“Hey there. This is Casino. She’s my girl.”
“Can I touch her?”
“She’d dislike you if you didn’t. She loves attention.”
“Do you ride her?”
“Yeah. Chips is around here somewhere, too. Usually Bri and I take them out for a ride. But neither of us have had time lately. You ride?”
“Nope. She is so beautiful though. She is so sweet,” she laughs as Casino nudges her arm with her head.
Maybe it was the beginnings of twilight or the fact that she’d never ridden a horse before, but the way her eyes light up and how her skin and face are glowing and the fact that I would do anything to see her smile like that, I vow then and there that I will get her on one of these horses and take her for a ride. I am already thinking of showing her the spot I love to ride to, questioning if she will like it just as much as I do.
I shake my head, hoping the crazy thoughts will disappear. “Do you want to head up to the house? Would you like some tea?”
“Sure. I brought all of the papers to go through but we may only get to half tonight.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s going to be time-consuming and since it’s a Friday night, I didn’t want to intrude on whatever you and the twins have planned.”
“The kids aren’t here,” I mention as casually as I can because when I think of being alone with her all evening my dick starts to rise. I look into her eyes, wondering if she’s heard the implication in my voice.
“Oh.”
She glances away, making me think she is suddenly nervous. Miranda, Miranda. I hold the screen door open for her and gesture for her to head inside. As she passes by me, she brushes against my chest and I can fucking smell her. It takes all my control not to haul her ass into my arms and pound into that sweet pussy of hers right here on my porch. Later.
I refer to this room as my porch, even though it is a large room off my kitchen. Since I’d moved back in, I’d replaced the old dark brown paneling with warmer caramel-toned panels. I’d also gotten a new washer and dryer. The utility rug stretched the entire length of the room and I took my work boots off, kicking them aside to join the other ten pairs of shoes that were Brianna and Alex’s.
“Would you like me to take my shoes off?” She asks me this as she kicks off her heels so I just shrug.
“Would you like something to drink? Eat? You hungry?”
A dark look flashes in her eyes and the ever-present attraction between us fills the room. Every single time she is within my reach, we have this thing between us. I question why I don’t throw her down like I want to deep in my gut, and succumb to my heavy desire to fuck her. To make her mine. Only mine. This was funny, especially considering that while I always enjoyed the company of a woman, I had never felt the need to want to own them. And I wanted to own Miranda. I wanted to leave love bites up and down her neck and chest, showing the world that she, beautiful and smart woman that she is, was mine.
Mine. Ha! She wasn’t mine nor would she ever be, any more so than I was going to sell my parents’ land. It was something that was never going to happen and why the thought wouldn’t get out of my mind was beyond me. Her delicate throat bobbed as she swallowed down her obvious arousal and once again, I wanted to play vampire and sink my fucking teeth into her neck, making her scream in agonizing pleasure.
“I’ll take some tea.”
“Come sit down. Make yourself at home.”
Shit. Maybe I should fuck her and get it over with. Get her out of my system. Out of whatever the hell this sudden urge was to sleep with her, make love to her, take her horseback riding…what the hell had become of me in these few days that Miranda had stormed into my life like a fierce wind on a cold, spring day?
“Did you do the updates after your parents’ death? I like the cabinets.”
“I did. Since I was going to be stuck here, I wanted to make it more of my own.”
“Is that what you think? That you’re stuck here?”
She knew exactly how to cut to the chase. “I have to take care of the twins. I’m not going to take them away from the only home they know.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what I asked.”
She looks away from me, out the window as if she is embarrassed by her forwardness. Her gaze falls on me again as I set her glass of tea on the table near her elbow.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
I say nothing because what is there to say? It doesn’t matter to me if she thinks it’s none of her business. I don’t care about that. But she is right. I haven’t answered what she has asked. Not directly anyway. And I feel like an ass, because no, five out of the seven days I was working, I didn’t want to be here. Sometimes I felt like I was stuck here. Not that I resented Bri or Alex, or even my parents for that matter. I supposed I felt like there were other places I belonged that I would put my heart and soul into, unconditionally. This place had never been in me unconditionally.
“Are those the bought and sold’s?” I ask, motioning to her papers.
“Yes,” she clears her throat, “Do you have a pen or marker? I figured we could go through them and somehow make notes on who the people are and who bought the most land.”
“Works for me. Here’s a pen. Should we go through one paper at a time and we can make dots next to the names that come up more than once?”
“Stars.”
“Excuse me?”
“We can put a star next to names that pop up more than once. Should we work on a single page together or each work a page and give it to the other one to double check?”
“Let’s go over a page together. Better with two sets of eyes. And possibly quicker.”
I pull her chair closer to mine and once again our eyes lock. I want to kiss her so fucking bad but I don’t. My eyes lock on her lips and I wonder how a female can drive a man so crazy with something so simple. Her lips are glossy and full. Perfectly pink and kissable. Fuckable. I let out a groan as my semi-boner begins to ask for attention. Focus. I look away.
“Kiss me, Ryan. Geez, just fucking kiss me.”
I glance up from the paper, surprised by her directness. Not sure why, the few moments we’ve been together she’s been nothing but direct. Maybe it was because of what she did for a living. As a reporter, she had to be direct, ask direct questions to get the answers she was looking for.
“Are you always so forward?”
“Do you always hold back from what you want?”
I give up. Her glossy lips meddle with mine. Her lips taste sweet, like cupcakes or frosting. Something. Her tongue enters my mouth and I am lost in Miranda. She has bewitched me, yet again. The next thing I know, she is in my lap, straddling me, grinding into my cock with our mouths unwilling to break away from each other.
I embrace her luscious thighs with my hands. Her soft luscious thighs. My fingers itch to push her skirt up, to expose her panties. Panties that I know will be soaking wet with her juices.
“Why can’t we manage to keep our hands to ourselves?” she whispers.
“Don’t. Fucking. Know. Sit up on the table.” I lift her tight ass onto the edge of the table and proceed to push her skirt up.
“No, I don’t want to fuck you right here,” she protests.
“Honey, we’re not. Trust me. When I enter you, it’s going to be in a bed. Somewhere comfortable where I can take my time worshipping your body.”
I pull her bright orange panties down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. Placing my hands at her knees, I edge her legs apart and am not disappointed at the pink, wet sight, before me. Her pussy glistens, confirming what I suspected and I wrap my hands underneath her thighs and pull her even closer to the edge of the table.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Your pussy is begging for me.”
I bend forward and capture her clit with my mouth. She pulls her legs farther apart, bending them so her feet are now positioned onto the table, too. I suck on that hard little nub, reveling in
the feel of it inside my mouth, the way she tastes, smells. Loving the way she is bucking and moaning on my shitty old kitchen table. Breakfast will never be the same. No dessert will ever be as good as Miranda’s pussy. Unable to think about her tight channel any longer and how my dick would feel surrounded by it, I fiddle with her opening, making long strokes back and forth smearing her wetness over every inch of her. She grips my head and I plunge my fingers deep inside of her.
She lets out a scream and I know she is on the verge of coming all over my mouth. Just like I’d wanted. I thrust my fingers in and out of her wet pussy much like I did the night of the wedding and I keep up my assault of flicking my tongue against her clit. Flicking, licking and sucking, while I finger-fuck her. Knowing I'm feasting on the sweetest, juiciest dessert I will ever taste, she digs her nails into my shoulders while she bucks and trashes around on my table, her pussy vibrating against my lips as she comes all over my fingers.
Chapter Fifteen
Miranda
I am primed and ready to slide down on his dick and come again. I’d worried how long it might take me to orgasm, thinking it wasn’t the easiest place to come. I worried about being so exposed to him on the table, my legs spread out further than the newspaper was wide. But then he got that hungry look in his eyes when he’d spread my legs apart, and it had me completely forgetting everything except I was his feast and he was absolutely starving.
Not wiping his mouth, he reaches up and kisses me. I can taste myself immediately. Not exactly great, but not terrible either. Just there and it turns me on more so thinking about the taste of me being imprinted on his lips.
“You taste so fucking good, Miranda,” he growls.
He thinks I taste great and that is all that matters. I try not to dwell on my insecurities as he seems completely at ease as if I were the greatest gift he’s ever received. I reach for his dick, knowing how hard he must be and am dying to touch it. To feel him shudder in the same way he has felt me shudder. I am dying to caress the length of him, feel the heat from his head, its smoothness and how he would automatically thrust himself into my hands. Screw the bed. This sturdy chair he is sitting on can hold us both as I ride him. But he gently pulls my wrist away.
“Later. Let’s work on the papers.” The lust in his eyes tells me he isn't done with me and I’m sure if I push him a little bit more, he’ll give in. But I don't. I get myself back to an acceptable level of composure, trying to get the image of his heated gaze out of my head.
Minutes later we sit back in our chairs, perusing through the list and making stars next to people’s names that came up more than once. There are much more than we’ve anticipated. We sit close enough that his jeans permanently brush my leg and every so often I catch him watching me instead of looking at the list. Finally, I say something.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m the only one working?”
“I’m working. I’m studying.”
His husky voice caresses my neck, sending electrical currents through my skin all the way to my toes. The man is pure sin.
“What are you studying?”
“The way you squint your eyes every time you make a star on the paper. And the way you stick your tongue out in thought.”
I laugh, “I don’t realize that I do that.” I clear my throat refocusing on the task at hand, because I know how one small deviation will completely sidetrack us. “So far, we’ve gone through five pages and there are more than eight people who have bought land more than three times in the past year.”
“Maybe this is a futile effort.”
“Maybe. But there’s got to be something! Something that will lead us down the right path.”
“Has any land around your place sold recently?”
“Hmmm. Yes. Not recently. Maybe three, four years ago. The section of land to the south of mine. It’s just land though. No home.”
“Do you remember who bought it?”
“No. I remember thinking at the time it must be someone from out of town because I didn’t recognize their name.”
I glance out the window, registering for the first time since I’ve gotten here, that it is no longer light outside. The sun has since gone down and it is eerily dark. Where was the moon? Driving all alone in this freakish darkness wasn’t exactly an exciting prospect. I should get going. Why hadn’t he mentioned we’d been sitting here so long going through the papers? My stomach growls.
“I should get going. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“No.”
I quirk my eyebrows at him.
“No. Let me throw in a pizza. Stay a while longer.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I don’t know why, but as much as I want Ryan and want him to want me – for more than just a fuck – I somehow cannot wrap myself around the idea that he is simply being nice to me. Not because he has a secret agenda. Insecure thoughts keep entering my mind, in this case, like he feels guilty sending me home without even acknowledging our deal. And on an empty stomach. Like somehow, I couldn’t possibly believe he genuinely liked me for me.
“I want to do it. Sorry for not thinking of it sooner. Got caught up in the papers, I guess. And studying. And tasting.” He wriggles his eyebrows at me and I had to have a pep talk with myself that if Ryan John wasn’t interested in me in any way, I wouldn’t be here plain and simple. He wouldn’t have invited me over and he sure as heck wouldn’t be offering to bake a pizza for me. Especially when I offered to leave. Relax Miranda.
“Miranda. Miranda.”
Tingles slowly spread through my body at the way he says my name. I will never get tired of that voice, I realize. He speaks to me in a way that one speaks to someone they care about. It isn’t professional. It isn’t perfunctory. It’s respectful. Genuine. Heat marred his eyes. Would I be forever cast in his spell, even after our fling was over? Before I could say anything, he speaks again.
“Stop analyzing everything. I wouldn’t offer to share a pizza with you if I didn’t want you to be here. Besides, I could go for dessert again after we eat,” he flirts.
This time the tingles head straight to my lower abdomen, traveling as far south between my legs as they can go. One simple innuendo and my clit is pulsing with heavy desire once again. Why did he affect me so?
“As long as you’re sure,” I manage, ignoring the dessert comment. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Honey, you and your welcome are just beginning.”
While he busies himself preparing our pizza, I continue with the list. In my notebook I jot down all of the names of the people who have bought more than three properties. Melvin Thompson. James Dyer. April and Bill West. The mayor, Richard Stevens. Arthur and Jean Yates. Mildred Hancock. I jot down a few more names that I don’t recognize.
I am stumped. Gibson County isn’t a major hub in real estate or land, mostly speaking. A three-bedroom home around Lone Star averages around twenty-eight thousand dollars. Some of the names on the list that I knew, could easily afford to buy and sell properties. I didn’t know half of these people’s financial situations or whether or not they owned properties outside of Gibson County. Was I surprised by some of the names? Yes. But my surprise didn’t constitute whether or not they had the proper finances.
Jean and Arthur surprised me because, well, Jean attacking me in the parking lot didn’t really scream to me that he was level-headed. So far, he and his brother had six properties between them and I was only on the seventh page. Another one that surprised me was Melvin Thompson. He used to me the high school history teacher and since his retirement, he’d become a drunk. He never harmed people, unlike Yates, but had a major drinking habit nonetheless. I was surprised he’d kept a record eight properties from falling out of his hands when his own life was in such array.
Shows why I shouldn’t judge people. Never know who has access to loads of cash.
The burning smell from the pizza has my stomach growling continuously and when Ryan sets down a bowl of potato chips i
n front of me, I cannot resist the salty treats.
“It’ll be ready shortly. Would you like a beer?”
“I would love one. There are a lot of property investors around here, you know?”
“I’m learning that. I’m surprised there are so many people that do that when Gibson County isn’t all that big. Well, not big, but not knowing much about real estate, keep in mind, I wouldn’t think it’s a great place for a rental market. There isn’t a whole lot going on around here. Are all these places sitting empty or being rented out? I get the land sales. Land could always be rented out.”
“For what?”
“Could lease it for hunting rights, for other farmers to plant their crops as well as for people who owned cattle to have somewhere for them to graze in the summer months. Just depends what kind of land it is and what would be the best use for it.”
Ryan leans against the counter, guzzling down his bottle of beer and I am once again taken by his masculine beauty. The guy oozes sweaty, hot, sinful sex and he doesn’t even know it. The broad plains of his shoulders. The Adam's apple that bobs in his throat when he takes a swig of beer. Even his jeans, maybe once dark blue, but are now completely faded, and the way they sit snug on his hips showcasing his hard butt and lean thighs. Since we’d been in the house, I watched as he pulled his shirt off and headed to his room, where I firmly planted my feet on the linoleum floor, telling myself not to follow him. He came out smelling fresh and wearing a green flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled half-way up highlighting his muscular forearms and perfectly tanned skin.
I watch him take the pizza out of the oven. I am beginning to like this Ryan. The Ryan who had a life beyond his physical assets that I wanted so much of. He’d made me laugh on more than one occasion tonight, the way he took ownership of this place and his siblings, all had me admiring him and respecting him in a different way. My panties are in an eternal state of wetness from his presence, but I am getting to know him tonight – something I don’t think many people get the opportunity to do.
Wet: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 1) Page 9
