by Renee Rose
I wouldn’t hurt her. Sure, I’d spank her ass, definitely fuck it. But I’d never, ever hurt her. So when I easily slipped one finger into her tight back entrance without any negative response from Natalie, I added a second. Only then did she moan and push back, taking the two digits even deeper. I added a third and dripped more lube from the bottle over them, working it in. When I held my fingers still, she thrust back, lightly fucking herself on them. That was when I knew. It was time.
I grabbed her tank top and slid my fingers free, using it to wipe the excess lube off. With one hand, I aligned my dick up at her prepared hole and pressed then grabbed her hips.
I was careful. Slow. I took my time to let her relax, and I watched as she finally began to flower open, wider and wider. She moaned into the bedding as the head of my dick stretched her open. All at once, with the lube aiding the way, I popped past that tight ring of muscle and got inside her. She clenched around me as I held myself still, let her adjust.
Her fingers clenched the quilt as she groaned, low and deep at my entry. Her pussy was dripping, her arousal shiny and slick down the inside of her thighs. When I reached around her hips, I found her clit all hard and swollen. Her body was responsive, awakening her need to be taken like this.
“Bad girls get a dick in their ass, but good girls get it deep and get to come.”
She moaned.
I dropped one hand on the bed by her hip as I began to slowly work my way into her. Back and forth, a little more of my dick each time. Shit, it felt so good. Tight. Hot as hell.
“Ever had anything like this in you before, angel?” I breathed. Sweat dotted my brow at my restraint.
She shook her head, her red hair a wild tangle about her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted.
“Do you want me to tell you what I see? I see a gorgeous woman all feisty and wild, tamed by a big dick. Don’t worry, I won’t give away your secret, that you like me to take control, that you’ll lift your ass and give it to me.”
“Rob,” she begged. I wasn’t sure if she wanted even more or if she liked it when I said filthy things.
“Only me, Natalie. I’m the only one who will see you like this. The only one whose dick will bottom out in this tight hole. The only one who will ever hear you scream your pleasure as you milk the cum from my balls.”
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “I’m going to come from you talking.”
I grinned. Fuck, that alone felt good. The feel of her so tight and hot practically strangling my dick was going to finish me too soon. I’d just given her all of my inches, and my balls were pulled up tight. I felt the need to come build at the base of my spine.
I began to move then, pulling back so that only the flared head was caught inside her, then filled her all the way a second time. She began to move then, to shift her hips in a motion that made her need grow. I loved her wantonness. I watched her carefully, adjusting my pace to how she liked it, to the way she moaned, begged, pushed back.
Words came from her lips, but they were lost on me. All breathy and full of need. I knew how she felt. I wasn’t going to last much longer. I reached around again and found her clit, all distended and hard. Flicked it once.
She clenched down on me and moaned. I flicked it again, this time harder, and she screamed, “Yes!”
When I pushed into her all the way for the last time and came, I pinched her clit, setting her off. As I shot my cum into her hot ass, she clenched down, ensuring she took all of it deep into her.
Sweat bloomed across her skin, her moans and sounds of pleasure filled the air. I couldn’t do anything but absorb the heat of her. I saw my mate lost in her own epic orgasm. I breathed in the musky scent of our fucking, untamed and wild. I wanted to taste the sweat on her skin, but I didn’t dare get my mouth near her. Not now, not when I was in the throes of the best orgasm of my life.
It couldn’t get better than this. Well, it could. It would when I officially claimed her. I had to wonder, if I felt like I was going blind by coming in her ass, I’d surely die of pleasure when I sank my teeth into her and marked her forever as mine.
11
WILLOW
“Um, wow.”
After how dominant Rob was in bed—and out, I wouldn’t have taken him for a cuddler. But there I was, wrapped up in his arms, the soft fur of his chest tickling my back. He’d brought a washcloth to clean me up, and he now lay behind me, his muscled arm draped over my waist, his hand cupping my breast.
“Tell me about yourself, Natalie Shefield.” Idly, his thumb played with my nipple which was quite distracting. Even after everything we’d just done—and my bottom was a little sore—his touch was arousing.
I winced at the name. Natalie Shefield. It sounded so wrong on his lips. I wasn’t the sappy type, but damn if I didn’t want to hear my real name in his deep rumble right now, especially after what we did. There didn’t need to be affection or commitment tied to sex. Hell, I was the queen of that country. With Rob, it felt different. The connection was intense, almost visceral and perhaps that was why it felt so guilty. That while I gave myself to him so completely just a few minutes ago with my body, I could only lie to him with my words now.
There couldn’t be any truth in my words, that the real me had to remain a secret. Not only outright lying but lying by omission too.
I rolled in his arms to face him. Up close, I could see his dark beard coming in. He was the kind of guy who had to shave every day. I wondered if he ever grew a beard, maybe in the winter and what he’d look like. Hell, what it would feel brushing over my thighs.
He was watching me, patient and quiet. What could I say? I searched my mind for something true. “I like Greek salad and gyros,” I blurted, thinking of the gyro place by my apartment in Phoenix.
He grinned. “That might be tough in Cooper Valley, but I’ll look into it.”
I smiled back, suddenly floating. He wanted to find me a gyro shop? Who was this guy? We just had the randiest sex ever, and now he was acting like Prince Charming, post orgasm? That never happened. Usually it was pants on and out the door—for both of us. I mean, usually if a guy stayed, I was shoving him out the door. I didn’t do sleepovers or morning afters.
This one wanted to find me gyros. And I seemed to like it.
“What’s your plan here? You sticking around? You told Boyd you didn’t want to sell the place.”
Aw, fuck. I really wanted to keep this about the real me, but it seemed that would be impossible. I drew a breath. I had no idea what the real Natalie’s plans were. I’d spoken with her before I arrived, knew she was getting a Master’s degree in music theory—where I couldn’t even hold a tune in the shower—and probably settling here in Montana because she was barely getting by as a musician in the big city. While she may have thought a mortgage-free ranch would be cheap, the bad roof was an example of the way this place might bleed her dry.
“Yeah, I don’t know yet. I’m kind of figuring things out as I go.”
Not a lie.
“Are you going to look for a job? Or… try to ranch?” he asked doubtfully.
I pushed up on an elbow, puffing my chest up. “What, you don’t think I could ranch?”
He dropped to his back, hands up like he was surrendering. “I didn’t say that. I’m quite sure you could do quite a few things on your own that most single women couldn’t. Handle a weapon, for one. You gonna tell me what that’s about?” He glanced over my shoulder at the nightstand where my gun had been the day before.
“It’s downstairs on the kitchen table.”
He frowned.
“I was on the roof, remember?”
I noted the look of concern on his face again. Like he thought I was on the run or someone was after me. Why I needed to move a gun around the house with me. I should be thankful for him not being the kind of guy who worried a little-ole-thing-like-me might shoot herself. He wasn’t questioning my abilities, just the need for it.
It was damn sweet of him, his protectiveness,
even though he was way off the mark.
“No one’s after me,” I said.
Huh. I also noted his eyes were darker than I thought. I could’ve sworn they were golden before. And I’m pretty good at remembering faces. It was part of the training.
“What color would you say your eyes are?” I asked, not only curious but eager to change the subject.
He stared back at me, his expression suddenly blank. After a beat too long, he said, “Well, that was an obvious redirect.” Yeah, he’d caught on. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that?”
Why did I feel like his words were also a redirect of his own? I narrowed my eyes at him.
He arched a brow at me.
“I like to be prepared.” I swallowed. What could I say that wasn’t a lie? That would show him the real me? I wanted to offer that right now. I had the urge to give him something I never gave out—not even when I wasn’t undercover. “I grew up in foster care,” I admitted.
He went still, even his breathing slowed.
“I was sort of… scared a lot growing up.”
A rumble came from his chest.
“Nothing terrible,” I added quickly when his face suddenly turned stormy. “Just not safe.”
This man had the protector vibe in spades.
I sighed, rolled onto my back and stared up at the way the sunlight cut a triangular shape across the ceiling. “I had a rotating stream of foster siblings from terrible backgrounds and… other stuff. The family I was with last, they earned money from the state off of us kids. Anyway, one of the first things I learned to do when I left was shoot a gun. I needed to know I could look after myself.” I turned my head, looked at him. “You know?”
“What about your great uncle? Shefield wouldn’t take you in?”
I froze. Oh God! What had I said? I wasn’t Willow Johnson, the orphan. I was supposed to be Natalie Shefield. I had to think fast. “It was just a few years,” I said quickly. “While my mom was going through some stuff. She didn’t want the rest of the family to know I’d been taken away from her.”
Oh. My. God. I really fucked up.
I guess it showed how much this man had gotten under my skin. How much I wanted to show him the real me.
Rob seemed to absorb the information without any doubt, which made me feel even worse about deceiving him.
He blinked at me. “Have you had to use the gun?”
“No.” I let out a forced laugh. The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. “But I keep it close. You know, for when strangers barge in on me masturbating.”
That distraction worked. His eyes crinkled and lips curved up. He studied my face like he wanted to memorize it. “I’m sorry about your childhood.”
I was unprepared for the sharp blast of emotion that followed his words.
I never allowed myself pity, but it seemed some of it had been bottled up all these years because tears suddenly popped into my eyes. I instantly rolled away from him to hide them, but he caught my arm and turned me back.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “We all have wounds.”
“Yeah?” My voice wobbled. “How about you, cowboy? What are your wounds?”
I didn’t expect him to answer. He’d been nothing but cocky and self-assured with me. No hint of vulnerability for miles. But he stared into my eyes. “I took over running the ranch and raising my brothers when I was sixteen. It wasn’t so bad—we made it through. But I never got to choose my life. My future got decided for me the day my parents died in a car crash.”
I reached out to run my clipped fingernails over the soft curls of his chest hair. “Your future’s still in front of you,” I reminded him softly.
His gaze traced my face. He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “Yeah. It is.”
A shiver ran down my spine although I couldn’t identify its source. It wasn’t a warning—although I got that kind of prickle sometimes. It wasn’t sexual. It was more like… recognition. It scared the hell out of me. I pulled away, and he let his hand drop, as I pushed up to sit.
“Well,” he said lightly, climbing out of the bed, “if you want to target practice, we have a makeshift range on my property.” He picked his boxer briefs up from the floor and pulled them on, which was a shame. Rob, naked, was a sight.
I was here on a job not to date the cowboy next door. But target practice was part of the job, wasn’t it? So was finding out what Rob knew about Markle although that excuse was flimsy, and I knew it. From what he’d made clear the night before, Rob held no positive feelings for the guy long before I arrived. That meant they had some kind of beef between them. I doubted Rob knew his neighbor was a drug runner. Knowing how black and white Rob was, he’d have turned him into the law. He knew something about Markle, and I wanted to know what it was.
“I’d love that.” I climbed off the other side of the bed and went hunting for my clothes.
“Great.” He zipped up his jeans then grabbed his shirt off the floor. “Tomorrow? One o’clock?”
Little bubbles of excitement fizzed, even though I was telling myself this was for work. Work. “I’d love that. I’ll see you then.”
He grinned, then looked down to do the snaps, covering up his gorgeous chest. Sex definitely put a smile on this guy’s face. He was not the grouchy grumpy guy Audrey had described. Not at all, at least not now. Of course, he’d just come in my ass, so I had a feeling I was going to beat anyone in a making-Rob-smile competition.
He pointed at me. “Stay off your roof. You take a risk like that again, you won’t sit down for a week because you won’t get the fun kind of spanking. I’m serious, Natalie.”
The threat was high-handed and ridiculous, but the sexual charge between us made it totally sexy. I suddenly found myself wanting to defy him, just to get the promised punishment, although the good kind.
“I can take care of myself.” I fastened my bra and went to grab a new shirt from the dresser.
He finished putting on his boots. “I know that, angel. But you’re not invincible, and you don’t have to do it all on your own.”
That wasn’t true—I did. Or was that just what I preferred? It was hard to tell. Still, the idea of letting this big fierce cowboy think he was taking care of me had a strong appeal.
Too bad I wasn’t the real Natalie Shefield, here to stay. Once Markle was behind bars, I’d be back to my desk in Phoenix. Back to a new bad guy… which was definitely job security. Neither the bad guy or my desk in the desert sounded all that appealing right about now. Living on a ranch with a sexy neighbor seemed so much better.
Too bad there was zero chance for us because there was a real Natalie Shefield waiting to move to the house she’d inherited. I actually liked this guy beyond what he could do in bed, and it should have made me feel amazing, but it just… sucked.
12
WILLOW
I heard the clank of metal hitting metal as I crept through the dark and a blast of satisfaction ran through me. My instincts had been right to come out here at night. They never failed me.
Night goggles in place to help me see in the moonless sky—thanks to the DEAs fancy supply closet—I moved forward in a crouch, dressed in black with black smudges on my face to mute the glow of my pale skin. I had my Glock with me this time. And a large hunting knife. And an infrared camera to get evidence.
Markle was moving something.
At night.
In the dark.
And somehow, I seriously doubted it was just cattle although that was what I was seeing through the goggles being loaded into a truck.
This was my favorite part of the job—the solo surveillance work. I liked it far better than using my femininity to milk a guy for information. Or boring desk research. I enjoyed the risk of it. The skill and physical prowess required to stay quiet, blend in. While I’d never hunted animals, there was definitely a hunter in me. Stalking my prey out here in the dark, while breathing the cool mountain air, made me feel alive.
I
slipped forward, through the fence and onto Markle’s property. I stayed low, near the telephone line. There wasn’t much to hide behind, but I could always drop to my belly in the tall grass if I needed to.
There. I heard the clank again and the soft low of a cow. When I got close enough to see better, I crouched and took out the camera, adjusting the telescope lens to use it like binoculars.
It was a cattle trailer, and indeed, the cattle were in the chute ready to be loaded, but Markle was loading a few crates into the back. I snapped a dozen photos, switched to the non-infrared setting and clicked some more. My pulse raced. I had to get down there and find out what was in those crates. I crouch-ran forward, squatted, took some more photos.
A man started loading the cattle. By the time I got close enough, he’d shut the back gate on the trailer and climbed in the driver’s seat. The engine of the truck rumbled to life and pulled away from the cattle chute and down the dirt drive.
Shit!
I took a risk and darted forward faster, as if I might miraculously catch sight of something else before it left. It was a typical livestock hauler. An eighteen wheeler with a metal slatted cargo area that I guessed by weight, not number of animals. I guessed Markle had loaded about five cows after I put on my goggles, the cover he needed to keep from being looked at too closely.
Realizing it was pointless to follow, I squatted again and took pictures of it leaving, getting a close up of the plate, the driver and each open window of the trailer.
He had to be moving drugs. Why else would he load up at night? Sure, it was hot, but I lived in Phoenix. That was hot.
I’d just expected more—a larger shipment, multiple trucks. Something obvious.
Maybe this was part of the genius of the operation—just one cow trailer at a time across the border to Canada. Nothing big enough to raise suspicion. I’d have to call my boss to have the plate checked at the border, to confirm that was the true destination. It wouldn’t be stopped. We needed to arrest the source, not the specific driver.
