Dirty-Talking Cowboy

by Stacey Kennedy

  “That’s all I can give right now.”

  The side of his mouth curved. “Then that’s all I’ll take.”

  For now seemed to echo in the space between them, but the thought vanished immediately when his mouth found hers. She melted into his kiss, sliding her hands across his strong hips to his warm back. Every swipe of his tongue took her to somewhere new, touching on something undiscovered—a place where her fantasies lived.

  Real. Raw. Slow and sensual, his mouth moved with hers, until he slid his hand against her lower back, pulling her in close and deepening the kiss. A wave of pleasure slid over her, pooling heat low in her body, causing her to throb uncomfortably, needing to be touched and teased. She ran a hand over his hard bottom, shivering at his guttural groan against her lips. He placed his knee between her thighs, and not even her shame could stop her from rubbing her clit against him, needing to feed this deep insatiable pleasure he brought out. His touch . . . his woodsy cologne . . . Her lust pulsated, growing wilder, driving her insane until she broke away, gasping.

  His stare pinned her, intense and heated.

  She gave a wicked smile of her own and pressed against his chest, sending him walking backward until he sat on the oak hope chest. When she climbed onto his lap, he grinned and asked, “Planning on fucking me, Ms. Monroe?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Condom?”

  “Ah, darlin’, I’m in no hurry.” He pushed a little on her chest until she leaned back, resting her hands on his knees. Her lips parted to question him, but her breath stalled when his hands slid over her breasts, gently massaging until he squeezed her nipples. “Why would I be when I have this gorgeous body to play with?”

  She moaned, tilting her head back as he pinched harder.

  There was something in his touch that felt . . . different. More controlled, maybe. In the same way it had when he’d placed his ropes on her at the Spurs, something inside of her broke free. Call it a craving, or an awakening, but she knew instinctively that being with Shep wasn’t like being with anyone else. And the memory on her skin of his touch at the bar still burned. She couldn’t remember when she started grinding against him, but suddenly she noticed her hips moving when his hand came down to her clit.

  She gasped and moaned, keeping her head tossed back, riding the pleasure. With each and every twirl of the sensitive bud, he brought more intensity. Pleasure became all she knew as she reached up, holding onto his neck as he kissed his way over her breasts, sucking one nipple up to the roof of his mouth then moving on to the other one. She arched her hips up, begging for more as he devoured her neck with the power of his kiss, slowly taking her pleasure into his hands.

  When a wave of heat washed over her, loosening her jaw, she released a hand around his neck and placed hers overtop of his as he stroked her clit harder and faster. She dropped her head, unable to open her eyes. He sealed his mouth over hers, tonguing her in a perfect rhythm. Over and over again, he stroked her, and she ground herself against his fingers, relishing the euphoria being fed to her. She arched her back as her breathing deepened. Oh my, she was so close. She wanted him there too. His erection rested between her legs, and she reached for him, slowly closing her hand over his hardened length. He groaned deeply in her ear, making her tighten her fingers.

  He backed away from her mouth, the power of his gaze locked onto her, and it was in that moment he slid his fingers down to her drenched slit, gathered up her moisture, then spread her arousal over his cock. His hand was gone, hers returned, and his gravelly moan made her inner thighs clench.

  She became lost in the way he watched her. No, examined her. The exchange was more powerful than anything she’d ever known. As if she could trust him with everything, and he’d never let her fall. That she was precious, even. A gift that he planned to cherish.

  Those thoughts quickened her strokes on his shaft, her unclosed hand gliding across his hard flesh, and his hand returned to her clit, soon following her rhythm. She moaned against the intensity, head falling back. He pressed harder against her clit, circling the bud wildly, feeding more and more pleasure until she broke wide open, shuddering and moaning against his fingers, riding the high she’d been offered. Wave after wave, she drowned in a perfect release.

  Before she could even open her eyes, still lost in her quivering body, he rose with her in his arms. He tossed her onto the bed, facedown, her bare toes pressing against the cool hardwood floor.

  She attempted to look at him. His hand came down on her back. “Stay right where you are, sweetheart.” He massaged one of her butt cheeks then the other, then boldly spread her open, looking at places no man had ever dared to view so blatantly. “I want to look at your fucking sexy body. You won’t refuse me, will you?”

  “No.”

  “Mmm . . . good.” He gave her bottom a couple of slaps, but he quickly soothed away the sting with a kiss on each cheek. Then he was gone, and the sounds of a wrapper being opened filled the air. Apparently, he had the condom waiting, telling her that he suspected all along she’d come into his room after their interaction in the kitchen.

  She gasped a little as he gathered her in his arms and flipped her over, sliding his hands up her arms until they were over her head. Pressed down into the mattress, she was pinned beneath his strength. “That first orgasm was all for you.” His voice brushed against her ear. “This one is mine.” With his one hand keeping hold of her wrist, the other at her hip, he was poised at her entrance, and a breath later he was inside her.

  And it was everything she thought it would be.

  He moved slowly, allowing her to adjust to his girth, before he began pumping his hips in a steady rhythm. That’s when she learned something about Shep. Sex was an endgame. His thrusts slowly picked up speed and force while he stared deeply into her eyes, thrusting his hips until they moved punishingly hard and fast. She drifted then, all thoughts ceased, time seemed to go away too. It was only the two of them, and this undeniable energy between them.

  Skin against skin. The scent of their sex filled the air around, and his cock filled her perfectly, pressing against everything he needed to touch to raise a deeper climax. Her inner walls pulsed, her moans became screams.

  He dropped his body against hers, trapping her beneath him, and slid a hand under her bottom, lifting her up to him. His groan tickled against her ear. “Take me with you.”

  A minute later, she did.

  She controlled nothing. Pleasure overwhelmed everything.

  Their moans blended together, until she vaguely heard him grunting, and sensed him bucking and jerking on top of her. With her toes pointed and back arched, he delivered on his promise, sending her crashing into a pleasure that didn’t only affect her body.

  His pleasure left a mark on her soul.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Emma woke to a cold, empty bed. The clock on the nightstand read nine o’clock. She slid out from between the bed sheets, the cool air brushing against her bare flesh, then went back into Grams’s room and set to dressing in leggings and a long T-shirt, not worrying about her hair and makeup. The house was quiet around her. Too quiet, in fact, bringing a slight race of her heart. The silence was the enemy, or so she’d learned recently. Maybe that’s because New York City was so loud, but that’s why she loved Kinky Spurs. The noise she was used to. The silence made her think too much.

  She hurried downstairs, anticipating finding Shep making breakfast. Instead, she found the kitchen empty too. Disappointment washing over her, knotting her stomach, she noticed a note on the counter. She hastily grabbed the piece of paper. In Shep’s handwriting, the message read: I didn’t want to wake you. I have a meeting this morning. I’ll be back this afternoon. Shep.

  With those simple words, the knot in her belly vanished. Shep planned to come back, and somehow that gave her something to look forward to. For weeks now, she’d stayed busy. Her day started with feeding the animals, then she’d leave and spend the day downtown. She wasn’t good at this a
lone thing.

  She pushed those thoughts aside and set to making coffee, all too aware of what had been started in the kitchen last night. Maybe this was dangerous, allowing Shep into her bed. Though at the same time, she had no plans of getting into a relationship with him. With Jake, it’d been emotional. With Shep, he breathed passion. And that’s what she wanted. She simply needed to keep her heart out of it.

  Easy.

  Besides, she’d come to River Rock running on empty. Shep filled her back up. Literally.

  She smiled, still on board with the decision she made last night. The coffee began to drip into the glass pot, and the phone rang. On the third ring, she grabbed the faded yellow phone handle with the curly cord, pressing it to her ear. “Hello.”

  “Hi, sweetie.”

  The familiar sound of her mother’s voice brought instant comfort, widening Emma’s smile. “Hi, Mom. How’s things?”

  “Oh, everything is fine here,” her mother replied. “Work’s been busy. The suburban housing market is red-hot right now.” Mom and Dad, known to others as Kathleen and Jacob, owned Monroe Real Estate. Emma had worked for them all through high school, taking off the summers to come spend them with Grams, but real estate never interested her like it did her parents. “How about you, sweetie?” Mom continued. “How are things out there in River Rock?”

  Emma considered telling her mom about the accident with Bentley, but Emma suspected she was already worrying her mother enough with the fact that she hadn’t come home yet. “Nothing much is new. I’m still working at the bar.”

  Mom paused, then asked softly, “While I’m glad the bar is getting you out with people and you’re having fun, have you thought about when you’re coming home?”

  Emma sighed, dropping down in the whitewashed wooden chair closest to her, crossing her legs. “I don’t know.” She knew she was running on fumes, not really sure what she was doing or where she was going to end up. Hell, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever go home. The damage to her image had been done. Sure, she could rebuild her reputation and prove she deserved her promotion, but she needed strength to do that. While she could lift her chin and barrel through it, she sensed the weak spot in her chest right now. She could have no weakness when she went home to face all those stares and the judgment.

  Mom stayed quiet a moment, clearly lost in her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was full of warmth and love. “You know your father and I will support any decision you make, even if I selfishly want you home. If being at the farm makes you happy, then stay there. But please just ask yourself, are you staying for the right reasons? Is it because you’re happy there or because you’re hiding?”

  The question was valid. Truth was, Emma didn’t know. She’d never thought in a million years that she’d live in River Rock. She’d visited Grams every summer until her early twenties when her job made her only able to go for a couple weeks each year, but her time there had been a quiet vacation, not something she could see herself doing forever. But that was also before her life fell apart. The thought of facing Jake again hurt. A year she’d been strung along, and she’d allowed that to happen. She needed to understand why before she stepped foot in New York City again. Knowing her mom awaited an answer, she replied, “When I find out the answer to that question, I’ll let you know.”

  “That’s all I can ask, honey.” Emotion squeezed at Emma’s throat, and maybe Mom knew, because she changed the subject. “Anyway, Camille was asking about you at work the other day.” Camille had been Emma’s best friend during her teenage years. They’d been inseparable throughout high school. In fact, so close that Camille had caught the real estate bug and become a real estate agent, with Mom mentoring her. “Why haven’t you called her?” Mom finished.

  Emma finally lifted her head from her palm, leaning back into the chair, staring at the branches of the mature pine tree waving in the breeze through the window above the sink. “I haven’t been really in the mood to talk to anyone.” Especially since she and Camille had drifted apart when Emma went to NYU while Camille got her real estate license. Their tight-knit friendship had turned into a Facebook friendship, with the odd dinner every once in a while to catch up.

  “Emma,” Mom rebuked her. “You can’t let Jake destroy all your relationships. Your friends miss you.”

  Do they really? No one had made a real effort to talk to her ever since she left. If Camille had missed her so much, then why hadn’t she gotten this number to call Emma herself? “I’ll reach out, promise.” Little white lies didn’t hurt anyone. Besides, all of this only reminded Emma how very alone she was.

  Before that reminder drowned her in a black hole she could never climb out of, she moved along. “I went into Grams’s lawyer’s office”—the day before the Bentley accident—“and signed everything that I needed to sign.”

  “Wonderful news,” Mom said, an obvious smile in her voice. “So, the title is now in your name?”

  “Seems so.” Even that was something Emma hadn’t made sense out of yet. Grams had left everyone in the family money, but to Emma she gave the farm, along with the abused animals. Maybe Grams had some crazy foresight in knowing Emma would need this escape. But that could only be true if Emma believed fate led one’s life. She wasn’t sure if she did.

  “Now, Emma,” Mom said slowly, undoubtedly getting ready to state her opinion. “I’m not saying you need to sell the farm, but if you want to, you shouldn’t wait too long to put the house on the market. Everyone in town will be talking about the property. It’s good for us to ride that publicity. I’ve already chatted with a stager, so we can make that happen quickly, if you decide to go that route.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Emma hedged.

  “On the other hand,” Mom continued, “if you choose to stay there for any longer than you have been, and still can’t make a final decision, we need to think about your condo. It’s silly for you to continue paying a mortgage on a place you’re not living in. If you decide to stay, I can easily hire someone to pack up all your stuff and get your things shipped to you.” She hesitated, apparently thinking a plan through. “Since you have no mortgage there on the farm, it makes sense to rent your condo as an investment. You just need to make a decision, sweetie.”

  That was the problem. Selling the farm wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. Emma could find the abused animals a new home, then take the money from the sale of the property and start over in another big city, maybe Seattle or Chicago, where her name wasn’t associated with the Jake scandal.

  Though, as she sat there in the kitchen where Grams made her so many meals, swearing she could still smell Grams’s famous apple pies baking in the oven, she couldn’t imagine selling the property. This house was Grams’s. To let the place go was like letting go of Grams herself, and Emma wasn’t sure she was ready to do that either.

  Sudden warmth touched Mom’s voice when she broke the silence. “You’re going to be okay, Emma.”

  “I know.” Now she simply needed to believe it.

  * * *

  Across town, after heading home for a quick shower and some grub, Shep eased his truck into a spot, letting the engine quiet to a rumble before cutting the ignition. Through the windshield, above the black awning of the red-brick store’s front, the black sign with the bold yellow writing read: BLACKSHAW CATTLE CO., and, in small letters beneath: PRIME QUALITY MEATS. Dullness filled his chest, a feeling of heaviness overcoming him from the responsibility he did not want. The two days that had gone by he’d only thought of himself, and of Emma. He had his father’s estate to deal with, and that’s where his head should be, yet Emma was a distraction. She’d become an itch he couldn’t ignore but needed to scratch. And now that he’d had her, she’d become an outright addiction. The way she melted under his touch and sensually responded to him was all the foreplay he needed, replaying in his mind over and over again. He wanted more.

  First he needed to deal with his father’s company, then he could play. Because for all that had gone w
rong lately, and all the sadness that had clouded his life after his father’s death, he wanted to revel in her brightness. She felt good to be around, a place where he had a purpose, even if that purpose was simply to pleasure her. It felt damn good considering that when his father passed, his stronghold on his very controlled world had unraveled.

  Determined to get back to her quickly, he exited his truck, stepping into the cloudy day. He strode in the opposite direction of the meat shop on Main Street, passing by five doors before he entered through the glass door, met by Harriett’s smile. “Good morning,” he said, giving the door a hard shove to close it into the tight doorjamb.

  “Good morning, Shep,” Harriett said, sitting behind her desk. She must’ve worked for Lee Schultz for more than thirty years by now. She was well into her late sixties, and fit Lee’s office as much as he did, being a little dated in her fashion, with a vintage flowered dress and her silvery-violet curls atop her head. “How’s your mother?” Harriett and his mother played bridge together, but his mother hadn’t been since Dad passed.

  Shep returned the smile. “She’s well, thank you.” Or at least as well as could be expected after losing her husband. He moved closer, never able to get used to the scent in the air. A mix of mold and dust, just about everything inside the small office needed a makeover. He was certain nothing had been changed, not a chair, a painting on the wall, or a desk, since Lee opened his accounting firm in the 1970s. He turned his focus back onto Harriet. “I believe she’ll be attending bridge next weekend.”

  “That’s wonderful news.” Harriett’s smile turned sad. “That poor dear Jenny. We’re all missing her.” She gestured toward the office on the right. “Go on in. Lee’s expecting you.”

  Shep smiled in thanks and moved past her, entering Lee’s office. The smell of dust worsened with each step he took.

  When he entered the office, he found Lee siting behind his desk, his white head of hair bowed down, shoulders hunched, while he read the documents laid out in front of him with the help of a handheld magnifier. “Mornin’,” Shep announced himself.