Cowboy in Colorado (Fifty States of Love)
Page 23
“Get to,” I interrupt. “I’ve wanted to do this to you since that day in your cabin.”
He groans when I begin using both hands. “Holy shit,” he moans, head tipping back.
“Relax and enjoy it,” I say. “And trust me, after a shower and a nap, I’ll be ready to ride you until you don’t know your own name.”
He sighs, and leans back on the counter, propping his weight on both hands. “You know how you like to be in control?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He closes his eyes as I flick my tongue over the tip. “Ohhh, wow. Okay, um. I’ve never let a woman take me all the way with her mouth.”
I blink up at him. “What? No way.”
“It’s too much like losing control. You’re not the only one with control issues.” He pauses, groaning as I take him slowly into my mouth. “God, Brook.”
“I get that,” I murmur. “I really do.”
“If anyone could, it’s you.”
“Will you let me?” I ask, pausing to just hold him in both hands and meet his eyes. “I want to be that first for you, too.”
He brushes a lock of hair away from my face. “Of course,” he murmurs. “Only you.”
I smile, and the smile becomes an open mouth, my lips wrapping around him, hands pumping at his base, cupping his heavy sac, fondling him as I show him what it’s like to let me make him feel as amazing as he’s made me feel too many times to count. He groans, gasps, and his hips push up, and I take my time, get him there slowly, loving every grunt, every helpless thrust of his hips, until he’s moaning a long low constant growl as I take him into my mouth again and again, using hands and mouth and tongue to bring him shuddering, and cursing, back arched, hips flexed so his ass is off the counter and his weight is on his hands and he’s buried in my mouth.
He tastes hot and salty and smoky and musky as he fills my mouth.
“Brook, oh god, Brooklyn—” His voice is nothing but a ragged, shattered whisper. “Wow. Ohhhh, wow.”
I back away from him and stand up, wiping my lips, grinning as he takes a moment or several to recover. “What do you have to say about that, Will?”
He stares at me, boggled and delirious. “I—you…that was…” He flops back onto the island, still panting. “Fuck.”
I grin, climbing up onto him, kneeling astride him on the marble. “There’s more where that came from. Especially if you look at me like you are right now.”
“Like my life flashed before my eyes, I came so hard?” he breathes. “Like I’ve been left totally unable to move? Like, I think I love you even more, now, and I know that’s shallow, but holy fucking shit, Brooklyn, that was incredible.”
I nod, smirking, self-satisfied. “Yes, just like that.”
He sits up, gathers me in his arms and carries me to my bathroom. Sets me on my feet and turns on the shower so the nine horizontal sprayers and two rainfall heads all spray piping hot water. “Hell of a shower you’ve got here,” he mutters, and then guides me in, begins rubbing my hair and lathering soap all over me, taking an eternity to wash every inch of me.
“You said something about a shower, a nap, and then…what was the last part?” he asks, hiding a grin.
I take the soap from him. “A shower, a nap, and then I ride you like a stallion until you don’t know your own name.”
“Ohhh, right. That.” He lets me wash him. “I think I’ll collect on that last part now.”
I boggle at him, because he is indeed showing signs of being ready for me again. “How, Will? I thought I sucked you off so good you’d be done for at least an hour.”
“You did.” He shrugs. “But then I saw you wet and naked and soapy, and…” He smirks. “You just do something to me I can’t explain.”
“I turn you on?”
“Oh, right. That.” He laughs, shakes his head. “It’s beyond that.”
He lifts me, settles me around his waist, and I wrap my legs around him and take him into me. “We can’t finish like this.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “I just want to feel you bare, just for a minute.”
“Another first,” I mutter, gasping at the feel of him like this.
“Same here.” His eyes meet mine. “You have to get on birth control. I have to have you like this.”
“I will,” I say. “Tomorrow—today, whatever. As soon as possible.”
And then he’s grunting and snarling, lifting me off of him and carrying me into the bedroom, both of us still dripping wet. He snags a condom and jams it on as fast as he can, sets me on my back on the edge of the bed, and drives into me.
I let him take a few strokes like this, but then I push him back. Shove him onto the bed, climb onto him, straddle his erection, sink him into me once more and we both groan in unison—and then I’m off, riding him.
His eyes fly open as I ride him with everything I have, and our eyes are locked, wild and furious, and he’s groaning my name, again and again—
The way he did that day in the cabin— broken, shattered. This time, though, he doesn’t shy away from it. Instead, he worships me with his hands as we move together, and as he starts to find his release—at the same moment I find my own—he whispers my name.
I don’t have to hear the three little words he’s already said to know he means them, as he chants my name: “Brooklyn, Brooklyn, oh god, Brooklyn…”
It’s the same as: I love you, I love you, oh god, I love you.
That’s what I hear, and I’ve never felt so loved, so at peace and full of joy and contentment as I do with this man, this wild rugged cowboy from Colorado.
Epilogue
Will swings down from the saddle as the jet turbines wind down. He stands tall, a ball cap low on his head, shading his blue eyes. Gopher is unconcerned by the noise of the jet engines, but Demon is a bit more bothered—he’s had too much training over the last two years to buck or rear, but he’s dancing, snorting, pawing the cropped turf beside the runway. He’s also just happy to see me.
Demon is my horse, and I’m the only one who can ride him—aside from Will, for short periods of time. Will trained him, but he’s my horse—or rather, I’m his person. Either way, my big bad buddy is happy to see me, and I’m happy to see him.
I still spend several days out of the week in New York, running BRED, of which I’m now CEO. We have holdings all over the world, and many of them feature horses—all provided by Bar-A Ranch. But I’ve taken over the business management from him so he can focus on horses, which are his one true love…after me, of course.
He comes to New York with me quite a bit, and he’s made quite a splash in the elite social world of Uptown Manhattan, let me tell you. Mainly because he gives zero shits about their standards and traditions and mores, and says things how they are. And, of course, because he’s more man than any six of the rich fluffy buffoons put together.
We have fun running the town together, though.
Auden Town is a booming success, more so than even I suspected it would be. We’ve had to add on twice, and now it’s more of a small town than a big village, and every inch of it is authentic. No cars allowed. There’s fleet of six-horse drawn carriages that run between the resort village and Auden Town every hour, and those carriages are the only way in and the only way out, except on foot or on horseback.
Just the way the Audens want it.
Just the way I want it.
Today, though, I’m not the president and CEO of Bellanger Real Estate Development, or a managing partner of Bar-A Ranch. I’m just plain old Brooklyn, Will’s wife, and a woman who missed her husband something fierce, having been scouting locations for a new condo complex in Rio de Janeiro.
He kisses me as soon as his hands latch on my hips, and I’m left breathless, as I always am whenever he kisses me like this. “How was Brazil?” he asks, once he’s decided to let me breathe again.
“Hot, and successful. I chose a good spot—and it’s now a renovation rather than a new build.”
“Awe
some.” He grins. “Closed on the deal with the Houston PD. Renegotiated the contract for an additional twenty mounts, as well as officer training.”
“Wonderful!” I say.
A beat of silence.
“Demon is ready to run,” he says, grinning at me as we head over to the paddock
“Race you there?” I ask, swinging into the saddle easily—I always wear sensible boots with a solid heel, now. My suit is still a custom Tom Ford, because you can put me on a ranch, but I’ll always be a city girl at heart.
Will is already off, taking a jumping head start for the cabin…
He’ll need it, though, because we both know Demon is the fastest horse on the ranch.
We make it neck-and-neck to the cabin, which is a short ten-minute ride from the airfield—less, at the pace we’re galloping.
Eager, as always, to be alone so we can get…reacquainted.
A week away from my man is way too long.
Of course, this time I’m determined to win, because I have a secret I’ve been dying to share—something I’ve suspected for weeks, but only verified this morning on the plane ride home.
A secret that’ll bear the name Bellanger-Auden, and will take another eight months or so to arrive.
I plan on telling him while he’s inside me, whispering it in his ear while he cries out my name…
THE END
Also by Jasinda Wilder
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