Love Letters Volume 6: Cowboy's Command (The Love Letters)

by Ginny Glass

  But instead of giving in to her demands, Cole sat back, squeezing her thigh roughly as he leveraged himself onto his knees. Never one to miss an opportunity, she lunged for his open jeans, batting away the heavy buckle and working the stiff denim down over his even stiffer cock. He popped free of his snug boxer briefs, and the sheer size of his fully aroused dick made her breath snag in her chest. She wasn’t the virgin she’d once been, but she was still a far cry from the experienced women he usually chose.

  Catching her lip between her teeth, she allowed herself a moment to revel in the unspeakable pleasure of his unraveling. She might not have been a worldly woman, but she’d still managed to push him beyond all restraint. She glanced up, gauging his reaction as she ran her thumb over the smooth, velvety tip of him. Cole blinked rapidly as she wrapped her fingers around the thick shaft.

  He hadn’t let her touch him that night, claiming he was too close to the edge to be able to take it. The shudder of breath rattling from his lungs sent a ripple of power coursing through her. She stroked him slow and sure, cataloging each twitch and grunt with a satisfied smile. Cole’s lips parted and his breathing became shallow as her hands moved over him.

  Barely more than a minute passed before he wrapped his hand around her wrist and whispered, “Enough, enough. I can’t—”

  “Not enough,” she countered. But in deference to his hearty groan she released him, only to plunge both hands into the back of his loosened Wranglers. Running her hands over the taut, muscular globes, she flashed a naughty smile. “You have the most incredible ass.”

  “I could argue for yours.” He rolled to his side, then started shedding his boots, socks and pants. She angled her head to enjoy the view, but he pushed her onto her back once more.

  “Agh!”

  Her strangled yelp wiped the desire-lazy cockiness from his face. “What? What’s wrong?”

  A hot blush rose in her checks as she rolled to rub a different cheek entirely. “Straw hurts.”

  “Oh, uh, here.” He surged forward, grabbing his shirt from the pile of hay and shaking it out with a flick of his wrist. He nodded for her to lift her hips then slipped it beneath her. “Better?”

  “Much.” It was a lie. The straw still poked through the cotton barrier, but she couldn’t care less. Not with the big, beautiful cowboy of her dreams kneeling over her. “About to be a whole lot better.” She pulled him down on top of her and kissed him deeply. “Oh, so much better.”

  Cole ran his hand up over her thigh, lifting her leg and pulling it to him until she wrapped it over his hip. He continued to tease her with his lips, soft nipping kisses alternating with deep lingering ones as he lay poised at her entrance.

  “Condom,” he croaked.

  “Do you have one?”

  “Shit, I don’t know.” He huffed a breath and closed his eyes, rocking against her. “Wallet. Maybe.”

  “Check.” She circled her hips and his eyelids rolled up like a pair of broken shades. “Hurry.” His growl of pure animal frustration rippled through her body. He pried himself off her, muttering under his breath as he pawed for his jeans. Reveling in the tingle of cool air rushing over heated skin, she smiled and stretched languidly. “That better be prayin’ I hear.”

  “You bet your sweet ass it—” A brilliant smile lit him from within as he dropped his worn leather wallet into the hay. “Thank you, sweet Lord.”

  The welcome sound of rending foil punctuated the sentiment perfectly. Still, she teased him some more. “I’m pretty sure they’d count that as a blaspheme.”

  Settling between her thighs once again, Cole looked her dead in the eye. “Don’t much care if it sends me straight to hell as long as I get to visit heaven first.”

  A rush of breath escaped his lungs as the very tip of him parted her folds. She moaned as her body softened, welcoming the blunt intrusion. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. Envy-inspiring lashes fluttered, and a smug smile edged the corners of his mouth.

  He plunged to the hilt on a single thrust. Michelle slid her hands over his ass, pulling him to her roughly and crying out her pleasure. A groan ripped from his throat. Her body clenched around him, holding him deep inside her. She whispered his name, and the single syllable had the same effect as a starter’s gun.

  His thrusts grew wild and reckless. He lunged into her, setting a hard and hot pace and leaving them both panting. She arched her back and smiled her pleasure as she watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. He hooked his arm under her leg and pushed her knee up higher and rode her as he was born to ride.

  He lengthened each stroke, slowly and deliberately geared to drive her over the edge once more. The rasp of his chest hair against her tight nipples sent bolts of heat rocketing through her. His eyes glittered with hot intent. She gripped his ass, her fingernails biting into tender flesh, branding him.

  “Oh, yes. Yes.” She squeezed him tight inside her. “You feel so good. We fit so damn good.”

  She squirmed when he slowed even more, drawing each thrust and plunge to the very brink before claiming her again. He stared down at her, his lips parted, wet and red from rough kisses. “I wanna look at you,” he said breathlessly.

  “What?”

  Cole released her leg and slipped both arms under her, holding her to him tightly as he rolled them over. “It was dark. I wanted to see you so bad.”

  She blinked in surprise, and then a slow feline smile and a hot blush fought for dominance. Trepidation prickled her scalp when he’d unhooked her bra. Tall and athletic, she was far less favorably endowed or enhanced than many of the women who flocked to him. She’d made him turn out the bedside lamp in the dingy motel room, but she’d never forgotten the warm reverence of his caresses or feverish words of praise he’d whispered into her skin. Now, in an empty horse stall bathed in the fading light of the afternoon, she had nowhere to hide. And she didn’t want to.

  “I want to see you now.” He pushed down on her hips, circling his beneath her. “I want to watch you come.”

  “Oh, yes.” The husky promise gave her the courage she needed to give him what he wanted. Smiling, she pushed up on her hands until she straddled him. “Like this?”

  “Perfect.”

  She studied his face as she rose and fell on him, setting the same maddeningly unhurried pace he’d wielded like a weapon just moments before. His lashes fluttered as his eyes slid shut. Michelle smiled as she leaned down to steal a kiss.

  “You’re not watching.”

  He managed to open his eyes long enough to sear her with his brazen stare. “Oh yes, I am,” he said hoarsely. “I am.”

  Cole’s hands caressed her thighs, stroking them, kneading them, and warming her skin until she melted into each caress. Bits of straw clung to his hair and stabbed at her shins. She shifted, planting one hand beside his head and angling her body so the shaft of his hard cock stroked her clit with each thrust. Cole surged up off the pile of hay, pressing his lips to her neck and scraping his teeth over the soft skin as he bucked beneath her. She clung to him, unwilling to relinquish her grip, afraid she’d be thrown if she let go, terrified she’d be trampled under the onslaught of her impending climax if she didn’t.

  He cupped her ass, squeezing it roughly and spreading her open wide as she impaled herself on him. She gasped his name in warning and he slid one hand up to cup her breast. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching hard. She gasped, but apparently it wasn’t enough for him. Before she caught her next breath, he bent her back over his arm and drew the throbbing tip into his mouth.

  The gentle suction combined with the unrelenting pulse of his cock inside her finished her off. She cried out again when her climax rushed through her. She whimpered his name and the first shudder racked his body. Cole leaned back, his hands guiding her hips. His gaze dropped to the juncture of their bodies and her eyes followed. Michelle found herself mesmerized by the glide of his cock as he emptied himself into her.

  Each exhalation echoed
with her name. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her to him with muscles as taut as corded steel. Nonsense words tumbled from his lips and into her hair, bits and pieces of promises and whispers of regret. He rained blind kisses on her shoulder and neck. His hands splayed over her smooth back, the dregs of his release shuddering through him. Their breathing slowed and his kisses lingered.

  “I never thought I’d have you again,” Cole said in a low, gravelly voice. He lifted his head and pulled back to look her in the eye. “In four-point-three seconds, everything changed. I couldn’t be the man I thought I destined to be.”

  “I only wanted you.”

  “I didn’t know who I was anymore.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “I could ride before I could walk.”

  “You can still ride,” Michelle chided. She framed his face with her hands, staring at him as if she had never truly seen him before. She smoothed her fingers over his raised brows, smiling tenderly as she let her shoulder rise and fall in a shrug. “You might not be able to bust, but you can ride.”

  His smile turned wicked. “How’s a broken old cowboy like me supposed to keep up with a wild filly like you?”

  “You broke me a long time ago.” The stricken expression on his face made her wince. Her hair whipped her face, bits of straw raining down over his chest. “I mean, I don’t want anyone else. You’re my cowboy, even if it takes you too damn long to come around to seeing what’s right in front of your face.”

  “I see you, and you’re all I ever want.” Cole’s smile came slow but dazzled when it hit its stride. He ran his hand over her tangled hair. She grimaced when he tangled his fingers in the snarled mess. “Hay.”

  Heat prickled her cheeks. She didn’t need a mirror to know she was a strawberry-pink mess, but the way Cole stared up at her made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. “Hey,” she whispered with an affectionate smile.

  Cole chuckled and plucked a piece of straw from her hair and held it up in front of her eyes. “No, hay.”

  “Hey!” She pushed him back down onto the bedding and buried her flaming face in the crook of his neck. “Where the hell are all my clothes?”

  “Ah, you don’t need ‘em.” He gave her ass a playful swat. “I like you best when you’re ridin’ bareback.”

  *

  W Is for Wanted

  by Ginny Glass

  Main Street looked exactly the same as it had when Sam had last seen it. The windows in the antiquated shops were still that heavy yellow pebbled glass. The signs above them all had variations of retro-round letters, spelling out their purpose—Laundromat, hardware, feed store, office supply. The Judith, which had recently been remodeled and converted to a whopping two screens instead of the single one that had shown movies when he was a kid, still had the same pink neon marquee.

  Main Street should have been a friendly, warm reminder of late-summer afternoons here in Lewistown. It should have welcomed him home. Instead, it made Sam sick. Nauseated. It took him right back to the night he’d left and made his toes curl in his just-shined dress shoes, his fingers tighten on the steering wheel of his rented sedan.

  He could do this. He needed to do this. First, he’d go see Cyrus at the bank and then hightail it out of here and go book a hotel room in Great Falls. A two-hour drive wasn’t a big deal. Especially if making that drive meant that there was no chance of having to face the town he’d run from fifteen years ago.

  You mean no chance of running into Merrit Hightower. That small complication was one he’d like to avoid. If he had to spend time in Montana settling his father’s estate, at least he could avoid the one person who’d ever made it hard to leave.

  He knew she was still living at the ranch, her folks too—their salaries had been line items in the endless stacks of documents related to the Broken Bow Cattle Company.

  It’d been fifteen years since he’d seen her. Fifteen years—enough time that he’d nearly forgotten about the night before he left. Nearly.

  *

  Sam was eighteen today. Eighteen was the golden egg, the finish line, the light at the end of the tunnel. He’d graduated last month with honors, and he was leaving tomorrow. No one in Lewistown knew it.

  As Sam stuffed clothes into his worn LHS Warriors duffel bag, his face flushed. He could blame it on the exertion of packing; he could blame it on the oppressive humidity of the Montana summer, but none of those were the real reason.

  He only had tonight before he’d be gone from Lewistown forever, and he was going to seduce Merrit. He put his UC Davis admissions packet on top of everything and zipped his duffel closed. Flopping onto the twin bed that was crammed into one corner of his bedroom, he took a deep breath and said it out loud—

  “Mer, it’s high time I made love to you.” His voice sounded commanding, manly, just like he’d practiced. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and exhaled, feeling the near-painful thump of his racing heart.

  The bed had once seemed so big, but as he’d grown, the bed and the bedroom had shrunk. Even the room’s French doors, which looked out onto the rolling, heavily treed front lawn, seemed only to frame and accentuate the constriction he felt living here. He was an adult now and this place was full of the trappings of his childhood—books, faded movie posters hanging on the low, slanted ceiling, the action figures now boxed in his closet instead of scattered across the carpet.

  Not that he’d had much time for play—as soon as he’d been able to ride a horse, he’d become more of a ranch hand than anything. When other kids were getting ready for homecoming, going to football games, cruising Main on Friday nights, Sam had been mucking out stalls and rounding up stray cattle.

  Footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell. He bolted up, grabbing his duffel and stuffing it under the bed moments before his father came into view. Richard Thrasher filled the doorway, as intimidating in size as he was in personality.

  “Sam, Merrit’s out front. Says you wanted her help fixing the pull-down ladder in the east barn?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. Can you tell her I’ll be down in a few minutes?”

  The elder Thrasher nodded. “Best to take the truck out, instead of walking. Be dark soon.”

  Sam’s heart didn’t slow. If anything, when his father turned to leave, it beat impossibly faster. When Sam left, he wasn’t telling anyone where he was headed. Not his father, not the latest in his father’s string of girlfriends. Not even Merrit Hightower.

  *

  Merrit grumbled as she hefted another square bale out of the back of her pickup. The late morning was warming up, and she needed to get this load of hay put up before the real heat set in. Her back popped and she stretched, eyeing the horizon back toward the driveway. Mopping the back of her neck with a bandanna, she squinted as a trail of dust announced someone’s arrival at the main house.

  She could just make out the shape of a pickup as it rolled to a stop near the front door. He heart skipped a little. You can’t get the damned vapors over every unfamiliar vehicle you see, Merrit.

  It wouldn’t be Sam, it never was. Probably nothing to do with him. Even now that his father had passed, he’d more than likely be sorting things out from his fancy office in California. And Merrit doubted his lawyer drove a pickup. Someone climbed out the truck and headed toward the door. Shit.

  Her father was in town arranging for one of the feed silos to be filled, her mother was most likely out at the bunkhouse pavilion getting lunch started, and the rest of the men were either at the barns or out in the pastures. She tucked her bandanna into her back pocket and grabbed her keys from the tailgate before starting the trek back to the house.

  The truck belonged to Tom Vaughn, one of the local constables who patrolled the areas sounding Lewistown proper. He was only a few years older than Merrit, but he’d been involved in Fergus County law enforcement as long as she could remember.

  She made it to the house just as he was turning from the front door. He wasn’t in uniform, which meant he was off duty.

 
; “Tom, everything okay?” She couldn’t shake the flutter in the pit of her stomach, even as Tom smiled and held out a hand to her.

  “Merrit, you get prettier every time I see you, girl.”

  Merrit shook the offered hand and grinned. At thirty-three, she couldn’t be called a girl anymore, and pretty didn’t fit with being constantly covered in dust and sweat. But she’d take any compliment she could get. “You after something, or did you just come here to lie to me?”

  Tom’s laugh put her a bit more at ease. “Your daddy around?”

  “In town, something I can do for you?”

  He seemed to be considering not telling her. Then he knocked the brim of his ball cap back and what he said made her world narrow to just his words.

  It had never been Sam. Except now, it was.

  “Thrasher kid’s in town. Judy at the bank said she saw him step in a while ago. Been in with Cy for most of the morning. Thought y’all might like a heads-up.”

  Merit nodded, but it was wooden, automatic. Tom was watching her, and she forced a tight-lipped smile that she prayed wasn’t as see-through as it felt.

  “Thanks, Tom. I’ll let Ma and Daddy know.”

  “You all right?” There was genuine concern on his face.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” She regained some of her composure, her eyes snapping to meet the constable’s.

  He shrugged. “Kid gave you a raw deal, lighting out like he did, back when.”

  “Yeah, well, it was a long time ago.” At least she sounded convincing. “You want to stay for lunch?”

  Tom checked his watch. “Lunchtime’s not for at least an hour.”

  Merrit turned back toward the barn, waving Tom to follow her. “Good, then you can help me unload the rest of this hay. Maybe I’ll tell Kelli at the calving shed what a big help you’ve been.”