Rescue Me lt-3

by Rachel Gibson

  His laughter came out kind of choked. “What’re you planning?” He wasn’t much into bondage.

  “Watch. You’ll see.”

  And he did. He watched her undo his pants and slide them down his thighs. He’d worn a pair of gray boxer briefs and she pressed her hand against him. Against the soft cotton and the hard edge of his erection. She ran her hot mouth all over him. His shoulder and chest. Then she knelt before him and licked his belly. He groaned deep in his throat and fought the urge to tangle his fingers in her hair. To push her face deeper.

  Her teasing fingers brushed his skin as she shoved down his underwear and he sprang free. The hot tip of his erect penis brushed her cheek. “Nice, Vince.”

  “You’re not disappointed?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. He was no porn star but he had more than enough to get the job done.

  “Not yet.” She took him in her hand and looked up at him. “When I’m through, you’re gonna owe me.”

  “Forty cents?” She stroked him in her soft hand and if he’d let himself, he could have come right then. But he had more control than that.

  “At least a buck forty.” She kissed the head of his dick, then licked him like a Popsicle. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand the torture of her slick tongue, she opened her hot, wet mouth and took him inside. She sucked him deep and slid her hand up his shaft. He locked his knees and his head fell back against the door. God, don’t let her stop, he thought as his fingers dug into the door to keep from grabbing her hair. Don’t let her stop even to talk. He didn’t mind dirty talk. Most of the time he liked it, but nothing ruined a BJ like conversation.

  Years of training steadied his breathing. He sucked even breaths into his lungs as she sucked him closer to the edge. She worked him over with her hands and wet velvet mouth, and he tried to prolong the pleasure. Tried to make it last, but she pulled a fierce orgasm from center mass. From his core, that rushed from his body and into her mouth. He groaned long and deep and might have managed to say something as she stayed with him until the end. Then she redressed him and slid back up his body.

  “Worth a buck forty?”

  “A buck forty-five.” He ran his hands up and down her back and bottom. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She kissed the side of his throat as her hands moved over his shoulders and chest. She said something he didn’t quite hear.

  “Pardon?”

  She pulled back and smiled. “Wanna beer?”

  Jesus. A blow and a beer. Most guys would consider that a dream come true, but Vince wasn’t most guys. There was something he liked better. He tugged her shirt over her head and lowered his mouth to hers. He liked oral sex. He liked a face full of cleavage, but it was just foreplay. Fun stuff leading up to the real deal.

  Vince liked intercourse. Any position. He liked the give and take. The hard thrust and the smooth finesses. He was an insertion guy. “No. I have something better than beer in mind.” He slid his hands to her bra clasp.

  Sadie pulled back and looked up into Vince’s green eyes, still drowsy with lust but fully alert. “Don’t you need some recovery time?” All the men she’d ever known needed recovery time.

  “No. I’m good to go.” He slid her bra straps down her arms, then tossed it aside. She’d raced home and changed her underwear. She didn’t have anything sexy, but she wanted to at least match. She’d thrown on a pair of white panties to match her white bra. He didn’t seem to notice and settled her bare breasts against his warm chest. “Do you need recovery time?”

  Her nipples tightened and he grabbed two handfuls of her behind. As if she weighed nothing, he lifted, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Hot, liquid lust pooled between her thighs. Had pooled between her thighs even before she’d pulled his impressive erection from his pants. “I’m good to go.”

  He moved with her through the entry into the dark living room and set her on her feet. He kissed her throat and finished undressing her. His big, warm hands touched her all over as his mouth sucked a soft patch of her throat. Like that night in the bride’s room, she felt herself going fast. This time, she pushed him away and toward her great-grandmother’s settee. “Condom.” She held out her hand.

  “You have a choice.” He put three in her palm. Red, green, or blue.

  “It’ll match your eyes,” she said, and chose the green.

  “You want my dick to match my eyes?”

  She tossed the other one on the sofa and watched him strip. “Call me fashionable.” He took off his boots and socks, and pushed his pants and underwear down his big, powerful thighs. There wasn’t an ounce of fat or inch of loose skin anywhere on his tan body. When he was completely naked, she pushed at his chest until he sat. It wasn’t the most romantic sex of her life, but she wasn’t interested in romance.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  She straddled his lap, and the plush head of his erection brushed her where she needed it most. A shiver worked every cell in her body, and she fought an urge not to go ahead and sit right down on his hot, naked penis. “You said you were good to go.” He certainly looked good to go.

  “I am.”

  “Then I want to go.” She ripped open the condom and together they rolled it down the long, thick shaft.

  He placed a hand on the side of her face and looked into her eyes as he shoved into her. It took a few thrusts and his voice was low and scratchy when he said, “Tight fit.”

  “Mmm.” Her head fell back and she grabbed on to his shoulders. Heat spun through her, starting at the intimate place where they touched.

  “You feel good up there.” Vince slid his hand from her breasts down her sides to her hips. “Look good, too.”

  “Yeah, Vince.” He lifted her, then pushed her back down. “That’s good.”

  “Not a waste of getting naked?”

  “No.” God, was he going to talk all night? Nothing ruined sex faster than conversation. Especially if a guy said something dumb and broke her concentration. And sometimes it took a lot of concentration so the events of the day didn’t pop into her head.

  She rocked her hips and created some fiery friction. He groaned deep in his throat and slid in and out. He was big and powerful and plunged deep. Apparently he wasn’t going to be one of those guys and she didn’t have to try and concentrate on what he did to her. She was in the moment. Consumed by it. The house could have caught fire, and she wouldn’t have noticed as she rode him like one of her daddy’s prized stallions. Racing, long and hard, over and over forever, until the second she tumbled headfirst into a fierce, torrid orgasm that scrambled her brain. It went on out of control, controlling her, as he thrust into her again and again. Just as it began to let her go, he pushed down on her thighs and held her there with his big, strong hands.

  “Hooyah,” he groaned deep in his throat. She leaned forward and lightly bit his shoulder. Some people were silent when they orgasmed. Some praised God, while others yelled the F-word. She’d never heard “hooyah” before.

  Sadie sliced a flaky croissant, then set it on the cutting board on the kitchen counter. “Do you want avocado on your sandwich?”

  “Sounds good.” Vince shook water from several pieces of lettuce, then set them on the counter beside the board.

  She was dressed in her T-shirt and panties. He, in his cargo pants. After their workout, they’d worked up an appetite. “The man food is out in the cookhouse,” she said as she spread mayonnaise on the croissants. “Carolynn would never feed the guys croissants.”

  “Who’s Carolynn?” He tore off a paper towel and dried his hands.

  “Carolynn is the ranch cook.” She filled the croissants with turkey and lettuce and avocado. “She cooks two meals a day for all the hands. A big huge breakfast and a big dinner. Her sister Clara Anne does the housekeeping here and in the bunkhouse.” She moved to the refrigerator and opened it. Cool air touched her bare thighs and she bent forward and grabbed dill pickles, a jar of pepperoncini, and sliced cheese. Since she’d been
back, the sisters had kept the house refrigerator and pantry stocked with the sandwich stuff for her. “I think the sisters have been here about thirty years.” She shut the door and turned.

  He stood in the middle of the room, his head cocked to one side and eyes on her butt.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He grinned like he’d been caught doing something but wasn’t sorry. “How many men stay in your bunkhouse?”

  She shrugged and tossed him the cheese. He caught it and followed her to the counter. “I don’t really know.” She set the jars on the counter and grabbed her mama’s china plates from overhead. “When I was growing up there were probably fifteen. Now I think most of the people who work at the JH live in town.” She stuffed the sandwiches with Swiss and pepperoncini. “Are you worried that one of my daddy’s men might bust in here and kick your ass for messin’ with the boss’s daughter?”

  He chuckled and she looked across her shoulder at him, all big and buff and bad. “No. I just wonder how safe it is for a woman out here all alone.”

  “Are you going to do something?”

  “Other than what I’ve already done?”

  She laughed. “I like what you’ve done. Should I worry you’re going to do something I won’t like?”

  “I have a few positions I want to put you in, but I guarantee you’ll like ’em.”

  “Do I need my stun gun just in case?”

  He raised one brow up his forehead and set the cheese on the counter. “I didn’t believe you the last time you threatened me with your make-believe stun gun.”

  She smiled but didn’t admit anything as she pointed to the pantry. “Grab some chips, please.” She set the croissants and a pickle on the blue Wedgwood. When he returned, she arranged the Lay’s on the plate. “Water, beer, or sweet tea?”

  “Water.”

  She poured a glass of tea and one of filtered water, and then together they carried the plates and glasses into the formal dining room. She set the table with her mother’s best linen placemats and napkins. “We never really eat in here except for Christmas and Thanksgiving.”

  “Kind of fancy.”

  She looked around at the heavy mahogany furniture and damask draping. Company always ate in the dining room on the good china. It was a rule her mama had drilled into her head. Like chewing with your mouth closed and showing “uglies.”

  He picked up a chip. “Where do you eat?”

  She placed her napkin on her lap. “Growing up, I always ate in the cookhouse or in the small breakfast nook in the kitchen.” She took a bite of her sandwich, then swallowed. “I’m an only child, and after my mama died, it was always just me and Daddy.” She took a drink of her tea. “It just made sense that we ate in the bunkhouse so Carolynn didn’t have to run back and forth.”

  “How old were you when your mother died?” He took a big bite of his croissant.

  “Five.”

  “Mmm.” He took another bite and chewed. “This is really good, Sadie,” he said after he swallowed. “I’m not usually a croissant kind of guy.”

  “Thanks. Sandwiches are easy. Seven-course meals are tough.”

  He reached for his water and paused with it before his mouth. “You can cook seven-course meals?”

  “It’s been a while, but yeah. Along with manners and charm, and all the many, many classes I’ve taken in my life, I’ve taken a few cooking classes.” She took a bite of her light, flaky sandwich. The turkey, avocado, and pepperoncini a perfect complement of tastes. “My mother was a fabulous cook and a stickler for manners. Not that I really remember. My daddy tried to raise me like he thought she would. Of course he often forgot.”

  He took a drink and set the glass on the table. “Are you like her?”

  “She was Miss Texas and came really close to winning Miss America.” Sadie popped a salty chip into her mouth and crunched. That’s what she loved about Lay’s: the salty crunch. Of course, Chee-tos were the best snack ever. “Mama was really beautiful and could sing.”

  “Can you sing?”

  “Only if I want to piss people off.”

  He chuckled. “Then you must look like her.” He took two more bites.

  Was that a compliment? Was she really going to blush? “I don’t know. People say I do, but I have my daddy’s eyes.” She took her own bite and chewed.

  “Were you a beauty queen, too?”

  She shook her head and reached for her tea. “I have a few sashes and trophies, but no. I have a hard time walking and waving at the same time.” She took a drink. “Queening is hard work.”

  He laughed.

  “It is.” She smiled. “You try singing, dancing, and sparkling and shining all at the same time. You think being a SEAL is tough? You think terrorists are hard-core? Piece of cake compared to the pageant circuit. Some of those pageant moms are brutal.” Somewhere in her manners book there was a rule about talking about yourself too much. Besides, she wanted to know more about him. “Why did you join the Navy SEALs?”

  “Blowing up stuff and shooting guns for Uncle Sam sounded fun.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yeah.” He shoved some chips into his mouth and reached for his water. He obviously wasn’t much of a talker. At least not about himself. That was all right. One of the reasons she was such a successful real estate agent was that she got people to trust her enough to talk about anything. Sometimes about stuff she didn’t care to know. Like bodily functions and strange behaviors. “Don’t SEALs have to swim a lot?”

  “Yeah.” He took a drink, then offered, “We train in the surf, but in the current conflict the teams spend most of the time on land.”

  “I’m not a great swimmer. I prefer to watch the tides from the beach.”

  “I love the water. When I was a kid, I spent most of my summers in a lake somewhere.” He picked up the last bite of croissant. “I hate the sand, though.”

  “There’s a lot of sand near lakes and oceans, Vince.”

  He smiled with one corner of his mouth. “In the Middle East, too. Sand and dust storms.” He popped the last of the sandwich in his mouth.

  “Did you have to learn Arabic?”

  He shook his head and swallowed. “I picked up a few words here and there.”

  “Didn’t that make it hard to communicate?”

  “I wasn’t there to talk.”

  He wasn’t here to talk, either, and he didn’t give a lot away about himself. That was okay. He was nice to look at with his big muscles and startling green eyes staring back at her from his handsome face. She’d been with fine-looking men. None as fine as Vince, but with all that fineness came a real reserve. A refusal to give anything to a woman but his body. Which was okay with Sadie because that’s what they’d agreed she’d get. And that’s all she truly wanted.

  “Why do you live in Phoenix when you could live here?” he asked.

  Obviously they were done talking about him. “I know that ranching sounds romantic, in a sort of taming the Wild West sort of way, but it’s a lot of hard work and isolation. I don’t mind hard work, but growing up with your closest neighbor twenty miles away can be lonely. Especially if you’re an only child. I couldn’t exactly jump on my bike and head out to a friend’s house.” She took a bite and chewed. She’d never really had a best friend. Never ran around with other kids in a neighborhood. She’d hung out with adults or the calf or sheep she was raising for 4–H. “If you enjoy moving cattle and stepping in cow shit, then I guess the loneliness is worth it.” Did she say lonely? She didn’t consider herself lonely, but she supposed as a kid she’d been very alone.

  He put his napkin on his empty plate. “Isn’t this all going to be yours one day?”

  Suddenly she wasn’t hungry as the old feeling of dread landed like a ball in her stomach. “What makes you think that?”

  “People talk, and working in a convenience store is like being a bartender.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Only not as many drunks and without the tips.”

  People
loved to talk, especially in Lovett. “Yes, but I’m a girl.”

  He sat back in his chair and folded his big arms across his bare chest. His gaze moved from hers, down her chin and neck to the front of her shirt. He smiled and looked back up into her eyes. “That’s obvious.”

  “My daddy wanted a boy.” She took a drink of tea. “He doesn’t want to leave the JH to me any more than I want a ten-thousand-acre ranch, but I’m the only child of an only child. There isn’t anyone else.”

  “So you’re going to inherit a ranch you don’t want.”

  She shrugged. Her feelings about the JH were confusing. She loved and hated it all at the same time. It was a part of her like her blue eyes. “I don’t know what my daddy has in mind. He hasn’t told me and I haven’t asked.”

  “And you don’t think that’s odd?”

  “You don’t know my daddy,” she said just above a whisper.

  He turned his head slightly to the left as she noticed he did sometimes and watched her mouth. “How old is your father?”

  “Seventy-eight.” Why all the questions? He couldn’t be that interested in her life. She was a one-night stand. Nothing more. She pushed her plate aside.

  “Are you done eating?”

  “I am.”

  He smiled. “Are you good to go again?”

  Ah. He was just killing time with questions until she finished eating. She looked at the clock. It was a little after one A.M. The Parton sisters wouldn’t arrive for five more hours. No, it wasn’t the most romantic sex, but it was amazing. He wasn’t much of a romantic guy, but she wasn’t looking for romance. What he was, was a one-night stand and he’d given her something she hadn’t had for a while.

  A good time. “Hooyah.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Who buttered your muffin?”

  Sadie turned and looked at her father, an oxygen cannula in his nose, glasses on the top of his head, and a new pair of nonskid purple socks on his feet. Had he found out about Vince? Had someone seen his truck leave at about three A.M. and ratted her out? “What?”