The Cowboy's Saving Grace, an erotic western novella (Taming the Cowboy)

The Cowboy’s Saving Grace

By

Emma Jay

Copyright © 2013 by Emma Jay

All Rights Reserved.

Las Vegas—bright lights and big city. Liam Delaney drove down the strip, watching the play of neon over the shiny hood of his truck. Every flash sent another wave of happiness through him. He hadn’t been to Nevada in four years. But now he’d qualified again for the PRCA championship and had two weeks in his favorite city.

His first stop was going to be his favorite titty bar. He hoped like hell Grace still worked there, though, damn, a lot could change in four years. They’d had a good thing going when he was here the last time, almost the entire two weeks together. He’d lost contact because, well, he just wasn’t the kind of guy who kept in touch. Hated the damn phone, only had a cellphone because he was on the road so much, but mostly it stayed in the console of his truck. The upside there was that it was nearly always charged.

He pulled into the parking lot of Little Bo Peeks, off the strip, found a parking spot away from the other cars, and swung out. His pulse picked up as he headed through the door into the lobby that was decorated with old fashioned pin-ups, girls with upthrust breasts and waspish waists. He grinned, tipped his hat to his favorite picture of a curvy cowgirl sitting on a split-rail fence, and headed in for the main show.

The place had three stages, one in front and two more set back, one on each side. Three girls were on stage in various stages of stripping, and Liam strolled past the bar to get at a table up close. Grace had always stripped in the middle, the headliner, so to speak, but he didn’t see her now. He took off his Stetson and placed it on the table as he sat, his gaze traveling from one stage to another. All beautiful girls in various states of undress, probably none of them more than twenty. Grace had been, what, twenty-two?

“Get you something?”

He looked up at the bright-eyed blonde waitress, dressed almost as provocatively as the girls on stage, with shorts so short they rode up the curve of her very nice ass.

“A shot of tequila with a beer chaser.”

“You got it, cowboy.” She dragged out the last word and turned, wagging her ass.

He focused again on the stages, and considered moving to a table closer to the stage on the left, where the girl had the most perfect tits, high and round with tight little nipples. Before he could give it much thought, though, the waitress was back, bending way over to place his shot and beer on the table, giving him a good look at her cleavage, looking at him through her eyelashes. He tucked a bill between her breasts.

“Anything else I can get for you, cowboy?” She straightened and cocked her hip, her foot turned out, sexy as hell.

“I’ll need another shot in a few.”

“Got it.”

She turned away, twirling her tray near her head, and he thought of something, reached out and caught her wrist. She turned with a smile pasted to her lips, but he thought he saw a hint of panic in her eyes. He dropped her hand quickly.

“Hey, when I was here before, there was a girl named Grace.”

The girl frowned and his heart sank. He should have figured she’d move on. But damn, he’d had his heart set on seeing her again.

“There’ve been a lot of girls named Grace, but the only one still here is the bartender.”

He twisted around to look, caught sight of blonde hair as the bartender bent to retrieve something. When she straightened, he squinted, but only when he saw her laugh did he know.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured. He rose, took his shot glass, slammed it back and placed his hat on his head. The tequila was still burning its way down his chest when she looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes glazed over for a second, like she wasn’t sure who he was.

Then a smile spread across her face and she leaned on the bar toward him.

“Hey, cowboy. Where you been?”

Her voice was just as sultry as he remembered, and wrapped around his cock the way the sight of those girls on stage hadn’t. He’d hoped maybe she’d jump into his arms, squeal a little bit, but it
had
been a long time.

“I’m in the national championships.” He folded his arms on the bar and leaned forward, wishing for a kiss, but she didn’t come any closer. He masked his disappointment with a question. “Want to come see me ride?”

Her eyes brightened. “That sounds like fun.”

“You look good, Gracie.” If wearing a little more than he was used to seeing, a printed T-shirt so tight he could see the lace of her bra and the pucker of her nipples, beyond that shorts not quite as short as his waitress—who was pouting down at the other end of the bar.

She shifted her weight back on one foot. “You, too, cowboy, but you know that, don’t you?”

He realized then she was calling him cowboy probably because she’d forgotten his name. “You remember me, right?”

Her blue eyes warmed. “I remember you, Liam.”

She was called away by a waiting customer, and had other drink orders to fill.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as she moved with precision and, well, grace, to fill the orders. Her eyebrows lifted when she looked up to find him still watching her.

“You’re not dancing anymore,” he said when she came back over.

She shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “The customers like them with fewer miles.”

He scoffed. She was, what, twenty-six? She looked better than any of those girls on stage. “Better for me, then. You got a break coming up?”

“I just took it.”

He huffed in frustration. “What time do you get off? We could go get a cup of coffee.” And hopefully a sweeter reunion.

Again she shook her head. “I don’t drink coffee.”

He remembered that, didn’t know why he’d slipped. “Iced tea, then. Come on, Grace. We had fun last time I was in town.”

“We did.”

“Do you do private dances?” As he recalled, they had special rooms off to the side, if a customer was willing to pay enough. Liam was more than willing to pay to have some time alone with her, if that would break the ice.

She smiled, pouring another beer from the tap. “I don’t dance anymore.”

“That’s a shame.” Realization struck. “You’re not seeing someone, are you?”

“Nope.”

But she didn’t meet his gaze. She was hiding something. That only intrigued him more. He shifted on the barstool. “I’ve missed you, Grace.”

She concentrated on the tap, and slid the beer over to the waitress who had put the order in. “It’s been a few years. You couldn’t have missed me that much.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been all over the country making money, keeping the sponsors happy. Had to work hard to get back here to the finals.” He tried his most charming smile on her. “But I thought of you a lot.”

She folded her arms on the bar, pushing her breasts up. “Me, and how many others?”

“Is he bothering you?” Another bartender, a hard-looking redhead with mean eyes and big tits, sidled up to Grace, frowning at Liam.

“An ex-boyfriend,” Grace said.

“If you don’t want to take his money, you know how Vanessa loves cowboys.” The redhead inclined her head to the petite blonde who’d been his waitress, standing at the end of the bar.

Liam looked back in time to catch Grace narrowing her eyes.

“I’m fine with taking his money,” she said through her teeth.

She slammed down the drink she was mixing, lifted the hinged section of the bar and stepped out from behind. She took his hand and led him to a back room.

He shifted his grip on her hand, savored the delicate weight of hers in his, rubbed his thumb along a callus on the side of her finger. The memory of those hands on him came flooding back, and he resisted bringing her hand to his lips.

She stepped into a booth with a couch along one wall, and motioned for him to have a seat while she closed the door and crossed to the boom box on the table nearby. She flipped through the CDs before finding one she liked, and placed it in the player.

“Grace, I didn’t mean—” Yeah, he’d wanted to see her naked, but he’d kind of hoped for more privacy. And less attitude.

The song “Cowboy” by Kid Rock blasted out of the speakers, making him chuckle, and Grace did an undulating pirouette in the middle of the floor.

He rubbed his hands back and forth over the couch as she turned, stripping her T-shirt off in the same movement. Just as gorgeous as he remembered, her nipples hard and dark beneath the sheer fabric, but something was different. She was...softer, somehow. He wanted to get his hands on her, but he was waiting for a signal from her.  He couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin from splitting his face as she turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder, rolling first her shoulder, then her hips in a smooth circle before facing him again.

She bent and shimmied her breasts, then edged closer and plucked his hat off, placing it on her own head. He laughed as it sank to her ears, and she tilted it back with her finger, then slid her hands, fingers spread, down her stomach to the waistband of her white shorts.

He shifted as his dick pressed against the fly of his jeans. God, he wanted to be the one peeling those little shorts down those long legs.

“Grace, you don’t have to—”

She placed her finger over his lips, then stepped back.He fisted his hands at his sides and watched as she flicked open the button and opened the zipper to reveal light purple lace panties, the same color as her bra. His hands itched to feel the lace, warm from her body. She slid the shorts over her hips, and they dropped to the floor. Expertly, she stepped out of them and with her foot, flipped them to land on the couch beside him. He grabbed them, just to hold onto something as she picked the cowboy hat off her head and held it over her breasts. With her other hand, she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. Still holding the hat over her breasts, she danced closer, hips swaying to his new favorite song, and placed the hat on his head, leaning close, eyes bright with humor.

“Hi, Liam.”

He couldn’t help himself. He lifted his chin and captured her mouth with his. For a moment, he thought she would back away. Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and straddled his lap, her tongue sliding across his lips, retreating playfully when his came out to play.

“God, I missed you, girl,” he murmured, cupping his hands on her ass and drawing her closer, letting her ride the ridge of his hard-on, which grew painful beneath his fly.

The way she glided her hands over his shoulders, up through his hair, made him think she’d missed him, too. He kneaded her ass for a moment before sliding his hands up her slender back, feeling the play of muscles as she moved over him. He curved his hand around her breast and flicked her nipple, wanting his lips on the tender bud, but unwilling to surrender her mouth just yet.

Her tongue battled his, her mouth open and hungry, her soft sighs and murmurs of appreciation filling the air of the small room. She bumped her hips against his, ground against him until his vision darkened, and he placed his hands on her hips to still her. His control was on the very edge of slipping away. She broke the kiss to meet his gaze.

“What?” she asked, her fingers brushing up and down the short hair at the back of his neck. “Liam, what?”

His chest swelled at the neediness he saw in her pretty blue eyes. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“You’re starting to sound like a parrot. Stand up.”

She slid down his thighs until she could get her feet under her, and her brow furrowed.

“Stand up on the couch, Grace.” He held out a hand to help her up.

Still frowning, she took his hand and stepped onto the couch, standing beside him.

“Take off your panties.” His voice was rough.

She tucked her fingers into the lace and pushed them down.

“Christ, you’re so pretty,” he murmured, mesmerized by the neat little strip of hair over her pussy. He curved his hand around one ankle. “Come here.”

Understanding dawned. “Liam.”

He heard protest in her voice but ignored it as he tugged her ankle, helping her balance on one foot as he positioned her over him, her pussy just above his mouth. He stroked his hand from her ass down her thigh and pulled, just a little, so her knees rested against his shoulders and he could put his mouth right where he wanted it.

He started with his lips closed, nuzzling her cleft apart, finding her hard little clit slick with arousal. With his lips puckered, he teased the bud, making her moan and press her knees harder into his shoulders. He chuckled, letting her feel the vibration, and opened his mouth over her cunt, flicking his tongue along her soft flesh, dipping inside her, filling himself with her spicy flavor. When he stroked the flat of his tongue over her petals, she lost all inhibition, moving her hips toward his mouth in rhythm with his tongue, her pussy growing wetter and wetter, her breath coming shorter and shorter.

He cupped her ass in one hand to guide her before one of them got hurt, slipped his thumb down, pressing it into her channel. She made a little squealing sound as he fucked her with his thumb, and he alternated long strokes and short flicks on her clit until her muscles went taut, her clit quivering beneath his tongue, and she came with a long moan, her pussy squeezing his thumb, her clit pulsing beneath his tongue.