by Em Petrova
Who knew that having Bellarose in his bed for one night would change him forever?
It did.
Finally, in the wee hours of darkness, his mind calmed down enough to sleep. But dawn had him on his feet once more, moving quickly through chores before the interruptions of the film crew began.
When Schmitty pulled in, he got out carrying a foil packet of something, and King’s stomach growled.
“My wife sent a loaf of banana bread,” Schmitty said.
King accepted the packet with a smile. “It’s still warm.”
“Yep.”
“Tell her she’s too kind. But I’m starvin’.” He tore open the foil and fragrant banana-scented steam wafted out. He broke off a chunk and stuffed it into his mouth then offered it to Schmitty.
“Thanks, but I got a full breakfast.”
“Suit yourself,” he mumbled between crumbs. He grinned.
Schmitty looked around. “Crew’s not up here yet.”
“No. But we gotta babysit them more. After what happened yesterday, I don’t trust them not to let the herd run free and we’ll be chasing them all over the county.”
His ranch hand gave a nod. “It’s not exactly easy on a working ranch to have this kind of disruption. I’m surprised you agreed to it.”
“Wouldn’t have if not for the money,” he said frankly. He and Schmitty had always been close, confiding things. They were friends.
“Well, money greases the wheels, that’s for sure. You planning on escaping to Rio and leaving us all here in Washington?”
He chuckled and swallowed his enormous bite. Scuffing crumbs off his face, he said, “Was thinking more along the lines of Maui. No really, I’m considering buying a horse.”
His brow went up. “What kind of horse?”
When King only looked at him, Schmitty blew out a low whistle. “Wow, they’re paying you that much for use of your ranch?”
He shook his head. “Nah, but a portion. Enough to go in with a partner.” He left off that Dickson mentioned he could get a reduction in price because he had enough clout with local breeders.
“I’ve heard about your uncle,” Schmitty said.
King raised a brow this time. “Heard that, did you? Just sitting in Sanders’ Bar with a draft beer?”
“Everyone knows everyone’s story in these parts, King. Don’t get your chaps twisted. I’m just saying I know you’ve always wanted your own top bloodline so this is a good opportunity for you.”
He folded the foil back around the warm bread and walked over to the porch to set it on the railing. When he returned to Schmitty, Wheeler was just pulling in for the day’s work. King nodded to both. “Let’s get a move on.”
Riding out with the guys felt normal, but King couldn’t help but feel different. Especially when part of his mind was with Bellarose. Had she gotten enough sleep after he’d dropped her off? He hoped so.
When he returned for lunch, the crews were scattered over the grounds. He looked around for Bellarose but didn’t see her. Probably tucked up in one of his outbuildings with her shirt gaping open filming a scene with that prissy excuse for a man.
He’d seen the actor playing her love interest, and one thing he’d noticed were his perfectly manicured, soft hands. No rancher he knew had hands like that. But that was Hollywood.
Still, it bothered King that the guy got to put his eyes and hands all over Bellarose. It was her job, but King didn’t know how she stood for it. He also didn’t know how to stop feeling a bit jealous over it.
He hit the porch and looked around for the loaf of banana bread.
It wasn’t on the railing. Maybe one of the crew had moved it to the kitchen. He went in, thinking it would make a good lunch along with some hard-boiled eggs. But it wasn’t in the kitchen either.
He stomped onto the porch and yelled at the first person he saw crossing the yard, which was a young woman. “You! Somebody moved a loaf of banana bread I had here on the porch. Where is it?”
“Oh. I believe that was thrown out, Mr. Yates.”
Annoyance raised a growl in his throat, which erupted into a bellow without him even thinking about it.
“You have no right to throw away my things! You hear me, crew?” He raised his voice a notch. This wasn’t even about banana bread now—it was about them touching his shit and feeling entitled enough to make choices about whether or not his things should be here.
“I-I’ll find out who did it, Mr. Yates.”
“Don’t bother. Just make sure everyone keeps their hands off my stuff. That includes my bedroom. It was off-limits and someone added all new bedding and pillows and shit. Hell, there are ruffles in there!”
“Okay, Mr. Yates. I’m sorry. I’ll just—” The woman didn’t finish her sentence, just ran off in the opposite direction.
He glared at the rest of the people in sight, and they all avoided his stare. Good—let them all be afraid of him. Maybe it would demand the respect he deserved.
He stormed back inside and grabbed the bowl of boiled eggs from the shelf in the fridge. He stood over the garbage can peeling them and stuffing them whole into his mouth. Then he washed them down with iced tea from a jug.
His discussion with Schmitty rose up in his mind, and he wondered if this was all worth the cash that would get him that horse. Before now, he’d had calm, peace of mind and a relatively happy, if not lonely, life. Now his blood pressure had risen enough to make his head pound—and he was out some good banana bread too.
Chapter Seven
“I have a hot stone massage all lined up for you. Why don’t you come back to the trailer instead of sticking around here to do your horse lessons?” Marissa asked Bellarose.
She eyed her assistant. While a hot stone massage did sound great when she thought of the stiffness in her muscles, she’d rather stay on the ranch.
“I think I’ll pass this time, Marissa. Maybe later in the week.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder.
“Oh my gosh, look at your nail. What did you do to it?” She reached for Bellarose’s hand, and she let her see the ripped cuticle and chipped nail from the things she’d done during her scene with the horse.
“It’s nothing. Just a little chip. I’ll get it fixed later too.”
Marissa sighed. “All right. You only have to text and I’ll have it all set up.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you.”
Marissa left the tent. The corner was serving as Bellarose’s dressing room while here at Blackwater. A makeup table and mirror were set up, and her costumes hung in waterproof storage. She sat there a moment, looking at the garments and playing through the scenes in her mind.
She and Cutter’s romantic interlude. A small spat before the wedding. And finally, the big day. The wedding gown hadn’t arrived yet, but Bellarose knew it would be spectacular.
She listened to the activity going on outside. Some of the others had asked her to visit the winery to hear an acoustic trio, but she had declined that too.
Finding King was all she wanted.
She checked the mirror for any remnants of her stage makeup and found none. Then she grabbed the paper bag containing a gift, wrapped her sweater around herself and left the tent.
Few people remained on the grounds, men rolling up cables and stashing expensive equipment in the trailers. The cabin looked dark. Of course, King wouldn’t be there right now anyway.
He’d be seeing to evening chores.
With the bag clutched in one hand and her other gripping the ends of the sweater over her chest against the chill the day had taken, she headed to the barn. Pausing at the door, she listened and heard nothing but silence. Maybe he wasn’t inside tending the horses as she’d hoped.
As she was about to turn, a soft clucking sound reached her. She stepped inside.
Nobody was in sight.
“King?”
A cowboy hat appeared over the top of one of the stalls. He stepped out into the center of the barn. “Bellarose.”
Seeing him in all his dirty, dusty glory had her stomach dipping like she’d just gotten onto a roller coaster and was climbing hundreds of feet into the air, waiting for the thrill of the ride.
Smiling, she stepped forward and held out the bag. “I brought you something.”
He moved into the fading light from the high window, and she saw his lips were quirked up on one side. He took the bag and opened it. As soon as he did, the scent of banana wafted out.
“I couldn’t find you banana bread, but they’re banana muffins.”
He peered into the bag in disbelief. “Did you bake these yourself?” he teased.
She chuckled. “You know I didn’t. I sent someone into town to find them. I’m sure they aren’t as good as the bread. Was it homemade?”
He nodded. “Schmitty’s wife made it.” He sealed the bag again. “This wasn’t about the bread.”
“I know. They need to respect your property.”
“Exactly. And thank you for the muffins.” The way he was looking at her, like he was ready to devour her like a banana treat, had her moving forward. She eased into his arms, and he folded her close. They held each other for a moment that stretched on.
“You had some long hours today. I’m surprised you didn’t go back with the others and get some rest.”
“I was hoping”—she paused and smiled up at him—“that you’d show me about riding.”
“Hmm,” he rumbled, eyes narrowing on her. “Are we talking about horses?”
She shook her head.
“Well, that’s another lesson entirely. We’ll need extra practice time.” He leaned in and pressed his mouth on hers, hard enough to prove he’d been thinking about her at least a little today.
The growing bulge in his jeans ended any other questions.
When she ran her hands down his chest and hooked her forefinger in his belt buckle, he quirked a dark brow. “So you’re a woman who knows what she wants,” he rumbled.
“Uh-huh.” She popped open his belt and worked the button loose from the hole. “I also have a confession to make.”
“What’s that?” His breath hitched as she dipped her fingers into his jeans and found his swollen cock pressing at the elastic of his underwear.
Her eyes lidded, and she swiped her forefinger over his bulging head. “That second day I saw you with your shirt off.”
He considered her for a minute. “When I was washing up?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have a confession too.”
“What’s that?” she said in the same gravelly tone he had.
“I was washing up for you, so you didn’t think I was a grubby rancher.”
She smoothed the cloth over his distended cock head, and he let out a groan.
“Also, you’re pretty good at mimicking voices,” he ground out.
“Is that all I’m good at? Let’s see, shall we?” She flashed a look at him before sinking to the dusty barn floor, bringing his cock to eye level. She worked down his zipper, burning up with each inch she unveiled. When she caught his male scent, her pussy flooded. Need blossomed in her core, and she took his cock in hand, easing it from his navy underwear.
“Jesus.” He fisted his hands at his sides.
She lowered her mouth to the tip, brushing her lips over it. His thigh muscles locked and he shuddered. Then she flicked out her tongue and licked the tip. His creamy arousal was pooled there, and she lapped it up.
“Fuck.”
Smiling, she lowered her mouth over his shaft, taking him as far as she could. Determined to drive him crazy, she found the ridged underside with her tongue and teased the line up and down, the head of his cock bumping the back of her throat.
“You’re a… quick study.”
“Mmm. Am I?” She sucked him in again, right to the root. His stiff pubic hair tickled at her lips a second before she pulled back. With each time she drew him into her mouth, she felt King loosen, begin to let go. He was no match for her seductions, and that surprised her. She’d played many roles but seductress had never been one, at least in real life.
She wanted the man to be putty in her hands.
Passion was an electric current inside her as she sucked him with strong pulls that turned into him tangling his fingers in her hair and pressing her down hard and fast. He shook. She trembled with her own desire.
When he let out a long moan, she knew he was close. He jerked his hips, sinking between her lips again. “I’m gonna blow, darlin’. Pull back.”
She made a noise and hollowed her cheeks. She had no intention of pulling back. She wanted to taste him.
“Fuck!” The first scorching jet of cum hit her tongue and she swallowed. Three more followed, each dragging animal growls from her cowboy. She continued to tease him for a long minute before he came to his senses.
“Hell. Darlin’, I didn’t want to do that.”
She looked up his muscular body to find his dark, heavy gaze on her. Slowly, she let him slip free from her mouth. His eyes closed on a shudder. When he opened them, he grasped her and pulled her to her feet. Stepping back with her until her spine bumped the barn wall.
“Your turn.” His voice sounded like a boot heel on gravel as he tore open her blouse and bit down on her nipple through her bra.
* * * * *
With every swirl of his tongue over her breasts, Bellarose let out another moan. Her little noises were driving him crazy, and he was so hard, so worked up, that a second release was threatening, taking him right to the edge.
Lifting his head, he caught and held her gaze before smashing his lips across hers. Drinking in her flavor—and finding his own on her tongue. Fuck, she was hot as hell and he couldn’t get enough of her. He thought about her day and night and every spare second between. How a woman like her had landed on his ranch, in his arms and in his bed, blew his mind.
He slanted his mouth over hers, stealing all her cooing sounds as he walked his fingers down between her breasts to the waist of her stretchy pants.
“Workout pants, or whatever they’re called, are a gift from heaven. Especially to fumble-fingered ranchers like myself,” he grated out.
In one smooth glide, he cupped her pussy. Found it soaking.
“Hell,” he muttered against her lips.
She rocked against his fingers, and he sank one deep. Lifting her onto tiptoe, he continued to pump his finger in and out of her soaking channel until he supported her, pinned to the roughhewn wood wall.
Her red hair snagged on the splintered surface, webbing out. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and he watched her features change as he pleasured her. One finger then two, stretching her tight pussy around his digits.
“You came in here to seduce me,” he whispered, dipping his mouth to her nipple.
“Uhhh.” She was beyond words, clinging to him as he nudged her toward her peak.
Pressing his fingers upward, he nearly came again just as the feel of her drenching him.
“When I’m finished with you, your panties are gonna be ruined.” His words came out as an oath as he drove her higher. She began to shake in his hold and he felt her first inner contraction clamp around his hand.
“Feel it right there. That spot’s swelling. Pulsing.”
She grabbed his head and kissed him hard as she began to shatter. Her mouth opened on a silent cry, and he thrust his tongue deep in time to his fingers.
She felt forward, and he caught her up, holding her close and cherishing having her this way. To think she was famous and so many men wanted her, yet here she was—with him.
When she came down from her high, she opened her eyes. The depths still foggy with pleasure.
“My God, you’re gorgeous. Come to bed with me and don’t leave.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
Then she smiled, and his heart exploded.
* * * * *
King stepped out of the barn, her hand wrapped tightly in his. He stopped so fast, she bumped into his back.
“Ow!�
�
He glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yes, but what is it?”
“Got company.”
She quickly scanned her clothing to make sure she hadn’t forgotten something and was exposed.
“Well, who is it?” she asked.
“My sister and her family.”
“Oh.” She was relieved it wasn’t someone coming for her, because she wasn’t ready to leave King’s side. In fact, thirty seconds ago, she’d been prepared to spend the night in his bed.
“Look, if you don’t want to be seen, just stay inside the barn and I’ll get rid of them.”
She searched his gaze. “Is that what you want?”
“I have no problem introducing you. But I don’t want you feeling awkward or on the spot.”
She smiled. “I can handle myself. You realize this is part of my job, right?”
There it was—that crooked smile that she was growing to crave. “All right. Hold hands or not?”
“Umm… not for a bit.” She felt bad about saying it, but it would be shocking enough for his sister and her family to meet a celebrity let alone discover she was sleeping with King.
He released her fingers and tipped his head toward the door. “Ready?”
She flicked out her fingers before she realized she wasn’t preparing for a role. She only had to be herself in this situation. She folded them into her palms and nodded. “Let’s go.”
As soon as they stepped outside, a child’s high-pitched voice yelled, “There he is! Uncle King!”
A blur of a child ran at them, all brown curly hair and mismatched clothes. King swept her up in his arms and held her upside down by the ankles. A pair of dirty boots hovered in front of his face. He peered down at her. “Why, I caught a little wildcat. Wherever did she come from?” He swung her lightly, to and fro. She giggled hysterically and then set eyes on Bellarose.
“Who are you?”
King flipped her over and set her on her cowgirl boots. The little imp stared unblinkingly at Bellarose, and suddenly she felt more in the spotlight than she had in a long time. She wasn’t used to being in the company of little ones.
She opened her mouth to speak, but someone called out. “Looks like you found him, Sierra.”
