Just Once (25 page)

My clit pulses dangerously. I squeeze my thighs together.

“After watching you run around, tits bouncing, smelling like vanilla, I thought I would come in my pants.”

“Shane…”

“Are you wet?”

“You know I am.”

“I’m going to bend you over now.”

“The sofa?”

“Right here’s fine.” He turns me so I’m facing the bed and presses between my shoulders until I’m kneeling on the floor. “Ass up,” he says, swatting me lightly.

I shift so I’m lying over the bed, knees not quite on the floor, ass in the air.

“Let’s get these off…” Shane murmurs, fingers working under the edge of my panties and peeling them down my legs with painstaking care. He makes a sound low in his throat, and I know he can see how wet I am, how desperately swollen.

“Shane—” I start to twist around, but he splays one big hand across my back and holds me in place. I kick off my shoes and socks so my toes can find better traction on the carpet.

I don’t know where the condom comes from, but I hear him rip one open. The tattered package falls on the mattress near my head. He pushes my legs apart, so wide I whimper and my toes strain to hold me up.

Shane drops to his knees behind me, and I feel his cock on my thigh. His hands stroke up and down my legs, first my calves, then my thighs, up to my ass. His thumbs delve between my cheeks and open me. I shiver at the thought of his gaze on my darkest, most secret place, and when I can’t take any more I reach back and cover myself.

He chuckles and removes my hand. “No hiding.”

“That’s off limits.”

He bites my ass in response, then fits his cock at my sopping entrance, pushing in easily. “Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re so wet.”

I bite my fist to stifle a cry. He feels so perfect, like the only solution to a very personal problem. He strokes carefully at first, then harder and harder. Soon I feel his pubic bone slamming into my ass with each thrust. My fingers scrabble for a hold on the smooth mattress, and my legs spread wider as I struggle to hold myself up. Each thrust of his cock reaches somewhere deep inside, deeper than anyone has ever been, and it’s so good it hurts. I’m crying out, and my eyes are shut tight.

I want to reach between my legs to touch my clit, to answer this burning need, but I need both hands to keep myself from sliding all over the place. “Shane,” I gasp. “Please.”

He doesn’t ask what I need. He curls forward so he’s covering my back and reaches one hand around, rasping down my stomach with his calloused palm. I can hear his rough breathing in my ear, feel his teeth on my neck. But he doesn’t touch my clit. Instead he spreads his fingers wide over my lower belly and pushes in, pressing against something inside me so each push of his cock feels impossibly tight. Now he’s nudging that perfect spot, the one that makes me clamp down and moan as the need and pleasure escalate.

“Oh God,” I groan, turning my face into the mattress so he can’t see the tears leaking from my eyes. I’ve never cried during sex before. I’ve never wanted to. But now I can’t seem to control myself. Every part of me is raw and exposed, every thrust takes me to the brink but not over.

I lower a trembling hand between my legs, trying to touch myself, to finish what Shane has started, but he whispers soothing words in my ear and takes my hand away, returning it to the mattress. “I’ve got you,” he says, breath tickling my neck.

“I can’t take any more,” I moan. “What are you doing to me?”

He pounds into me harder and harder, stroking over that spot again and again until everything in me converges in one place, then finally dips his fingers between my legs, rubbing roughly and grunting, “Come,” in my ear.

I’ve been called stubborn most of my life, but not now. My body’s not listening to me anyway. It’s found a new master, and his name is Shane. I come. I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life. My pussy spasms so tightly it hurts, and I hear Shane cry out, biting my shoulder as he explodes inside me. I feel an incredible wetness on my thighs and realize I’m still coming, the waves taking me down, holding me under. My nails scratch the mattress, and my toes curl.

Eventually his thrusts slow, drawing out the pleasure, bringing us back to earth. His body is draped over mine, crushing me, but I don’t mind. It means he’s as weak and winded as I am.

“Kate,” he groans when several minutes have passed. “You okay?”

I smile into my hand, though my smile fades when I feel my wet cheeks. I quickly scrub away the tears and nod into the mattress. “I’m okay. You?”

We both moan when he pulls out, suffering the deliciously torturous slide of his softening cock on my very well-used muscles.

“I’m fine.” He kisses my shoulder blade before standing and leaving to get rid of the condom. I use the alone time to hunt for my composure—what was I thinking, crying like that? But even as I try to chastise myself, I know I had no say in the matter. In any case, the tears are gone now, and I grab my panties, wincing as I pull them on.

When Shane doesn’t reappear I pad slowly into the living room, reluctant to face him. What just happened was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced, and he was responsible for it.

I find him sitting on the couch, pants back on as he ties up his boots, all business. He looks up and his eyes seem flat and distant. No-nonsense Shane is back, and I can’t help but flinch at the sudden change, turning away as I get dressed.

“What’s left?” he asks after a minute. “Just the bed?”

“The bathroom. Vacuuming.”

“Which do you want?”

My face is burning. I’m normally the one who’s cool and casual after sex, but now the tables have turned. I feel like a fool. I spot the clock: we still have half an hour left before we’re supposed to finish, and that’s more than enough time to complete the cabin by myself.

“You know what?” I say, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. I can do the rest.”

Shane stands and tugs on his shirt. “A deal’s a deal.”

“You were a big help,” I answer, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “Thanks.”

The look on his face switches from cool and collected to murderous in an instant, but I’ll never know what he was going to say or do next because at that moment I hear Lisa’s voice calling, “Kate? Which cabin are you in? Kate?”

“You should go.”

Shane’s fists are clenched at his side. “What just happened?” he demands.

“What do you mean?”

He comes toward me, but stops halfway. “Don’t play dumb, Kate.”

“What would you like me to say? I came back out here to find you getting dressed.”

“So—”

“And then you ask me what chore is next. Well, you’re all done. Thanks.”

“Hey, Matt, have you seen Kate?” Lisa’s getting closer.

“All done? Like a fucking stud horse?”

“You were the one getting ready to leave!”

“I couldn’t clean with my fucking dick hanging out!”

I take a breath. “I don’t want to fight with you. I didn’t mean thanks for the orgasm. I meant thanks for helping with the cabins.”

“You’re welcome.”

He’s looking at me so intently I want to squirm. I settle for avoiding his gaze.

“Hailey, is Kate in the laundry room?”

“Haven’t seen her.”

Now Shane comes close, pinching my chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “You want to be done?” he asks.

I could pretend not to know what he’s talking about, but I know he means us, and I can’t lie. “No.”

“Kate?” I hear footsteps crossing the porch. Lisa.

He nods. His eyes are dark and cool again. “Good.” He lets go and steps away just as Lisa knocks on the door and pushes it open.

“There you are!” she exclaims. “I’ve been calling you. I’m done with my cabins.”

“That’s great,” I say, drawing a deep breath. “I’ll come check in a minute. I’m almost finished.”

“Okay. And Shane, there’s a drip in cabin fourteen. Pete couldn’t fix it. Can you look?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“All right.” Lisa leaves, and the door slowly closes behind her.

Shane turns back to me, ready to say something, but there’s a second voice from outside.

“Is Kate in there?” It’s Matt.

“Yep.”

More footsteps approach.

Shane purses his lips. “I’d better go.”

“Yeah.”

Matt appears at the door. “Hey, Kate, do you know if we have more twin-size flat sheets? I can’t find any.”

Shane squeezes past Matt and leaves without a backward glance.

I run a hand over my face. “Let’s have a look,” I say.

Chapter Fifteen

F
RESHLY
S
HOWERED
A
ND
B
EAMING
, Hailey, Lisa, Matt, and I—Pete has the night off—stand on the porch and watch as the guests arrive that evening. Shane holds the van door and helps the women out, but he never glances my way. To be fair, I’m trying my very best not to look at him either.

“How long?” Hailey asks, the smile never leaving her face.

I wave at an elderly couple. “How long what?”

“Until this gets old. Same thing, week after week. How long?”

“I don’t know. It’s different for everyone. Plus it’s just for the summer.”

I glance at her out the corner of my eye. She’s watching Brandon load suitcases onto the tractor wagon that will drive them to the cabins. He catches her eye and smiles. I see Hailey flush, then deliberately look away.

“It’s kind of fun,” Matt says, failing to notice the exchange. “I feel like I’m in a parade, waving at everybody like this.”

We laugh. “You do seem to be having a particularly good time,” I agree.

The final van pulls up, and the last batch of guests begins to pile out.

“God,” Hailey groans. “How many are there?”

“Be positive,” I order. “We know the routine. Nothing has changed.”

“That’s the problem!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I warn. And then, as though designed to illustrate my point, Stanley hops out of the van.

Dressed in an expensive suit with a bright purple tie, my agent and friend of ten years waves frantically, a huge smile stretching his handsome, Botoxed face.

“That guy’s really excited,” Matt says worriedly. He stops waving.

I’m momentarily speechless. Then I wince when I see Stanley press money into Connor’s hand—and Connor look perplexed—before running toward me.

“Kate!” he shouts.

Hailey turns. “What the—?”

“Excuse me,” I mutter, darting down the steps. Stanley envelops me in a massive bear hug, swinging my feet off the ground. He smells like lavender and home, and when he pulls away and clasps my hands in his, I feel the soft skin of his palms and note how clean and carefully buffed his nails are—the very opposite of what I’ve been learning to love for the past month.

“Look at you,” he mutters, looking me over from head to toe. “Just look at you. You’re stunning.”

I’m wearing a denim skirt from the nineties and the standard ranch polo. My hair is pulled up in a bun, and I had just enough time to slap on mascara and lip gloss before coming downstairs. I’m anything but stunning.

I should say
thank you
,
welcome
,
it’s so nice to see you
, but all that comes out is, “What on earth are you doing here?”

Stanley shrugs. “I thought you could use a friend.”

And just like that, my eyes well up.

“Oh, Katie…” He hugs me, even as I remain as stiff and unyielding as a corpse.

“I’m working,” I mumble. “Don’t make me emotional.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” He pulls back and looks around. “So this is it, huh?”

I follow his gaze. Around us guests are milling about, taking in the sights, following wranglers to their cabins. The mountains are perfect, beautiful in the early evening sun, and the sky and clouds look like something out of a pastoral scene. Shane is nowhere in sight, but Hailey and Lisa are still on the porch gawking at us.

“This is it.”

Stanley turns back to me. “It’s working for you.”

“Stop.”

“No, really,” he insists. “It is. I thought you were insane when you told me you were coming to spend the summer in some shack in the forest, but it seems to be helping. You’ve got some color again. You’re not just skin and bones.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.” Though I had been noticing my clothes getting a little snug. Stanley had referred to my six months at home before leaving for Thailand as “much needed palliative care,” and had watched me like a hawk. As my next door neighbor and closest friend, he’d been the one to help me get my head on straight and find the courage to get back to traveling. Which hadn’t worked out so well. After just three days in beautiful, wonderful Thailand, I knew I couldn’t stay. All I wanted to do was hide out in my beach-side shack with the curtains drawn and a bottle of wine. When I’d called Stanley to tell him I was returning early to work at the ranch, he’d tried desperately to talk me out of it.