by Dahlia West
Jack reached down, took hold of her arm and turned her over so that her belly hit the sheets. Before she could complain—or panic about where he was going next—he slid into her heat again.
“Jack!” she hissed, but spread her legs wide for him.
“Gonna take you deep,” he growled, so she wouldn’t guess at the real reason he’d changed their position. He slid his hands underneath her and squeezed those perfectly-sized, creamy globes as he did just that. He buried himself inside her, as though he could somehow lose himself in the process.
It was good, exquisitely good…but not enough.
Pinning her down, preventing her from touching him—from trying to make love—had Jack at war with himself. The raw, animal part of him was satisfied to hold her legs open with his own and pound into her, but other, unknown parts, were jangling like livewires inside him.
He wanted her eyes.
He wanted her hands.
He wanted her mouth.
Erin wanted him, too. He could tell from her soft whimpers and the way her hands grabbed at his arms. “Jack,” she pleaded.
All his carefully held control threatened to snap.
He gave in. Just a little. Because he couldn’t fight it anymore.
His lips found her—on her back, between her shoulder blades. Right over her heart. He pressed them to her warm, salty skin and tasted her sweetness. “Erin,” he whispered.
It was as much of a prayer as he was willing to speak these days. It was all he could give her…and all he seemed able to take for himself. He hoped it was enough.
Part Three
Eden
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‡
Erin was disappointed in the way things had ended, but she chose to focus on the good, what little there was of it, what little Jack had allowed to slip through his hardened demeanor. That moment between them, right before he turned her over—that was real. And she’d fight for that connection, as long as Jack wanted to stay.
She wasn’t blind. He was waging a war against demons of his own, but as long as he was willing to stay, willing to try, she’d keep fighting.
* * *
Summer slipped into fall as the temperatures dropped a little as well. King was coming along nicely, his mobility getting better every week. As Erin tacked him up alongside Bee, she felt an unvoiced pride swelling in her chest. No one could have done as well as she had. No one.
King stomped his foot, eager for the ride. He seemed pleased, too, that Bee was out of her stall and tied up beside him. Erin had put a saddle on her as well.
She stepped away, stuck her head out the door, and called to Jack who was working on the tractor’s engine.
He put the wrench down and sauntered to her, Duke jumping at his heels. When he got closer, Erin slid the barn door all the way open, revealing the two horses.
Jack looked past her and frowned. “You’ve only got one ass,” he informed her.
Erin grinned at him. “I need you today.”
He grunted instead of giving her an actual response.
“It’ll be fine,” she promised.
He looked at her skeptically. “Isn’t it always you who’s saying stallions are dangerous and unpredictable?”
“Well, yeah,” she admitted, “but he likes you. And we’re at a point where it does him no good for me to ride him. You’ve seen Tucker DelRay. King’s fine with my weight, but he needs a tougher workout now.”
She waited for Jack to make the right decision, as she knew he would. She couldn’t imagine him allowing fear and uncertainty to rule over him. It only took a few moments, but just as she expected, he sighed heavily and wiped his brow on his sleeve. “Yeah, all right,” he said grudgingly.
Erin led him into the barn and lifted the stirrup with one hand. “Put your boot in here.”
“I know, I know,” he growled as he hiked up his leg.
He’d seen Erin ride about a hundred times and though she suspected he hadn’t gotten any further than high school, Jack watched, and learned, and remembered with ease.
He swung his large body onto King’s larger frame. The stallion protested a bit and danced about. To his credit, Jack looked concerned but not afraid.
Erin unclipped the tie-out from the bridle and let it fall away. She could tell by the bright shine in King’s eyes that he knew he was free, but she moved in front of him, blocking him from the door, and gave a sharp yank on the reins. “Stand,” she ordered and King eventually lowered his head, ready to submit to both rider and trainer.
Quickly, because she didn’t want to take her eyes off them, she swung up into Bee’s saddle and nudged her forward with her heels, taking the lead out of the barn and into the yard.
They headed to the round pen first, so Jack could get his bearings on a horse that outweighed him by about a thousand pounds. Bee’s presence kept King’s behavior in check, and both of Erin’s half-wild males seemed to be adjusting to each other quite nicely under the circumstances.
After twenty minutes, she led them out of the pen and across the main paddock, toward the creek where King got most of his rehab work done. The water level was a bit higher now, since it had rained every day last week, but it wasn’t too bad, and Erin thought it seemed safe enough.
Jack looked skeptical, though, as they approached the water’s edge. King stopped naturally and Jack seemed to let him, unsure what to do.
Erin nodded to the rushing water. “I need him in there. To work his leg and keep it cool at the same time.”
Jack leaned forward in the saddle and frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
Erin shook her head. “Nope. Afraid not. He missed his workout last week due to the weather and he’s not missing another one. Give him a kick with your heels and get him down there.”
Jack gathered the reins and tapped King’s sides. They moved closer to the creek’s edge, down the muddy slope. The horse stepped into the water, and Erin thought that would be the end of the horse’s mulishness, but he balked suddenly, then spun away.
Jack obviously hadn’t expected that. Unseated, he went flying.
Erin gasped.
Thankfully, he hurtled into the water and not onto the ground. He submerged completely, only for a moment, and came up spluttering.
“Damn it, Erin!” he growled. “This is not what ‘Ride or Die’ means!”
Erin tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. A giggle erupted from her and she covered her mouth with her hand.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‡
Jack glared up at her even as water dripped into his eyes. As it turned out, riding a horse was not at all like riding a Harley. It might be, if the Harley weighed more…and had a mean streak. He shot daggers at King, too, who seemed unconcerned.
It was obvious which of them could run faster.
Jack wiped his face with his hands, trudged through the muddy bottom of the creek, and stopped at the edge. It was steep and covered in reeds, and he doubted his ability to get up it on his own, not without coming out covered in mud from the bank.
He sighed loudly. “Get down off that horse and give me a hand,” he growled.
Erin stopped laughing and studied him intently. “You’re not going to pull me in.” She said it firmly but with a slight inflection of doubt.
Jack smirked at her. “No. Do I seem that childish? I want to get out of here. My pants are soaked down to my briefs and my boots feel like sponges are strapped to my feet.”
She snorted, quite unladylike, and grinned at him. “Okay, okay. Don’t get your wet panties in a bunch.”
Jack narrowed his eyes at her. “What did you just say to me?”
She laughed again, uncowed by his tone. “Do you ever lighten up?” she asked as she climbed down off Bee, slipped the reins over the saddle horn, and walked to the creek’s edge. After a moment’s hesitation, she held out her hand.
Jack felt his mouth twitch. “No.” He didn’t tell her that if he did, someone would die. Hell,
he nearly had. Though he looked from Erin to King standing on the bank of the river and even the horse was practically laughing at him. King’s eyes were bright, shining with amusement as he casually sipped at the water.
He looked back to Erin, took her hand, and pulled. She shot forward and splashed into the creek. She came up spluttering. “What the hell?!” she shouted. “You promised!”
Jack brought her to her feet and pressed himself against her. “I’m a bad man, baby,” he whispered to her. “You can’t trust me.” He brushed his lips against hers, enjoying the way she melted into him every time he kissed her.
In thirty years, Jack had never cared at all about kissing. He might have to rethink his dismissal of it.
He loved the way her tongue always dove in first, like she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t control herself when he was around.
The fabric of her shirt clung to her breasts, revealing their shape and size perfectly. Jack cupped one in his palm and squeezed gently.
Erin moaned into his mouth.
“What were you saying about wet panties?” he asked her.
* * *
The ride home was uncomfortable in so many ways. He was soaked below the waist, and hard, and wanted nothing more than to get Erin alone and finish what they started in the creek.
In his opinion, she could use a birthday spanking.
He volunteered to take the horses into the barn so she could get started on dinner. He untacked them one at a time and turned the equine lovers into the paddock together so they could spend some quality time together.
On his way back to the house, the sunlight filtered through what few leaves were left on the trees and the breeze gusted over the landscape, chilling him with wet clothes, but it was still nice anyway.
If he closed his eyes, Jack could recall the smell of the Buzzards’ clubhouse, of rot and decay. Of stale beer and hard liquor, weed and cigs. That was a place where things went to die. Slowly.
Thunder Ridge smelled like earth and rain. And even though there was the slight pungent smell of decaying leaves in the crisp fall air, this was a place where things grew, flourished.
He gave Duke a pat on the head and jogged up the porch steps toward a smell of a better kind.
In the kitchen he found Erin adjusting the oven’s temperature. He slid his arms around her and pulled her against him even though she’d already changed into dry clothes. She didn’t seem to mind, though. “What’s for dinner?” he asked.
She sighed. “Casserole.”
He chuckled. “It’s fine.”
Erin was not an amazing cook, by any means. But that was fine. She was a damn sight better than Jack. Plus, days out here were long and hard and there wasn’t a lot of time—or energy, or money—for elaborate meals.
Casserole would do.
Although, he felt badly that it was her birthday. She should have something better, today at least. But no way could Jack make it for her.
“I do have cake, though,” she informed him. “Chocolate. And…a surprise.”
She moved away from him and reluctant as he was to let her go, he did, because he was curious. She ducked into the laundry room and came back with two huge boxes, both wrapped in silver paper.
Jack blinked at them.
“Here you go!” she said brightly, setting them both down on the kitchen table.
He didn’t move at first, unsure what to think of it. The boys always bought him a drink on his birthday and provided a kinky bitch for entertainment, but no one had ever bought him a gift. “It’s your birthday,” he pointed out stupidly.
She grinned and poked him in the belly. “But you need new clothes,” she teased.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“I’m saying, you’re a damn fine-looking man, Jack. And I want you in a pair of jeans that show off your ass better when you bend over.”
Rather than him being offended, he laughed. “Well, I guess we know what’s in the boxes.”
She smirked at him. “Open them anyway. You might be surprised.”
He did and discovered several new pairs of jeans (in a larger size) in one, and a new pair of leather work boots in the other. He lifted one and inspected it, steel toed and heavy duty stitching. They really were quite nice…and, he could tell, quite expensive. “Erin…” he said, but couldn’t think of a thing to say after that.
She smiled. “Do you like them?”
“Yeah, babe,” he replied and he really, really meant it.
She threw her leg over his lap and lowered herself onto him. “Good. I wanted you to have something nice.”
He grinned at her. “Think I’m about to get something else nice.”
She moved over him, rubbing his hard-on through his jeans and making him forget all about boots and clothes and cake.
He pulled her down hard, enjoying the delicious pressure of her pussy teasing him.
“Jack?” she whispered, grinding into him. “Is this it?”
His eyes flew open and he stared at her. “Is what it?”
She smiled and swirled her hips again. “Ride or die? I feel like, if I don’t ride you, right now, I will die. I’ll shrivel up and die and blow away in the wind.”
Jack chuckled. It came out as a deep rumble in his chest. “Not quite, little bird.”
Just then the sound of an engine came from outside. Erin groaned—not in a good way—and got up to look out the window.
Jack had gotten quite good at reading her face over the last few months. He knew without looking who was in the driveway. Sure enough, within just a few moments, Buck Walker was shuffling through the front door, birthday present in hand, and beaming proudly.
Jack wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that he was proud of—having fathered Erin, having remembered her birthday, or having bothered to get her a gift. Jack guessed it was some combination of all three.
“Here you go! Happy birthday!” he cried, shoving a shopping bag into Erin’s arms and then crushing it between them in an attempt to give her a hug.
To her credit, Erin didn’t duck away, or throw a punch, which Jack might have done.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, frowning down at the wrinkled bag.
Erin grimaced. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she replied, which was probably as close to a rebuke as she was going to give her old man.
Buck had the audacity to look surprised. “How can I not see my only girl on her birthday?”
“Just saying,” Erin replied. “You could have called.”
Jack’s cock totally agreed with this statement.
To break the ensuing tension, Erin dipped into the bag and drew out a not-quite-ten-gallon-but-holy-shit-whose-head-is-that-big hat out of it. It almost perfectly matched the one sitting on Buck’s head.
Jack hid his amusement at the ridiculous gift. It was as though Buck was trying to turn Erin into a female version of himself. Jack knew without a doubt that the second the man left, that that was getting stuffed into the hall closet, never to be seen again.
Erin didn’t have Jack’s temper. If she did, the hat would end up in the chicken coop, getting shit on.
“Thanks, Dad,” she mumbled, setting the bag down just three feet from the closet door.
Jack turned away to hide his smile.
In the kitchen, they sat awkwardly at the table with the casserole in the middle. Buck didn’t look too enthused. Jack glared at him over his fork, daring the old man to say something about the dinner.
Buck, taking the hint, shoveled in a huge bite and forced a smile at Erin. “How’re things going with King?”
Jack gave him another meaningful look but this time Buck didn’t look away, giving the impression he was being genuine. Jack didn’t know the man well enough to say it was true, but he decided to give the old bastard the benefit of the doubt.
“Fine,” Erin said, apparently not interested in extending the same courtesy to her father, for she provided no details.
“Good, good,” replied Buck, ignoring
the slight.
They ate mostly in silence and Erin cleared away the dishes when they were done. She said not one word about the cake in the fridge and Jack thought that was amusing too.
Buck definitely did not deserve cake.
The old man finally took the hint and pushed back his chair. “Well…then…I guess I’ll see you.”
Erin walked him to the door but didn’t slam it shut behind him.
Another point in her favor.
Buck’s huge Super Duty illuminated the entire driveway as he rolled away. He gave a jaunty honk, to which Erin rolled her eyes.
Jack was determined not to let her father ruin the rest of their night. When she tried to move past him in the hallway, he reached out and grabbed her, tugging her against him.
“Now,” he said, mouth dangerously close to hers, “where were we?”
Chapter Forty
‡
In the upstairs bedroom, Erin stripped down to her bra and panties as Jack tugged off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed and she knew where he wanted to start, even without asking.
She knelt down between his legs and unzipped his fly. Before she unleashed the beast, though, she thought better of it and stood up instead. “You know,” she said in a lazy drawl, “I think maybe it’s time for you to return the favor.”
While she didn’t expect a guy like Jack to be chomping at the bit to get at her clit, she certainly didn’t expect to see such a grimace cross his rugged features. “I don’t think so,” he told her.
Erin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s your turn, Jack.”
Below her on the edge of the bed, Jack squared his shoulders and gave her a sharp look. “I don’t eat pussy, Erin.”
She froze, thumbs in her panties, ready to tug them down. “What?”
He shrugged. “I don’t eat pussy.”
Erin stared down at him, gaping. “But…I…I do it for you,” she argued. “I’ve done it a lot for you!”
