For a minute, we stay together, holding on to each other as if we're afraid of losing our balance or floating away from one another. Finally, when we've both caught our breath, we relax.
Stryker doesn't let his body slip from mine yet. He peppers my face with soft kisses and looks down at me. His blue eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, his lids heavy with the need for sleep.
"Jordan," his voice is rough and his words run together slightly, "I never thought having the gas pump go dry would be the best thing that ever happened to me."
I raise my head slightly to catch his lips in a kiss before he reluctantly allows our bodies to fall away from each other and he rolls onto the blanket beside me.
"I never thought running out of gas would be the best thing that happened to me," I tell him with a smile.
His eyes close, hiding those baby blues beneath a flutter of dusty blonde lashes. A smile softens the masculine lines of his face and I reach to stroke the soft beard that covers his chin.
"I love you, Jo," he whispers on the edge of sleep, "and I'm going to marry you and fill you with babies when we get home."
I laugh lightly at his caveman words when he looks like an angel drifting off to sleep beside me. There's no way I'm going to let him get away with thinking he owns me like that-- even though something in my heart warms at the idea of belonging to this man.
Snuggling down in the blankets and pressing myself against Stryker's chest, his arm naturally goes protectively around me.
I hear Ninja's paws padding softly against the carpet and then I feel her pinning my feet against Stryker's as she curls up on the blankets with me.
We make a nice little family, I think as I start to slip into unconsciousness, maybe one or two kids wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Epilogue
Stryker
"Well?" It seems like I've been waiting forever.
"Not yet," Jo tells me with a playful slap to my arm, "It's only been 3 minutes."
I fall back on our bed with a heavy sigh, "I can't believe these things aren't instant read yet," I tell her.
Jordan is standing next to the bedroom window, looking down into the yard where I can hear Nick's shrieks echoing off the back wall of the house and shop.
"Your dad is going to wear them out," she says, "we should hire him on full time, especially if we're going to have a new baby in the house."
The smile on my face grows, Dad really came out of his shell when the kids came along. It's great to have him back again. "If I'd known grand kids were going to be so good for him, I'd have knocked you up years ago," I tease my wife.
"You did knock me up years ago," she slaps my knee and sits on the edge of the bed beside me.
Our oldest, Zoe, is 12 now and the boys are 4 and 6 already, so I guess she's got a point.
"I meant like when I was 19," I clarify as I reach up and grab her by the waist to pull her down on the bed with me.
"You didn't know me when you were 19," she giggles.
"Well if I'd have found you," I tell her as I kiss her, "I'd have found you and knocked you up and we'd have 14 kids by now."
Jordan eyes me cynically, "Even your dad couldn't handle that many grand babies."
Jordan pushes me away and climbs off the bed to go check the results.
I don't even know why we're bothering with a test, I already know she's pregnant. Her nipples are a shade darker, her hips already have that fullness to them that drives me wild when my hands are wrapped around them, and her usual sarcasm has been replaced with the same calm patience that has appeared out of nowhere with each one of her previous pregnancies.
Jordan giggles from the bathroom of the master suite we had built when we expanded the house back when we found out our second one was on the way.
Zoe was already 6 when Nick was was born and she was adamant that she wasn't sharing her room with a baby brother.
"It's positive, isn't it?" I jump up from the bed and join her in the bathroom where I find her grinning like a crazy woman with the pregnancy test in her hand, her head bobs up and down enthusiastically and I see her eyes are wet with tears.
Zoe came along so early in the game, we took our time enjoying our little family before we decided to add to it, but now we're both getting older. I knew Jo wanted one more baby before we called it quits and I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her no.
"It'd be nice to have another girl," I tell her as I put my hand over the place that's going to be growing with my child again soon.
Jordan wipes a tear out of her eye and laughs at me like I've gone insane, "I think one daughter is going to be enough to keep you busy," she tells me with her hand over mine.
"What do you mean?" I ask. "Zoe's super easy, it's not like there are any boys her age in Fell's Valley that I need to worry about."
The unmistakable sound of a dirt bike sputtering out of gas a short distance from the store interrupts our moment.
Jordan's eyes meet mine as the sudden silence of the engine is immediately followed by a string of curse words in an unfamiliar voice-- a decidedly young and very male voice.
The bell goes off to call whoever's on duty in the store out to the gas pump and I follow my wife to our front window and watch in horror as the kid that just rolled his bike up to the pump takes his helmet off and grins at Zoe as she runs ahead of my dad to unlock the pump.
"Calm down, Dad," Jordan lays her hand on my bicep, patting my arm gently as I watch my daughter mimic her mother's trade mark hair flip and giggles shrilly at whatever the kid just told her.
A growl rolls out of my chest at the scene unfolding out front.
"Now, what were you saying about having another girl?"
I look down at my wife and see her head tilted sideways with one eyebrow lifted as she looks up at me with a smirk.
"Another boy would be nice too," I point out as I let Jordan pull me into a deep kiss.
Thank you for reading
BONE: A Wild Romance
I hope you enjoyed the story that came from that long afternoon, pushing my bike along a very deserted stretch of road in eastern Oregon a few years back.
In real life-- his dog was a black lab named "Friday."
~Rocklyn
Rocklyn loves to offer bonus material to her newsletter subscribers, so sign up and gain access to extended epilogues, cover reveals, and general shenanigans that you can't get anywhere else (because no one's talked Roxie into braving social media yet!)
Rocklyn Ryder's Newsletter
Also by Rocklyn Ryder
Arranged Marriage Romance (Raven Swann's client files:)
A Perfect Gentleman (excerpt included)
A Nice Boy
A Smart Choice
A Great Catch
A Real Keeper
A Good Move
A Wise Investment
An Elegant Solution
A Total Sweetheart
Full Length Stand Alone Romances:
BUSH (excerpt included)
WOOD
ROUGH
BONE
About the Wild Romance novels:
I love writing the stories from my arranged marriage series! They're quick and dirty and oh so much fun, but what I REALLY like in a romance novel hero is a rough-around-the-edges, untamed sort of man that thinks he's too tough to fall in love...and then falls hard.
The "Wild Romances" are stand alone novels that feature rugged men and independent women finding each other in the most unlikely of ways and places.
I love that shit.
So far the titles in this collection include:
BUSH (excerpt included)
WOOD
ROUGH
BONE
Enjoy the following excerpt from BUSH
Excerpt from BUSH
A Sample of:
BUSH: A Wild Romance
Full Length Stand Alone Romance
by Rocklyn Ryder
Melissa
Look, we all know there's a huge differenc
e between fantasy and reality. Especially when it comes to sex. So girls like me, we read cheesy books and burn through batteries in the privacy of our own beds but out in the real world? We date guys that ask permission every step of the way.
Is it OK if I get your number?
Is it OK if we hang out sometime?
Is it OK if I call you?
Is it OK if I kiss you?
Is it OK if I put my hand on your ass?
Is it OK if...
You get the point.
Most guys are so terrified of making the wrong move, they won't even make eye contact. By the time you get to second base you've lost interest.
I'm not saying I want to go back to caveman days. I don't want to be scared to wear a mini skirt for fear of getting dragged into an alley but...
...shit....
I gotta wonder what it'd be like to have a man who's so fucking turned on by me that he can't help but push his luck. Not worried about going too far too fast, you know?
A man who doesn't need my permission in writing and notarized with witnesses.
What would it be like to have a real man? Getting all up in my personal space, getting me hot and bothered because he knows he gets me hot and bothered? Leaning in with a quirk on his sexy lips and growling the filthy things he wants to do to me in my ear while his unshaven jaw brushes against my cheek.
A man who doesn't need to ask my permission because he can read my body well enough to know that he can take what he wants.
And he knows exactly what he wants.
I shift uncomfortably on the bench and watch the men working around me. Ever since I landed in Alaska, I can't seem to get comfortable. There are a lot of men here.
Jeans and flannel and boots and hats. Not as many beards as I'd expected but even the clean shaven faces are masculine as fuck. The entire state reeks of testosterone. It's not doing me and my fantasy life any favors.
But it's Rogue that finally put me over the top. My pilot. The guy that I've been stuck in a tiny little cockpit with since this morning and the guy that I'm going to be stuck in a tiny cock pit with for the rest of the day.
The man exudes masculinity, he is the epitome of rugged, the poster child for wild Alaskan man.
And his name is Rogue for crying out loud! Who names their kid "Rogue?!" I saw his pilot's license. It says "ROGUE!" Rogue Masters. I couldn't make up a name like that.
He basically makes me want to rip my panties off and climb on his lap while he flies.
Did I mention the pilot part?
We are not talking major commercial airline pilot in a perfectly dry cleaned and pressed uniform. We are not talking about Top Gun fighter pilot jumpsuit-- although, gotta admit, I grew up near an Air Force base-- fighter pilots can be pretty hot.
No, we are talking about one hundred percent Alaskan bush pilot smexiness. Six foot, three inches of broad shouldered, corded muscle, wrapped in blue jeans, hunting boots, and thick flannel shirt. topped off with hair so dark it's almost black, scattered on top of his head like he basically doesn't give a fuck that he needed a haircut a month ago and a chin covered in thick stubble somewhere between "I'll shave tomorrow" and "fuck it I'm gonna let it grow." Eyes that match the glaciers I saw on our way into Anchorage and a voice so low and rough that every time he talks to me I get worried that I'm going to leave a wet spot on the seat of his plane.
Have you ever met a man that makes your entire body come alive? A man who turns you on so much that your body knows when he's standing behind you even when you didn't hear him walk up?
I know we all fantasize about a guy like that. We all want to believe that kind of animal attraction really does exist.
Let me tell you-- it exists. Because right now? I know Rogue's standing behind me. Even though I haven't heard his voice.
I can feel him. It makes my nerves light up in anticipation, like my skin is just waiting for him to touch it. My nipples get rock hard and my pussy gets wet. Embarrassingly wet. And this is how I've been feeling for hours now. It's getting uncomfortable and I swear if he doesn't get me to the cabin soon, I'm going to snap.
I keep my head down, eyes glued to the reading app on my phone, acting like I don't know he's there. I rest the hand that's holding my phone against my leg, hoping I can steady it enough that he doesn't see how bad it's shaking-- or sweating.
His breath hits my neck and at least I don't have to pretend I don't know he's there anymore. His arms drape over the back of the bench I'm sitting on, caging me between them as he casually dominates my personal space in a way that feels far too intimate. Like he just assumes it's totes cool for him to be hanging over my shoulder, breathing down the neck of my t-shirt while he...
Oh shit. I close my eyes, utterly mortified as he begins reading aloud, "licking her pussy till I wring out every drop of her orgasm, lapping at her wetness and coating my beard with her juices while her pussy clenches on my fingers..." I feel his face turn toward mine and I don't have to open my eyes to see the wry grin on his perfect lips, "shit, woman, no wonder you're all fidgety if this is what you been reading this whole time."
My face burns with embarrassment as I feel him watch me blush and then turn back to the book in my hands, "she moans as my thick rod spears her, separating her walls and stretching her tight little cunt over my huge cock-- you're seriously reading this shit?"
Rogue phrases the question sarcastically, like he's making fun of me, but I swear his mouth just crept an inch closer to my ear and his voice turned down a notch in both volume and tone, going soft and dark as his breath tickles my skin.
"Well come on, we've got another stop to make before we get you up to Wolf Ridge and I still have to turn around and make it back in time for the game, so hop up and let's get."
His hand pats my shoulder twice and then stills on my body just long enough to burn its outline into my memory before he stands and turns.
I pick up my bag, close the reader app, and slip my phone back into my my pocket. I turn and follow him back to his plane in time to watch his denim-clad ass make a brief appearance as his flannel rides up when he reaches for a grip on the strut under the wing and steps up into his seat.
We've done this enough times now that I don't need his help anymore. Which is good, because when he picked me up this morning he had to hold my hand and show me how to get into my seat and I thought I was going to orgasm on the spot from just touching his damn hand.
Where ever we are now was our fourth stop on the way to the cabin I'll be staying in this summer.
Rogue's a bush pilot. Oh God, even his job is sexy. I've never been so grateful to be stuck in a ridiculously loud prop plane in my life. At least there's no way he can hear me moan when I watch his powerful thigh muscles work to push his perfectly toned ass into the seat in front of mine.
His plane is itty bitty. Just two seats and barely enough space for my duffle bag and all the stuff he has to deliver to a string of places he calls "towns" along the way.
I haven't seen a town since we flew out of Anchorage. The two airports before this one were nothing but long fields with a shed at one end. This one, at least, had a real building. With real bathrooms, real coffee, and a staff of a few guys that seem to mostly stand around talking shit and gawking at my boobs.
"Ready?" he's asks from the seat in front of mine as I buckle myself in, then he looks back at me over his shoulder and his eyes gesture meaningfully at my phone, "don't get too into that 'book' you're reading," he waggles his eyebrows at me, "I'll feel it in the plane if you move around too much."
I feel my face go beet read again as he adds, "And this baby doesn't have a rear view mirror so I can't watch if you start touching yourself."
He's joking, dimples appearing in his cheeks and sexy lines crinkling the corners of his eyes with his grin, but he has no idea how glad I am he doesn't have a rear view mirror.
Rogue begins our taxi down the thin strip of gravel that passes for a runway at this particular outpost of civilization and
I squeeze my thighs together, hoping to avoid any telltale squirming.
Before I know it, we're in the air again. I'm getting used to the way the plane bounces on the air currents and the unbalanced feel of the wings tipping from side to side as Rogue pulls us up and finds "that sweet spot" as he calls it; the place where the plane and the air get along best.
This is my first time coming to Alaska. It's the end of May now, not too cold and the nights are still long enough to be called night but Rogue is dropping me off at a place called "Wolf Ridge" and when he saw me this morning, he double checked 3 times to to make sure he understand me right when I said I was staying all summer alone.
From up here, it's beautiful. We soar over forests and rivers, and lakes and mountains-- well, we don't really soar over all the mountains. More like we fly between them. Which is truly stunning but also more than a little scary.
After another hour in the air, the plane starts to lose altitude and I see another clear field yawning out beneath us through the windows.
"Last chance to bail," Rogue says with a grin as he waits for me to climb out, "this is the last town before I abandon you in the wilderness, you sure you wouldn't rather spend the summer in a nice hotel?"
I follow him toward the hut that serves as an airport and look around, "I'm not saying yes, but where would I find a nice hotel around here?" I ask.
Rogue uses a key to unlock the bolted door of the shed and exchanges the bag of mail he brought with him for the one hanging inside the door before locking it again.
Just like that, we're headed back to the plane. I'm not even sure why I got out.
"Isn't there supposed to be someone here?" I ask as I break into a slow jog just to keep up with Rogue's version of a casual pace.
BONE Page 10
