Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Stripping off his Stetson, he tossed it onto the couch and took a step forward. His dick ached in the confines of his jeans and he hoped that soon she’d loosen the zipper and help him out. He bet she knew exactly how to rope a cowboy.

  Damn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been roused like this—if ever. Beyond a few girls in high school, then Cassie and the near-encounter with Leslie Bakerfield, he didn’t remember ever being this, well, hard, or this close to squirting the evidence without a single touch. He said a little prayer, hoping he didn’t screw this up. He’d never live down coming in his jeans.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her silken voice made his insides tremble.

  “Are you sure, sweetheart?’ He could read the answer in her dark eyes.

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” In three steps, she was in front of him and he took a long breath, smelling her sweet scent. He could drown in her fragrance.

  He reached out and ran his fingers across her pink cheeks. “I think I’ll die if I don’t taste you.”

  “My feelings exactly.” Her eyes danced.

  Dropping his hand to her neck, he gently tugged her against his body, soft curves meeting hard flesh. He dipped his head and their lips met, salvation came over him. He needed this. He relished in the feel of her plump lips and the taste of wine on her tongue. He’d wondered for a while what this would be like, touching her, and he wasn’t disappointed. Reality was better than fantasy.

  “Mmm.” The sound vibrated her lips. Her hands slid upward on his chest and came to rest on his shoulders. He could feel her hard nipples through the material and he wanted to explore and to taste.

  Pulling back, he stared down into the loveliest face he’d seen. “Where’s the bedroom?”

  She pointed down the hall. He lifted her and situated her against him as he quickly moved into the shadows. “There.” She directed him to the last door.

  Thankfully, the table lamp was on. He made his way to the bed and laid her down, but didn’t move to join her. Instead, he drank in her beauty.

  “Hurry. I need to feel you,” she whispered.

  With haste he’d never known, he unbuttoned his shirt and jerked the material away from his shoulders, hearing seams break. Then he pushed his jeans down his thighs until they landed with the shirt on the floor. He stood above her, naked, fully aware that his cock had grown out of his boxers.

  “Let’s remove your robe.” He slipped the satin material from her shoulders and body. “I want to feel your body against mine. I want to feel your heat.”

  Joining her, he felt her tremble. “I’m pulled between wanting this fast and wanting it to never end.” Her throaty voice drove bittersweet pain down his cock and through his balls.

  “We’ve got all night, sweetheart.” Although he knew the first time wouldn’t be as slow as he hoped.

  He slid his fingers through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. He nibbled the smooth skin and made a trail from her chin and down along her neck, little nibbles and licks. He suckled her nipples then swirled his tongue around the thick tip until she arched and shuddered, nicking his back with her nails.

  Her feet slid up his calves and hooked at his knees as she dug her nails deeper into his shoulders, tugging and clutching. He dragged himself up and kissed her fully, their tongues dueling and sucking. Panting, he pulled away and laid his head against her chest. The beating of her heart pounded like a war drum, or was that his? He couldn’t be sure.

  “My body aches,” she uttered.

  Sweeping his hand along her ribs, her flat stomach and the slender bend of one hip, he wrapped his fingers around her firm thigh and lifted her leg high. Through the thin material of his boxers, he could feel her heat radiating from her core. “My God, you’re on fire.”

  “I guess this happens when dreams are released. Bodies burn and melt together.”

  “Let’s make this reality.” His cock became painfully erect, searching for home—searching for release. But he wasn’t ready—not yet. He wanted to touch all of her, scorch it into memory. He dipped his hand to her inner thighs and buried his finger inside of her silken opening, rolling his digit around the moist, rippled muscle. Her moan penetrated the silence as she lowered her mouth to his chest and licked his skin, flicking her tongue over his flat nipples. Poignant agony swelled inside of him—ecstasy at its finest. He swirled his thumb around her clit and she bucked her hips, pushing her wet lips against his palm.

  Her core quivered and pulsated, he could feel the tremors through his fingers. He knew she was getting closer. He slid two fingers inside her slit and took on a faster pace. Her musky scent reached his nostrils and he inhaled. Her breathing became ragged and he watched as she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her long lashes fluttering against the tops of her flushed cheeks. A scattering of freckles sprinkled her pale skin and he planted light kisses across the faint marks. She was beautiful.

  Her juices flowed over his fingers and he slipped them from her, bringing them to his mouth, licking the cream. “Better than sugar,” he said as he swept his tongue over his lips, lapping up every drop.

  She stared at him, her eyes like chocolate lust pools. “I’ve never been this excited,” she said.

  “Make that two of us.” He dragged his gaze to her pert breasts and hard nipples. “You have a perfect body. I’ve never seen any better.” He circled her belly button with his finger then dipped the tip of his pinky inside. Inhaling deeply, she arched her back, lifting her breasts higher. He licked each rosy nub.

  Her palms pressed against his chest then slid downward to the elastic band of his boxers. “I can’t believe you still have these on. I’ll help you with that.” She glided her fingers inside the waist and tugged, drawing the material off his hips. Once they were to his knees, she skillfully used her big toe to drag them the rest of the way to freedom. “And that…wow!” Her gaze planted on his cock. “You’ve been blessed. Nice.” She clasped her fingers around his girth and he sucked in a ragged breath.

  Damn, he liked the fact that she was brazen in bed, and from years of dancing, her body moved gracefully, her limbs flexible.

  She kissed his chest hungrily, slowly easing herself up onto her knees and pushing him back onto the velvety comforter. Her mouth touched his cock and he saw stars. Her soft lips wrapped around his head as she gently clasped his balls in her palm. He tangled his fingers in her hair as she sucked him to the back of her throat. He watched, fascinated in her licking, tasting and exploring. “That. Is. Amazing.”

  Their gazes met and he saw a mixture of vixen and innocence in the pools. Much more of her pretty, pink mouth filled with his cock and he wanted to come in her throat, and yet he wanted to please her.

  “Come up here, sweetheart.” Releasing his fingers from her hair, he grabbed her underneath the arms and gently tugged her up and around. Dropping his head, he brought one of her distended nipples into his mouth and sucked, squeezing the firm flesh between his lips. Bringing his gaze to hers, her eyes were on him, begging for release. He wanted to bring her new pleasure, and he couldn’t wait another minute. But he couldn’t forget one thing. “One second.” He got up, grabbed his jeans and reached into his pocket to grab his billfold. Thankfully, he had protection. Ripping the foil, he took out the sheath and rolled it over his erection, securing it around his girth.

  Crawling back on the bed and between her open thighs, he guided himself inside of her, slowly, allowing her body to adapt to his size. Once her muscles wrapped around him, he buried himself to the hilt as she cried out his name. He’d never heard anything more pleasant. It lured him in, washing him with the need to give her more than anyone ever had. He drove himself inside of her tight moist body and quickened his pace as her moans became more urgent. She brought her legs up and enfolded his hips, giving him deeper access to the secret parts of her.

  Losing control, he pumped twice more and a rush of tingles poured over him, disintegrating all resistance. He lowered h
is forehead to her shoulder and groaned, clutching her ass as he tugged her closer. Minutes passed until finally the last throb left his body, leaving him drained and satiated.

  ****

  Peyton was in between a sleep haze and bliss when something woke her. She blinked one eye open and her chest was heavy. Dillon’s arm hung over her and his head rested against her shoulder. She smiled as she slid his arm to her waist. She lifted on her elbow and glanced at the digital clock— ten P.M...

  Wiping the sleep from her eyes, her mind became clearer. The blinking light of her phone caught her attention. Sliding across Dillon, she grabbed the cell from the nightstand and saw the missed call notification. Marty. Knowing her uncle, he was probably calling to check on her, proving that she hadn’t didn’t get out enough. She’d have to have a talk with her uncle and explain that she was capable of taking care of herself.

  Clicking voicemail, she listened to the message.

  “Mom, it’s Oliver. Uncle Marty passed out in the kitchen. I called 9-1-1.”

  Oliver’s panicked voice made her go into full alert. She punched in her uncle’s number and after five rings, his voicemail picked up. She hit end, rolled over and shook Dillon’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

  There was a fluttering of his lashes and then his eyes opened. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Oliver called. It’s Uncle Marty. Something has happened.” She forced the words through the frightened catch in her voice. She needed to be strong, at least until she had a reason to be scared.

  In lightning speed, Dillon was up and pulling on his clothes. “Where is he?”

  “I called the house and didn’t get an answer. I’m betting at the hospital.” She slid from bed and searched through her dresser, pulling out jeans and grabbing a zip-up sweater from the closest, pulling them on in haste.

  By the time she was dressed, Dillon had his boots and hat on and waited by the door. “I’ll take you there,” he said.

  “You don’t have to.” She slipped on her tennis shoes. “I can drive myself. I’m sure you’d like to go home and get some sleep.”

  He crossed the room, his boots thudding against the hardwood. He laid his hands on her shoulders, meeting her gaze. “What I want is to drive you to the hospital and make sure everything is okay. You’re shaking and upset, for good reason, and you shouldn’t be driving.” His words left no room for argument, and even if they had, she doubted she’d resisted.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were walking into the emergency department of the hospital and Peyton was asking the triage nurse where she could find her uncle. They directed her down the hall, through a set of double doors and into a room at the end. She moved toward the room, Dillon beside her, and once she stepped inside, tears blurred her vision. Uncle Marty was lying in bed with an oxygen mask covering his whiskered face and tubes running from his wrinkled arm.

  “Mom.” Oliver jumped up from the plastic chair next to the bed and rushed into her arms.

  “It’s okay, Ollie. I’m here now. I’m sorry.” Squeezing him tight, she quickly dried her eyes.

  “The doctor was here and said he’d be back in a half hour,” Oliver said.

  Peyton went to the bed and took her uncle’s knotted hand as she sniffed back another round of tears. He looked so tired and worn lying in the bed hooked up to machines. Seeing him here reminded her that neither of them knew when they’d take their last breath. They both had been living secluded lives. After losing his wife of twenty years of marriage, he’d never met, or tried to meet, anyone else. He’d said he had one true love and that’s how he wanted to keep it until he met her again in heaven. A big part of her envied the loyalty and faithfulness he still gave to his wife. She knew her uncle wasn’t afraid of dying, but she wasn’t ready to give him up just yet.

  His hand moved. “Uncle Marty. It’s Peyton. I’m here.”

  His lids moved then slowly came open. His grey pupils were glossy as he slipped off the mask. “Peyton. I hope you didn’t end your date on account of this old guy,” he said in a rough, sandpapery voice.

  “It’s okay. We’re continuing the date here.” She chuckled, but it didn’t lighten her stress. “Tell me what happened.”

  He lifted a frail shoulder. “I got dizzy and everything went blank. When I woke up, Oliver told me he’d called an ambulance. He saved my life.” He looked past Peyton’s shoulder to the boy and winked.

  “You scared me to death.” She shook her head.

  He gave her hand a little squeeze. “You can relax now. The doctor told me that it’s not a big deal—”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly say this isn’t a big deal.” Peyton turned and met the doctor’s friendly gaze. Silver headed, leather skinned and wide grinned—he reminded her of a heavier Uncle Marty. “You must be Oliver’s mother.” He held out his hand.

  “Yes, I am. I’m Peyton.” She clasped his hand. “You’ve met Oliver and this is a friend, Dillon.” Up until then, Dillon had been standing close to the doorway, quiet.

  He stepped forward and shook the doc’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Doctor Neil.” Greetings out of the way, he moved to the bed, dragging his stethoscope from his neck.

  “Is my uncle going to be okay,” Peyton asked.

  “Yes, he’ll recover fully. He just needs to take better care of himself.” Doctor Neil bent and listened to Marty’s heart.

  Peyton gave her uncle a scowl over the doctor’s head. “Is it serious?”

  Doctor Neil replaced his scope and looked at Peyton, kind eyes made her pulse slow. “We have to take into consideration several factors here. One, your uncle is in his early seventies. Two, he had a mild heart attack last June, and although his heart sounds fine now, he’s still recovering. With these two factors in mind, he’s working too hard and he’s not sleeping well. I’ve given him a prescription to relax, but you know how stubborn he is.”

  “Yes, I do.” Peyton sent her uncle another look of disappointment.

  “I’m too young to sit around, Doc Neil. You know what happens when an old person gives up on their day-to-day activities. They rot away.” Uncle Marty sighed.

  “No one is asking you to give up on activity, Marty. Indeed, activity is good, as long as you’re not getting fatigued.” Doctor Neil patted his arm.

  “Is that why he passed out? Exhaustion?” Peyton asked.

  “I believe his blood pressure dropped, he became dizzy and blacked out. Thankfully, your son was there to help. In the ambulance they placed him on oxygen and set up an IV, that’s protocol in this circumstance.” Doctor Neil pulled out a small tablet and pen from the pocket of his white smock. “I’m going to prescribe him a blood pressure pill and see how it works and I’ll want to see him in my office in a few days. He can call Dorothy, the receptionist, first thing Monday morning and she’ll get him in.”

  “I don’t like taking medicine,” Uncle Marty huffed. “Isn’t the heart pill enough?”

  “You’re not being asked if you like to take something that you need. We need you healthy,” Peyton squeezed his hand. Out of everyone, she knew she was about the only one who could chastise the older man and get by with it.

  “The pill I’m prescribing takes care of something different than the heart pill you’re on.” Doctor Neil wrote on the pad, tore out a sheet and handed it to Peyton. “Take these as prescribed and we’ll see if they help. If not, then we’ll try something else. And don’t worry, it’s a mild dosage and you can mix it with applesauce if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Peyton answered for her uncle who was sulking over the prognosis.

  “Do you have any questions?” Doctor Neil asked.

  “No, I don’t.” The doctor left and Peyton laid her fists on her hips, eyeing her uncle. “You should have been nicer to him,” she scolded.

  “He knows I don’t like meds. He knows you’ll make me take them.” He turned up his nose. His scowl and layer of sandpapery beard made him look bitter. “I’m not th
at old.”

  “This may be none of my business, sir,” Dillon stepped closer, “but age isn’t the important element here. My brother Deckland takes heart meds. He has since he was in his twenties. No one would know by looking at him.”

  Confusion poured over Peyton. Deckland had a heart condition. There was so much more she wanted to know about his family. Would she get the chance? They’d made love, but so what? Many people these days had sex to ease dry spells, what made this any different?

  Who was she kidding? She was different. She’d never had a one-night stand. In fact, she didn’t see what happened with Dillon as a fling.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, son. Is he doing okay?” Uncle Marty asked.

  “He’s stronger than I am. He’s never let his heart condition stop him from doing what he wants, or needs to do. But he knows he has to take a pill twice a day for the rest of his life so that he can continue to do the things he likes.”

  “Then I shouldn’t complain that I have to take a pill a day at my age. I guess this is all part of aging.” There was less agitation in his tone.

  “Thank you.” Peyton mouthed the words to Dillon who gave her a small smile.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “THANK YOU FOR agreeing to this, JoAnne.” Peyton watched the grey-haired woman bustle around the living room dusting the furniture. She’d gotten her name from a friend and Peyton had hired her immediately to come in and help with Uncle Marty. He’d been a bit of a grump, especially when Peyton had told him she’d hired JoAnne. He hated being taken care of worse than he hated the green pills the doctor had prescribed. Peyton couldn’t complain though. He took them that morning without a fuss. “I wish I could do this myself, but I can’t be at the studio and here at the same time.”

  “No, need to explain, dear.” JoAnne paused over the duster to give Peyton a genuine smile. “Now, what did you say your uncle’s favorite lunch is?”