by Dahlia West
Jack stared at her from across the table. “I explained this to you earlier. Maybe you were distracted and didn’t hear me. It’s gone, Erin. And in the future, you know where to come if you need to come.”
Erin blew a stand of hair out of her eyes and glared at him. Asking Jack for orgasms seemed…so wrong. “Why do you even care? You—”
Jack leaned forward in his chair, looming over the table. “Because I need to come,” he growled. “And it plays hell on my nerves to stand on the other side of that door all the time listening to you getting off and not offering me any.”
Erin sat back in her chair, shocked at the revelation.
“I’m tired of cumming in my hand, Erin. You’ll do quite nicely instead.”
Erin’s jaw dropped. “I—”
Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “You want it. I want it,” he pointed out. “Is there some reason why you want to pretend that you don’t? Why you want to deny yourself?” He snorted derisively. “You might get into Heaven that way, babe, but you’re going to be awfully bored down here in the meantime. And I’m not gettin’ into Heaven, so I’m not going to deny myself any damn thing. He’ll forgive you,” Jack promised, taking another heaping scoop of mashed potatoes. “It’s not like you can resist.”
Erin smirked at him. It was possible he was right. Looking at him now, face shaved clean, red lips shining, gold glints in his hair that looked like a crown, it was all too easy to be seduced. “Lucifer was the most beautiful of all the angels,” she muttered.
Jack grinned at her. “Damn right.”
They ate comfortably after that, relaxed about the new twist in their relationship. Jack went for seconds, lamenting only that he wasn’t eating Julio. He shared a little with the dog, hoping to give Duke a taste for birds, he said.
Erin cleared her place when she was finished and Jack did the same. She saw him reach into the refrigerator, hand hovering over another bottle of beer, having finished the first during dinner. He seemed to think better of it though, and closed the door instead. Jack never seemed to let himself get too anything: too drunk, too happy, or even too horny.
Right at the moment that things had been getting too intense upstairs, he’d turned away, shut himself off from her. She probably shouldn’t have, but she wondered if it had anything to do with the ‘bitch’ he had nightmares about. Jack didn’t seem to trust anyone, not Erin, and certainly not himself.
Well, she could only lead him to water, she told herself as she gathered her plate and utensils and headed for the sink.
As much as she’d just like to collapse into bed, there was still work to be done. This week’s purchases needed to be entered into the books and the receipts filed. It wasn’t easy, being Thunder Ridge’s co-foreman, sole trainer, cook, accountant, and business manager, but it was what she’d signed up for and she’d come too far on her own to let it all start to slide now.
She clicked on the overhead light in her tiny office and lowered herself into the chair behind the desk. She’d lost track of how much time had passed until Jack appeared in the doorway, leaning his hard, muscled frame against the wooden one. “You work too hard,” he told her.
She sighed tiredly. It was probably true. “I think my eyes are crossing,” she replied and leaned back into the chair to stretch out.
Jack came around the desk and put his hands on her shoulders.
Erin groaned appreciatively.
“Keep making noises like that and we’re going to find new uses for this desk,” he told her.
Her heart sped up as he leaned down closer, but she realized he was just getting a better look at the spreadsheet on the screen. “Not bad,” he declared as he continued to massage the knots out of her shoulders. “You keep your expenses to a minimum. Except for the building materials. And labor.”
“The property taxes will go up a bit,” she replied. “With all the improvements. But I can cover it and still put some money away. I’m saving up.”
“For what?” he asked, eyes on the screen.
“I’d like to convert the hay corner in the main barn into an additional stall. So I can take on more than one client at a time.”
“So do it.”
Erin sighed. It was slow going, making tangible improvements on the place. She kept having to remind herself that it was a marathon not a sprint. And every improvement led directly to another one. “I’d need a hay barn, then,” she told him. “With a slatted floor for air flow. Fire prevention.”
“I’ll build you one.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
‡
Erin simply blinked at him, unable to respond right away.
Jack couldn’t believe what he’d offered, either. It had just come out. But this place, he could see what she was doing here, see her vision inside his own head. And it was beautiful.
Erin worked her ass off and was constantly defending herself on all sides for her trouble. She deserved this place.
Of course Jack kept all his profits and losses in his head, which was no mean feat if he did say so himself. But, still, this was impressive. Erin had clearly thought of everything, planned for every possibility, and she was as meticulous about tracking every penny as Jack himself was.
She had left little to chance, just as Jack never did. All her hard work could only be destroyed by putting her faith in the wrong people, also as he had done. He didn’t want to see Erin suffer a similar fate.
He supposed Hook and Haze could wait long enough for him to build a small hay barn out back. He owed her that much anyway, for taking him in when it was so clearly in her best interest not to.
“I won’t take any more money for it,” he told her. “Just buy the supplies I need.” With that, he turned off the small desk lamp and pulled the chair back with her in it. She had one less thing to worry about now and so she should get some sleep.
In the hallway, at the foot of the stairs, she stopped with her hand on the newel post. “Are…?”
He watched her hesitate, reconsider, then try again.
“Are you coming to bed?”
He stirred slightly behind his zipper even though he’d already gotten some relief from her beautiful mouth earlier. His need wasn’t razor-edged anymore, though. It was probably best to say no, to keep his distance from her—other than the occasional fooling around—which now that he’d had her, he wasn’t giving that up. But his body did ache, in other ways, and Erin’s bed sounded so much better than the cot in the barn.
He locked the front door instead of opening it, turned, and followed her up the wooden stairs.
Erin disappeared into the bathroom, but only for a moment. She emerged minutes later in a T-shirt and those tiny shorts of hers. Her hair was loose and fell around her shoulders. He liked the way it framed her face.
Jack lowered himself into Erin’s armchair and pulled off his boots. The plank floor felt nice under his feet, compared to the rough concrete of the bunkhouse. He rose, grasping his shirt hem, but hesitated.
Back in Rapid City, he used to sleep naked, whenever he was sober enough to get the rest of his clothes off. Here at Thunder Ridge, he left everything on but his boots. Just in case.
But nothing had happened. No phantoms had come lurking from out of the shadows wearing black leather cuts and murderous grins.
Why not sleep naked? Especially next to a beautiful woman?
Jack needed sleep, real sleep, not this One Eye Open shit. And if he died for his trouble, for letting his guard down this time, well, he was so bone fucking tired at this point that he wouldn’t be much good in a fight any damn way.
He pulled his T-shirt off over his head, tossed it onto the chair in the corner, and then shucked his jeans and boxer briefs.
If Erin had any objections, she didn’t voice them. She simply slid quickly between the sheets and turned out the lamp on the nightstand on her side of the bed.
Jack lifted the filmy cotton top sheet and slid in on the other side. It was cool against his skin and the mattress
was a fucking cloud compared to the bunkhouse. Nothing poked at his hip in this bed as he rolled to his side, giving Erin his back. He found a comfortable spot on the extra pillow and closed his eyes.
Being in Erin’s bed felt almost as good as being in her.
Almost.
He didn’t have to count sheep (or dead birds) in order to sink slowly down into unconsciousness. His aching muscles stretched and relaxed and Jack was aware, for the very first time, how often he’d clenched his jaw tight, even at the end of the day.
Every part of him finally stood down, even his cock, which he didn’t mind. Erin was right next to him and he’d have access to her if he needed her. She owed him that, but he’d make sure she liked paying the debt.
He drifted off and slept soundly through most of the night but awoke, slightly panicked, sometime before dawn because the room was still dark. As the fog of sleep retreated a bit, he became aware of two things. One, he’d actually fallen asleep easily. And according to his watch, he’d been asleep for almost five hours. The longest stretch he’d had since that night in the arroyo.
The other thing he was aware of…was Erin.
He was still on his side of the bed, lying on his hip and facing the wall. Erin was not on her side of the bed, though. She was cuddled up against his back. Her soft, warm breath fell in steady waves between his shoulder blades and her arm lay across his stomach, hand on his bruised ribs. It was as if she were trying to take his pain away, even in her sleep.
It occurred to Jack, as he lay there, feeling Erin’s body against his, that he’d never slept with a woman. Oh, he’d passed out with a few. More than a few over the last ten years. But more often than not, once he’d come, he kicked them out, made them find their own place to sleep.
Probably so he didn’t have to share the bed. Or listen to them bitch about not getting off.
Lying here, though, knowing that they’d both been satisfied earlier in the bathroom, Jack felt it easier, so much easier, to let himself drift off to sleep a second time.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‡
Erin awoke slightly before Julio and way before Jack. She was relieved to find that not only was he still there, but that he was sleeping peacefully beside her.
She hadn’t been sure he’d even agree last night when she finally worked up the nerve to ask him. But after the shower, she couldn’t stand the thought of going to bed alone, without him right next to her.
It might have been just a quick romp for him, a way to let off steam, but Erin hoped to God it wasn’t.
Lying here next to him, with the sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains, this was exactly where she wanted to be. And Jack, at least Jack’s subconscious, agreed. He slept soundly next to her, no screaming, no fighting with specters that only he could see. He seemed so tired, always tired, always on the verge of exhaustion. And for some reason, Jack always looked like he slept in his clothes, like he was getting by, day-by-day, with one foot already in bed.
Or in the grave.
He’d put on a little weight since the beginning of their arrangement. It looked good on him, a little less like the Grim Reaper might swoop down at any moment and grab his shoulder.
But even Jack too thin was better than anything Erin had seen before. Especially with his shirt off. Her eyes always bounced, as they were now, between the muscles of his arms and the tattoos on his back and torso. From her usual vantage point of the kitchen, she had never gotten a really good look at them. She’d only seen them from a distance, when she was pretending not to watch him work. Lying this close to him now, with the colorful swirls of ink right in front of her, she couldn’t resist touching them.
She traced them lightly, not wanting to wake him. He needed rest. He worked himself until he couldn’t stand, even though she’d never asked him to. He seemed to prefer it that way.
As she fingered the artificial lines on his skin, she wondered how much of Jack’s life was painful. And how much of that was voluntary, like the tattoos. As she lay next to him, listening to his slow, steady breathing, she wondered how much of him, if any, preferred Thunder Ridge.
At least here, he could sleep.
Sort of.
Julio called out, announcing the start of the day and Erin silently cursed the damn rooster. It wasn’t fair to hold it against the bird for doing his job, but Erin wanted Jack to rest.
Or maybe she just wanted to lie here next to him longer.
It had been a long time since she’d had a man in her bed, and there had never been one like Jack.
Christ, they hadn’t even had sex yet, but things were already incredible. Not that she wouldn’t have been content to just watch him from afar and admire that lean, muscled physique every day, but now that she’d had him, those fingers, those lips, that salty, thick shaft on her tongue, she couldn’t go back to just looking.
He stirred beside her, grumbling about the chicken.
Erin felt a thrill to have him awake, naked, and in her bed.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‡
Jack woke up painfully hard. Apparently Erin’s mere proximity could do that to him. She was still clinging to him, though she wasn’t asleep.
Who could be with that mangy chicken hollering?
Jack lifted his arm and turned over carefully. His rock hard cock brushed the sheets, though, and he tightened his jaw.
She smiled up at him, hair fanned out over the pillow. She looked a little shy, a little interested, a little interesting.
More than a little interesting.
Jack’s cock twitched in approval as he took in the T-shirt that hugged the swells of her breasts. He reached out and tugged at the hem.
Erin offered no resistance, not even a word of greeting, as she let him slip it off of her.
The pad of his thumb rasped over one of her nipples, bringing it fully to attention.
Jack wanted her, and wanted her now, but Erin wasn’t a club whore, and he was mindful of that. She wouldn’t pretend to be into it if he took her roughly, with no preamble on his part. He might hurt her and she’d been hurt enough.
If Jack could bring Hank back from the dead, he would, just to kill him again, with his own hands this time. Kill him for daring to touch Erin, for even thinking that he could violate her and get away with it.
He ground his erection into her cleft, indicating his interest.
Erin didn’t push him away.
He considered that a good sign.
Her hands slid along his back and she opened her legs, apparently enjoying the friction down below as much as he was. She kissed him, then, but only on his cheek. Her breath was hot on his skin and her soft lips trailed down his jaw, coming dangerously close to his own.
Jack moved away, putting distance between them, and busied his hands with the tie at the waistband of her shorts. He had them off quickly, tossing them aside. That was as fast as he should probably go, though.
He slid his palm up her thigh and dipped between her legs. She was warm but not wet.
At least not yet.
He rubbed her slowly, thumbing her mound until her clit stiffened under his touch.
Erin groaned and pushed herself into him, as she had the day before, in the shower.
“You need me, little bird?” he demanded.
This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes!” she replied in a breathy voice.
Jack felt her wetness steadily growing and moved over her, forcing her legs farther apart with his knee. “Is this okay?” he asked as he parted her with his fingers and directed the head of his cock to her entrance.
She nodded. “I’m on the pill.”
Not what he’d meant, but her answer told him she was ready, nonetheless.
He pushed in and felt his whole body go rigid for a moment. She was tight and smooth, wet and scorching hot. A growl of approval escaped his lips as he dipped farther inside.
Erin sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed at his shoulders.
Ap
parently it had been a long time since she’d had a real cock. Assuming she’d ever had one. Jack didn’t bother to hide his smirk as he nudged open her tight passage a little more. When he could go no farther without hurting her, he bent his head low and took a nipple in his mouth. He heard her hiss as he bit down on it.
“Jack!” she admonished.
But he’d slid his cock in a little more, and that was good.
Ignoring her protests, he slipped the hard nub from his lips long enough to say, “I fuck the way I fuck, Erin.” Which was not true. Jack had never had a woman like this—bare, belly to belly, unable to stop tasting her skin. But right now, Jack wanted her this way. So he was going to take her this way.
He grazed his teeth over her nipple again, just a bit, not too hard. “Open that pussy, little bird,” he demanded. “Open for your man.”
Jack didn’t suppose that he was her man any more than she was his woman, but pussy was pussy, and in his experience, all pussy responded the same way when he wanted it. And Erin’s was no exception.
She moaned and lifted her hips to him.
His erection slid in all the way. Jack sank low, lips finding her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered.
Erin’s hot, wet walls clenched accordingly.
Jack laid his arms down on either side of her, trapping her in a powerful embrace. His heavy weight pinned her to the mattress. His erection impaled her, keeping her—mostly—in place.
He let her squirm underneath him for a moment, alternately squeezing and stretching, her body adjusting to his full-scale invasion. Little moans and gasps erupted from her pulsing throat. His cock throbbed in response. His little bird was finally caged. And she liked it.
Maybe a little too much.
Erin arched up to kiss him and Jack had to actually stop himself from meeting her halfway. What the hell? He never kissed women, never wanted to. But looking down at her pink cheeks, her moist lips, and those deep brown eyes that saw straight into him, he felt his heart speed up. A steady tattoo beat inside his chest and he was sure she could hear it.
