Cowboy Up (Coming Home #3)

Every single time I go to lift myself off of him, I feel a strangled sound leave my mouth.

“Take it easy, darlin’. Fuckin’ hell. Didn’t think you would try to split yourself in two,” he mumbles, kissing me sweetly while helping me rock my hips to get used to the size of him. It doesn’t take long for those sweet kisses to turn desperate and my body to need more.

If he wasn’t such a large man, or maybe if I wasn’t such a small woman, I would have been able to ride him like he had wanted, but as it was, I couldn’t even get myself halfway off his hardness before he realized I needed help. His hands clamp my hips and lift me all the way off before thrusting me down. We continue, both of us moving in a way that would make you think we’d been lovers for years. The sounds of my wetness fuel my desire as we swallow each other’s moans.

“I’m going to . . .” I pant.

“Say it,” he grunts when I stop speaking. “Tell me what you’re gonna give me.”

“I’m going to . . . God, Davis, I’m going to come!” I yell as I start to do just that.

He drops me, hard and heavy against him, and I start rocking my hips while my pleasure takes me to the brink of insanity. The whole time, he speaks soft words that I’m unable to understand through the force of my orgasm.

Then he proves he’s a man of his word, because I come again on my hands and knees while he pulls my head back with a strong grip my ponytail, his balls slapping against my hyper-sensitive flesh. Then and only then does he pull free of me, flip me onto my back, and climb up my body with his knees digging into the mattress next to my sides. I feel the tip of him touch my chest a few times as his furiously pumps himself; then the hot splash of his come hits my chest as he bellows out into the shadows around us. I hadn’t even registered him removing the condom, so lost was I in delicious pleasure.

His body slackens when the last drop leaves him, giving me just enough of his weight but clearly not all of it since I can still breathe. I wiggle, the wetness on my breasts starting to roll toward my neck, and lift one hand up to swipe at it. I’m not sure what makes me lick my fingers clean, but when the salty taste of him bursts against my tongue, I moan loudly.

“Fuck,” he hisses breathlessly. “Just came harder than I ever fuckin’ have and I’m ready to take more from you. You too sore for my cock again?”

“Hmm?” I moan, still sucking the taste of him off my fingers.

“Doesn’t matter, gonna fuck you again anyway.”

And boy does he. By the time we finally fall asleep, he’s taken me once in the shower and again in the bed before pulling me into his arms seconds before I pass out. The last thought that goes through my mind before drifting off is if this was how living wild and free feels, I am never going to stop.

Never.





3


CLAYTON


“Dirt on My Boots” by Jon Pardi

- -

The overwhelming heat rushing through my body is enough to make me hate being a rancher during these hot-as-fuck summer months. The oppressing temperature assaults me the second I open my front door, the heat so stifling that it steals your breath straight from your damn lungs. The harder I work, the worse it gets, until I pray to whomever will listen for anything to filter some of these damn rays. Nothing changes the fact that shit needs to get done and I’m the one who needs to do it.

Trails of sweat drip down my back, slow tracks of fiery wetness that feel like they burn my skin on the way to my belted jeans. I drop the pitchfork I’ve been using to add straw to the horses’ stalls and rip my shirt off, wiping my brow with it before placing my hat back on my soaked head as I toss the garment behind me and continue with my task.

Fucking Texas summers.

It feels like hell rises from the ground every day.

My days are all the same. I wake up, chug coffee, and work outside until well after the sun sets and the rest of the people in Pine Oak have set off for dinner with their families.

I’m alone, for all intents and purposes, and that feeling is even more pronounced on days when my brothers aren’t around to distract me from my loneliness, which happens more frequently now that they’re both married and living off the ranch.

But even if I wanted to find someone like Maverick and Quinn did, there’s no place in my life for the responsibility of being the sole provider of someone else’s happiness anymore. I’m at the tail end of my thirties, and it’s too late for me to worry about finding someone I love.

No one can hurt me if I don’t let them have the power to do it. Which means I’m better off alone.

“Fuckin’ hell, old man, what’s crawled up your ass and died?”

“Got shit to do, Mav,” I tell my brother, not stopping in my shoveling.

“Looks like you need a break from that shit you gotta do, brother.”

“Drew isn’t here today. If I don’t get this shit done, I’m gonna be workin’ all night. Tell me what you need so I can get this done.”

“Leigh wants you to come to dinner tomorrow.”

“Does she now?”

“Says she doesn’t see you enough, though I’m not sure why she fuckin’ cares.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jealous?”

“Fuck you,” he retorts.

“Just saw her the other day when I stopped in at the PieHole. Why does she really want me to come to dinner?”

I hear my younger brother mumble something under his breath and smile despite the fact that I’m hot and exhausted, and my mind is in about a million other places. He continues to grumble—something he’s always been mighty good at—as I finish placing the last few forkfuls of hay into the stall and turn to him. Even frustrated, I can see the contentment that his life now brings him written all over his face. I’m happy as fuck that he’s got that. It hasn’t been an easy road for him and his wife, Leighton, but they finally found their way back to each other. Took him almost dying, his rodeo career ending, and our father’s death to do it, but it happened regardless, so if anyone deserves the full-to-bursting life he has with Leigh, it’s my little brother.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but she and Quinn want to corner you into comin’ to their baby shower or some shit like that. Fuck if I know, Clay. I don’t even want to be a part of it, but every time Leigh talks about the shower, her face does this thing that makes me want to give her anything in the damn world to keep it lookin’ like that, so I’m here to make sure I keep gettin’ those stars in her eyes and smiles on her lips. Even if it goes against everything to be beggin’ my brother to come to a fuckin’ baby shower.”