by Bliss Brant
“I’m sorry, Priss,” he said, caressing her ass with one hand. “Forgive me for being selfish. It’s been a long time. Let me make it up to you.”
It had definitely been longer for her, and she wanted to ask how long for him, but he tipped up her chin and seized her mouth. Priscilla clung to him, wanting him to satisfy the need building in her, something her husband had never wanted or been able to do. He deepened the kiss, distracting her from anything except the pleasure his skilled lips gave.
Her stomach flipped upside down. Her eyes closed, and she released a long sigh. Then she lied to herself…again. Tonight would be enough.
Warm fingers caressed her breasts, lifting and reshaping, and she realized he had her gown down around her waist.
“Damn, Priss.” He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it drove her mad, cranking her desire tighter, causing her pussy to spasm with the need to be filled.
With a sense of desperation, Priscilla pulled his head to her breast. She arched and growled, clamping her mouth shut on the sound as his tongue circled her nipple. He drew hard on the sensitive nub. She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his biceps, wrapping her legs around his hips as he seated himself deep. He filled her like no one else could, and she relished the burn as her walls stretched to accommodate his length. She wanted more.
He almost withdrew, then sank slowly back into her.
She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out at the exquisite torture. Her breath caught as all the frustration and desire coalesced together and carried her higher, then tossed her about on blissful waves of ecstasy.
His strokes lengthened, and he pistoned faster, setting off a series of aftershocks that had her keening. He kissed her bare shoulder, then bit hard as he came inside her. He brushed his fingers along her jaw and captured her lips in a long kiss, his tongue becoming reacquainted with her mouth as his hand dipped to once more claim her breast. His thumb rolled her rigid nipple in circles, stirring the embers of desire.
Finally, he raised his head to look at her. “Nobody smells or tastes as good as you, Priss. Nobody.”
She hadn’t expected things to take this path, thought she could be with him once more then watch him walk out of her life. She’d been a stupid fool. But she had no other choice.
Priscilla pushed against his chest. “Let me down.”
“Once was never enough. I want you again.”
“Please, Quinn.”
His brows flattened. “What’s wrong?”
“The tree, it’s hurting my back.” She couldn’t afford to mess around anymore. Not with Quinn. Too much rode on his answer. Better to let him leave thinking the worst of her. Nothing new there.
As he stepped back from the tree, he held her against him, sliding her down the length of his body until her feet touched the ground. His hands settled on her hips, holding her in place. “All right, Priss. You asked for my help. Well, I’m here. You’ve had your fuck so, what the hell is going on?”
“I hate that name.” She yanked the top of her gown back in place to bolster her courage, drawing on his anger not to fall back into his arms. While not quite completely hard, his dick bobbed in front of her. He could easily have gone another time…or two.
She swallowed and met his gaze. “Would you put some clothes on first?”
He stared at her, his lips thinning. “You used to like seeing me naked.”
She had, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “No, you always wanted me to look at you naked. There’s a difference.”
He grunted. “Where’s the tux?”
Priscilla retrieved the duffel bag she’d hidden under the bench and handed it to him. “I hope everything fits. I didn’t know if or how much you’d changed over the years.”
He stilled and watched her. “Am I different?”
She licked her lips, suddenly uncomfortable under the intensity of his dark gaze. She couldn’t afford for him to start asking questions. He’d see right through her lies. “There are a few lines around your eyes, and you’re much darker than before. Otherwise, you’re the same.”
He lifted a brow, unzipped the bag, dumped the clothes on the seat by the tree, and proceeded to dress in front of her. He’d always loved to embarrass her, which hadn’t taken much back then. Now, she watched his every move as he drew on and buttoned the shirt and slid his long legs into the pants. Her body still hummed from her orgasm, but even clothed, her pussy ached with the need to have him again.
She longed to confide how much she’d missed him, how sorry she was for hurting him. But she couldn’t. Everything hinged on him leaving and never contacting her again or coming back.
What if she’d been wrong to send him the ticket? No. She couldn’t consider that. Too much depended on Quinn. He was the only one she trusted to pull off her plan.
Chapter Two
Quinn led Priss through the twists and turns of the garden until they reached the castle’s terrace. “As much as I’d like to hear why you brought me here, it’s been a hell of a long day. I need a drink and something to eat before we talk.”
He pulled at the tie choking him and worked one finger into the neck of the shirt. While everything fit as though it had been made for him, it was too tight in too many places to suit him. He much preferred running naked across the Texas plain, dodging an occasional snake or prickly pear cactus. If he had to wear clothes, a pair of well-worn jeans and a soft T-shirt suited him just fine. “It’s sure warm for late October.”
“It’s the humidity,” Priss said. “It’s really bad this week in New Orleans.”
“I think it’s worse here than in Houston, which I’ve always thought was terrible.” He opened the French doors and stopped her from entering with a hand on her arm. “You might want to wait out here. I don’t want you getting into trouble if your dad sees us together.
“Do you honestly think he hasn’t already heard all about me dragging the naked man outside? Come on. We’ll be careful and avoid him. It’ll be fun.” She offered him a smile that lit up her face before she slipped inside.
Careful? When had he ever been careful, especially with Priss? Not a single instance came to mind. He’d grown up with a drunken father he blatantly taunted to take the brunt of his anger, instead of watching it directed at his mom. Whenever others made wisecracks about his worthless dad, he became the aggressor. He’d had a scrapper reputation, earned or not, by the time he went through his first change. After his mother died, he hadn’t cared about anything or anyone. Until Priss.
Only now did he realize he hadn’t treated her with the care he should have. Like so many other things in his life, he hadn’t appreciated or deserved her.
He shook his head and followed her along the outer edge of the gold ballroom to the other side where people had entered but not yet started dancing. When she disappeared between two large gilded columns, he hesitated before stepping into the long hallway. People stood in small clusters to talk while others chose to sit in white satin chairs that lined both walls. A momentary flash of red caught his eye from the direction Priss had disappeared as he snagged an item from the tray of a passing waiter. He looked at the small cracker with a blob of what he guessed was caviar in the center. Damned fish eggs.
Another waiter passed, and Quinn stopped him. “Where can I get some food, real food. Meat. Not this fancy crap.”
“In the blue room, sir.”
Quinn tossed the unwanted cracker on the guy’s tray and took off in the direction he’d last seen Priss. If he had to throw her over his shoulder, he intended to find the blue room, wherever the hell that was.
Just when he was about to yell her name, Quinn saw long, blonde curls bobbing as Priss jumped up and down. Every time her head appeared above the crowd, she faced a different direction…looking for him. He hurried toward her.
“Good thing you’re tall, otherwise, I’d never find you.” She caught his hand. “This way.”
He didn’t budge. “Where’s the blue ro
om?”
“The blue room?”
“Yeah. I’m told there’s real food there.”
“Quinn, there’s food everywhere.” She threw her hands up. “What is it you want?”
“How about a turkey leg and a beer?”
She hurried farther down the hallway, turning once they’d reached the fifth and smaller door than the others.
He inhaled. Meat. He pushed his way through the crowd, strode past large containers of gumbo, red beans and rice, and crawfish étouffée. A servant cut small squares of meat, placed them on a tray and stuck festive toothpicks in them. Quinn snagged a turkey leg from the large platter of meat yet to be carved. He backed into a corner to devour it. Priss stood beside him with a plate of cheese and crackers.
“Blue walls. Go figure.” He scanned the room. Huge hunting scenes were portrayed on every wall, two pictures deep in some places. Colorful tiles formed designs on the floor. He stared. “No matter which way I look, I can’t figure the intended pattern.”
She chuckled. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be anything in particular. Just swirls and lines.”
The ceiling had blue, brown, and gold designs painted into four triangular shapes. It made him dizzy trying to figure it out. The center of each section stretched in a high arch to the top of each wall, with the two opposite bottom tips plunging halfway to the floor in the corners. The uppermost tips of the four partitions came together in the center to form a point, where a much less grand chandelier hung. “I think whoever did the ceiling was drunk. All this is too gaudy for my taste.”
“Champagne, sir.” A waiter held a tray with delicate, half-filled flutes.
Quinn was afraid to hold one for fear of snapping it in half. “Could you get me a beer?”
“A beer, sir?”
“Yeah. In a large mug.” Quinn discarded the mostly eaten turkey leg onto the silver platter.
The man glanced at the almost clean bone. “Very well, sir.”
Quinn bent his head toward Priss. “Do folks around here not drink beer?”
“Not in public. Beer is considered a low-income, working man’s drink. Nobody will ask for it at a gathering of this nature. You see, champagne makes everyone believe they’re on the same level as the accepted few.”
“Well, that’s stupid. Why not drink what you want, regardless of what others think?”
“I agree.”
He stared at her in surprise. She always used to worry. Had she changed that much?
A moment later, the stiff-backed waiter paused before them and sniffed. “Your beer, sir.”
“Thanks.” Quinn caught the frozen mug and lifted it in salute. “Only thing better than an ice cold beer is water in January out of the creek back home.”
Priss laughed and clamped a hand over her mouth.
The sound warmed him down to his toes, and he smiled.
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. It’s just you make me see how fake these people all are, pretending to be something they’re not. You’ve never worried what others thought, not then or now. I admire that. I’d give anything not to care.”
There had been so many things he hadn’t done for her, things he now regretted. But loosening her up so that she didn’t stress over what others thought was something he could do. “Waiter, a beer for the lady!”
****
The first beer made Priscilla grimace at its bitter taste. Thankfully, the second went down easier. While it wouldn’t have been her beverage of choice, she had to drink them after the trouble Quinn had gone to convincing the waiter she really wanted a brew. Each swallow caused her inhibitions to unravel and fall away. Now, she wanted little more than to be in his arms and have his lips on hers. The very thought warmed her. Or was it the beer?
“The look on the server’s face when you accepted that mug was priceless.” Quinn laughed.
The sound vibrated low in her stomach, sending swelling waves of need straight to her core. She tried to place the heavy glass on a nearby table and giggled at her uncoordinated attempts. “Dance with me.”
“Jesus, Priss.” He shook his head, then took her empty mug and deposited it effortlessly on the tray of a passing waiter. “I’ve got two left feet.”
“I don’t care. We never danced…you know…before. I want to know what it would’ve been like.” She didn’t care if they just stood still, so long as she was in his arms. She wished they could go back to the way things had been. She pushed the thought away. Wishing did no good. Not for her. They had tonight. That would have to be enough.
He tipped his head, his throat working as he finished his drink and settled the empty mug on the table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Deal.” As long as he held her, she didn’t care about the rest.
He held out his palm. When she took it, his callused fingers curled, capturing her hand. Contentment filled her as they weaved through the crush of people to the other side of the room, and she released a long sigh. When her father appeared in the doorway, they both did a quick side step into the center of a cluster of people.
She snuck a peek around a fat man’s wiggling jowls and watched her father move to the back of the room. She motioned for Quinn to go and followed him through the hallway and into the gold ballroom.
He led her to the center of the floor under the huge chandelier where other couples swayed to a waltz, including Darcy and a tall, dark hunk. Priscilla gave her friend a thumbs up before twirling dancers blocked her view of the pair.
Turning her attention to Quinn, she stepped against him and looped her arms around his neck. He tugged her closer, then settled his palms low on her spine. When they began to move to the music, his chin rested on the top of her head.
There were so many things about him she didn’t know, things she had wondered about during the long, lonely years of her marriage, things she desperately needed to know. The private investigator had found very little on Quinn other than he’d purchased land in Travis County eight years ago and raised cattle. “Tell me about your home.”
He sighed, stirring the hair at her temple with his warm breath. “At night, there’s not a sound for miles, except the buzzing of the cicada or the sounds of cattle. It drives Buck crazy at times, but I like the silence. It’s peaceful.”
“How much land do you have?” She leaned back to look up at him. Quinn hadn’t been ambitious or a hard worker, but back then, it hadn’t mattered.
“Five hundred acres. I raise Herefords.”
She couldn’t imagine him on horseback, herding cattle. He’d always shied away from responsibility. But his kisses had convinced her it wasn’t important. “Is it safe for shifters at your ranch?”
“I hadn’t really thought about that, but yeah, I think so.” He chuckled. “It’s funny how it all came about. After I left Jasper, I made my way hitchhiking across Texas with no particular place in mind. Nothing ever appealed to me, so I kept moving. After about four years, I stopped at a rundown bar for a cold beer. This old codger approached me and asked if I needed work. I said I did, and he drove me to the ranch. Turns out he was the foreman there, had been for a lot of years. The owner had just died, and Buck was trying to find someone to buy the place who’d keep him on.”
“So, you bought it.” She shivered at his touch and doubted he realized his hands stroked her back.
He snorted. “It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. I didn’t have a penny to my name. But Buck needed help and convinced me to stay until I earned enough money to move on. I learned the ropes and discovered I had a natural ability with livestock. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged.”
His erection nudged against her stomach, and one of his legs had somehow ended up between hers. His thigh rubbed against her swollen clit. Her pussy clenched. She was wet and ready. She wanted to drag him outside again but needed to know more about his ranch, to make sure it was safe. “How did you end up buying it?”
“Well, the foreman talked to the owner’s widow wh
o’d moved to Austin to be near her children. Next thing I knew, I had signed a lease-to-own contract. One day I didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, and the next I had a house, land, two hundred head of cattle, and an ornery foreman who wouldn’t leave.”
“I can tell by your voice that you like what you do.” She very much liked what he was doing. The brush of his chest against her breasts had her nipples hard and jutting out.
“What’s not to like? I ride the range every day. For the most part, cattle take care of themselves. Sometimes, they have to be medicated or moved from one pasture to another, but they’re hearty and don’t require a lot of care. Good thing since the herd has doubled in size since I bought the place. It can get pretty crazy at calving time in the spring. Then I need six more of me. But I’ve got Buck, who is a huge help.”
She didn’t care that people surrounded them. He had introduced her to sex years ago, encouraged her to indulge her cravings. Since then, her desire to be with any other man had withered. Quinn’s nearness had her passion simmering again, almost to the boiling point. If she asked, would he take her while they danced? “Buck’s the old man?”
“Yeah. I’d never have made it without him, especially in the beginning. By all rights, he should own the ranch. From what I’ve been able to gather, he had a spread once. His young son was trampled when the herd spooked. His wife blamed him and took off. Now, he’s content to work for others.”
“He works for you now?”
“We work together. I was so green when he took me under his wing, I’m surprised he didn’t boot me off the place. I owe him a debt I can never repay. He’s the only real friend I have. Oddly enough, he’s human.”
“Human?” She swayed to the music, using it as an excuse to brush her breasts against his chest again. “Aren’t you worried, he’ll find out about you?”
“He knows, has known almost from the beginning.”
She frowned when the music stopped, not ready to leave the warmth of his arms. But she still hadn’t learned what she really needed to know. Was his ranch safe? “Weren’t you worried he’d be afraid and try to kill you?”
