by Merry Farmer
It was then her turn to gasp as he slid his hand between the two of them, over the curls she’d spent way too much time landscaping that afternoon, and across the smooth-shaven flesh of her mons. He let out a groan of appreciation for every discovery he was making, and the bulge just under where she was fiddling with his buckle jumped. She gave up working that buckle entirely as his fingers delved further, meeting the moisture at her entrance.
“Absolutely, yes,” she sighed as he swept his fingers around her opening, then let his middle finger dip inside.
In an instant, her mind ran through a thousand possibilities of very wicked things he could do to her that she would be just fine with. She didn’t realize that her mouth had dropped open with the pleasure of it all until Scott closed his mouth over hers, his tongue imitating what his finger was doing. She wriggled with impatience as he explored her, then came staggeringly close to coming as he drew his fingers up over her clit.
“Hold on,” he panted, drawing back just as she was ready to lose herself.
The bristling tension of almost having climaxed without actually doing it was made even better as he rocked to his knees and peeled his shirt off. He was so well-made that Casey bit her lip and drank in the sight of him. His California tan hadn’t completely faded in the Wyoming winter. His nipples were tight and stood out from the light dusting of hair on his chest.
She held her breath when he reached for his pants, but instead of finishing what she’d started with his belt, he slid a hand into his pocket. That, of course, drew her eyes to the promising tent in his trousers. At least until he pulled a small, foil packet from his pocket.
“Yes,” she almost shouted on a grateful breath. “Thank God in heaven above.”
“I’m sure He’s been thanked for lesser things,” Scott growled.
He was bold enough to hold the wrapped condom in his teeth as he used his hands to undo his belt at last and unzip his trousers. Casey squirmed to get her arms behind her and unzip her dress as he did, but as soon as he pushed his trousers and underwear down over his hips, she froze.
He was magnificent. Almost frighteningly so. The man had nothing at all to be ashamed of. His penis stood up, thick and proud over a pair of perfectly man-scaped balls. The head of his penis was flared and pink, already shining with expectation. Casey began to tremble with desire.
Still bold as tacks, Scott ripped open the packet in his mouth. He took out the condom and tossed the wrapper away, but before he could put the condom on, Casey gasped, “Wait, wait!”
Scott jerked to a stop, sending her a questioning, almost desperate look.
A giggle began deep in her throat, and she dragged her eyes up to meet his. “Can I touch it first?”
Scott let out a noise that defied description. “Okay,” he rumbled.
He was just out of reach, but before he scooted closer, he kicked off his shoes and shucked his pants. When at last he straddled her hips, he was fully naked. Casey thought she might come just looking at him, he was so beautiful. She wanted to tell him as much in as many ways as possible, but not a single word made it out of her lips, or even into her brain. Instead, she stroked a hand along the underside of his penis, letting her fingers circle its crown. He was bigger than any man she’d ever been with, not that there had been many. She squeezed her inner muscles just thinking about how he would feel inside of her.
“Unless you want the evening to take a very different turn,” Scott choked after a few more intense strokes, “you might want to stop that.”
Casey giggled and let her arms fall to her sides. She would have let her knees fall to her sides too if he hadn’t been straddling her hips. “Whatever you say,” she told him in what she hoped was a sexy, up-for-anything voice. “Whatever you want.”
Her words had the effect she wanted. He stared down at her as if he wanted to devour all of her at once and didn’t know where to begin. He started with the obvious, shifting so that he knelt between her legs instead of straddling her hips.
“Let’s just see how far this no underwear thing goes,” he whispered roughly, sliding his hands up her legs.
He caught the hem of her dress as his hands continued upward, and in one shivery, slinky movement, drew the little red thing all the way up her body and over her arms. She kept her arms above her head as he tossed the dress aside. When his gaze roamed back over her, her trembling, which had been slight, grew pronounced.
“Are you okay?” he asked, full of concerned.
“More than okay,” she replied near a whisper. “I just haven’t had a guy look at me naked like this for a really long time.”
“I could—” He reached for his shirt.
“No!” She stopped him. “I like the way you look at me. A lot. So much.”
He must have understood. With a heated smile, he studied her body, taking his time as she grew hotter and wetter under his glance. It felt paradoxical that she should be so turned on with her legs spread wide, her arms above her head, completely exposed to him and vulnerable to whatever whims he had, but the shocking level of trust she had in him made her submissive position as tantalizing to her as she could see it was to him.
When he reached down to stroke himself a few times, she almost came undone. She breathed harder, her chest heaving as his gaze fixed on her breasts. The edge of mystery as she wondered whether he would stroke himself until he came while just looking at her had her tense and even led her to sigh audibly.
At last, he rolled the condom on with a few quick movements. She was so ready then that it would have been anticlimactic if he had extended their foreplay with any more kisses or touches. But blessedly, he covered her still-trembling body with his own and sank himself home. She cried out at the pleasure of him filling her, and saints have mercy, did he fill her! She arched into him, wrapping her arms around him and gripping his backside to hold him close, and pressed her mouth against his neck.
It was still a few seconds before she realized he was holding still inside of her, and judging by the tension pulsing around him, it took some effort not to move. She let out a questioning sigh that didn’t quite form words, squeezed his backside, and rocked her hips against him.
“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with me,” he whispered softly, hips twitching as if he was ready to move.
“Yes.” The cry came out of her sounding desperate. “Oh, God, yes.”
His only reply was a deep, grumbling roar as his body swayed into motion.
It was like nothing Casey had ever experienced before. He was so powerful and filled her so completely that when he moved, with increasing strength, she felt as though every bit of her rational thought imploded into her pleasure-heightened senses. His thrusts grew even more powerful and primal, and sounds escaped from him that reached out to something ancient and visceral inside of her. He wasn’t a thoughtful, nerdy, engineering type at all. Suddenly he was a Viking warrior, intent on taking what was his.
She came so thoroughly and unexpectedly that for a moment she forgot where they were, who they were, even. She dug her nails into his backside, urging more, as her inner muscles contracted in pure pleasure. She was only just beginning to drift down from the intense orgasm when she felt him tense and gasp, then let out a cry as he came too.
It must have been just as mind-blowing for him as it had been for her. As soon as his rocking slowed, he sagged, heavy, on top of her. As considerate as he’d been every step of the way, now he seemed too spent to worry about his weight on her. Lucky for him, she adored it. He was hot and slick with sweat, his perfect body like sculpted iron pressing on her, but she loved the feeling. Something about it calmed her, made her feel secure and grounded. He made her feel as if the danger of her flying off, out of control, was completely neutralized.
As they both loosened and caught their breath, she realized that she hadn’t felt so protected in a painfully long time.
Chapter Ten
As cliché as it was, Casey felt like she was floating on a war
m, sexy cloud for the next few days. She and Scott hadn’t just had sex, they’d opened a whole new chapter in the history of romance. Making love for the first time in a planetarium, under the southern stars, was hands-down the most daring, most amazing thing she’d ever done.
Making love in Scott’s bed at the hotel room over the next couple of nights had been equally mind-blowing. Her previous experience with men had been limited and far less interesting than what the romance novels she’d read had led her to think sex would be, but with Scott it was as good as every Fabio cover had ever promised.
“Hey girl,” she said in ridiculously good spirits as she brought Carrot out of her stall to saddle her a week later. “You wanna go for a run?” she asked, stroking her old friend’s long nose.
Carrot huffed and nodded as if saying yes. Casey threw a clean blanket over her back, straightened it, and went to fetch her saddle. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was looking forward to riding. Although she doubted the wind in her hair would feel as good as Scott’s feather-light touch as he stroked her breasts. He’d just about caused an orgasm by flickering her nipples with his tongue, getting them all warm and wet and hot, then pulling back and blowing on them. The contrast of hot and cold, mouth and air, had been amazing. She doubted Carrot would feel as good between her legs either.
“Murphy’s Law says going for a ride is either going to make me super sore or incredibly horny,” she laughed as she mounted, throwing her leg over Carrot’s back and settling into place. The rub of her thighs against the saddle and the contact of other regions with the stiff leather definitely tipped the balance over onto the horny side.
She leaned over and patted Carrot’s neck, chuckling low in her throat as she did. “I promise it’s nothing personal.”
Carrot snorted, Casey laughed, and with one more affectionate pat, she steered Carrot around to the stable door and out into the cold February afternoon.
Conditions were harsh, no doubt about it. There had been more snow a few days ago, then one day of surprising warmth that half-melted everything, then temperatures had turned frigid again. None of it penetrated the mantle of warmth that thoughts of Scott wrapped around Casey. She trotted Carrot around the corral to warm her up, heating herself with the memory of Scott’s muscular arms, his defined chest and abs, and other bits that were far more impressive than any she’d seen in person. Who would have thought that a sci-fi loving nerdy man who designed space ships for a living would be such a hunk under his suit?
“Easy, girl.” Casey calmed Carrot with a laugh, patting her neck. Carrot was restless, jumping around and ready to run, even though Casey was trying to keep her to a sedate pace. Her old friend must have been picking up on Casey’s own restless vibes. And why not? Her own body felt as though she’d been let off some sort of leash and was ready to go, go, go.
“Okay, why not,” she said to both herself and Carrot. “Go, girl!”
She tapped Carrot’s flanks, giving her permission to run as fast as she wanted to. Casey had left the coral door open for that exact reason, and a familiar thrill filled her gut as Carrot burst out into the open. Casey laughed and leaned low over Carrot’s neck as they darted out toward the hazy, grey-brown horizon.
It’d been so long since Casey had let herself remember how much she loved to ride, to race. She loved the feeling of being one with Carrot, digging deep into her soul to match her horse’s movements and intent. Even the chafe of the saddle against her out-of-practice thighs felt like heaven. She breathed as deeply as she could with the icy wind whipping past her, steering Carrot around snowy patches and rough spots in the terrain.
They drew near to where her barrels stood, abandoned for more than a year now, since she’d given up rodeo. Her heart’s reaction to the sight of them was almost painful it was so strong.
“Whoa, girl, whoa.” She pulled Carrot to a stop, breathless with joy and excitement. The barrels called to her. She was already tracing her way through them in her mind, remembering the feel of Carrot straining to make the turns, the symbiosis the two of them had formed as they concentrated to beat their best time. “What do you think?” she asked her friend.
Carrot snorted, her breath puffing in icy clouds around them. She danced to the side, still eager to move, to be free again.
“Yeah, I’ve missed it too,” Casey told her, too much wistfulness in her voice.
Maybe it was time. Maybe it was okay to go back to the sport that had given her so much joy. She loved it, after all. She hadn’t given it up because it had gotten boring or difficult or because it took too much time away from other things. She’d given it up because…because….
“It doesn’t matter,” she said aloud, feeding the confidence that was growing inside of her. “We can get back into form, can’t we, girl.” She patted Carrot’s neck again, adjusting her stance in the saddle and turning Carrot toward the barrels. “We’ll just take it slow, and before long, we’ll be beating our best times. What do you say?”
Carrot’s answer was to push against Casey’s efforts to hold her back, to stamp the ground. She was ready to go. Casey was ready to go. And as she nudged Carrot into the approach to the barrels, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time filled her.
No, she’d felt that sensation, and recently too. As she sped toward the barrels, already looking to the right and planning how to guide Carrot around the first barrel gently, so neither of them hurt themselves, she felt the same elations that she’d felt with Scott. Even when she wasn’t in his bed, wrapped around him like a pretzel, exploring new ways of being together, she was happy. Just being with him filled her with joy. The same way that racing filled her with joy.
She slowed Carrot to a cautious pace as they rounded the right-hand barrel. No sense in courting disaster right off the bat. But even a slow turn brought a giggle bubbling to her throat. She could do this. She could move forward, find her life again. With Scott, with Carrot, and with a prayer, she could—
A flash of black at the corner of her eyes startled her out of her thoughts. Smile still on her face, she turned Carrot to abort the second turn. Instead, she rode her around in an increasingly slower circle until they were facing back toward the house and the stable. She squinted and saw that the black object approaching was actually Ted. Ted dressed in black, wearing his formal black wool trench coat.
“What the—”
Seconds later, she remembered, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach.
“Mom,” she whispered. A wave of agonizing grief, more painful than the sparkling joy she’d embraced, washed over her. She turned Carrot and walked to meet Ted, but even though she asked, “What’s up?” she knew the answer.
Ted glanced wistfully up at her. He had shaved and put some sort of gel in his thick hair to keep it slicked back. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun shining on the remaining snow. “Dad wants us to get there by noon, remember?”
Casey’s heart twisted and plummeted—like a bird shot out of the sky in mid-soar—into her stomach. “I…I forgot,” she said.
Guilt hit her like a bullet. How could she forget the one-year anniversary of her mother’s death? February fourth. It should be the single most important day on the calendar, a day etched into every fiber of her being. But there she was, out riding in the sunshine as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she had every right to be smiling and laughing just one year after her mom had taken her last, rattling breath. The sound of that breath still haunted her dreams.
“It’s okay,” Ted smiled, walking up to pat Carrot’s side. “No one reminded you.”
Judging by the sad kindness in his eyes, Ted must have assumed she’d only forgotten about the graveside remembrance ceremony they’d planned. If he knew she’d forgotten about the day entirely, he would be tearing her a new one instead of looking like she deserved a hug.
“Cousin Jack and his family said they’d meet us at the cemetery,” he went on, wa
lking beside Casey and Carrot as they headed back to the stable. “Then we’re invited over to their house for lunch.” He nodded up to her. “You might want to zip home and take a shower, though. I can settle Carrot back in her stall.”
“Yeah, sure,” Casey replied, breathless and distracted. Her stomach hurt so badly that she thought she might be sick.
She was silent the rest of the way back to the stable, numb with shame. Ted helped her down from the saddle, steadying her when her feet hit the ground. She was pretty sure she would have fallen over if he hadn’t. She couldn’t seem to remember how to walk all of a sudden. It took her a few, wobbly steps—like a foal just learning to walk—a foal without its mother to guide it—before she could put one foot in front of the other effectively enough to stumble out of the stable.
The world seemed much colder and darker as she wandered across the yard between the stable and the house. How could she be so horrible? One year ago that day, she’d sat on the side of her mom’s bed, holding her impossibly frail hand, singing her favorite, old songs as the life drained out of the most important person in her world. She’d wept bitter tears—just like the ones that came to her eyes as she pushed through the back door of the house, through the kitchen, and up to her bedroom—after that last breath, and vowed that she would never forget her mom.
One year, and she’d already broken that promise.
She shed her riding clothes, leaving them where they fell on the floor, and threw on her robe before walking, zombie-like, across the hall to the bathroom. The sound of the shower running and the hot water sluicing over her aching limbs wasn’t nearly the comfort that it usually was. Maybe if she’d had a chance to remember slowly. Maybe if the sight of Ted hadn’t brought the significance of the day slamming back into her with no mercy. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel as though she’d been hit by a truck.
She washed as quickly as she could. Just as she’d told Carrot in such a teasing way, her thighs and butt were sore for more than one reason. Now, the thought of Scott and how blissfully she’d lost herself in his arms these past several days tasted bitter instead of sweet. She should have been remembering her mom instead of having sex with a guy like they were going for some sort of record.
