It was oddly erotic watching Jackson’s head between her bare legs. Her housecoat was fully open, no longer an afterthought. She focused on his mouth, the pleasurable sounds he made, and the fire sparked to life in her core. The heat grew and spread. Wendy began to whimper, clutching his head, knowing something monumental was about to take place.
He seemed to know the precise spot to concentrate on, bringing her higher until she was floating on a new plane of consciousness. His stubble scraped her sensitive inner thighs and pussy lips, but the mix of pleasure and slight pain was exhilarating.
“Jackson!” She thrust her hips up involuntarily at the same time her body erupted. It was as if some floodgate inside her had broken forth, releasing all her desire in one massive rush of energy. He didn’t pull away, but suckled her cunt until all her contractions eased, leaving her a boneless mass on the bed.
“You’re sweeter than apple pie.”
“But you love my apple pie,” she muttered, barely able to form the words.
“I’d much rather eat you for dessert.”
She opened her eyes briefly, only then realizing he stood at the end of the bed gazing at her fully exposed, nude figure. Even though that familiar twinge of embarrassment and shame surfaced, it wasn’t stronger than her exhaustion or the fact she was more thoroughly sated than she thought possible.
“Now, you rest. No getting out of bed. I’m going to get some chores done around the property, and then I’ll come back in and check on you. You best be where I left you.” He pulled a crisp sheet from the blanket box and snapped it out, letting it come to rest over her flush body. As soon as the wave of cotton settled over her skin, she rolled over, clutching the material, and fell asleep.
* * * *
Jackson tore from the house, needing to breathe before he found himself crawling into bed with Mrs. McCay…Wendy. If she were his fairy-tale Wendy, then he certainly was a lost boy. He didn’t want to throw caution to the wind and follow in his daddy’s footsteps, not now that he could finally see an alternative future for himself. Wendy was his anchor and without her he’d only toss on the sea, travelling the circuit with no destination, no greater goal.
All week they’d played games, but she never allowed things to cross that invisible line from friendly to intimate. Now she’d willingly spread her legs and allowed him to go down on her. It had been heaven. The breasts she complained about were adorable and tempting. Her nipples tight buds begging to be sucked, and her stomach fair skinned and silky. He fully expected her to stop him before he reached the gold, but once she allowed him to take that first taste, she was his. Jackson knew how to pleasure a woman, what move could push her over the edge or get her to beg for more. Giving Wendy pleasure had been one of the most memorable experiences in his life. No woman could compare to her.
He’d done the right thing and tucked her into bed, but he was left with a painfully engorged erection in his pants. Nothing a little hard work wouldn’t cure. He tried not to picture her milky skin or remember the mewling sounds when he made her come against his mouth. His priorities were shifting like rapidly moving northern lights. All he could think about was making Wendy’s life easier, making her want him as much as he did her, and proving he was as much a man as Wade Laweson.
He stood at the edge of the fields, trying to imagine the desperation Wendy felt watching her crops wither and scorch under the sun. Jackson wanted to make her proud, be able to tell her he’d saved the day, but how? He wasn’t a farmer, and she had no modern equipment or irrigation. The weather didn’t affect him or his livelihood. All he needed to worry about was keeping his body fit and hanging on for those eight vital seconds. Now he needed to be so much more. He needed to be a hero.
Chapter Six
Wendy finally awoke, twisting about under the sheets. The room was dark, the orange and pink haze of dusk illuminating the shadowed room in a gentle haze of color. All at once, she remembered the current events. She’d let her boarder do explicit things to her body—and she’d loved every minute of it. But how could she face him again? What did it all mean? Her heart beat frantically as reality returned to her awakening mind.
She slipped out of bed and dressed as the last remnants of daylight peeked in through the crack in the curtains. At least the temperature cooled in the evenings, giving reprieve from the never-ending heat during sunup.
As she stepped into the hallway, the rest of the house was dark and silent, the creak in the hardwood echoing. “Christine?” she called out. After no reply, she knew her daughter would be having a late night out with friends. With the rodeo close to home, there was a constant flood of parties and events to get involved in. She had to remember her children weren’t kids anymore, but all adults, free to do as they pleased. “Jackson?”
Wendy felt stronger than she had before falling asleep. A good nap was exactly what she needed, even though all her problems remained, including new ones thanks to her weakness with Jackson. Still, she craved more.
She dug in the hall closet for her spare boots and tugged them on. Although Jackson said he was taking care of the chores, he may have forgotten something vital. In the very least, she needed to check the animals were secure for the night.
The crickets droned, their song carrying across the prairies once she stepped out of the whiny screen door. Her boots crunched on the dried-out grass with each step. She could see everything that needed tending had been taken care of. Wendy had to stop for a minute and take it all in. She was used to being the only one responsible for everything, programmed not to count on another soul. Knowing Jackson was capable of doing things right, could take away some of her burden, was enlightening. A romantic partner could offer more than just a helping hand, but be someone to share life with and laugh with. After the sample Jackson gave her, it would also be someone she could share every level of intimacy with. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it all.
After checking the barn, she climbed the wooden ladder to the hayloft. It was her private escape, a place of solace. Just smelling the rich, sweet scent of alfalfa, and looking across the land from her vantage point, settled her nerves. She had much to think about, but being here was what she needed, even if just for a few minutes.
The orchard was beyond her sight, but as much as she should stay away, her mind nagged her to check on it. She’d nearly visited an early grave trying to water the trees, but it still twisted her heart into knots to sit back and let them die without fighting harder. With the sun nearly set, she wouldn’t have to worry about the effects of the sun weighing down on her. Maybe if she went slowly, and carried a windup lantern, she’d be able to water them enough to keep them alive another day. If she could swallow her pride, maybe she’d ask Wade to help her out. But she was scared he’d think she was using him because he had shown an interest in her. It wasn’t true. She had a soft spot for Wade, just as she did for Jackson. Her life had never been in such a tangle.
Six or seven hours must have passed since she fell asleep. She held the lantern in her hand as she headed out to the orchard. The sun set quickly now, the great red globe dipping out of sight on the horizon. The residual light would soon vanish, leaving her in solid darkness. Wendy stopped at the well before heading to the orchard, but the bucket was missing. It must still be lying where she’d dropped it. As she walked the remaining distance to the orchard, shadows slowly dominated the land. She realized how alone she was, the darkness stealing her usual courage. Normally she worked a long day, starting at sunrise, but by sunset she was safely in the house.
She wound the lantern again once she reached the perimeter of her orchard. The cranking sound obscene in the surrounding silence. Even with the artificial light, the area beyond her small bubble of illumination was a solid wall of blackness. It would be a challenge to find her bucket and cart the water while holding the lantern. But she had no choice because the alternative was far worse.
Wendy tripped over an obstacle, which was punctuated by a deep, male groan. Her lig
ht was extinguished when it hit the hard-packed earth, so she was night blind. She crawled up to her hands, reaching around blindly for the lantern. What was she thinking coming out here at this hour? She flicked on the light and held it up to scan the area.
“Jackson?” Wendy set the lantern on the ground and rose to her knees. Her boarder was bare-chested, sweat slick, dirty, and appeared near death. His eyes were closed, a grimace on his face. “For the love of God, what have you done?”
He’d come out here to take over her task of watering the trees. The evidence was all around her, dark patches on the parched earth under each tree. He must have come out as soon as she fell asleep. She had no idea he’d do such a thing since he and Wade were so against her trying to save the young trees. They’d each preached about the inevitability of trying to water the orchard by hand in the middle of a drought. Why had he done it?
He groaned again, draping a forearm over his eyes.
“Jackson, you have to get up.” Wendy was in her element. Caring for others was what she did best. She had to get him back to the house, wash him down, hydrate him, and then give him some vitamin-rich soup broth before watching over him as he slept. It all seemed so familiar, exactly what she’d done to herself in the morning. But she couldn’t worry about the irony now because when a grown man collapsed from exhaustion, it was always a serious affair.
“I did it, darlin’,” he muttered, barely audible. “Fixed the…watering hole…love me now—”
“That’s enough talking. You’re delusional, Jackson. Can you get to your feet?”
He started to scramble to his side, the muscles in his arms straining as he attempted to push up to his knees. “I’ll help you, but you’re too heavy for me to carry.” He was the size of her son, a big man weighing a solid two hundred pounds.
It took many tries, but when he finally staggered to two feet, she had to take the brunt of his weight on her shoulders because his balance was shot. They made a poor team with him being so much taller, but she was all he had.
As they inched their way closer to the house, her thoughts were free to wander. Jackson was a drifter, no relation to her, yet he took it upon himself to try and help her. He’d watered her trees until he literally dropped down from exhaustion and dehydration. He did care about her concerns, and acted on making a difference. She saw him in a new light, a light of possibilities. How could she not have stronger feelings for the younger man after such a selfless act?
They nearly fell through the back door. She kept her arms around his bare waist. His skin was so warm despite the evening chill. Wendy sighed in relief when she finally got him onto his bed. He dropped heavily onto the mattress. She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. Was it wrong that she savored every ridge of muscle from his shoulders to arms, chest, and abs? He needed her to be a caregiver with thoughts of medical concoctions and natural remedies, not erotic images of what awaited just below his silver buckle.
“I’m going to get you some water. I’ll be right back.” As she attempted to rise to her feet, Jackson’s hand jerked out and grabbed her arm.
“Did I do good?”
She smiled. “You did good, cowboy.” A wave of unexpected emotion rolled up within her. She needed out of the room before she fell apart. It meant a lot to have another person care about the same things as her.
Wendy added an ice cube to a tall glass of water. She stood in front of the kitchen sink, looking out in to the dark fields, the partial moon watching her from its perch in the heavens. For the first time in a long time, she worried more about something other than her crops.
The phone rang. “Hello?”
“What are you doing answering the phone? You should be resting.” Wade’s voice was a comfort, a deep caress in uncertain times. He was a rock, always there to pick her off the ground if only she said the word. She was getting close to that place, the edge where she knew it was better to ask for help than jump the cliff. Now Jackson had made himself sick to keep her legacy going. There had to be a better way.
“I’ve been resting all day. I just woke up and found Jackson worked to the bone in my orchard. He’s not even coherent.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought that boy had some sense in him, but I guess I was wrong.”
“He’s not a boy, Wade. In fact, I think he proved himself to be very much a man tonight.” Part of her wanted the men to bond. Wade had no son, and Jackson no father. It would be good for them to form a friendship with her in the center. Foolish thoughts. A piece of her cared for each man, wanted to build something stronger. For the first time in her life she was willing to take a chance on a new relationship. Now that she’d seen what she was missing in her life, that it was possible to love again, she didn’t want to turn back time and live in denial.
“I’ll come over. You should be resting, not taking care of him.”
“I’m doing fine. In fact, I’m thankful that at least one other person understood my plight. We’re not all wealthy cattle ranchers, Wade. Some of us rely on their crops in order to eat.”
“Darlin’, I don’t want to see your orchard turn to ash, but you’ve got to pick your battles. Are you willing to sacrifice your health, your life, your soul?”
“Maybe. Yes. What else do I have?”
“Me, damn it. I want to help you, but you won’t let me.”
“No, you want the woman you think I am. I’m nothing, Wade.”
“I can change that, show you what it is to love again.”
Her defenses rose, and she wasn’t even sure why. “I’ve never known love. That’s the problem. I’m incapable of it, so you best spend your energy on another woman.” She hung up the phone and collapsed in a kitchen chair. Her emotions were spent. The carefully erected shield she’d created decades ago was cracking and chipping in a matter of weeks. What did it mean that she never really loved a man, not even her own deceased husband? Was she a freak, a heartless monster destined to break hearts and live a lonely life? She knew she was pushing away Wade, when inside she wanted nothing more than to grasp onto him and allow him to fend off the world. She was sabotaging her own happiness and had no explanation for it.
Wendy took a cleansing breath, then returned to Jackson’s room with the water. He was on his side, the lamp light accentuating every ridge of muscle. The young bronc rider had brought her to a peak she’d never known, and would no doubt be just as impressive a rider in bed as he was on a horse. But it had to be blasphemous to think of him in such sexual ways. He was nearly young enough to be her son with fifteen years separating them. It would be greedy and thoughtless of her to steal away a man in his prime for her own selfish needs. Once his infatuations wore off, he’d realize he had just committed his life to a middle-aged woman when he had so many good years left. She couldn’t give him children, and had little in terms of youthful beauty left.
When she sat on the bed beside him, he opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I fell asleep in the orchard. I told myself I’d just take two winks, get my second wind, but the exhaustion took me.”
“You did too much,” she said, brushing his hair from his forehead. His blue eyes were beautifully shaped, hypnotizing. Why hadn’t she noticed before now?
He shook his head. “I didn’t do enough.” Jackson took the hand stroking him and kissed it. “I’m not sick, just overly tired. Promise I don’t need mothering.”
Mothering? Was that how he saw her?
“Just drink the water. It’ll make me feel better.”
He leaned up on one elbow and drank the cool water while keeping his eyes locked with hers. The quiet, private moment carried a larger-than-life intimacy. Did he feel it, too? Was she a fool falling for a young stud when she had no right to think of him in such unholy ways?
“Thank you.” He set the glass on the small table beside him. “It’s late, you should be getting to sleep.”
“I feel terrible about today. Don’t you have to ride tomorrow? You’ll be in no shape.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“And traveling the circuit is a better life?”
She took a deep breath. “Jackson, I’m forty-four years old.” She said it like a curse, and in a way it was. Her youth vanished while she was asleep or hiding from life. If she were younger, she’d grab hold of Jackson, but this wasn’t a fantasy.
He smirked, not appearing revolted as she’d expected. “Really? You’re younger than I thought. Tell me, darlin’, why do you have a problem with me? Is it because I’m a cowboy, twenty-nine, or because you’re scared to love again?”
“I’m not having this conversation.” She felt cornered, claustrophobic. “You should rest. Your faculties are obviously back in place.”
She stood up and headed for the door. “Think about my question,” he called out as she left the room.
Chapter Seven
Wade had no plans on watching Wendy suffer. She may have refused his help in the past, but now she’d crossed the line by nearly killing herself doing things her way. They’d made progress the day before. She showed him a glimpse into the woman under the tough exterior. It was enough incentive for him to continue to court her.
Espino, Stacey - Midlife Ménage [Ride 'em Hard 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6
