”

  She lowered her gaze and hugged him more tightly, a direct contrast to her whispered, “And I’m glad I was so brazen.”

  “Me, too.”

  “But I meant you have to make a move...to leave.”

  There it was. The thing he didn’t want to hear. He trailed his fingertips over her hip to her waist. “You want me to go?”

  “No.”

  No? Turning slightly to face her, he waited.

  “I want to keep on looking at you and touching you and smelling you—”

  Teasing her, he asked, “You’re saying I smell?”

  She had gotten him sweaty. Got her a little sweaty, too. He liked it. When Vanity said, “Mmm,” with her nose to his chest, he knew she liked it, as well.

  Nuzzling against him, she deeply inhaled. “You smell so indescribably good that it’s revving my motor all over again.”

  Idly, he cupped her firm breast. She wasn’t overly endowed, but neither would he call her small. So often the word that best described her was perfect. “That’s supposed to convince me to go?”

  “That’s to make you understand that in this, I won’t be the strong one.” Slowly she lifted her face until her gaze melted into his. “And if you stay, I might get stuck on you.”

  Though the statement made his heart kick and he automatically snuggled her closer, Stack wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that. No, he wasn’t ready to call it quits. But neither was he ready to commit just because he’d had the best sex of his life.

  Control, he reminded himself. He would be the one deciding things, and they’d both enjoy themselves because of it.

  He’d just about decided on what to say, but she beat him to the punch.

  Eyes big and soft, she whispered, “Or you could get stuck on me. Either is possible.”

  The truth of that narrowed his eyes.

  Hugging him, her voice wistful, Vanity said, “So be strong, Stack. Go now before I give into temptation, climb on board and steal all your options.”

  Climb on board? He breathed faster, his cock twitched, and damned if he didn’t get hard again. “I’ll go—after you give in.” He helped her over him to sit on his abs. “After you climb on board.” Hands on her hips, he lifted her so she could settle on to his already straining erection again. “That’s the option I choose.”

  * * *

  A FEW HOURS before sunrise, Stack awoke. He spooned Vanity, her petite, sweetly curved body fitting perfectly against his. He had one arm under her head, the other wrapped over her waist, then bent so he could hold her breast.

  He surrounded her and liked it.

  No surprise that he had morning wood. Throughout the night, she’d gotten him there again and again.

  Over and over he’d taken her bareback, nothing between them, and damn, it felt like heaven. They’d taken a short break to care for the dogs, then another to grab sandwiches since neither of them had eaten.

  Then they’d gone back to bed. He should have been satisfied, and instead every fiber of his being was only more sensitized to the sight of her smile, the sound of her quickened breathing, the heated scent of her sweet body.

  The dogs, both snoring on the floor at the side of the bed, continued to sleep. But now, with his dick twitching against her perfect ass, Vanity wiggled and sighed her way awake.

  “Stack?” she asked in a sleep rough voice that made him want to cuddle her, kiss her—and fuck her breathless.

  He settled on caressing her breast. “Did you think maybe I traded places with some other dude during the night?”

  “Mmm.” Her hand stroked his forearm. “Just thought I might be dreaming.”

  He wanted her again. But he also had a boatload of shit to get done before he headed to the rec center. One thought tumbled after another, and at the risk of spooking her, he asked, “You free later today?”

  To his disappointment, she shook her head. “Sadly, no.”

  Far as brush-offs went, it wasn’t the worst. But damn, he needed more time. “I could try to convince you.”

  She freed herself from his embrace, sat up on a hip and put her arms up to stretch.

  Long, tangled blond hair hung down her narrow back, the tips just kissing the top of her sexy ass. Sleek muscles shifted in her shoulders and thighs. She was toned, not bulky, with a surfer’s body. The remainder of a light tan seemed more pronounced against the paler skin of her breasts and heart-shaped bottom.

  That stirred him, too. Seeing parts of Vanity Baker that even the sun hadn’t seen.

 
Her movements woke Maggie and Norwood, and after they did their own stretching, they whined to go out.

  “I’ll get them.” In a unique form of torture, she walked around her bedroom beautifully naked, collecting mocha-colored sheer lace panties, a shirt...and nothing else.

  Before she left the room, she turned back to him. “I can put on coffee.”

  “That’d be nice.” He usually didn’t indulge, but it’d give him a few minutes to talk her into extending their time together. With only a corner of the sheet covering him, he folded his arms behind his head. “Thanks.”

  One hand resting on Maggie’s head, she studied him. A little more breathless, she asked, “You drink it? I wasn’t sure.”

  Hmm. Maybe he should have kicked the sheet aside completely. She did seem to enjoy his body. “I will today.”

  Her gaze jumped to his. “Will what?”

  Smiling, he scratched his stomach, and saw her gaze track his hand in fascination. “Drink a cup of coffee with you.”

  “Oh. Right.” Face flushed, she said, “Come on, Norwood. Let’s go.” In a rush, she fled the room.

  Grinning, Stack took his time getting out of the bed. The pale yellow sheets were soft, and the pillow he lifted to his face smelled like Vanity, the scent rich and stirring.

  And that, he knew, wasn’t going to help him get the ol’ John Henry to behave.

  He made use of the connected bathroom and her mouthwash but didn’t worry about shaving. He’d have to head home to shower and change before he went to the rec center anyway. He pulled on his boxers and went to look for her.

  The hall bathroom door was closed as he passed it, so he went on to the kitchen. The dogs were still out, sniffing every blade of grass and running reconnaissance around the yard. The coffeemaker had just finished spitting and hissing when Vanity reappeared. She paused uncertainly in the doorway.

  Her face looked dewy from a quick wash. She’d taken the time to braid her long hair, and it hung over her shoulder alongside her right breast.