Cowboy Heat (4 page)

She ignored the gorgeous comment. “Not the ones who come to the V.A.”

“Why not?”

“The only reason a young guy goes to the doctor is because he has some kind of venereal disease.”

“That can’t be true,” he scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

He cocked his head. “Last week.”

“Why?”

“To make sure I
don’t
have VD. And I was right.” He took two more steps toward her. “Being a nurse and all, you don’t have to take my word for it. You can examine me yourself.”

Eliza’s cheeks felt feverish, and not just from the wine. He held out his hand. “Are you ready now?” he asked.

She looked at the big hand he offered her and took it. It was hard and warm. “Okay.”

“Then set yourself down in that chair, beautiful.”

She knew the song from the country radio station: “Crazy Town.” The electric guitars were joined by licks from a fiddle, and then the twang of Jason Aldean’s voice. Her cowboy started out with his back to her, Wranglers wrapped around a truly
breathtaking ass.

“Nice,” she said, slurring. “I thought you would’ve gone with something more predictable, like ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.’”

“Hush,” he said. “I’m working.”

He spun around and moved his hips in time to the music. He lowered his hat over his eyes and looked down, hiding his face from her and forcing her to look at his body. His broad forearms were lined with a few faint veins. He hooked his thumbs over his belt and spun around again, moving backward until he was straddling her lap; his ass was in her face. As he shook it, she covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.

He reached behind him, grabbed both of her hands, and placed them high on his chest. Through his shirt she could feel how hard his muscles were.
Some pectoralis major
, she thought.
Jesus
.

As the music bumped on, he moved her hands slowly down his body. When her palms slid over his abs, she felt as though she were feeling up a river rock wall.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d turned around to look at her face-to-face. He took off his hat and flung it away, revealing a head of wavy dark hair. He picked up her hand again and ran it through that mink-soft hair. In spite of a brain that was addled by wine and disbelief, her body responded to him, and she felt her core temperature rise to scalding.

He took her hands and placed them on his granite asscheeks. “Keep ’em there, beautiful,” he said.

What was happening? She had no idea. He pulled his shirt open with one swift move and pulled it out of his jeans in time with the music. He threw it aside and Eliza had nowhere else to look but at his bare chest just inches from her face.

Without waiting for him to prompt her, she ran her left hand from his pecs over his rigid six-pack. Her thumb stopped in the
hollow of his belly button. Her mouth went dry.

“Lie down for me,” he murmured.

He took her hands and helped her up. He pushed the chair out of the way, took the hat off her head, and laid her down on the floor facing up.

The song ended and faded into “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”

“I knew it!” She laughed.

“What? It’s a classic,” he said with a smirk. He stood above her, untied a leather lace, and threw off his fringed chaps. Underneath, his jeans were soft and worn and stretched tight across hard quads. He got down on his knees, straddling her hips, and began to undulate over her. The slide of muscles underneath his skin was hypnotic. As he wove back and forth, he kept his eyes locked on hers.

Then he got into a push-up position above her. The music from the boom box blasted in her ears. Where his chest brushed hers, she felt her skin burning. Her nipples hardened against her T-shirt.

“You’re going to think I’m lying, Eliza,” he said, “but I think you’re sexy as hell. Your fiancé’s a damn fool.”

She looked at the face above hers. “Are you joking?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said. His voice dropped even deeper. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Let me kiss you, Eliza.”

Still not sure if she was awake or dreaming, she gave him a small nod.

Then he was kissing her. His lips were full and firm. He turned slightly and covered her mouth with his. When a long moan of longing escaped from Eliza’s throat, he smiled against her lips.
“I’ve wanted to do that ever since you opened the door.”

The music stopped abruptly, and Eliza felt as though she were in freefall. She could hear him breathing as she reached up and stroked his back, discovering muscles she didn’t know existed.

He dipped his head and kissed her harder, licking into her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Her nerve endings fired like rocket blasters as he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You know what I’m doing,” he said. “Question is, do you want me to do it?”

She tucked her head against his jaw and breathed him in.

“Eliza,” he said, laying her on the bed. “You’ve gotta say it, or I won’t touch you.”

She tried to focus her gaze on him. His torso was a landscape of deep canyons and rounded hills.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” He leaned over her.

The alcohol in her bloodstream had been replaced with adrenaline. Stone-cold sober, she licked her lips and said, “Help me forget.”

“No, Eliza. I’ll help you remember,” he said. He kissed her again, long and deep.

The fire spread from her lips down to her thrumming clit. “Remember what?” she whispered.

“What it feels like being free.” He began to take his belt off.

“No tear-away pants?” she asked.

“Not for the cowboy getup,” he said, dropping the heavy buckle. “I don’t usually take the jeans off.”

Eliza watched as he unbuttoned his fly and slid down his pants, revealing tight gray boxer-briefs. Before she could see what kind of heat he was packing, he turned away and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress springs snapped under his
weight as he pulled off his boots.

He turned to her and stroked her arm with the back of his knuckle. “Pretty young thing,” he whispered. “How many guys have you slept with?”

Why didn’t she feel uncomfortable telling him? “One,” she said.

He whistled, long and low. “Too bad. Looks like you dropped your basket.”

“What basket?”

“The one holding every one of your eggs.”

Before she could respond, he put his lips on hers again, this time freely swirling his tongue into her mouth.

She sat up, holding on to his massive shoulders as though she would spin off the Earth if she let go. He pulled her T-shirt over her head and undid her ponytail. Her hair tumbled down and goose bumps rose on her skin. He reached behind her, unhooked her bra and slid it forward, off her shoulders.

She loved how he handled her.

He laid her back, and then kissed her neck and collarbone, slowly making his way down her body. “Beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, cupping her breasts in his big hands. He ran his hot tongue around the areola of her left nipple and sucked her up between his lips.

The heat of him knifed through her; her pussy watered like a mouth. He stroked and pinched and licked and sucked. The scrape of his stubble put her senses on overload, and every time he ran his tongue over her nipples she felt tremors shiver between her legs.

He pulled down her leggings and panties and dropped them on the floor. He climbed onto the bed and spread her legs, cupping the backs of her knees and bending them so that he could get a good look at her.

Eliza turned her head away in embarrassment. Her whole body flushed pink while he fixed his heterochromatic gaze on her sex, then melted when he turned on the nightstand lamp so he could see while he parted her with his fingers, exposing her to the kiss of cool air.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” he said, his voice deepening. “Goddamn. You’re beautiful.” He made a V with his fingers and gently spread her open and then glanced up. “What?” he asked. “Are you embarrassed? He never looked at you like this?”

Mutely, she shook her head.

“If you were mine, I’d look at you all day, every day. Pussy like this? I’d never leave the house.” He got down on his forearms until his face was an inch or two from her.

Her heart tapped like a flamenco dancer, and all the breath left her lungs when with his hot tongue, he gave her one long lick from her perineum to the tip of her clit.

He gave her a crooked grin, and then wrapped his arms around her waist and carried her higher up the bed, resting her ass on a stack of pillows. When she leaned back, her hips jutted upward, her pussy high in the air.

He rested his hands on her inner thighs and spread her farther. Then he dipped his head and kissed her long and deep where she needed it most, lapping at her and making her body weep with pent-up longing. He sucked on her, drinking in the juices of her arousal, his eyes closing as though he were having a cool drink of water on a hot summer day.

Then he released her with a wet smack. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. He began to stroke her. Slowly, he held a fingertip right at her opening, tracing the delicate rim and driving her insane. Then he put the thumb of his other hand on her clit and began to trace tiny circles on that pinhead of packed nerves. He slid a long finger into her and curled it slightly, immediately
finding the sweet spot her ex had never found.

Her toes curled into the sheets. She threw her head back and moaned.

“That’s it,” he said. He began to move his hand back and forth, thrusting into her heat and summoning thunderheads of pleasure she felt gathering on the horizon.

He replaced his thumb with his tongue and was soon strumming her clit with a slow, steady rhythm.

She tightened, feeling as though he were gathering all her loose nerve endings, weaving them into a thick rope that he was about to yank. Hard.

With each minute that passed, she felt the tension in her body swirl and intensify. The pillowcase under her ass was soaked with her hot juices; she was trembling and twitching, her back arched in complete surrender to his gifted tongue.

Suddenly, he stopped.

She gasped, arrested at the edge.

“Squeeze your tits.” His voice had a rough edge to it, making it even sexier than before. “Pinch those pretty pink nipples.”

She did as he told her. For once, she let herself feel how smooth and heavy her breasts felt in her own hands. She rubbed her nipples, then pinched them until they were as hard as diamonds.

He easily slid a second finger into her wet pussy, opening her up and making her clit throb angrily against the tip of his tongue. Then he began to fuck her hard and fast with his fingers. He quickened his rhythm on her clit, pulling the hood back with the fingers of his other hand and flicking his tongue against the hypersensitive tip.

She felt as if the whole world were falling apart around her. “I’m—going to—holy shit,” she stammered.

He drove his tongue against the naked glans of her clit and
she came. Her pelvic bones crackled with the force of her climax; he held her legs open and feasted on her as she shuddered wetly into his mouth.

When she was finished, he stood up from the bed and slid out of his boxers. He walked toward her, six foot three of sinuous muscle, his eyes ablaze with lust.

Battered and weak, Eliza let him pick her up again and set her on the dressing table. He ran his hands up her inner thighs as she stared, transfixed by his enormous cock. Three inches longer than Ryan’s, it was nearly as thick as her wrist.

He took it in his hand and gave it a quick stroke, smearing some of her juices over its glistening pink head. “Like what you see?” he asked.

A drop of fresh liquid seeped out of her pussy. She reached for him.

Rigid and hot, he jerked against her palm. His balls were as big as peaches.

“You’re huge,” she said.

“And you’re tight. How’re we gonna manage?” he said. His voice was husky and ragged. He grabbed the base of his cock and swirled the head slowly over her swollen labia and clit.

She grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself.

Again he captured her lips with his, swallowing her gasp of surprise and making her taste her own pussy juices where they lingered on his tongue.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed her ass. With one deft movement, he slid the head of his cock into her, thrust in an inch, then pulled back again, thrusting deeper the next time, letting her wetness coat his shaft as the tender tissues of her sex stretched painfully around him.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped. “You have one sweet little cunt, Eliza.” She clenched at the dirty word, and he groaned. “Do
that again,” he said, looking into her eyes, “and I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, clenching.

His eyes narrowed. He pulled out of her almost completely then flexed his ass and gave her one, smooth thrust, carving into her flesh and burying himself inside her deeper than she’d ever been fucked before.