by Cora Seton
Oh God.
Oh God. She touched him, stroked him, exploring the fat vein running his length. It was like being scraped with an electric wire, but in an exquisitely pleasurably way. He held his breath as she peeled his underwear off and took him in her hands.
His eyes might have crossed a little. And then they did, because she eased forward and touched her tongue to the tip. Nothing more than a nudge. A simple lap. But it nearly unmanned him. It took everything in him to hold back, to not surge into her mouth, or tip her on her ass and fuck her like a wild steer.
Yes, it took effort, but he held back. He didn’t want this to end so soon. He needed to see what happened next.
And good God. What happened next was worth all the agony. She took him in, deep. Sucked him into her velvet cavern and gorged on him. Her moan, as he hit the back of her throat, made every nerve in his body quiver. He released his hold on her head—hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding her—and buried his fingers in the leather of the sofa, holding on for dear life as she worked him. Up and down, swirling around, over, under…she explored him ruthlessly.
She set up a heinous counterpoint with her fist, so there was no part of him that was not stimulated.
He gazed down at her bobbing head. His cock was encased in her mouth and blanketed by her enthusiastic moans. Shards of delight skewered him in a relentless barrage. That was awesome enough, but that this was Lisa with her mouth around him, sucking the sanity from him, made it even more mind-blowing.
She did something naughty and captivating with her finger in his ass and he lurched, nearly bellowing with surprise and pleasure. He felt her lips quirk on him and heard her mumble something that could have been, “Only exploring.”
He loved this playful side of her. Hell, he loved all sides of her.
But he had no opportunity to reflect on that, or to strengthen his resolve not to come, not yet, because she did something else, some twisty thing with her hand as she dropped down, taking him as deep as he could go…and then she cupped his balls.
They were hard little nuts by then, filled and ready and primed for action. A great welling heat surged up, a mix of lust and adoration and gratitude. The wash of ecstasy was blinding. He tried to pull her away, but she wouldn’t allow it. She hunkered lower and drew on him again, attempting, perhaps, to sip his essence from him.
And ah, she could.
He released into her mouth in a scorching rush, surge after surge after surge and she took it all. She took everything. Lapping and licking and sucking him dry.
She laid her cheek on his thigh and looked up at him with a satisfied smirk on her lips. He collapsed back on the sofa and set his hand on her head, tangling his fingers in the skeins of her hair as he recuperated.
Recuperated?
Hell, he’d never be the same again.
“Lisa,” he sighed, reaching down to pull her into his arms. He loved the way she cuddled up against him. “That was unbelievable.”
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I figured I owed you. You know. For this afternoon.”
“You didn’t owe me anything. I assure you, that was entirely my pleasure.”
“I beg to differ.” She stroked his chest, as though she couldn’t stroke it enough.
He chuckled and held her closer. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with mutual pleasure.”
“No, there’s not.” Silence rippled through the room and then she murmured, “Although we should try it at the same time.”
And, purely in the interest of exploration, he agreed.
Still, he had to say, “Next time, we should try that with frosting.”
Her laugh was a song.
Chapter Ten
‡
They stayed in the bunkhouse for a while, kissing and talking and enjoying each other’s presence. Cade didn’t seem in a hurry to end this, but frankly, neither was Lisa. Though the passion between them burned bright and hot, when it was sated, what was left was the warm comfort of two souls entwined. It was pleasant and peaceful and felt right. For the first time in a long time, Lisa felt utterly at home in a man’s arms.
It was late when they walked back to the ranch house, with fingers entwined. The house was quiet and all the lights were out.
“Hmm. I think they went to bed,” Cade said as they stepped into the foyer. “I suppose we should too.” There was the hint of a question in his eyes.
“I suppose we should.”
He studied her, his thoughts plain on his face. “Do you…do you want me to walk you to your room?”
Her stomach pitched. He was giving her an out. Being chivalrous. She’d never been so annoyed by chivalry in her life. “No.” He paled, so she hurried to add, “Do you want to walk me to my room?”
A muscle in his cheek flexed. Intensity flared in his gaze. “I’d rather walk you to mine.” A whisper, yes, but enough to set her blood on fire.
She stepped closer, until there was not a breath between them, looped her arms around his neck and dragged her pelvis against his. She was gratified to feel a bold response. “This room of yours? Is it far?”
His arms came around her. His Adam’s apple worked. “Fourth floor.” Something of a croak.
“And is anyone else nearby?”
He blinked. “Um, no. It’s the only room in the attic.”
“Well, good.” She took his hand and led him up the stairs. “Because you’re something of a howler.”
He stopped abruptly. When she glanced back at him, his features were fixed in a disgruntled arrangement. “I am not a howler.”
The look she shot him made it clear if he hadn’t been before, he would be now. She must have made her point, because when she continued up the stairs, he hurried to catch up.
If she’d had any curiosity about why he had chosen the lone room on the fourth floor, it was answered when he pushed open the door and ushered her in. Spanning the length of the house, it was more of an apartment than a bedroom; there was a living area, a bathroom and a bedroom. Because it was on the top floor of the sprawling house, the ceiling sloped. It was decorated with a mélange of comfortable furniture that suited him to a T.
“This is nice,” she said, because all of a sudden, she couldn’t think of anything to say. She was here. In his room. They both knew what was going to happen. For some reason, she was suddenly wracked by nerves, which was silly, given what they’d shared earlier. But this? This was more.
“Thanks. It was full of junk when I moved back home. I cleared it out and put up these walls.” He waved toward the bedroom. “Redid the plumbing for the bathroom. Installed the sauna.”
Her eyes widened. “A sauna?”
“Yup.”
“Well, my. You’re handy.”
“I like my comfort.”
She wandered to the large round window and peered out at the shadowed lawn. She knew when he came up behind her. His heat preceded him.
“I like my privacy too,” he said.
She didn’t jump when he set his hands on her hips, but barely. Slowly he turned her until she faced him and then he tipped up her chin. His eyes bored into hers. “Lisa?”
“Yes, Cade?”
“Are you…? Do you…? That is, do you want to do this?”
“I…” Words failed her as hunger and heat and nervousness assailed her. Finally she managed, “Yes. But I’m a bit…”
“A bit what?”
She forced a laugh. “Shy, I guess.”
He laughed as well and threaded his fingers through her hair, then traced her cheek. “You weren’t shy earlier.”
“It was dark.”
“I can turn out the lights.” His tone was hopeful and playful and made her smile. When she didn’t respond, he settled his forehead on hers. “It’s okay, Lisa. We can take this slowly. There’s no rush. We’re only exploring, right?”
With those words, with his patience, something released within her. There was no pressure. There were no expectations. This was, simply, what it w
as.
“I’d like that.” She went up on her toes and kissed him. It was meant to be a quick kiss, a thankful buss, but it became something more. Most kisses with him did that, she was coming to find, but she didn’t mind in the least, because the place it took them was delicious indeed. He walked her over to a large, overstuffed chair, tossed the chaps that were draped over the arm out of the way, and sat, pulling her onto his lap.
He was hard and warm and his kiss was drugging and sweet, but something had snagged her attention. She pulled away and leaned over to peer at those leather chaps. The image of Cade wearing them—and nothing else—whipped through her mind like wildfire.
She gulped and then stared at him, her mouth agape.
There might have been some drool.
“What is it?” he asked.
She waved in the general direction of her fantasy. “Do you—do you really wear those?”
He glanced at the chaps. “I, um, of course.” When she shuddered, his eyes narrowed on her. “Lisa?”
She looked away. She had to. “Ah… I might have a thing for chaps.”
“Really?” His tone was a little lurid. Or maybe not lurid so much as fascinated. “I could…put them on.”
She flinched. Yeah. Visibly flinched as a howling arousal snarled in her belly. “Would you?”
“Hell yeah.”
She was on her feet in a trice, with him beside her. He fumbled for the chaps and quickly buckled them on. It wasn’t exactly the look she was going for—he was still wearing his jeans, after all—but, damn, it was an awesome look. The leather chaps hugged his powerful thighs, framing his crotch in a way that had always lit her fire.
Oh, why had she ever moved to the city?
Aw hell, she knew why. But she wasn’t moving back.
“Cowboys are hot,” she said, sauntering toward him. She set her hand on his broad shoulder and drew her palm over his chest. “You’re hot.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh my God, yes.”
And he was.
He was hot even without the chaps, but the sight of him wearing them did something inside her, made her feel wild and reckless and horny. She backed him into a corner and he allowed it. The grin on his face was enormous.
She wiped it away though, when she reached down and measured his erection with her palm. His throat worked. “God, Lisa.”
“Hmm. I have a fantasy.”
“I, ah, what’s that?” A croak.
She kissed his neck. Licked. Nibbled. Then she did the same to his earlobe. He hissed out a breath.
“I always wanted to be a cowgirl.”
He made a strangled sound and then, with no warning whatsoever, yanked her into his arms, carried her into the bedroom and tossed her on the mattress. She bounced once before he lowered himself beside her, and then he rolled over, covering her. As he cupped her cheek and kissed her, she reached down and groped his ass—because surely that was what it was, groping. It was a perfect ass. Then she skimmed her hand over the leather. The scent of it, mingling with her arousal and his, rose to meet her.
She couldn’t stop from arching into his hard form, pressing against that raging erection. She couldn’t stop herself from clawing at his shirt as the intensity of the kiss raged higher and higher. When his chest was finally bare—and she might have popped a button or two—she kissed and licked and nibbled at his neck and shoulders, and then lower. He reared up, so she could reach a nipple, but then, when she sucked it, he roared and lunged to the side, taking her with him. She didn’t mind, because now she was on top. Right where she wanted to be.
And oh, she wanted.
She’d never wanted with such ferocity.
And he’d only kissed her.
Then again, this man could set her on fire with a glance.
He tried valiantly to remove her blouse, but she wasn’t inclined to stop what she was doing, so it took him a while to bare her bra. When he did, he tugged her closer, so he could pull her nipples into his mouth. She settled on him, delighted to find the crux of her thighs melded with his. As he worked his teeth over the lace of her bra, she rode him in tiny surges.
It maddened him.
In a frenzy he struggled with her bra, and in the end, she unhooked it herself. When her breasts came free, his entire body seized. His cock surged. Heat enveloped her; he enveloped her. When his mouth closed on her, flesh to aching flesh, she wailed. The pleasure was delicious, beyond intense.
He worked her for a long while, moving from one nipple, one breast, to the other, inciting her passion, making her burn. As he sucked and nibbled and teased, she sank her nails into his chest, scoring him. Her hips, restless and wayward, worked over him as she rubbed her thrumming clit against his hardness.
When she could take no more, when her weeping body demanded fulfillment, she wrenched away. Though he protested, she frowned him into silence. And he stilled when he realized her intentions. When she began unbuckling his belt. He watched her face as she worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
It took mere seconds to release his cock. She ripped her gaze from his, but only to glance down. And ah, he was beautiful. She took him in her hand—so hard and soft at the same time—and she stroked. He groaned through his teeth. “Lisa…”
She couldn’t resist a taste. She loved the way he smelled. Loved the way he felt in her mouth. Loved the tiny tear beading at the tip, proclaiming his need for this, for her.
“Lisa!”
To her dismay, he pulled her away. He stared at her, with red-rimmed eyes, and growled, “I want to be in you.”
Oh. God.
Yes, please.
At her nod, he leaned over and pulled a condom from the drawer in the nightstand and quickly rolled it on. It was a scintillating sight. A cowboy wearing chaps, with his jeans undone, splayed on the bed awaiting her delectation.
Yes.
Manically, she removed her jeans. Her panties followed in a rush. She tossed them away, somewhere. Anywhere. She didn’t care.
Once he was sheathed, she pushed his hands away and straddled him. “Mine,” she said as she eased over him and guided him to her entrance. “Mine.”
Cade was helpless. Mindless and helpless and lost.
He stared at Lisa as she settled over him. The sight of her, bare and emboldened, poised above him, sent a scorching fire through him. Her heat kissed the tip of his cock and he trembled. He locked his muscles to keep from surging up into her but it took every damn bit of his determination.
Because he really wanted to fuck her. Hard and hot and balls to the wall. But she wanted to ride him.
Like a cowgirl.
He hoped she knew what this cost him, giving up control, containing his need. He had every expectation he might not survive.
His hunger for her was a raging blaze, his need a blistering ache. And it was more than a physical desire. It was so much more.
He gritted his teeth as she slid down, impaling herself on him. And then, God help him, she explored. Fucking explored. Squeezing him. Shifting from this position to that. Circling him. Testing.
Each move was an agony of bliss.
Oh, it was fascinating watching her reactions, tracking every expression as it rippled over her face, but Jesus, she was killing him. When it became more than he could bear, he put his hands on her hips and tried to move her in some semblance of rhythm, but she resisted, and when he shot a look at her—surely not one of sheer unadulterated desperation—she grinned.
“Please,” he huffed. “Please.”
Her expression became solemn. She set her palms on his chest and leaned closer. “Is this the way a cowgirl rides?” she whispered in a taunting voice. It might have been a seductive voice, but it sounded taunting to him. But then, her breath teased him beyond sanity.
“No,” he ground out.
She pouted.
“She rides faster.”
“Like this?” Bracing on him, she moved her hips back and forth.
And ah. Ah
.
“Faster.”
She complied. Thank God in heaven above, she complied, speeding up, whipping him into a frenzy, bucking, fucking and then, finally kicking into a feverish pace that stole his breath and fractured hers.
Every muscle in his body tightened, clenched, surged. She worked him harder, faster, until sweat drenched them both. She closed on him, an exquisite clutch, and his vision went red. Relief and rapture warred within him; they both won.
She shuddered over him, around him, working his orgasm and drawing it out, softening it, prolonging it until he forgot who and where he was and no longer cared.
When she collapsed on him, gasping and sighing, he held her, reveling in the slick feel of her chest against his. He held her and soothed her and murmured nonsense into her hair.
And somewhere, deep in his mind, one thought rang.
Please, God. I don’t ever want to let her go.
Chapter Eleven
‡
When Lisa awoke, she was wrapped in a warm, hard cocoon. That rumbled. It took a minute for her to realize she was still in Cade’s arms, pillowed on his chest, and the rumbling sounds were his snores.
She had no idea why the fact that he snored made her smile. She’d never liked snores before. His made her want to nestle closer. As she did, his hold on her tightened, but he didn’t wake.
She lay like that for a while, enjoying the peace of the moment, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against hers. As she replayed their tryst in her mind, her body heated. It had been glorious and wild and unrestrained. She’d never been filled so completely, never come so splendidly.
Moving slowly, she levered up and studied his face in the shadows. In repose, relaxed in sleep as he was, he seemed younger, playful, boyish. Vulnerable, perhaps.
That thought hit her hard in the gut, though she didn’t know why. They were both grown-ups. They’d agreed this would be a casual fling. No strings attached. There was no call to worry she might hurt him, but the prospect of doing so, ever, gouged at her. That, and a sense of guilt that she was using him—this gorgeous, valiant, magnificent man—to scratch an itch.
