by Desiree Holt
Chance was like a maniac, sucking the pulling and stroking, never letting up for one moment, until the first spasm began to roll through her. She thrust her hips at him more forcefully, and he responded by sliding one hand beneath her and lifting her to his mouth. His busy tongue never stopped as ripple after ripple shuddered through her and the muscles of her cunt clenched around his tongue.
The only time he lifted his head was when she moved her arms so she could grab onto him with her hands.
“I said don’t move them,” he warned and smacked her bottom lightly.
The light slap, rather than bringing her orgasm to a crashing halt, sent unexpected tremors racing through her and the intensity of her spasms increased. As the climax broke over her fully, she pushed her hips at him as hard as she could and cried out while her body shuddered and his tongue lapped up her cream.
She was still panting, her body covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, when the last aftershock subsided. Chance rose from the floor and leaned over her, his face coated with her cream, the scent of her musk mingling with his in an erotic blend of perfumes. When he kissed her, she tasted herself on his tongue and lips, and an electric thrill shot through her.
“I could eat you up with a spoon,” he murmured against her mouth. “But of course, then we’d never get to anything else.”
Shifting her position on the bed to make room for himself, he climbed up beside, pausing for a moment to bite gently at each nipple. Molly had already had two orgasms yet her body still felt primed, on edge. Something deep inside her that apparently had been sleeping for a very long time had awakened and filled her with an unfamiliar craving for more. Much more.
He hovered over her, bracing himself on his hands. “You liked that little slap I gave you, didn’t you, Molly? No, don’t look away,” he ordered when she turned her head. “I felt the heat surge through you.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “I wonder what else you’d like.”
She was wondering the same thing.
“Do you know how I really like my sex, Molly?” He stared into her eyes as if his gaze could drag the answer from her.
Finally, she stammered, “H-How?”
“Hot, heavy and hard. I want to spank that gorgeous ass until it turns red and the heat streaks into your juicy little cunt and makes it flood with your lube. I want to tie you to the bed and fuck you senseless.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Does that frighten you, sweet Molly? I told myself driving here that I’d keep things low key tonight. Not scare you off. Make sure you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”
“Y-You wanted me?”
His laugh was frayed around the edges. “Sometimes I think I’ve wanted you forever. It’s been hell since you came home watching and waiting and wondering…”
“Wondering what” Was she hearing right? She was the one with the long distance crush, not him. Wasn’t she?
“Wondering if the time was finally right for us to get together. If your marriage had been such a disaster that you’d be turned off no matter how long I waited.”
And what about yours? Why won’t you even talk about it?
“If life was finally in the right place for us to get together. So let me ask you again, Molly. Does anything I want scare you?” He chuffed a breath and lifted slightly away from her. “If I’m going too fast here…”
“No.” She touched her fingers to his lips. “I mean, no, you’re not going too fast. I just…”
He stilled above her. “Just what? Come on, Molly. Spit it out.”
Heat crept up her face. “I may be thirty years old, Chance, but there’s a lot about…this…kind of sex I don’t know. I’m not…”
Tension stiffened his body. “Do you want me to stop?”
Molly shook her head. “No, but…”
“Do you want more?”
Mutely, she nodded. God help her, she wanted whatever he would give her and then some.
“Then it’s all good.” He let out a slow breath. “There are things I want to tell you…” He stopped, shook his head. “No. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. See how much we enjoy ourselves. And you can call a halt any time you want. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered. “But Chance?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“If you don’t fuck me pretty soon, I might have to spank you.”
He burst out laughing, but then immediately sobered. “Get ready for a hard ride, sugar.”
Chance took her hands and wrapped the fingers around two of the spindles on the headboard. “Don’t move them. No matter what.”
He began a slow journey over her body with his lips and his hands, licking, sucking, nipping, scraping his teeth over sensitive places like her navel and the under slope of her breasts. When he reached her cunt, he took his time pulling at her curls with his teeth, nibbling on her clit, lapping her juices into his mouth.
Molly writhed beneath him, wanting desperately to reach for him, score his back with her fingernails. But obediently she continued to grip the headboard, shivering as wave after wave of lust washed through her.
Chance was an artist, his tongue the paintbrush, and every place he touched her body he left heat and need. His mouth was hot and greedy on her cunt, his lips and tongue tasting every surface, drinking in her cream. Every nerve ending fired, every muscle clenched, as he drew her up to the edge again and again, only to back down, ease her down, and then start again.
She was startled when he rose to his knees, unclenched her hands from the headboard and draped her gracefully over his lap. His muscular thighs supported her, but it was his magnificent cock pressing into her breasts that totally made her lose concentration.
“What—?”
But then his hand came down on her buttocks, not a gentle smack but not too hard, either. She squirmed on his lap as heat streaked into her core.
“Beautiful,” he breathed and did it again.
For some reason, she had no desire to protest or squirm away. Rather the lust that had been rising and falling within her began to crest again. The spankings stopped for a moment, and she felt lean fingers probing into the wet well of her pussy.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “Nice and wet. You really like this, don’t you. God, who’d have thought Molly Hayes would like it down and dirty.”
It was so strange. Instead of his words offending her, she was shot with another bolt of consuming lust, the pulse in her womb beating like an insistent jungle drum.
“How about this, Molly?” He trailed his wet fingers through the crevice of her ass. “Have you ever been fucked here?” One finger pressed softly against the tight ring of her anus.
Holy shit!
Something dark and voracious unwound inside her, crawling through her, speeding up her pulse and making the blood in her veins boil. Boyd had never, ever been interested in anal sex…at least with her. But she’d certainly read about it, heard about it enough from her friends. The ultimate thrill, they’d all told her. And in her fantasies, she’d imagined doing that very thing with Chance McDaniel.
“Oh, darlin’, you are getting so very hot and juicy.” His fingers probed her pussy again, scraping lightly against the inner walls, finding that spot and sending her into another small orgasm that made her shake and tremble in her position across his knees.
Chance lifted her again and placed her back on the bed. His lips just a millimeter from hers, he said in what was almost a whisper, “We’re going to do that, sugar. That’s a promise. If you don’t run away from me. But not tonight. Because if I don’t fuck you right now, my heart might stop beating.”
He wrapped her fingers around the spindles again, took a moment to grab a condom from the nightstand drawer and rolled it on one-handed. Then he bent her legs back at the knees, opening her wide to him, gave her a hungry look, and slowly pushed his cock inside her.
He stretched her with his size, but every pull of her vaginal muscles sizzled her nerves. Every slow thrust was a long, erotic pull at all her senses, every movement of h
is hips a choreographed part of the sensual dance they were doing. Because she couldn’t touch him with her hands, it only enhanced each and every flare of nerves, the heavy pulse rocketing through her.
Unable to hold back, she moved her legs and wound them around his waist, digging her heels into his back, silently urging him to move faster, faster. She was stretched out on a rack of pleasure, her body so taut she thought it would snap, yet at the same time, a soft cloud of pleasure wrapped itself around her. Everything ceased to exist except the two of them, his big body over hers, his thick, hard cock sliding in and out of her in slow, sensual strokes, and the tiny quivers in the walls of her pussy that were building slowly to something much more intense.
The climax caught her totally unawares, breaking over her with the fierceness of a volcano. Chance’s body tensed above her, stiffening, before he dipped his head and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. They rocked together, an erotic dance that pushed her deeper into the fiery explosion, made her body shake and every nerve fire as if a match had been touched to it. Using her legs she levered herself more tightly against him, pulled him into her as deeply as she could and rode out the storm, shaking and shivering and crying his name.
Chapter Four
Molly poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it to the window, watching the activity in the corral and the yard next to the big barn. Her father had called first thing that morning with the news that he’d bought a new bull, champion stock.
“Paid through the nose for it,” he admitted, “but it will be worth it. Took up most of my time yesterday though, so I’m staying another day to attend to some more business.” He paused. “You’ll be okay?”
She chuckled. “Daddy, I’m thirty years old. I’m not going to expire because I married an asshole and came home to lick my wounds.”
“Well, get yourself out of the house, will you? I called Chance with all the details about the bull. It’s arriving around noon. Maybe you could go out and take a look at it.”
She grinned, even though he couldn’t see her. “And do what? Say hello? I’d only be in the way. Okay, okay,” she said quickly when he started to protest. “I’ll wander outside for the big arrival. So, are you saying you won’t be home until tomorrow?”
“That’s it, Molly girl. You should get yourself into town instead of hiding inside with the television.” He paused. “Maybe Chance would grab a bite with you tonight. He’s been kind of a lone wolf since his divorce, and the two of you used to be friends, didn’t you? Don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”
Molly had to stifle a hysterical laugh. If she and Chance hadn’t been friendly before, they certainly were now.
“I’ll see. I’m sure he has plans, but thanks for suggesting it, anyway.”
The less her father knew about her and Chance the better until she had an opportunity to see where this thing between them was going. Whatever it was.
She’d crawled home at three o’clock, insisting she needed to sleep in her own bed, sore in every muscle, including some she didn’t even know she had. Now she knew what women meant when they said they’d been well and truly fucked. Even a long, hot shower had done little to soothe her aches.
But they were pleasant aches and she wasn’t complaining about a one of them. She’d certainly never figured Chance McDaniel for a man who liked his sex rough and hard. She’d always thought of him as Mr. Clean, great in the saddle but with no frills. My, my, what a revelation last night had been. She wondered what he’d say if she told him all the things he wanted to do were the very things she’d fantasized about since she was old enough to know there was more than one position to have sex.
As she stood at the window, Chase rode into the barn area on his big Appaloosa, swung out of the saddle and led his horse into the barn. She waited, knowing he’d be removing the horse’s tack, then asking one of the hands to rub him down and put him in his stall. Apparently he wasn’t planning on riding out again anytime soon.
Then he was striding back out into the open, and tiny frogs began doing a jig in her stomach. Today he wore a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms, and jeans that even from a distance looked worn. He lifted his hat, wiped his forehead with his arm and settled the hat back on his head.
Immediately the muscles in her cunt started to quiver, moisture flooded her crotch and her breasts ached. Images from the night before flashed across her addled brain, and a pulse low in her womb began to throb with insistent need. Oh, god.
He hadn’t exactly said anything definite about seeing her again. When she’d gotten dressed to leave, he’d stepped into his jeans and walked her to her truck, pulling her in for a long, hot kiss.
“I’m not done with you yet, Molly Hayes,” he’d said in that deep, low drawl of his.
But what exactly did that mean? Would he see her again tonight? Next week? Next month? Next year?
Shut up, Molly. You sound like a lovesick teenager.
And in a way she still was that girl who’d wanted the handsome cowboy more than her next breath.
She noticed that again today two of the hands were working the new cutting horses in the pen. Well trained quarter horses were as necessary as money in the bank to a rancher. They could herd cattle and cut out calves with an efficiency that seemed effortless. Molly knew that ease came from long hours of training, like that she watched now.
Two more of the men forked hay into the back of a huge truck with heavy duty tires. When it was full, they’d drive it out to one of the pastures where cattle were fenced. People thought cows could just graze on what grew out of the ground, but Molly knew fat cattle came from specially grown hay and nutritional grain that supplemented what the cattle foraged from nature.
She was about to refill her coffee cup when she heard the rumble of a truck coming down the driveway. A shiny black cattle truck with Murdoch Cattle painted on the side pulled into the open area in front of the barn. The driver made a u-turn and stopped with the rear of the truck facing the barn opening.
The hay truck was full now, and Chance and the two hands approached the truck. The driver, a hefty man in the requisite jeans and work shirt, climbed down from the cab, shook hands with them, and they walked around the truck. They stood talking for a long time, the driver pointing frequently at the truck.
Molly’s curiosity was piqued. What could possibly take so much discussion before unloading a bull? Dumping the rest of her coffee in the sink, she squared her shoulders, opened the back door and headed out toward the barn. She stopped and took a moment to inhale the air, the scents she’d grown up with and loved more than any perfume on the market—hay, cattle, horseflesh, sweat and sunshine. She drew the aroma deep into her lungs, wondering why no one had ever blended it for aromatherapy.
As she approached the truck, Chance walked back into the barn, returning with a coiled rope in his hand. Was the steer so ornery they had to rope him to get him into place?
“All I know,” he was telling the man, “is Mr. Hayes said if anything happened to this bull, we’d all be looking for new jobs.”
The driver nodded slowly. “Told me the same thing. I drove this truck here like I had a baby riding sidesaddle.”
“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s get it done.”
The bull stomped as the truck was opened, the ramp lowered and the chute rails extended. Chance whirled his rope through the air almost before Molly realized he’d raised a hand. The noose landed on the horns of the snorting bull who stared at everyone with wide eyes. The other two hands stood by on either side of the bull, ready to assist at a moment’s notice.
“He’s got good manners,” the driver said, “for all his orneriness. You talk nice to him and he might just walk inside like a real gentleman.”
“We’ve got his stall ready for him,” Chance said. “Let’s give it a whirl.”
Watching cattle unloaded was far from a novelty for Molly. What fascinated her this time was seeing how Chance handled it, sp
eaking in soft tones to the massive bull, keeping a tight grip on the rope but not pulling or tugging. Everyone was sweating, and she didn’t think it was just from the heat of the sun. If more than two thousand pounds of an angry Santa Gertrudis bull got loose, there’d be seventeen kinds of hell to pay.
This was the first time Molly had seen Chance do anything but rope, herd, brand and menial chores around the ranch. His confidence with the bull amazed her. Tension was evident in every line of his body yet he continued to speak to the bull as if coaxing a small child.
Just when she thought they’d have to resort to something else, the bull stepped out of the truck, down the ramp, and allowed Chance and the other two men to lead him into the barn. He looked for all the world like a king descending from the throne. In moments, the stall door slammed shut, and the driver let out his breath in a whoosh of sound. Chance came strolling out of the barn in his loose-hipped gait, once again wiping sweat from his face.
He held out his hand to the driver, who had just finished closing up the truck. “Thanks. You delivered him in good shape.”
“No problem. Glad he’s your problem now, not mine.” He climbed into his truck, cranked over the big diesel engine and pulled away up the driveway.
Molly was staring after the truck when she heard the crunch of gravel behind her.
“Slumming with the hired help?”
She spun around, anger heating her cheeks. “Excuse me?”
The smile on Chance’s face disappeared, and he held up a hand. “Whoa. Sorry. Just making a joke. And apparently not a very good one.”
“Is that how you see me?” she demanded. “Is that how you think I see you? Because if it is…”
“Stop.” He took a step closer.
