The Cattleman (Sons of Texas Book 2)

by Anna Jeffrey

  Before she finished, the air around him became a red mist and he lost control. “Aww, God. Mandy. I’m coming…” His body stiffened and on a bark, he spewed into her. His cock jerked inside her twice more and he was empty. “Aww, God….”

  Somehow, he prevented himself from collapsing his full weight on top of her and gradually sank down. As his head stopped spinning and awareness returned, he realized she was contorted like an acrobat, both knees up to her earlobes, both legs over his shoulders and he didn’t even know when that had happened.

  “Hmm, don’t move,” she mumbled. “Let’s just stay like this. For about a week.”

  Long minutes passed, her arms wrapped around his head, his face buried against her fragrant neck. Finally, on its own, his spent cock slipped out of her. He quickly lifted her bottom and arranged her skirt beneath it. “I don’t want to make a big mess on your sofa.”

  He carefully moved her legs from his shoulders and pushed himself up, sat back on his heels, looking down at her sprawled and open before him. His creamy essence showed in her opening and he like seeing it there, knowing that it was his. She was his. He never doubted her fidelity.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her. “Pretty as a new calf.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said dryly. “If I didn’t know you so well, I might not take that as a compliment.”

  “But you do know me. You know there’s not many things I think are prettier than new baby calves.” He bent down and nuzzled her wet curls and on a deep breath inhaled the comingled scents of the two of them. “I love how you smell after I’ve come inside you.”

  He pulled his bandana from his back pocket and gently wiped her. Then he got to his feet, clasped her hand and pulled her up. He reached down to pull up his shorts and pants.

  “You’ve got a big spot on your slacks,” she said looking at the front of his pants. “We need to go clean up.” They walked arm-in-arm toward her bedroom and bathroom. “I’ll bet you didn’t bring any more pants. What are you going to tell Johnnie Sue?”

  His Mandy was such a worrier over trivial things. “Baby, I don’t have to tell Johnnie Sue anything. She’s the housekeeper.”

  “But she might smell them.”

  “So? All she’s supposed to do with my pants is take them to the cleaners.”

  Mandy laughed. “She’s so bossy, I keep forgetting she isn’t your mother.”

  He laughed, too. “I know.”

  “Do you remember the last time we had sex?” she asked.

  “Uhhh…”

  She laughed. “I’m not trying to trap you. I’m just asking if you know how long it’s been.”

  “Too long.”

  “Valentine’s Day. That’s six weeks. I was thinking about it before you got here.”

  His memory spun backward. For Valentine’s Day, they had gone to supper in Stephenville, then spent the rest of the evening naked in her bed, eating chocolate candy, drinking champagne and decorating each other with chocolate syrup, canned whipped cream and maraschino cherries. He had built a sundae on each of her breasts and licked and sucked it off. She had done him the same favor on his cock.

  “Did you think I forgot? Hell, those red cherries have become my favorite fruit.” He leaned down and gave her a quick smack on the temple. “See? I didn’t forget. Six weeks is too long. No wonder I was so damn horny.”

  She smiled up at him. “We’re going to have to do something about your schedule.”

  They parted in her bedroom. He sat down on her rocking chair and pried off his boots, then got to his feet and stripped. He joined her in the bathroom. She stood at the vanity sink naked, soaking a washcloth under the faucet. He went to stand beside her. “Want me to wash you?” she asked, a gleam in her eye.

  “Darlin’, you can do anything to me you want to.”

  She handed him the wet washcloth, then reached for another. “Hmm. I don’t know if we have time for that.”

  Together, they began to wash themselves. She glanced down at his wet dick. “Hm. I’d forgotten how big you are.”

  That sounded like a compliment, but it was a dig about his long absence. “Why do I think that wasn’t a compliment?”

  She giggled. “When do you have to go home?”

  “Dad stayed up in Fort Worth, so I’m gonna be riding with Smoky tomorrow morning. I need to be back at the ranch and saddled up by daylight. Gonna be a long day.”

  “Your dad met a girlfriend up there?”

  “I think he might’ve gone home with Mom.”

  Mandy shook her head. “That’s just crazy.”

  Pic couldn’t disagree. He had been thinking the same thing about his parents ever since Mom left the ranch nearly eight years ago.

  Mandy rinsed herself, then reached for a towel. “So how’d it go? I want details.”

  “That drive back from Fort Worth was a sonofabitch. And I had Grandma with me. You know what that was like. She never stopped talking.”

  Mandy rose on her tiptoes and kissed his jaw. “I worried about you. I hate that traffic. What’s Drake’s wife like?”

  He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, then returned to rinsing soap off himself. “Better looking than her billboard picture. Kind of quiet.”

  She handed him a fluffy towel. He liked her towels. They were thick and soft and smelled like flowers. The towels at the Double-Barrel felt like sandpaper and smelled like bleach.

  “If she can afford billboard advertising, she must be very successful.”

  He dried himself, then wrapped the towel around her and pulled her to him, front-to-front and skin-to-skin. “Hm. I like this,” he said. “You’re all warm and damp.”

  She wriggled against him. “I like it, too.”

  “Drake said she’s a hotshot in the real estate business, whatever that means.” He kissed her, a tender joining of lips.

  “If you have to leave so early, we need to get in bed,” she said when they parted. They strolled into her bedroom and she turned back the covers on her queen-size bed. “Are they going to live in his condo?”

  “Nope. Camden.”

  She stopped and looked up at him. “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe he’s going to give up that beautiful condo.”

  “Hah. That’s what Kate said. He’s already put it on the market. You know how he is. Shit like that is all relative to him. He’ll find something else equally great. Something more suited for kids, he says. And Shannon wants to keep her real estate company going. He’s planning on commuting to Fort Worth.”

  Mandy scooted between the covers and he followed. “She got pregnant in February?”

  “They’re saying she’ll drop in October, so that sounds about right.”

  They settled into each other’s arms, her head on his shoulder, their legs entangled. She slid her hands over his belly and down to his genitals, caressed his balls. He loved her hands on his private parts.

  “Did they talk about it?”

  “I only got a minute to talk to Drake privately. He told me they figure it happened when she went with him on a business trip to Lubbock. They got carried away and forgot to use a rubber.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s really carried away. She wasn’t on the pill or anything?”

  “Guess not.”

  “My gosh. I can’t believe all that’s happened. I wondered if Drake would ever settle on one woman and get married. Now he not only has a wife, he’s going to be a father.”

  “She looks like she worships the ground he walks on. And he’s acts the same way about her.”

  He turned to face her front-to-front and caged her with his arms and legs. Now he had a full-fledged erection again and her little butterfly fingers were playing with it.

  “Did he give her a pretty ring?”

  “Nice. Not as fancy as Mom’s, but nice enough. Damn…baby, do that again.”

  “Did he and your mom get along?”

  Pic sighed. “They didn’t speak. Mom was quiet. She probably feels sorry for what she did. For now
anyway.”

  “A private detective must have cost her a lot. I don’t why Betty does such crazy things.”

  Pic harrumphed. “Me, neither.”

  “If she took Bill Junior home with her, she must have gotten over what happened at Christmas.”

  Mandy had been present at the family brawl that had taken place on Christmas Day. Mom had surprised everybody by coming to the ranch for the holiday and one of Dad’s girlfriends had showed up unexpectedly for Christmas dinner. “Oooh, yeah. Being hornier than rabbits settles a lot of disagreements between my parents. I suspect this isn’t the first time they’ve gotten together since Christmas.”

  Mandy chuckled and cuddled closer to him, trailed her hand up his ribs. “Until them, I never knew couples their ages were so sexy.”

  “It’s pretty damned amazing. Dad will be fifty-five in a couple more months. I don’t know if he gets gets a hard-on without help or if he’s a poster boy for Viagra.”

  Now Mandy laughed, a nice pleasant girl laugh. “What do you suppose sex is like when you’re fifty-five?”

  “Ugly.” He reached for her hand, returned it to his erection. “I just hope I’ve inherited a good supply of the old man’s genes. It’s kinda nice to know I might still be able to get it up when I’m his age.”

  She stroked his cockhead with her fingertips. “I wonder if you’ll still be getting it up with me.”

  “Hell, yes, Mandy.” He cupped her jaw with his palm and kissed her, slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her arms came around him and they didn’t part until they both ran out of breath.

  “When you kiss me like that, I believe you,” she said softly.

  “We’ll be together forever,” he said equally softly and looking into her gentle brown eyes. “You’re the only one who likes me for what I am.” He kissed her again, slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her sex . “Listen, Miss Magpie, this pretty little thing has been neglected. Are we gonna talk all night or are you gonna let me catch up? I gotta leave here at four o’clock.”

  She threw back the covers, opened her thighs and for the next two hours he gave her his undivided attention.

  Chapter 4

  June, Three months later…

  Pic roared down the Double-Barrel Ranch’s driveway headed for Mandy’s house in town. They had a date to celebrate her birthday. He had bought her a special gift that he planned to present after they enjoyed a good steak dinner—or as good as they could get in the neighboring town of Stephenville anyway. Then they would go to the rodeo and maybe the dance afterward. His Mandy was a country gal all the way to her bone marrow. She loved rodeos and dancing, as did he.

  Following that, they would go back to her house for dessert. The thought set off a twitch in his shorts. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks. To say he was, er, anxious was an understatement.

  Just ahead of him, partially blocking his path on the single-lane road, a bright-green Volkswagen Beetle sat at a crooked angle, half on, half off the pavement. How it had gotten past the private security dude who often parked in a copse of trees and bushes near the front gate, Pic didn’t know. He stomped the brake and yanked the steering wheel, avoiding a collision.

  Coming to a halt on the shoulder, he saw no driver. He shoved the gearshift into Park, stepped down from his seat and started toward the car. The end-of-June heat hit him and instantly, he began to sweat. He was wearing a starched, long-sleeve dress shirt and the temperature hovered around a hundred.

  A straw hat with the biggest floppy brim he had ever seen and big red flowers around the crown popped up from the far side of the VW. “Got a problem?” he called out, nearing the car. A trickle of moisture trailed down his spine.

  The woman under the hat grew taller, but not by much. “Oh, thank God. I have a flat tire. I don’t know how it happened. I was just driving along and the steering started acting funny.” Her voice sounded soft and breathy.

  Pic made a mental groan. He was already late.

  Except for her head and shoulders, the woman’s body was hidden by the Volkswagen. Nor could he see her eyes, covered as they were by huge sunglasses with black lenses. He stole a glance into the VW. A license plate he didn’t recognize. A suitcase, a couple of backpacks and several plastic boxes filled the small backseat. “This is a private driveway, ma’am. Are you lost?”

  She caught a quick breath and pressed a palm against her chest. “Oh, my gosh, I hope not.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Just a minute.” She opened the Volkswagen’s passenger door and pulled out a bag that looked like a fishing net. She pawed inside it for what seemed like forever while he stood roasting on the black pavement in the heat and humidity.

  Finally, she dug out a piece of paper and raised it with a gesture of triumph. “Found it.” She beamed a huge smile showing perfect bright white teeth. “I’m looking for the Double-Bar L Cattle Company. It’s a ranch. I thought this was the right road.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is. I’m with the ranch. What I can do for you?”

  She came around the front end of the VW revealing a white form-fitting top that looked even whiter against her olive skin. Held up by straps that weren’t much more than strings, it stretched across an ample chest, showing deep cleavage and distinct nipple impressions. No bra. His adrenaline spiked as his gaze moved on down to tan shorts and flat sandals with about a dozen straps. Her toenails were painted bright red with some kind of white design.

  Still smiling, she stuck out her right hand. Lord, her smile made the sun look dull. “How-do-you-do? I’m Zochimilka Amiyala McLaren.”

  Hunh? Pic’s chin tucked back involuntarily. Assuming she had told him her name, he cautiously accepted her handshake. “Uh, Pic Lockhart.”

  “Oooh, you’re Pic.” She pumped his hand up and down. “I’m so glad to meet you. I feel as if I know you. My parents and I are friends with your mother.”

  Clang! An alarm went off in Pic’s head. He didn’t trust anything involving a woman if it had ties to his mother. He released the visitor’s hand as if it were hotter than the pavement. “My mother sent you here?”

  “She told me you’d be glad to assist me. I’m a photographer. I came up here from Austin. I’m taking some pictures of old Texas ranches.”

  Another mental groan. He didn’t have time to assist a photographer. Keeping the Double-Barrel Ranch running on an even keel consumed most of his waking hours and some of his sleeping ones. “I’m headed for town, ma’am. Tell you what. Just stay on this road and you’ll run into the ranch house. It’s about half a mile.” He hitched his thumb back toward the house. “My dad’s there. He’ll get one of our shop hands to fix your tire.”

  She looked down at her flat tire, then back up at him. Obviously, she couldn’t drive the bug as it was. And the last thing he wanted was to change a tire, even if it did belong to a good-looking gal with Playboy centerfold ta-tas and thick coal-black hair that hung in ringlets and curls all the way to her ass. But he couldn’t expect her to walk to the ranch house in this heat. He made yet another mental groan. “Tell you what. I’ll drive you to the ranch house and introduce you to my dad. He’ll help you get fixed up.”

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “Your father would be Bill Lockhart, Junior?”

  Who is this woman? “Uh, yes, ma’am. Hold on. Let me move my truck.”

  Pic had parked his truck with the passenger side canting downhill, the right wheels on the shoulder. He was driving a RAM 2500, a big rig with big tires. Sitting at an angle as it was, the running board was at least three feet off ground. No way would she be able to climb in.

  Trekking back to the truck, he lifted off his straw Resistol and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. When he climbed behind the wheel, “Lone Star Blues” blasted at him from the radio. He turned the air conditioner on high, clicked off the radio and backed up. After he had leveled the truck on the pavement, he secured the tiny navy blue sack holding Mandy’s birthday present in the jockey box, slid out again, r
ounded the frontend and opened the passenger door for the visitor.

  As she neared the doorway, sunlight glinted off her necklace, a leather thong with some kind of bauble that lay against her cleavage. A sheen of sweat showed on the cushions of flesh around it. Oooh, man...

  “It’s really noisy, isn’t it?” she said.

  Noisy? “What, my truck?” He looked at the truck, noticed for the first time the big HEMI engine chugging rhythmically. He swerved his eyes back to her. “Guess I’m so used to it I don’t hear it.”

  She hesitated a few beats, then lifted one foot. It came inches short of reaching the running board. She looked up at him again. “I’ve never ridden in a pickup this big. Am I supposed to jump?”

  He frowned, then bent at the waist and interlocked his fingers, making a stirrup of his hands. “Here. Step here and climb in.”

  “Oh, gosh, I don’t want to step on your hands with my shoes on.” She squatted and began to undo multiple buckles. He straightened and glanced at his watch. Now he was forty-five minutes late.

  She stood, kicked off the shoe and stepped on the pavement, “Ow!” She yanked her foot up and hopped to the truck door, grabbing it for balance.

  Oh, hell. No telling what the temperature was on the asphalt. He again bent down and interlocked his fingers. “Look, ma’am. I need to get to town. Let’s just do this. Just put your foot here. I’ll lift you onto the seat.”

  She pulled off her sunglasses and shoved them against the crown of her hat. Then she braced one hand on his shoulder and stepped into his hands with a small slender foot.

  The edge of her hat brim tangled with his and caught his sunglasses, shoved them to the side and gouged his eye. Pain jerked his head back reflexively.

  He grabbed for his own hat with one hand, trying to hang on to her foot with the other. She teetered and hooked him around the neck with one arm, her breast pressing against his nose and smarting eye. To keep from dropping her, he had no choice but to scoop her up and into his arms.

  Her scent surrounded him—hot woman, sultry perfume. Another surge of adrenaline coursed through him and muscles tightened low in his belly. His eye felt as if it had been slashed with a knife—hell, it might be bleeding—but suddenly a critical part of him felt zero concern for an eye injury.