The Bad Boy of Redemption Ranch

by Maisey Yates

  He took a step toward her. “You...you make me hard. You make me want. And I didn’t want to be into some prissy cop who’s everything I hate in the world, but maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why I want you. Why I want to push you up against this wall right now and tear your shirt off. I want to see what color your nipples are. See how wet you get between your legs when a man touches you there. Tastes you there. That’s what I want. You. Mindless and naked and mine. And it doesn’t make any sense. Because I could go out to a bar and have a woman I didn’t have to work for. But I don’t want any woman. I want you. All hellfire and angry, biting me while you kiss me.” The color had risen high in her cheeks, her breath coming in short, harsh bursts. “Maybe that’s the thing. Like you said about me. I want it as good as I want it bad. I want it to hurt. I want you to dig your nails into me while you come around me.”

  She shrunk back. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

  “Should I go say things like that to someone else?”

  That seemed to be it. The challenge that broke her.

  She growled. Like a feral cat before she launched herself across the distance between them and grabbed hold of his face, kissing him with a hell of a lot more fury than finesse.

  But fury was fine with him.

  Fury was the substance of his being, and being able to hold it like this, female and soft, small enough to wrap up in his arms and big enough to arouse him more than he could remember ever having been aroused, was all right by him.

  She did bite him. Her teeth sinking deep into his lower lip. He wrapped her ponytail around his fist and pulled her head back, separating their mouths, exposing her throat so he could kiss her there. Then he worked his way back to her lips, moving his tongue deep and tasting her.

  “You’re a hot little piece,” he growled. “Damn hot.”

  “I think that’s insulting,” she said, panting.

  “Is it? Because you’re the only one I want. The only one that’s done a damn thing for me in the last four years. You tell me if that’s insulting.”

  It was going on more than four years since he’d been with a woman. Ridiculous. And he’d been married about five years before that. A decade since he had a woman other than his ex-wife in his arms.

  And he couldn’t even fantasize about the sex they’d had, because she’d ruined it. He was a damn sight past even finding the idea of hate sex with her hot. She had him sent to prison. He had no forgiveness for her in his body.

  Pansy wasn’t a fantasy. She was real. She was fire in his arms. He reversed their positions, pressing her against one of the barn walls, then he grabbed her arms and trapped them up over her head, wrapping one hand around her wrist as he continued to kiss her.

  She arched into him, those full breasts pressing into his chest. He grinned against her mouth, because he couldn’t help it. Then he bit her right back.

  She whimpered, her pelvis moving restlessly against his. He knew exactly what she wanted.

  He flicked open the button on her jeans, dragged her zipper down and pushed his hand right down between her legs, right where he’d been fantasizing about touching.

  She was wet.

  So damn slick and perfect. He stroked her, moving his fingers through the seam of her folds, paying extra close attention to the sensitized bundle of nerves that he knew would bring her extreme pleasure. She gasped, moving against his hand, each little noise that she made in time with his strokes like a plea for more. And he answered that plea. He shifted his hand, pinching her gently before pressing his palm against her as he explored her deeper, pushing one finger inside of her. She pulled her mouth from his, letting her head fall back against the wall, her eyes wide, her mouth dropping open in shock.

  “You okay?” He was barely able to ask the question. He didn’t know what the hell he would do if she wanted to stop.

  Well, he’d stop. But he’d have to go jump in a cold river and put his balls on ice.

  “Good,” she panted.

  But there was a strange and wild look in her eyes, something that seemed to sit on the edge of pleasure and fear. But then she leaned in and kissed his mouth, and he figured he would believe the lady when she told him it was good.

  He worked his finger in and out of her body, and she wiggled her hips in time with the movement. Suddenly, she planted her palms against his chest and pushed him backward. He slipped his hand out of her jeans and let her move him away.

  She was strong, and there was a lot of sexy, tight muscle under that smooth skin of hers, but she was no match for him if he decided he wasn’t going to be moved.

  But then she planted her hands on his stomach, let them drift down as they crept beneath the hem of his shirt. She blinked rapidly when her fingertips made contact with his skin. Then she bit her lip and pushed her hands farther up, pushing his shirt up and exposing his stomach and chest. He grabbed the bottom of it and pulled it up over his head. She put her hand in the center of his chest, the expression on her face one of awe as she stared at the place where her palm rested against him.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  He didn’t think a woman had ever called him beautiful before. “Not much to do but work out for the last few years.”

  “Thank you,” she said, letting her fingertips drift over his muscles. “Really.”

  “Officer Daniels,” he said. “I think you’re a little bit of a bad girl.”

  She blinked. “Me?”

  “You sure make me think bad things.” He lifted her hand from his chest and brought her fingertips to his mouth, biting the tip of one gently. She shivered. He took her by the hand and led her back to the tack room. There was a couch in there. Not the most civilized space, given that there were harnesses and crops hanging all over the walls.

  Though, to be honest, he could think of a few things he wouldn’t mind doing with the crop and Officer Daniels’s pretty backside.

  But, that conversation could happen later.

  Next time, maybe.

  He slammed the door closed behind them, just in case Emmett ended up wandering around. He was pretty sure the kid was occupied playing some game on his phone—or looking at things West didn’t want to think about him looking at—and wouldn’t be leaving the house. But still.

  He moved to Pansy, pulling her T-shirt up over her head.

  She was wearing a sensible sports bra that didn’t do a whole lot to show off her curves. But he didn’t care. He pushed that up too, making quick work of it and flinging it onto the floor.

  A blush covered her cheeks, spreading down lower, over those pretty breasts.

  And they were pretty. Barely a handful, but with hard, dark pink nipples that he wanted to taste.

  He pulled her up against him, her bare breasts against his bare chest, and kissed her, bringing her down onto the couch, onto his lap. They were both in only blue jeans, her thighs spread wide.

  Then he moved his hands down her back, down to her ass, and jerked her against him so that she could feel the hard length of him.

  The denim kept them both from getting as much stimulation as he’d like, but the tease was fun in its way. She gasped, letting her head fall back, and he scraped his teeth along her neck, kissing a path down to the plump curve of one breast before drawing a tightened bud deep into his mouth. Her hands went to his shoulders, those nails digging into his skin just like he had said he wanted.

  That sweet pain a counterpoint to the intense pleasure that he felt tasting her. He moved his attention to her other breast, tracing her nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking her in deep. He teased her like that until she was wiggling against him, until she was panting, whimpering.

  He lifted her up and set her so that she was sitting sidesaddle on him. Then he pushed her jeans down her hips, pulled them off along with her panties in as fluid a movement as he could manage in that
position.

  That left the good officer naked on his lap, the whole of her pretty body exposed to him. She breathed in and out, the muscles on her stomach visible as she did. Her arms were toned, and so were her thighs. He liked the look of her. Like a pint-size warrior who could kick his ass as readily as she could turn all soft and pliant and willing in his arms.

  That pretty patch of curls between her legs made his mouth water. Made him so stiff he hurt.

  Her skin was the most brilliant, beautiful shade of pink he’d ever seen, a flush spreading over her and getting deeper. He moved his hands slowly over her curves, careful not to miss an inch.

  Then he shifted, setting her beside him on the couch so that he could get his wallet that was in his back pocket, and make quick work of his own boots and jeans so that he could be naked. Skin to skin with her. She was looking at him, her eyes darting everywhere but right to the part of him that showed how much he wanted her.

  It was sweet to be with a woman who was a little bit coy. He didn’t have any experience with that. He liked them brazen and bold, and if he and Pansy were to do this again, he had a feeling that she would get a hell of a lot more bold. But, he was kind of enjoying that expression on her face now.

  Because it was something between awe and reverence and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone has looked at him like that.

  Maybe never.

  And maybe that didn’t say great things about his ego, but his ego had taken a pounding over the last few years, so he would take it.

  She lifted her hand and reached out, fingertips brushing against where he was hot and hard for her. He sucked a breath in, pleasure skittering over him like lightning.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Almost,” he said. “But in the best way.”

  She sat there, unmoving.

  “Touch me,” he ground out.

  She did, wrapping her fingers around him, testing him, squeezing him. And then, she devoted her full attention to him. Her mouth fell open slightly, those pink lips parted and when she licked them he felt the echo of that slick tongue stroke against his length.

  “You’re so sexy,” he ground out. “I want to be inside you.”

  He was a liar.

  He didn’t want it.

  He needed it.

  She rose up onto her knees, still holding him in her hand, and she kissed him. She was getting bolder with her kisses already, her tongue delving into his mouth to explore him without hesitation. He planted his hand on her ass, slipping his fingertips between her legs and teasing her damp opening as she continued to squeeze him. She gasped, and he pushed his finger back inside of her, then a second, glorying in how hot she was. How wet.

  How good she would feel when he pushed his way inside of her.

  This was just teasing.

  He was ready for the real thing. He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a condom, tearing it open and rolling it onto his length.

  Sure he hadn’t been with a woman in years, but he made sure that he had the necessities just in case.

  He was a man who didn’t take chances. Especially not anymore.

  He grabbed hold of her again and positioned her so that she was astride him on his lap again, pulling her close so that he could push his hardness through her slickness.

  She shuddered and he gripped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, parting her mouth and kissing her deep, gripping her tightly with his other hand. Teasing her relentlessly between her legs.

  Then he moved his hands to her hips and lifted her slowly, pressing the head of him to the entrance of her body and bringing her down slowly, achingly slow, onto him, inch by excruciating inch. She whimpered, she wiggled, a harsh sound rising in her throat as he arched his hips upward and thrust all the way home.

  She went stiff, and when he looked at her face he saw that she was not having very much fun.

  “What?” he asked, doing his best to form words, because his brain wasn’t working well at all. She was so tight. So perfect, and he hadn’t been inside anyone in so long. Even then, no one had ever felt like her. Not like this.

  She was a revelation. Having to think while buried inside of her was not easy.

  “It’s fine,” she said, but a tear escaped the corner of her eye, and he knew it wasn’t fine.

  “What’s wrong,” he asked, moving to pull out.

  She put her hand against his wrist. “No,” she said. “I want to.”

  “I’m hurting you,” he said.

  “It’s getting better.”

  “Why does it hurt?”

  “I’ve never... I’ve never done this before,” she said.

  He cursed, and lifted her away from him, laying her down on the couch. “Pansy...”

  “No,” she said fiercely. “Don’t leave it half done. Don’t just give me the pain. This was supposed to be something wild. Don’t make it something sad.” She reached up, curving her fingers around his neck, her eyes meeting his. “I’ve had enough sad.”

  He couldn’t resist that. He let her pull his face down to hers, kissed her. She parted her legs for him, and he slid himself between them, pushing inside of her again. This time, she gasped, but she didn’t cry out. He pressed his thumb where he knew she needed him most and stroked her as he moved in and out of her slowly, as gently as he could. He did that until she was making those same movements with her hips she’d done when he was just touching her. Did that until he was sure he had brought her back to the peak of mindless pleasure instead of to that space where they were both thinking too damned much.

  Then she gripped his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin again. And he lost it. He braced himself against the couch and withdrew slowly, then thrust back in hard.

  This time, when she made a sound, it was definitely of pleasure.

  His control unraveled, then released completely. And he could do nothing but lose himself in the deep, primal rhythm he established between them.

  She lifted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, her lack of experience lost in the way they learned each other. In the way they each followed their pleasure.

  Her mouth was soft, and she kissed his jaw, his chin, his lips. Soft kisses that joined with those sharp nails. Pleasure and pain, perfect from her.

  It had been inevitable. From the moment she pulled him over, that they would end up here. That he would take her like this.

  He was just damned glad that they’d finally accepted that inevitability.

  And when it was over, he was going to have to deal with the rest. With the practicality.

  But not now.

  Hell no, not now.

  “West,” she whispered his name, lifting her hips and grinding herself against him as he thrust deep. She shuddered, her internal muscles getting impossibly tighter as her orgasm wrenched through her, deep and intense, judging by the way she squeezed him.

  And then, he was gone. Utterly and completely gone. His every thought turned to fire, each brain cell turning into a nerve ending, capable of only registering one thing. White-hot pleasure.

  She surrounded him. That tight, beautiful body, her soap-scented clean skin that smelled like sweat now because of him.

  This good girl. A uniformed police officer. Naked and panting and dirty because of him.

  He gritted his teeth, his orgasm rushing over him like a tidal wave. He came on a hoarse growl, pumping into her hard as he spent himself. Then he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, trying to catch his breath as reality began to set in.

  He had just screwed the very last woman he should’ve ever touched.

  His tenant. A cop.

  A damned virgin.

  He pulled away from her, draping her legs over his lap as he pushed into a sitting position, leaning his back against the couch.

  “Why didn’t you t
ell me?” he panted.

  “I didn’t want it to matter,” she said. “Hell, I didn’t even want it to be true. I wish I’d been with someone else first. So that...this was easier. Because I really wanted this. And I have a feeling that it would’ve been...a lot simpler if I’d done it before.”

  Perversely, he found that on a primal level he was glad he’d been the first. But maybe it all tied in with whatever the hell made her so irresistible to him.

  That good girl, bad boy thing.

  That desire to take someone like her and bring her down to his level.

  “Nothing was ever going to make this simple,” he said.

  And of all the things that he knew in that moment, he knew that best of all.

  “Don’t...don’t worry about it,” she said, moving away from him and looking for her clothes. Even with things the way they were, he couldn’t help but admire that pretty, toned body of hers.

  He was only a man, and simple enough after all.

  “Do you want me to walk you back?”

  Her body went stiff.

  Everything in him said that he ought to, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. And while he might not be a gentleman in the classical sense, he certainly knew how to play the part.

  “I really don’t,” she said.

  She wanted to be alone. And he supposed that he should respect that. Supposed that he should take the hint.

  But he wasn’t the kind of man who had ever been good at taking hints.

  Or, outright statements, really.

  “It’s dark,” he said, moving to dress himself. He discarded the condom in the wastebasket next to the couch and began to get dressed.

  By the time they walked out of the barn she looked like she was ready to fold in on herself. So he walked next to her, with a healthy amount of space between. But he just felt like he should be there. The dark offered a little bit of privacy anyway.

  Of course, Pansy Daniels would laugh if she knew that he was walking her back home with half a mind to keep her safe.