by Ali Parker
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said, grabbing the lead from the hook on the outside of the stable door and draping it over Duke’s neck. I stepped out of the stable and led him out to pass the lead to Joe, who seemed a little hesitant. “It’s all right. Confidence is key. He’ll follow your lead so long as you show him he can trust you.”
Joe narrowed his eyes at me. “You talk about horses like they’re dogs.”
I shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
“I suppose there isn’t really one.”
“There’s not,” I said. “Duke will be a good animal on your ranch. And hey, if he ever proves too much for you to handle, bring him back here, and I’ll take him off your hands.”
“Sounds good to me,” Joe said, still eyeing the horse a little nervously. Then he looked back at me. “So, you are going to the Doherty’s? Will you be bringing this new lady friend of yours?”
I raked my fingers through my hair and chuckled. “Word sure travels fast in this community.”
“Of course it does. You introduced her to Clarice. What did you expect?”
“Touché.”
“So is that a yes? You’re bringing her?”
I nodded. “Yes, she’ll be coming with me. And her name is Piper.”
“Piper,” Joe said like he was getting a taste for her name. “An odd name, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “So is Kirby.”
“Watch it, kid.” Joe laughed, and his belly shook.
Joe was a weathered man in his mid-fifties with a halo of hair that grew everywhere on his head except on the top. He wore thick-framed glasses straight out of a catalogue from the seventies and was always dressed in torn-up jeans from a long day of work and a navy T-shirt with equally as many holes as the jeans.
He was a friendly guy who I had come to think of as a friend after taking over the ranch after my father’s passing. Joe proved to be someone I could go to when I needed a hand on the ranch or advice, and as the years passed and I became more competent and he became older, I began being able to repay him with labor and some of my specialties, like horse wrangling.
“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting her, for what it’s worth,” Joe said. “Clarice said she’s a sweet young woman. Beautiful too.”
“She is both of those things,” I said.
Joe smiled at me. “I’m happy for you, Wyatt.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Joe. You don’t have all the facts. And she’s only staying with me until the end of the month.”
“Right,” Joe said, his smile still lingering on his lips. “The wife says a month is all it would take for any girl with a good head on her shoulders to fall in love with Wyatt Brewer.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
Joe held his belly and laughed. His wife, Josephine, was as equally a good time as her husband, and she had an uncanny knack for seeing things in people that others often overlooked. Joe clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, Wyatt. I’m confident everything will work out for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
Joe and I left the barn, and Duke followed along behind, his hooves crunching on the dirt road as I walked Joe to the front gate. I opened the gate for him and waved him through. Joe turned back toward me and grinned. “See you and this mysterious Piper on Saturday.”
I nodded. “See you Saturday, Joe. Don’t go spreading any rumors about me leading up to the weekend, all right? I have the sense I’m already going to have a lot of people asking me questions about this.”
Joe chuckled. “That you are, my boy. That you are.”
I watched Joe make his way down the road and closed the gate before turning to head up the drive and toward the house. I slid my hands in my pockets as the sun dipped down over the horizon, painting the sky pink for the five minutes it took me to get to the house. When my boots took the steps up the porch, the sky was already darkening, and right on cue, my stomach growled.
I was famished. I’d spent most of the day working with Duke to make sure he was in tip-top shape before handing him off to Joe. He was a lot of horse, and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t sending him home to wreak havoc on Joe and his family.
My hands were hot from rope burn, and my knees and back ached something fierce. A shower and a nice meal would do the trick to fix me up.
When I stepped into the house, I walked into a wall of glorious smells.
Piper was standing in the kitchen. She had on a pair of skin-tight black leggings and an oversized tee with a wide neck that hung haphazardly off one shoulder. Her hair was drawn up in a messy, curly ponytail, and she smiled over her shoulder at me when she heard me come in the house.
“Hi there,” she said, returning her gaze to whatever she was cooking in a pan on the stove. “Did everything go well with Mr. Kirby?”
“Good,” I said, walking through the kitchen to stand behind her. I put my hands on her hips. She leaned into my chest, and I rested my chin on top of her head and gazed down at the stove, where there were vegetables simmering in a pan and cuts of steak frying beside them. There was a pot full of steaming mashed potatoes and another pot bubbling with gravy. “You spoil me, Piper.”
“You had a long day. I wanted you to have a homecooked meal to sit down to at the end of it.”
I squeezed her hips. “Do I have time for a shower?”
“Of course. Take your time.”
“I’ll be quick,” I said, pressing my lips to her cheek for a quick kiss. “I want to get back down here to you as soon as possible. And I have a little something for you.”
“Oh? What is it?”
I chuckled and slipped out of the kitchen. “You’ll see.”
Her laughter followed me up the stairs, and I had my shirt off before my foot took the final step at the top. I went straight into my bathroom and turned on the shower. I did not take my time like Piper suggested. I made sure I was squeaky clean, dried off, and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt.
Then I joined Piper back downstairs in the kitchen. My hair was still wet, and my feet were bare, and in my hands, I carried a long box that I had picked up when I ran into town the other day to run some errands. I put the box down on the island and patted it.
Piper looked back at me and turned from the stove, pressing her hip to the counter as her gaze flicked toward the box. “What do you have there?”
“Open it and find out,” I said.
Piper gave me a curious smile, turned down the elements on the stove, and padded over to the island. She was barefoot too, and her toes were painted bright pink. She picked up the box and, like a gleeful child on Christmas morning, gave it a little shake. The tissue paper inside rustled, but the box was a perfect fit for the contents, which barely moved at all.
She frowned.
“Just open it.” I laughed.
She gave in and set the box back down before lifting the lid. A piece of royal-blue tissue was draped over the top. She pulled it out of the way and then gasped as she stared down at the dress inside. “Wyatt,” she breathed, reaching out and running her hand over the neckline of a black lace dress.
“Take it out,” I said softly.
Piper picked the dress up by the shoulders and gently lifted it out of the box. The skirt unfolded down to the floor, and she held it at arm’s length to admire it.
“I saw it in a shop window when I was in town the other day,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “I thought of you as soon as I saw it, and I thought you might like to wear it to the party at the Doherty ranch on Saturday.”
Piper nodded, but no words came out of her. The dress was pinched between her fingertips and nearly touched the floor. It was a fit and flare fit—at least, that was what the saleswoman had told me when I asked her to take it off the mannequin in the window. It was head to toe black lace with an open back and a plunging neckline.
“I figured you liked black lace?” I asked, a little unsure if I’
d missed the mark with this or not.
She nodded. “I love it. It’s absolutely beautiful.”
“You’re sure? If it’s not your taste, we can go back and find something else that—”
“Wyatt,” Piper said, cutting me off as she gently folded the dress back into the box. She turned toward me and put a hand on my chest. “I can’t wait to wear it. Thank you.”
I stared down into her dark brown eyes. She was so close I could have counted the freckles on her nose.
I cupped her cheek. “You’re welcome.”
Piper’s eyes fluttered closed as I leaned in and kissed her.
Chapter 18
Piper
Wyatt placed a hand at the base of my throat. His touch was light. Soothing. Safe.
My heart skipped a beat in response, and I leaned deeper into him as the hand on my throat moved to cup the back of my neck. He held me in place as his tongue slipped between my lips and explored my mouth. He tasted like spearmint toothpaste.
His breath was warm on my cheek as he turned me around so that my back was toward the island. He picked me up and set me down upon it like I weighed little more than a bag of flour, and then he pushed my knees apart to take the space between them. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held him there right where I wanted, while he worked my shirt off over my head.
All I had on underneath was a strappy little sports bra. I had intended on changing before dinner, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. At this rate, we were going to eat dinner naked.
I had no complaints about that.
As soon as my shirt passed between our lips, Wyatt was back devouring me with kisses. A soft sound in the back of his throat made my skin burn, and I hooked an arm around his neck to draw him even closer to me. I pressed my breasts against his chest, and he ran his free hand up my thigh and around my hip. Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my leggings.
Soon, he was shimmying me out of them. I gripped the counter and lifted my ass up to sit back down with a small gasp.
Wyatt chuckled.
“The counter is cold,” I whispered.
“You’ll forget all about it soon enough.”
“Is that a promise?”
Wyatt grinned wickedly, which pressed dimples into his cheeks, and I giggled before he descended upon me with more ravenous kisses that set my soul on fire. Then he braced himself on the counter on either side of me. “We may want to turn the burners on the stove all the way down.”
I went to get off the counter, but he pointed a finger at me.
“You stay right where you are, Piper James.”
I bit my bottom lip and watched, my cheeks burning, as he turned off the elements on the stove. I loved the way the thin fabric of his T-shirt was stretched tight over his shoulder blades and then fell loose down the rest of his back. The hem landed just above the top of the back pockets of his jeans, and I had to say, the man had an ass to write home about.
Wyatt faced me again. He took the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. I soaked in the sight in slow motion. The first thing I saw was the deep cut of his hip bones and the few veins rising up his lower stomach like vines from under the waistband of his jeans. A dark line of hair reached up to his navel, which was surrounded by abs of steel.
It was not an exaggeration. The man was strong as hell. His life of hard work had served his body well. Everything was tight and firm and swollen. His tanned skin rippled when he tossed his shirt aside, rolled his shoulders, and set his blazing stare on me.
I nearly stopped breathing. As it was, my breath hitched in my throat, and my heart fluttered, and my stomach flipped over as a knot tightened below my belly.
And then, just like that, my panties were very, very wet.
I swallowed as he walked toward me. He stopped at my knees and popped his jeans open. He did not pull them down. Instead, he left them undone, put his hands on my knees, and roughly pushed them apart.
I gasped and then giggled at my own expense.
Wyatt grinned and pulled my panties to the side before tugging me to the very edge of the counter. I leaned back on my elbows to stop myself from sliding off, and he braced himself above me with one hand between my legs and the other flat on the counter.
The anticipation was killing me. I needed him.
The fact that I was going to lose him in a little less than two weeks’ time was weighing heavily on me, and it was moments like these that helped me forget I was leaving. Even if they were fleeting, they were still precious, and they were the times where I could be completely present in the moment. The delicious, toe-curling, spine-arching moment.
Wyatt touched me. He slid one finger up my wet pussy and back down, tracing my opening with deliberate slowness. I trembled at his touch and stared down between my legs to watch him work. He had a way of making me feel like I was floating. No other man had taken such good care of me sexually before. It was like he knew all the little tricks to pull and when.
I licked my lips and looked back up at him.
He was watching me. His expression was hard with lust, and his jaw was tight, but when he eased a finger inside me, he relaxed, and so did I. I let myself lay back on the counter and stared up at the pot lights in the kitchen ceiling.
I moaned as he worked his finger in and out of my pussy. My body was ready for him. I’d been ready all day. Throughout the course of the day’s chores, all I’d been thinking about was having Wyatt inside me. Every look we shared, every smile, and every word reminded me that I was getting closer and closer to having him. And now, here we were.
“Your pussy is so wet,” Wyatt growled, giving me another finger.
I tightened my grip on the counter and sighed as he filled me up. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” I could barely get the words out as he curled his fingers up toward my G-spot and gently began massaging it. “That feels so good.”
I lifted my legs, and Wyatt pushed my right knee up, bracing it against his shoulder. Excitement rolled through me. This was how he always made me come. I bit my bottom lip and stared into his eyes as he leaned over me, forcing my leg up even higher.
“Are you ready, baby?” he purred.
I nodded.
Oh God yes, I’m ready.
Wyatt changed up the movements inside my pussy. He flexed his fingers and pushed down before returning to push upward, and then he fucked me hard and fast with come-hither movements that had me seeing stars as my climax approached in seconds.
“Come hard for me, Piper,” Wyatt said, leaning in so he could whisper in my ear. “Come all over my hand.”
My body took the reins. My orgasm was powerful, and it pushed a cry of euphoria from my lips as all my muscles spasmed and tightened. My pussy gushed, and Wyatt let out a low moan of straight-up man goodness and kissed my knee while continuing to work me over. I shook and quivered and gasped for breath beneath him until he relented, slowed down, and ran his fingers gently over my tingling clit.
“How was that?” he asked, a cocky grin playing across his lips.
I still had not caught my breath, so I merely nodded eagerly and closed my eyes.
He chuckled and patted my pussy before letting me lower my leg. “Good girl.”
Wyatt pulled me off the counter and set me down. My knees nearly buckled, and he held me up with an arm around my waist. His other hand moved up to my chin, which he lifted with two fingers. “There are a lot of things I’m going to miss about you when you’re gone, Piper James. But the sound you make when you come…” He trailed off and made a deep sound of satisfaction in the back of his throat. I felt it rumble in his chest, and my legs almost went out from under me again. “It’s going to haunt me in my dreams.”
I felt the same way about him, about his laugh, and about the sound he’d just made, all deep and gravelly and manly. I ran my hands over his broad, thick chest. “I hope I treat you well in those dreams.”
Wyatt kissed the tip of my nose. “You always treat me
well, Piper. Now, turn around. I want to hear that sound again. And again. I don’t want you to be able to walk straight in the morning.”
“But we have chores—”
He spun me around and pushed me forward, forcing me to bend over the counter and brace myself on my elbows. I let out a soft giggle, and he used his knee to push my legs apart. Then he spanked my ass.
I yelped in surprise, giggled again, and pressed my forehead to the cool countertop as my cheeks flared pink. He spanked me again. White-hot desire tore through me and gathered at my center. I lifted up to the tips of my toes in invitation, and Wyatt read all the signs like an expert and ran his hand between my legs before easing two thick digits back inside me.
I moaned as he started fucking me. Then he leaned over me and pressed his lips to my shoulder blade. He trailed his kisses across my back and down my spine, and all the while, his fingers moved in and out of me. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of his soft kisses, my breathless sighs, and the wet sounds of him fucking me.
I came again in less than a minute.
Wyatt spanked me one more time. “Stay where you are.”
I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. My right thigh was twitching through spasm after spasm, and I feared if I didn’t have the counter for support, I would fall over.
I didn’t know where he got it from, but when I looked over my shoulder, Wyatt was rolling on a condom. His pants were down around his knees, and his eyes were fixed on his prize, my pulsing, swollen, pink pussy.
He stepped toward me.
I watched his face as he entered me. The hard lines of his jaw and stare softened, and he moaned softly and gave me all of him in his first stroke. I sighed and rested my cheek on the cool counter as he filled me up and worked himself in and out.
It didn’t take long for him to quicken his pace. I moaned when he grabbed my ponytail and lifted my head back. I found myself staring up at the ceiling, and he pulled harder, forcing my head back farther so that I was looking up at him. Then he lifted my left leg and rested it on the counter.
