“I married Kait. I had to. Out of a sense of duty and pressure from both families, I felt I had no choice. And, of course, as with most forced marriages, it ended up a disaster. No surprise. Nothing was ever good enough for her.” He didn’t make enough money. Fail. He couldn’t afford to buy her nice things. Fail. They barely scraped by as he went to college and vet school, plus trying to provide for his young son. Fail. He commuted to school and then worked on the farm in the evenings, so he never had time for her. Fail. They ended up living with his parents because he didn’t have two nickels to rub together. Fail. His parents helped them out as best as they could because he was a big ol’ failure.
“My son was the only good thing that came out of my marriage.” By the time Nate was two, Bray moved out and then they finally divorced. And after the papers were signed, Kait admitted she cheated on him with other men, trying to get her claws in a better husband, not one who was a poor country vet.
“It ticked her off to no end that I’d help out farmers who couldn’t afford my services for free. Or I’d barter. Even though I kept us flush in free-range eggs, meat, and physical labor for projects around the house and business, it wasn’t enough. Never enough. I started to drown, Mal.” He became saddled big time with debt. School loan, child support, and business expenses.
“And that’s the reason why I live above my practice. I sold the family farm to start it and I split the proceeds of the sale with my brothers, who couldn’t wait to move away. So, I ended up with not a lot, but enough to get going, and it grew from there. Any cases I can’t handle go to the local vet college where I went to school.”
He stopped talking and looked up from the spot he’d been staring at. He realized Mal’s glass now sat empty on the floor beside her. She sat with her fingers pressed lightly to her lips as if she was either in shock over his tale, or maybe struggled not to interrupt him. The only movement was her eyes blinking as she studied him.
“So, there you go. Welcome to my messy life. I don’t have much to offer since, according to my lovely ex-wife, I’ve been nothing but a failure.”
“Fuck her.” The words were low and growly. “Fuck that Dairy Princess bitch.”
Maybe the drink had been a little too strong. “She’s still the mother of my son, though.”
“Get custody.”
Sounded easy, but he knew better. “I wish. But right now I don’t have a pot to piss in. I don’t have a place for him to stay, and the judges around here tend to want to leave kids with their mothers. Unless they do something really awful.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked defeated, even though it wasn’t her fight.
Bray took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles.
“You’re not a failure, Cow-Boy. Not. At. All. Look how far you’ve come. Yeah, maybe the path was a bit bumpy, but you made something out of yourself. Hell, how many people can say they’ve graduated medical school?”
“Veterinary medicine,” he corrected her.
“Same shit.”
“Not quite.”
“And you’re still fucking hot as hell. You’ve got that goin’ for ya.”
Bray shrugged and gave her a blinding smile. Yeah, he had that.
“You’re not homeless. You’re not starving. People need and rely on you. And you have a…a…”
“Thirteen.”
“Thirteen-year-old son.” She blinked and pulled her hands out of his grip. “Fuck. A fucking teenager. How did that happen?”
“I already explained—”
“No. No. I know. I’m just thinking how fourteen years was just a blip in time.”
Fourteen years was a mere blip in their lives. And if Bray had anything to do with it, they would have the rest of forever together. If she’d have him. Again, he reminded himself, he didn’t have much to offer.
But he could offer her another drink. He lifted her empty glass.
She nodded. “Heavier on the pop this time.”
With a smile, he took both glasses to the kitchen. He diluted his own drink, so he’d keep his wits about him if things went according to plan.
With the two drinks in hand, he went back to stand in front of her. She plucked her glass out of his fingers and swallowed a healthy mouthful.
Needing to touch her, hold her, he settled next to her on the old couch with the ugly 1970s pattern. His apartment and furniture were an embarrassment. But he’d decided to bring her here anyway to be completely honest with her about his situation. Which was that he was barely squeaking by. From what he knew, she had become a successful stock broker in New York City. He couldn’t compete with rich, successful men who wore expensive business suits, drank Johnny Walker Blue, drove fancy sports cars, and owned vacation houses at the shore.
He only had himself to offer.
Laying a hand on her knee, he squeezed. He wanted to do nothing more right now than pick her up, throw her on his bed, and make her climax over and over until the break of dawn. To give himself to her completely.
After emptying the contents of his glass, he reached for hers, setting it on the floor. He slid his hand along her jawline and into her hair, encouraging her closer. She didn’t fight him and her mouth parted slightly, the scent of cola and whiskey on her breath.
Licking along her bottom lip, he tasted the sweetness, before sucking it in between his teeth, nibbling gently, and with a final soft nip, he sealed their mouths together, deepening the kiss.
Last night he simply wanted to hold her, but she had wanted more. Tonight, he was the one asking for more. He wanted everything.
“I need to be inside you, Princess,” he murmured against her succulent lips. “I need to be a part of you.”
She moaned, the sound making his cock swell. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. I want you too.”
His erection impatiently pressed against his jeans, ready to dive deep into her wet heat once again. But this was more than sex. More than a fuck. He wanted to make love to her, feel the connection they had last night. Hell, fourteen years ago.
“Cow-Boy…”
“Yeah?”
“Take me to bed,” came her husky answer.
She didn’t have to ask twice. He stood, pulled her into his arms, and then threw her over his shoulder. She squealed and laughed as he hauled her across the room and tossed her onto the bed. She landed dead center, bouncing a couple times before stretching sexily before him.
“This is a lot softer than a pile of hay or the floor.”
“Only the best for you, Princess,” he teased.
She released a throaty laugh, one that turned him on from his head to his toes. He ripped off his clothes and within seconds, stood at the end of the bed, naked as the day he was born.
“Where’s your hat, Cow-Boy?”
He lifted a wait-a-minute finger and he grabbed an old, worn cowboy hat out of the only closet in the place. The same one he wore back in the day. He smacked it against his bare thigh and then placed it on his head, tipping it down as he stalked back over to the bed.
“That’s my Cow-Boy,” she whispered. She sat up and pulled the tight V-neck sweater she wore over her head. She whipped it at him and it landed softly at his feet.
With a sensual smile, he leaned over the foot of the bed to tug her old cowboy boots off and then watched as she lifted her hips and shoved her jeans down her thighs. He grabbed the bottoms of her pant legs, helping to get rid of the offending denim. And then she laid there in matching blood-red lacy panties and bra. The color went perfectly with the dark brown of her hair and her lightly tanned skin. He could stare at her forever. But his cock disagreed.
He fisted himself, his gaze sweeping down her body. From her long hair spread out like a cloud around her head to the delicate length of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breasts peeking out from her bra, the soft roundness of her belly, to her narrow waist widening into those luscious hips. Her legs were long and lean, like a runner’s.
“You just gonna look and not touch, Cow-Boy?”
“No, ma’am,” he groaned, his accent strong. He climbed onto the end of the bed and onto his knees to move up her body until he straddled her thighs.
“Save a horse. Ride a cowboy,” she said with a big smile.
Bray thickened the twang in his accent. He put a finger to the brim of his hat and tipped his head. “Happy to oblige, Princess.”
He pulled the cups of her bra down, letting the soft, smooth flesh spill over. He released a soft whistle as he took in the sight of all her lusciousness before sucking one pink nipple into his mouth, savoring the taste and texture of her skin. Twisting the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he pinched it hard, making her gasp.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” He worked his mouth and fingers until her back arched away from the bed and she cried out. “You don’t know what that does to me.” His painfully hard cock twitched along her thigh, leaking precum.
And before he could wish it, she had him in her palm, stroking him up and down, spreading the silky drop around the head of his cock with her thumb. His balls tightened and he thrust into her hand. Only a little.
He nibbled along the curves of her breasts before reaching beneath her to unclasp her bra. With her help, he had it off and away, giving him a view of her full breasts that he wanted to smother his face in.
Fuck it. He did it, burying himself between the soft mounds. He nuzzled her, murmuring everything he wanted to do to her against her heated skin.
She answered with yesses, aahs, and mmms. Music to his ears. She opened herself to him. He worked his tongue, his lips, his teeth over her belly, to each hip. His movement dislodged him from her palm, so he slid in between her warm thighs, his fingers finding the top of her panties.
He wanted them off. And he wanted them off now.
He yanked them down, not missing how damp they were. The sight encouraged him all the more to get them off her immediately. With a wiggle here and a wiggle there, they were flying across the room. He placed her feet on his shoulders and pushed until her knees were bent and pressing against her own chest.
He paused to appreciate what was being offered, the beauty before him. Her plump folds were flushed, her center damp. Her aroused scent filled his nostrils and he released a strangled groan. With two fingers, he separated her, and then, unable to wait any longer, tasted. Sweet, delicious, silky. He ran his tongue between her folds until finally pausing on her clit. He sucked the sensitive button hard, sliding two fingers into her, curving them, searching for her hidden spot. And when he found it, he stroked her into a frenzy, her hips jerking against the bed, against his mouth. She cried out, digging her fingers into his hair, throwing the cowboy hat to the side. She ripped at his hair, his scalp, crying for mercy. Giving her none, he fucked her harder with his slick fingers, sucked her swollen nub roughly with his mouth. He was relentless. He burrowed in deeper, refusing to stop until she came. She thrashed against him, painfully yanking on his hair.
Then her body stiffened. Her toes curled against his shoulders. Her hips shot up, dislodging him, and she screamed. She stilled, panting, her eyes squeezed shut. And after a moment she lowered her hips back to the mattress, released what remained of his hair, and she opened her eyes, staring blindly at the ceiling.
He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and crawled up until he gazed down into her face. Bray’s lips slowly widened into a smile.
She cleared her throat roughly, her eyes still unfocused. “I don’t remember you being that good when we were eighteen.”
“Oh yeah, baby, I was. You just don’t remember.”
“I don’t think I could forget that.”
“Uh huh.”
“Shut up and put your cowboy hat back on.”
Bray leaned over the bed and grabbed it from the floor. He settled it on his head once again, the brim tilted slightly toward the front, enough to shadow his eyes. He gave her a wicked grin. “Like that?”
“Oh yeah,” she whispered. “Now fuck me, Cow-Boy.”
With a snort, he slid back between her thighs, his cock pressing against her soft, plump folds.
“Forgetting something?” she asked, stopping him.
Bray’s breath hissed between his teeth. Oh yeah. That. With a frown, he reached into the top drawer of the beaten up, old nightstand and pulled out a condom. Damn. It was smart, he knew, but he so wanted to feel her directly against him. But at this point, he could not risk another child. He couldn’t afford it, he thought with a grimace. Ripping the wrapper with his teeth, he quickly encased himself with latex before sliding back into place and pushing against her once more with a sigh.
He took one shaky breath and then another before entering her delicious, welcoming heat. Her inner muscles grabbed him like a wet fist, squeezing him tightly, pulling him deeper. He gritted his teeth in an attempt not to lose it because he wanted to last longer than last night, wanted to draw out the pleasure as long as he could.
It might not be possible.
A groan escaped him when he was fully seated, balls deep. He paused…just for a second. Because that’s all he needed. Just a quick moment. But she began to move her hips impatiently. He wanted to tell her to stop, to hold on. But her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her face flushed.
“Bray, I’m going to come.”
Damn. He hadn’t even moved yet and she was about to come already.
Her hips moved faster against him, grinding, thrusting and he had to close his eyes tight and think of other things. Distractions. Like…like…
Fuck it. He moved with her and within seconds she cried out, her hips pounding against him, her climax gripping and releasing him. Over and over.
Sweet baby Jesus. Doing everything he could to hang on, he dug his fingers into the quilt covering the bed. He released a cry of his own and met her thrust for thrust, letting himself go. And she came again, exploding inside, getting wetter and hotter. She felt like heaven wrapped around his cock.
Her fingernails ripped into the skin of his ass and she screamed at him, “I want to come again.”
Holy hell, she wasn’t asking for much. Just a man of steel.
“Again!”
He grunted, gripped her hips, and lifted them, changing the angle. A layer of sweat covered him, his hair became soaked under the straw hat. “Fuck, baby. I’m going to come. Come with me.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she groaned. Then she stiffened underneath him, thrusting her breasts against his chest, her diamond-hard nipples brushing against his hot, damp skin.
And that was all she wrote. With one last grunt, he called out her name and released deep inside, his cock pulsating. A moment later, he collapsed, boneless, next to her, sucking in air. He wiped at the beaded sweat on his face. “Whelp. That didn’t last as long as I’d have liked.”
“Complaining?”
“Oh hell no. As long as you’re not. You’re going to be the death of me. I swear I’m going to pop a nut.”
Mal’s body quivered along his side as she laughed quietly. “Oh, you’ll last longer the next time.”
He rolled onto his side, arched an eyebrow, and looked down into her face. “How soon is the next time?”
Mal popped her head up to glance at the clock on the wall near the “kitchen.” “I’ll give you fifteen minutes. We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”
Bray flopped back onto his back and whistled softly. “Fifteen minutes. Shit.”
She patted his thigh. “You can do it, Cow-Boy. I’ve got faith in you.”
“At least someone does. Should I get out my spurs this time too?”
The light of his life giggled until she realized he was serious. Then her eyes widened.
Chapter 6
Mal woke up with a fuzzy brain and a fuzzy tongue, buck naked in Bray’s bed. An actual bed. With a mattress, sheets, and even pillows! There was a first time for everything.
She moaned and rolled over, hitting a brick wall. A warm, solid wall of muscle. Bray had one arm flung
over his head and his other… She lifted the wrinkled sheet and peeked. Yep, his hand gripped his morning wood. He snored softly and his face appeared relaxed and carefree. Like when they were younger.
A few years after she left, she began to think back on their relationship as a simple high school crush. Distance and time tended to do that. But being wrapped in his arms last night proved otherwise. Well, not just being held in his arms, being on top, being on the bottom. Doing some old rodeo moves like reverse cowgirl and such. Her heart thumped against her chest at the memory.
She groaned at the soreness between her legs, the stiffness of her muscles. She had to remind herself they weren’t eighteen anymore and their activity had taken quite a toll on her body this morning.
Mal studied his worry-free face as he slept. Besides the scars and the creases around his eyes, there were other differences. Not just outside, but inside as well.
She thought about what he had told her last night while she sat on the couch, while she chewed on her bottom lip. Guilt seared her insides. She should have fought back against her pop’s demands, his conditions, and maybe, just maybe, life would have turned out differently for the both of them.
Maybe they would be married and happy with a houseful of kids.
Or maybe they both needed the detours their lives took to appreciate what they’d had and could have again.
Maybe, just maybe.
Can’t hang your hat on “what ifs” and maybes.
She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. Her Cow-Boy. Her nickname for him was never about being a real cowboy like the ones who drove cattle. Oh no. Instead, it described a boy who dealt with milk cows. It had been her twisted way of teasing him, but he ended up liking being called her Cow-Boy. So, the name stuck.
His eyes popped open and a warm smile slowly spread across his face. Who would have thought something so simple, like a smile, would melt her heart?
“Hanging on to your bullwhip there, Cow-Boy?”
He appeared confused for a second, then realized where his hand rested and laughed. “Yeah. I really have to pee, but it’s going to be impossible right now.”
Made Maleen: A Modern Twist on a Fairy Tale Page 5
