Saving Grace

by Stacey Espino

  She tugged the first-aid kit away from Jenna with a smile. “It’s okay, Jenna. I can handle this.”

  “Don’t you want me to—” Jenna fixed things from saddles to cowboys, but when she saw the looks Scot and Grace exchanged, she must have gotten the message loud and clear. “Oh, yeah, I guess you can handle this.” Jenna hightailed in out of the room and closed the door securely behind her.

  “Get on the bed, Scot.”

  For nearly a minute, he just stood frozen in place, staring at her with seductive eyes, dark blue fringed with thick black lashes. Then he stretched his neck to the side, which made her desperate to lick it, and went to lie on the bed as she asked.

  “This might hurt a little,” she said, dabbing at the cuts on his cheek. She hissed through her teeth when she cleared the filth from the worst of the wounds. Deep and most definitely painful. “What were you thinking, Scot?”

  He didn’t flinch while she worked on him, only squinted slightly when she irrigated the worst cut.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You can say that again.”

  He sat up, spilling the bandages that had been resting on his chest to the floor. Gripping her arm with a gentle firmness, he forced her to focus on him with a tug of her arm.

  “I’d do anything for you. Understand? I won’t have Trevor or anyone else trash-talking you.”

  “He wasn’t. He was just upset.”

  “There’s no excuse.” Scot leaned in, rubbing his less-injured cheek against hers, nuzzling, breathing her in. “You’re mine now, Grace. No man is ever going to control you or hurt you again. Not Ken, not Trevor, nobody.”

  His mouth covered hers. He flinched without pulling away. With the sharp flavor of his blood on her tongue, she tried to be gentle against his lips, but he wouldn’t have it.

  Her insecurities dwindled with his words. She desperately wanted to belong…to him. To have a place in the world, open arms, where she could find safety and comfort, meant the world to her. He had no idea the power his words held over her. Nobody ever stuck up for her before.

  She pressed forward, working him down to his back with their lips locked together.

  “I’ll hurt you,” she muttered, running her hands over his pecs, squeezing the firm muscles she loved.

  “Good.”

  “Seriously. Your dad will be in the house any minute for his lessons, and you’re banged up on top of it.”

  He breathed out something between a groan and a growl while tucking his arms behind his head. “Tell that to my hard-on.”

  She reached over his cargo shorts to caress the rock-hard erection pressing against his boxers. He could get so stiff, please her in ways she had never dreamed possible in the past. Her only thought was easing his pain. She had tended his wounds, and now the time had come to tend that big cock begging for release, no need to waste it. No way would her man go unfulfilled, even if she couldn’t get any.

  She unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, peeling the material back and tugging his shaft free of his boxers.

  In the light of day, she noticed how thick and straight his dick was. Mine, she thought. She pumped the length with medium firmness, watching his reaction and examining the beautiful cock in her hand.

  “Grace…” His tension grew, and his breathing became labored.

  She flicked her tongue out to tease the head, sampling. Bending lower, she licked from base to tip while digging her free hand into his shorts to massage his heavy balls. She opened her mouth wide, sucked his dick deep into her mouth, and savored his unique taste and texture. He moaned on contact, reaching down to stroke her hair.

  Grace sucked him off hard, worked him with her mouth and fist without mercy. His muscles twitched, and he gripped her hair with both hands, so close to coming. She wanted to bring him there, wanted to taste his come, wanted to lick it off his cock with him watching. She loved bringing him pleasure. Her pussy burned with an ache that would need its own release soon, but she only concentrated on Scot.

  His hands secured her head so she couldn’t continue.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I want to please you too. Come here.”

  “No. I want to do this.” She locked eyes with him. “I want you to come in my mouth. I want to taste you and swallow every drop.”

  His eyes lolled back in his head for a moment.

  “We can both get pleasure out of this. Come on, sixty-niner. Let me suck that pussy.”

  Grace was too far gone to argue. She dropped her shorts down, Scot’s shorts, and hopped up over him.

  “Sit on my face.”

  Her pussy vibrated, screaming out in its own way for mercy. She panted, knowing how glorious it would be to have him eating her out.

  She swiveled to face the footboard and straddled his face. Nothing could top dirty sex when one was this horny. Before she even positioned her face over his erection, he dashed out his tongue, firm and skilled. She gasped, called out his name, and remembered that she had to keep quieter. A rush of fluid followed the electric thrill running the length of her body. He sucked her clit to the point of spasm, used the firm tip of his tongue to lash her with bolts of erotic heat. He held her upper thighs apart, and she wanted his face wedged in her cunny for the rest of her life. It felt so good.

  Once in place, she took him back in her mouth. Giving and receiving pleasure at the same time boggled her senses. Today, her orgasm would come fast and furious because her body was coiled, tight and eager.

  She heard the front door slamming shut echo through the house. Mr. Wagner. Her body responded, bringing her closer to release, the urgency making everything stronger, more intense.

  Scot came before her, his seed spraying hot in her mouth at the back of her throat. She continued to suck his penis until it calmed. When someone knocked on her bedroom door, she orgasmed instantly. Gulping in sporadic breaths, rather than screaming against Scot’s thigh, she rode out her orgasm.

  “Who is it?” called Scot as soon as she collapsed over him.

  “You still giving me those lessons?” asked Mr. Wagner from behind the closed door.

  The man was smart enough not to open it.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Footsteps trailed away from the door. Scot rolled Grace off him and sat up. Pushing her sweat-slicked hair off her face, he whispered in her ear, “You called me Scotty.”

  “Did I?” she teased.

  “Yeah, and I liked it. A lot.”

  Grace glanced up at him, the high still making her smile. “I was supposed to fix you. Sorry.”

  “I feel so much better now, Nurse.”

  “Brat.” She slipped out of bed, happy to put on her own clothes. As she rummaged through her drawers for clean undies and jeans, she noticed the manila envelope on the dresser top. The divorce papers.

  She quickly dressed and brought the envelope and a pen back to the bed. Scot, zipped up but still shirtless, lay on his side, perched on one elbow.

  “Time to sign your life away?” he asked.

  “No. Time to start my life.”

  She started to sign on all the highlighted x’s where Ken’s lawyer had indicated. At least a couple dozen of them. This was it. With each stroke of the pen, she felt a burden lifting and became lighter knowing for certain she made the right decision. She had left home as one person but in a short time had transformed into another one entirely. No way would she go back to being that girl, to that stifling life where she lived in a constant state of stress and misery.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Four days passed, leaving only two days until the wife swap officially ended. Some important decisions had to be made. Scot stayed at the ranch for a change, sharing her luxurious bed. It was good watching him and his dad become closer, spend more time together. The three of them spent some quiet evenings by the fire talking, reminiscing.

  Scot spent hours horseback riding with her, and his skills surprised her. He rode as well as any of the ranch hands, even Trevor. H
e even showed off some stunts that made her blanch for his safety.

  They rode in a new direction, past herds of cattle and over low-lying hills. Scot slowed his horse to a trot. It was breathing heavily, and the animals needed to rest.

  “You’re getting better every day,” said Scot, hopping down off the black Arabian. He wore cowboy boots and a checkered shirt, things she rarely got to see on him. It made her hot. He was her very own personal cowboy toy.

  “At what?” She gave him a sultry smile before slipping off the side of the saddle.

  “Riding.” He caught her drift, a crooked grin pulling the corner of his mouth.

  She balanced along a fallen tree, one foot in front of the other as Scot tied the horses’ reins to protruding branches.

  “I like your new look.”

  He peered down at his threads and raised a leg to offer his boot. “So cowboys turn you on? Now I know.”

  “There’s only one cowboy for me.” She reached for his shoulders and jumped off the log into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He kissed her like their first time. It never got old.

  “I hope you mean that, Grace. You’re not still scared of me, are you?”

  “I’ve learned something.”

  He set her on the ground.

  “Love and fear can’t coexist. One extinguished the other. If I live with my fears, I can never love you the way you deserve to be loved. I’m taking that risk, letting it all go.”

  “I won’t let you down,” he promised.

  Scot turned his attention to his arm, where several multicolored friendship bracelets adorned his wrist. He tugged at one, purple and yellow with frayed edges, until its knot slipped.

  “It’s not much, but it’s from me. When you look at it, I want you to remember this moment.” He tied the bracelet on Grace’s wrist. “The moment I told you…told you I loved you.”

  They stared at each other in silence for long moments. His blue eyes were lighter with the sun shimmering off his face. Scot wasn’t some schoolboy trying to get in her pants. He spoke from the heart and meant every word. Although she couldn’t say those three simple words to him, she felt them, knew that she loved him without a doubt in her soul.

  Grace pounced on him, unable to contain the explosion of lust detonating within her. She needed to bond with him on every level to cement this perfect day in her thoughts forever.

  “You drive me crazy, Grace. I have to have you.” He nuzzled her neck, stalking forward as she slowly backed.

  “Then take me.”

  He scanned the area while she took note of his perfect, swollen lips. Erotic need cascaded through her, made her wet and pliable.

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere. I don’t care.” She unbuckled his pants. “Fuck me over that log if you have to, just do it now.”

  He growled deep in his chest and yanked her shirt up over her head while backing her into the log in question. Scot draped her shirt over the tree and spun her around over it. She never had him like this, and she wanted every experience.

  “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. But it seems we don’t have that issue,” he said.

  With a few quick moves, he had her shoes and pants off. She turned her head to the side and watched him pull out his cock from his jeans and pump it in his fist.

  “I’ve just reached my peak, cowboy. You’re going to be busier than you ever dreamed possible.”

  He positioned his shaft at her entrance and teased. She hunched farther over the log, bringing her rear end higher, more accessible.

  “I love that ass,” he muttered, filling her.

  She cried out, nobody in earshot for miles. He pumped into her, the positioning allowing him to reach deeper.

  “Harder,” she chanted, knowing he held back. Scot had no idea what kind of monster the men of Wagner ranch had created, and now she was just for him.

  He slammed against her in loud smacks as he drove in harder as demanded. Pleasure rose up inside her, building up for a brilliant release. Every thrust brought her closer to the edge. As her sanity slipped away, replaced by every debased thought in her arsenal, she knew she craved Scot to fuck her up the ass. The mere thought made her pussy wetter yet. He never asked or implied, but she knew it had to happen soon. His presence, his cock needed to substitute the memory of all others. New ideas played in her head, and she quickly developed a wicked imagination.

  Just before he came, he reached forward, grabbing her breasts and tugging as he climaxed. She collapsed over the log with his weight on top of her. She’d never think the same way about firewood again.

  * * * *

  That night, Mr. Wagner had dinner at a friend’s house, leaving Scot and Grace on their own. They didn’t eat with the crew. It just felt too awkward with everything that had been said and done.

  “You’re not going back, are you?” asked Scot

  “Do you have to ask me that?”

  He shook his head and pulled her tighter against him. The fire roared in the fireplace, crackling and comforting.

  “Stay with me. At least until we can get a place together,” he said, his voice low and guarded.

  “A place together?” She felt a violent mixture of emotion. Spending the rest of her life with Scot was exactly what she wanted. She knew it in her bones. But it scared the shit out of her to settle in with any man. Commitment led to change, and not the good variety in her opinion. She felt certain that he’d tire of her in time and that the magic they shared would fizzle out, leaving little to salvage. If only she had a guarantee, a peek into the future to ensure she had made the right choices.

  “You’re the only woman for me, Grace. I’d be a fool to let you go now. We’ll take it slow, but I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she said. She couldn’t lose him, so had to make some life-altering choices and only had a couple days to do it.

  His eyes narrowed. “But you don’t want to live with me?”

  “It’s not that.” She squirmed awkwardly, sensing his unease. “It’s complicated.”

  “Will you stop saying that and tell me what you’re really feeling?”

  How would she express herself? She needed to say she was scared shitless to trust a man, to commit to a serious relationship. Part of her felt unworthy of him and knew he deserved much better than her and all her baggage. That, by Ken’s doing or her own insecurities, she felt like everything bad happened to her for a reason and she deserved it. She couldn’t fathom a life filled with happiness, peace, and carefree days with Scot…his love, his embrace, his companionship.

  The truth needed to come out. Not only for him to understand her true feelings and connect on a deeper level, but she also didn’t want him to have any doubts. The way he looked at her made her sad. He thought she didn’t want him, didn’t want to commit because her feelings for him weren’t genuine. The furthest thing from the truth. She had to let go of her fears or risk losing the only man she ever loved.

  “Grace. Someone’s here to see you. I think it’s your…husband. Should I get rid of him or let him in?” asked Jenna, peeking in from the hallway.

  She turned to Scot, fear widening her eyes and picking up her heart rate.

  “It’s okay, Grace. I’m here,” he said, comforting her. “Let him in, Jenna.”

  Ken entered the room, his eyes focusing on Scot’s arm still around Grace’s shoulder. Her instinct to pull away from Scot in Ken’s presence forced her to stand.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Scot stood. He was so much taller than Ken, broad shoulders and youth.

  “I received the papers you signed. I came to tell you I’ve made a big mistake. I was wrong and stupid and hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and start over.”

  She gawked at him, unable to speak. He wore a tan trench coat, which barely covered his portly belly, and was clean-shaven with a round, chubby baby face. Just the sight of him represented
the plethora of negative feelings she used to carry with her daily.

  “What about my mother? You get tired of her now?” Scot growled from over her shoulder.

  “Mutual disinterest. We’ve both moved on.”

  Grace paced the space between the two men. “Ken, there’s nothing to salvage. You made your choices, and I made mine. End of story.”

  “So you’ll throw away three years for some young punk you have nothing in common with? He’s a fucking kid.” He tossed a glare of disgust toward Scot.

  “Don’t even start,” she warned.

  “Look. I have two tickets to get out of this redneck nightmare and back to civilization. Get your shit. The month is up, time for a reality check.”

  Scot’s voice boomed in the open space. “She’s not going anywhere she doesn’t want to go.” He crossed his arms over his wide chest, goading Ken with a raised chin. Any man would be a fool to challenge him.

  “Guess you’re thinking with your pussy, should have known you’d turn into white trash given the opportunity.”

  Her first reaction was to cower, to cry at his insult and demeaning tone. Not anymore. “Fuck you, Ken. If you can’t remember correctly, this was your idea. And I’m not your doormat anymore. We’re through.”

  She would not cry, would not give him the satisfaction. No fucking way. With her breath held, she forced her rising emotions to the pit of her stomach.

  Ken said nothing, only observed. Jenna came into the room from behind him, and the bastard’s eyes went straight to her chest. What a pig!

  “Okay. We’re adults. If this is over, then let’s deal with it civilly. I have a plane to catch soon, so at least let me take you out to dinner so we can talk alone. I won’t try to convince you of anything. Just some polite conversation and plans on how to divide things up and such. Can you at least do that for me?”

  Ken’s tone seemed unnaturally cool and collected for him. She couldn’t imagine he went from asshole to reasonable in sixty seconds.

  She glanced at Scot before answering. “That sounds…acceptable. Just dinner, then I have to get back—” She was about to say home, but bit her tongue. She didn’t need to antagonize him if he agreed to be civil.