Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  Shifting onto his stomach, he positioned his mouth so he could lick the length of my pussy. I shut my eyes and let the pleasure consume me. His hands gripped my legs, and his lips and tongue brought me to orgasm faster than they ever had. I screamed out his name and fought against the tape that was restraining me.

  I need to touch him.

  “Don’t fight it, baby,” he whispered as he moved and brought his face to mine.

  I opened my eyes and stared into his. Oh god, I loved this man. “Undo me, Kick, I want to touch you . . .”

  I hadn’t expected him to listen to me, but he moved off the bed, grabbed his knife from the drawer and came back to free me. However, he didn’t have plans for me to touch him. He grabbed hold of me and pulled me to him. Then he moved a pillow down the bed and flipped me so my belly was lying over the pillow with my ass slightly raised. He took hold of both my hands and stretched my arms out on the bed above me while he lay over the top of me. Pressing my hands into the bed, he grunted as he slammed his cock into me.

  Hard.

  Rough.

  Yes.

  He pulled out and thrust back in. “Fuck,” he growled against my ear sending even more pleasure through me. I loved hearing his need escape from his lips.

  The room was silent around us except for the feral sounds of Kick fucking me. Bodies slamming together, breaths coming hard and fast, grunts as we both reached for our release, and, finally, the roar as we orgasmed.

  Kick collapsed on top of me and I didn’t even care that his weight was almost crushing me. I was lost in the pleasure he’d just given me. Eventually, he did move off me to lie next to me. He pulled me against his body, positioning me so my head was resting on his chest.

  We were silent for a few minutes until he said, “Promise me we’ll still be fucking like that when we’re sixty.”

  I laughed and lifted my head to look up at him. “If I know you as well as I think I know you, we’ll still be fucking like that when we’re ninety.”

  Grinning at me, he nodded. “I reckon you might be right there, sweetheart.”

  I moved so I was sitting next to him. My fingers traced a lazy pattern on his chest and my eyes met his. Smiling, I whispered, “I can only see one thing slowing us down.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “The kids we’re going to have.”

  He sat up, the look on his face changing. Staring at me with a look of amazement, he asked, “Are you about to tell me what I think you’re about to tell me?”

  I nodded, a wash of emotion taking over me. “Yes. You’re going to be a daddy.”

  His eyes widened and a huge grin filled his face. And then he practically crushed me to the bed and kissed me. He kissed me for an eternity, and when he’d finished, he looked down at me through eyes that couldn’t hide his love even if he tried, and said, “I love you, Evie Hanson.”

  I looped my arms around his neck, and said, “Not as much as I love you, Kick Hanson.”

  He chuckled. “You might think you wear the pants in this relationship, sweetheart, but I’m telling you now, if we have a daughter, I’m the boss of her. And that’s a ‘we clear’ statement.”

  I laughed. “Oh God, I hope we have a girl. Kick Hanson scaring off boys . . . I want to watch that.”

  He groaned, a look of pure pain flashing across his face. “Fuck, that’s gonna be worse than dealing with men watching you.”

  As I watched my man declare his love for me in more ways than one, I realised how happy I was.

  Finally.

  We’d been through so much and we’d fought so hard for this over the years. And we’d finally done it. We’d created our own family, and this family would always love and protect its own.

  Always.

  About The Author

  Nina Levine is an Aussie writer who writes stories about alpha men and the strong, independent women they love.

  When she isn’t creating with words, she loves to create with paint and paper. Often though, she can be found curled up with a good book and some chocolate.

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  Make Mine A Cowboy, Cowboy Dreamin’ 1

  by

  Sandy Sullivan

  Dedication

  For the cowboy lover is all of us!

  Chapter One

  “No, no, no, no!” Mesa Arraguso banged on the steering wheel of her rental car with both fists. The gas gauge read E. “I can’t be out of gas! I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere.” The sting of heat from the leather burned her fingertips. The stifling warmth rose exponentially inside the car without the air conditioning running. It was, after all, the middle of May in Bandera, Texas.

  A rumble of thunder broke the stillness as she contemplated what to do. She’d taken a drive to clear her head and jumpstart her muse for her next book, not end up on the side of the road, out of gas, with no houses within several miles.

  This was cowboy country. Hill Country in Texas boasted some of the biggest longhorn cattle spreads in the state. Several cattle mooed in the distance but she couldn’t tell how close a house might be. At least cattle meant humans…somewhere.

  Large banks of dark clouds continued to roll across the sky. Several huge raindrops hit her windshield with a loud splat before the sky opened up in a torrential downpour.

  “Just fucking great. Now fate is going to throw me into a huge thunderstorm. Why? Because I was stupid enough to go for a drive by myself during a writers conference in San Antonio and I ended up out here in the middle of the country. Now, I’m stuck on the side of some dirt road, out of gas, and God only knows how far from the nearest house.”

  Lightning flashed, followed shortly by a loud crash of thunder. Mesa jumped. A shiver raced through her body as her heart clenched in fear. She hated thunderstorms.

  Her cell phone beeped—the ominous sound of no cell phone coverage. Great!

  She glanced out the window and saw water rushing under her car along a gulley she didn’t realize she’d straddled when she stopped. “Shit. Flash flooding? I’m so screwed.”

  As the water began rising rapidly, she realized she needed to get the hell out of her car before it was washed away. In the distance she could make out several larger rocks. “If I can get on top of them, I should be safe from the rush. Of course, that means I’ll be out in the rain getting soaked.” Fear rose, threatening to choke her with the lump in her throat. She rubbed her arms trying to calm the chills while deciding what to do. She really didn’t have much choice. Water ran in rivulets down the windshield. Lightning continued to flash and thunder rolled over the area. She sucked in a large breath as she bit her lip.

  A moment later a tap, tap, tap on her window startled her out of her thoughts. She jumped and screamed as a face appeared near her door. Blue eyes with long lashes stared back beneath a black cowboy hat. Black hair ruffled slightly with the wind.

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You need to get this car out of the water. You’ll be washed away. It’s rising fast.”

  “I can’t. I’m out of gas.”

  “Open the door.”

  “Hell, no. Do I look crazy to you?” she asked, her voice shrill with terror.

  “Trust me. If I were a serial killer, I wouldn’t be out in this shit trying to find women to abduct. I’m going to help you, but you need to get out of the car first before we’re both swept away.”

  Mesa bit her lip. Should she trust him?

  “Ma’am?”

  “All right.” She eased open the door to find the water almost reached the bottom of the car. The cowboy pulled the door the rest of the way as she grabbed her purse.

  “We have to hu
rry,” he said, offering her a hand to help her from the car. “Let me help you. This water is rushing pretty fast.”

  A red horse stood patiently several feet away with its head down, riding out the storm the only way horses knew how. A cowboy on a real horse out here in the middle of nowhere? Surely, it’s safe. I mean serial killers don’t ride horses, right?

  Her tennis shoes were soaked the moment she stepped into the rushing stream, chilling her feet even though the temperature outside today was a balmy ninety degrees. She shivered as the man pulled her from the car, but chalked it up to her cold toes rather than the broad chest, wide shoulders and trim hips of the cowboy in front of her.

  Oompf!

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, setting her back from where she landed against his chest. “Let’s get out of this downpour.” He slammed the car door before he pulled her toward his horse. “You’ll have to ride behind me.”

  “No problem.”

  His ass looked fabulous swinging up into the saddle. What the hell? I’m checking him out like a piece of meat and the man is here saving my butt from drowning.

  “Ma’am?” he asked, holding out his hand so he could help her behind the saddle.

  “Oh, yeah right. Thanks.” She swung up behind him and grabbed his waist like a drowning victim in the middle of a raging surf. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. You need to hang on. I don’t want to dump you off the back.”

  “I’m sorry you’re getting wet because of me.”

  “I was wet before I found you. I’ve been ridin’ fences in between the downpours.”

  The horse sidestepped to the right. A squeal broke from her lips. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, ma’am. I shoulda asked if you were okay on horseback.”

  As the horse continued forward she caught the rhythm of its walk and relaxed into the gait. “My name is Mesa.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mesa is my name. I feel like some fifty-year-old woman with you calling me ma’am.”

  “Sorry. Habit.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mesa. I’m Joel.”

  “Hi, Joel. Do you live around here?” she asked, liking the feel of his firm chest beneath her fingertips until she let them slip down to wrap around his waist. The urge to run her hands along the ridges under his wet shirt overwhelmed her, sending tingles up her arms. She could feel the ripped abdomen beneath her palms.

  “A few miles up the road. My family owns a ranch on the ridge.”

  The man knew his way around horses from the way he sat comfortably in the saddle riding the animal’s gait like he was born to it.

  Well duh, Mesa.

  The rain had moved off, only pelting them now and then with big, fat drops. The smell of wet leather reached her nose and she wrinkled the bridge at the stench. Another smell permeated her senses. Cologne? She slowly inhaled, taking in the scent from his shirt. Damn, he smells good.

  “What are you doin’ out here on this back road?”

  “I took a drive. I’ve been in San Antonio at a conference and I needed to clear my head.”

  He chuckled, a low, dry reverberation that made her sit up and take notice. Her nipples pebbled at the sound, sending frustration down her back. Could he feel the hard nubs rubbing against his solid back? Probably, you dummy. It had been way too long since she’d been with a man if just sitting close to one made her horny. The rear end of a horse wasn’t the place to get hot and bothered.

  The material of her shirt caught against her breasts. The rough fabric of her jeans chafed the inside of her thighs. The seam of her pants rubbed against her clit, turning her insides to mush. Never mind the clean, musky scent of the man squashed against her boobs.

  “What kind of conference were you at?”

  “A romance writer’s conference.”

  “Romance writer?”

  “Yes. I’m an author. I write romance novels.”

  “Oh.”

  She waited for him to ask what type of romance novels she wrote, but he didn’t. Wasn’t he interested? Maybe not. Really, how could she tell him she wrote about guys like him? Westerns. Cowboys. Riding off into the sunset with some hunky cowboy on horseback. It would be totally embarrassing to tell him, so maybe it would be a good thing he didn’t ask. “Where are we headed, by the way?”

  “My parents’ place.” He chuckled again. “We’ll get you some warm, dry clothes to change into. If the car didn’t get washed away, we’ll get you some gas so you can make it back to San Antonio.”

  “Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate you coming to my rescue.”

  “It’s what cowboys do.”

  Oh, hell yeah, they do. Especially in my dreams.

  They continued chatting about mundane things as they plodded along. The constant shift of the horse’s rump made her realize how long it had been since she’d ridden. How far was this place anyway? “Joel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How much farther?”

  “A mile or so.”

  “Hell.”

  “Somethin’ wrong?”

  “I’m gonna feel every step this horse took tomorrow.”

  A deep laugh started beneath her fingers and rumbled up his chest until it burst from his lips. “You are too much, Mesa.”

  “I’m glad I could make your day,” she grumbled, a little put out by his laughter. “I haven’t been on horseback in ages. My thighs are already screaming mercy.” She felt his body quiver from laughter again. “How do you ride all day without dying?”

  “I’m used to it. I ride all day everyday so it doesn't bother me.”

  “You live on a working ranch?”

  “Yep. Longhorns and city folk.”

  “Huh?”

  “We have what most folks call a dude ranch. We let people come and stay on the ranch. Do ranch work, ride horses…you know, play at bein’ a cowboy for a while.”

  “Really? That sounds like fun.”

  “How long are you in town for?”

  “The conference is over in a couple of days.”

  “So you’re flyin’ or drivin’ home afterward?”

  “Flying, yes.”

  He got quiet for several minutes as the horse continued to walk along under his expert guiding hand. “What kind of books do you write?”

  There it was. “Westerns.”

  “Oh yeah? Like cowboys and Indians? Louie L’Amour type stuff?”

  She shook her head and almost unseated herself from the back of the horse. A fistful of his shirt kept her in place. “No. Like cowboys and the love of their lives. I write erotic modern westerns.”

  “Interestin’.”

  The house came into view and she sighed in relief. She’d be able to get off the back of the horse shortly, but it also meant giving up sitting behind Joel and removing her hands from his magnificent chest.

  As they rode into the yard, she could see what appeared to be a main house and several smaller cabins of some sort. She assumed this is where the guests stayed. A large corral sat in the back of the biggest building where several horses stood. A handful of cowboys hung around the front of the tack room.

  One guy stepped forward, taking the reins of the horse as she slid off the left side. “Hey, Joel. Where’d you pick up a rider?”

  “Behave yourselves,” Joel answered, swinging down from his saddle. “This is a lady whose car stalled out near the north pasture line. Mesa, these are some of my brothers, Joseph, Jackson and Josh. Guys, this is Mesa.”

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Joseph said, tipping his hat.

  Wow, twins? “Do you all always call every woman ma’am?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jackson replied. “Our mama would skin our hides if we didn’t.”

  “Well, call me Mesa, please. I feel old when you call me ma’am.”

  “So.” Josh moved closer, taking her hand and slipping it through the crook in his elbow. “How did a beauty like you get stuck with
Joel?”

  “Uh…” she stammered slightly as she blushed from the attention.

  “Enough, Joshua. I’m taking her into the house so Mom can help her into some dry clothes,” Joel said, taking her hand from his brother and capturing it within the warmth of his own. Tingles started in her fingers and worked their way up her arm. She frowned at the sensation. Surely she wasn’t attracted to Joel other than being grateful for his rescue? Why the hell not? I fantasize about cowboys all the time. He’s the finest specimen of a cowboy I’ve ever seen.

  “Don’t mind them, Mesa. They’re all bachelors. When a pretty woman gets within fifty feet of them, they can’t help but drool and act like idiots.”

  He thinks I’m pretty? “Thank you for the compliment.”

  “It’s true. Anyway, let’s get you inside and dry.”

  “You don’t have to do that. My clothes are almost dry now from the heat.”

  “I’m sure you could use something to drink and to at least dry your shoes. I can hear ’em squishing from here.”

  “True.” She laughed as she wiggled her wet shoe. “I would be nice to put them in a dryer along with my socks. I’ll probably get blisters.”

  “Mom will try to feed you too since it’s almost supper time around here.”

  “I hope I’m not taking you from your chores. You said you were checking fences when you found me.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he said as they walked toward the large, house-like structure. “We don’t work on any time schedule.”

  Built out of what appeared to be logs and flagstone, the house boasted three huge dormers, a porch the size of a football field stretching across its front, and huge, wooden doors on the side they were headed toward. Joel held the door as she made her way into the dining room. Several picnic tables lined the huge room. Each one gleamed from the sunlight now pouring in through the big windows. Rough wood paneling lined the walls with a brand burned into several boards—TR with a circle around it. Huh. Interesting. I wonder what it stands for?