First Touch

by Laurelin Paige

  If I’d had the chance, I would have struck up a conversation with the stewardess. But as soon as she’d served everyone drinks, Reeve dismissed her to the front cabin with Anatolios.

  The men stayed wrapped up in their discussion long after we’d left the ground. I listened for the first half-hour or so, but soon grew bored with talk of horseshoeing and feed crops and calf tagging. So I pulled out my Kindle and got swept away in a book.

  We’d been in the air for an hour or so when I heard a word that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck – “Michelis.” I’d missed what had brought his name up or who had said it, but the inflection had seemed to suggest it was a question. My ears perked up, and while I pretended to be lost in my e-reader, I eavesdropped instead.

  “There were a bunch of chickens dead a couple of weeks ago,” Brent said. “I thought it might be him, but I can’t be sure.”

  “There’s no footage?” Reeve asked.

  “Nope. Camera was hit and angled wrong.” This came from Charlie, though I had to glance up to be sure, not knowing his voice well enough to identify from just sound.

  “Which means it wasn’t foxes,” said Parker.

  “And it was someone who knows where the camera is in the barns.” Brent again.

  There was a brief silence. Then Reeve said, “Replace the system. Or, better yet, keep the system as a dummy and add another.”

  “Yep,” Parker agreed. “That’s it.”

  “Fucking asshole costs us a shit ton of money with these pranks of his,” Brent said, frustration in his tone. “Could you maybe tell him it’s not very nice to your employees?”

  Reeve didn’t answer. I peeked up and saw him rubbing his hand over his face. Tension rolled off of him in waves, but I couldn’t be sure if he was angry, irritated, or just over the conversation. I tried to guess based on the conversation, but it was confusing. Was Michelis playing some sort of joke on the ranchers? Or was Brent’s comment facetious?

  After a long minute, Brent said somberly, “You got the yearly invitation from him again. Maybe you should go.”

  “I won’t acknowledge that with a response,” he snapped. Angry it is. “I’m done with this conversation. And stop giving him so much of your time. He already got something of mine that matters. That’s all he gets.” He stood and headed toward the back room. “Emily?” he called over his shoulder.

  It took a second to realize that I didn’t need to pretend to not be listening anymore. “Uh. Yeah?”

  “Join me.”

  I tucked my Kindle in my bag, undid my seat belt, and followed him. His mood made me wary of what I was facing with him alone, but I also knew it could be an opportunity. If I could get him to talk, perhaps he’d tell me what was wrong. Tell me why he was mad at Michelis. Maybe it was even serious.

  I hoped it was serious. I hoped Reeve and Michelis were not the close relatives that I’d assumed they were.

  Wouldn’t that change everything?

  Reeve had left the door to the back cabin ajar. “Shut it,” he said as I came in.

  The minute I did, he was on me, pressing me against the cabin wall, sucking at my neck while his hands went up my dress to squeeze my ass.

  “Mmm,” I moaned involuntarily. So much for talking.

  Trying to keep hold of my senses, I looked toward the door I’d closed a second ago, thinking of the people just on the other side and the conversation I wanted to have with him. “Reeve…,” I warned.

  He stilled, his body stiff. “Are you telling me no?”

  I was automatically angry that his subtext suggested it wasn’t okay if I was. Also, angry that I liked that. But since I hadn’t really been saying no – as if I ever could – I said, “I’m not.”

  “Good girl.” He went back to nibbling my skin while his hands moved under my panties.

  “But I’m sure you know they recommend twenty-four hours after waxing before sex.” It was true, but I’d never heeded the advice before. I was just using the excuse until I could find a window to ask about the source of his tension.

  Though, he didn’t seem that tense right now. Or, if he was, his tension was focused on turning me on. He had his fingers now at my crack, the tips of them skidding along sensitive skin as he pulled my cheeks apart. “Recommend is the key word in that sentence,” he said. “But if you’d prefer, there are other places I can explore.” In case I didn’t get what he was referring to, he stuck his thumb inside my tight hole and massaged the rim.

  “Ah.” It felt so good and I was so wet. But I needed more time to prepare for that. And, I hoped when that happened, I’d be in a bed, far from other people, with plenty of lube. “No, no. The usual hole is good.”

  “Yes, it is. Very good.” With his thumb still in my ass, he slid a finger down to trace the entrance of my cunt.

  I made one more attempt to divert him from his current plan of seduction. “Also. In case you’ve forgotten.” I could barely talk with what he was doing to me. “Your friends are on the other side of the door.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” He removed his hand from my underwear, and I immediately missed him. “And they aren’t my friends. They’re my staff.” He bent to pull my panties down to my ankles then stood again and unzipped my dress. It fell open, and I knew that there was no chance of distracting him when his eyes lowered to my exposed pussy. A satisfied grin fell on his lips and his eyes clouded with lust. He ran his thumb across the fine hair that was left from my wax appointment. “This, I like,” he said.

  Then he put his hands under my hips, lifted me up and carried me to the black leather couch that I hadn’t realized was in the cabin until he’d dropped me on it.

  “Prop yourself up on the arm,” he commanded as he undid his pants to expose his already fully erect cock. “And spread your legs.”

  I scooted into the corner and, since my panties tied my ankles together, I let my knees drop open. Reeve knelt over me, and with no other foreplay, pushed inside of me.

  “You’re so wet, I just slide into you.” His voice was gruff and the texture set my skin on fire. He glided in and out, making sure I felt every inch of him, waking my nerves. “Feel me?”

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  “Good. Now let’s see how fast I can make you come.”

  He tilted his hips up and began thrusting in earnest, his tip knocking against the most sensitive place inside of me. My breath hitched.

  “That’s right,” he said, with pride. “I know your spot.”

  Damn, did he ever. The storm of pleasure began to gather, quickly. Too quickly. I felt off balance, my head spinning. I braced one hand on the couch and wrapped the other around his neck for support. Shooting to the edge this fast, I was going to go off like a bottle rocket, soaring high and screaming all the way.

  I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, attempting to keep my cries to a minimum.

  “Don’t be quiet,” Reeve whispered, slowing his tempo ever so slightly.

  “What?” Or that’s the word I was going for. It came out more like a single syllable of unidentifiable sound.

  He understood me. “Don’t be quiet, or I’ll stop.”

  I was in a daze from the way he was stroking me, my mental bandwidth taxed with the attempt to remain in control. My brow furrowed. “Don’t be quiet?”

  “Don’t be quiet,” he repeated, shifting his pelvis so that he hit a new, equally tender spot. “I want them to hear you. I want them to know what I’m doing to you. Let them know that you’re being fucked good and hard, just like you like it.”

  My throat was tight, my whimpers barely restrained. He had so much control over me, so much power to have me this close to destruction so quickly. I was exposed. Raw and vulnerable. Caught off guard by how easily he annihilated me each and every time.

  It scared me. And, not in the way that I liked.

  So instead of giving in to him like he wanted – like I wanted – I resisted. Trying to maintain some semblance of myself. Trying to hold on for just ano
ther moment. And anyway, wasn’t it just as hot to try to be quiet? “Reeve, I —”

  He pulled my head back with a yank of my hair. “You say my name again, Emily, you better scream it.”

  I almost came right then. Maybe resistance wasn’t an option after all.

  “Now.” He yanked again, and I gasped from pain so wonderful that it shot sparks straight down to my pussy. His rhythm had slowed considerably, his cock barely pulsing in and out of me. “I told you what I wanted from you. If you’re refusing, fine. I’ll pull out and finish on my own. But you’ll be wearing cum on your dress for the rest of the day. Either way those men are going to know you were in here being the dirty little slut that you are. Your choice. Do you understand?”

  Okay, that was hot, too. Hotter than trying to be quiet.

  “I understand,” I said, kicking myself for thinking I could hold out against him. He was already so far under my skin that I barely recognized myself when I looked inside these days.

  Letting out a slow breath, I locked my eyes on his, and cleared my mind of nothing but him. Nothing but the steady way he rocked into me. Nothing but the throbbing rod between my legs, filling me, invading me.

  Lifting under my thighs, Reeve angled me so that my pussy was tighter around him and the first uninhibited cry fell from my lips.

  “That’s it,” he said, increasing his drive. “Keep going. I’ll help you.” Slanting his mouth over my breast, he took my nipple between his teeth and pulled.

  I cried out again, louder than before.

  “Yes. Like that. Show them how naughty you are.” He resumed his nipple play, pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was all I needed. I was lost.

  Whimpers turned to wails, gasps turned to screams. Every nerve in my body blazed as my climax shot through me, shattering me. Shredding me.

  And as I was decimated, Reeve came alive, turned on by my utter destruction. He pounded into me with passionate fury, driving deeper than he’d ever been, coaxing my orgasm on and on with filthy words of alternating praise and castigation. Then he was there – I could tell by the moan that laced his ragged breaths – but instead of spurting inside of me, he pulled out. I tried to protest, but was still riding out my own orgasm when, with one tug of his hand, he climaxed, shooting onto my cunt, coating my newly waxed Brazilian with his cum.

  He stood over me, one hand braced on the arm of the couch as we both struggled to find our breath. As soon as I could talk again, I half-heartedly complained, “You said you’d come inside me if I wasn’t quiet.”

  “No. I said I wouldn’t come on your dress. And I didn’t.” He shook one last drop onto the milky puddle he’d made then put himself away. “Don’t move.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  He crossed to the sink at the other side of the room, grabbed a towel from the overhead cupboard, and got it wet. Then he came back, stopping when he was only a couple of feet away to scan the length of my body.

  “What?”

  “The way you look spread out like that, covered with my cum —” He finished with a groan.

  “You branded me, cowboy.” I was pretty sure I got that about him now. He marked me like this when he was feeling insecure about something. About me. When he thought he was going to lose me. So why did he feel that way now?

  “It’s almost a shame to remove it, but I suppose you’d rather I did.” He didn’t wait for me to respond, bending down to wipe the warm cloth over me, cleaning me with such thoroughness, such intimacy.

  It made me feel close to him. Close enough to ask, “Reeve, out there – what were you so upset about?”

  “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  I reached my hand out and cupped his cheek. “But I do worry. I worry about you.” The truth of it shuddered through me, and I trembled as I took my next breath.

  He found the sides of my dress and pulled them together. “Now that is something I don’t expect from you,” he said as he zipped me up.

  “It doesn’t change that I do.”

  “It’s my job to worry about you.” He took my hand and tugged me up from the couch. “Not the other way around.” He bent to pull my panties up.

  “Why can’t we worry about each other?”

  He gave me a skeptical look as he drew my underwear up and over my hips. “We’re about to land.”

  The change of subject pissed me off. His attitude pissed me off. His refusal to let me in pissed me off. “You are such a pain in the ass. It’s not going to diminish your manhood if someone shows you a little bit of concern. And even if it did, you have more than enough to make up for it. So would you just tell me if you’re okay?”

  For the first time since I’d broached this topic, he looked at me. His expression was stony, but in the dark of his eyes, I saw him battling. Finally, he softened. He put his arm around my waist and drew me to him. His mouth inches from mine, he said, “I wasn’t okay. But I am now.”

  He kissed me, molding my lips to the shape he desired, his tongue instructing mine as he stroked inside with affection and tender command. It was a kiss that backed up his words, a demonstration of just how I’d made him okay.

  Something told me he wasn’t just talking about the conversation he’d walked away from, which made it that much easier to lose myself in his kiss. Lose myself in him. If he asked me the same question, I could almost give him the same answer – I wasn’t okay, but I am now. Since him.

  Almost.

  Just, there was Amber.

  CHAPTER 23

  Reeve’s private driver from the ranch met us at the Jackson airport. It was too late for dinner at the main house so we and his staff went out to a restaurant in town. I’d never been in public with Reeve, and I was somewhat surprised to see both guards sit at the bar instead of with us, not that I minded. Actually, I wasn’t sure how his security functioned at all. When I asked, Reeve told me Anatolios accompanied him everywhere and that was usually the extent of his detail.

  “So why did the other one come too?” I wasn’t the paranoid type, but if there was a reason for extra guards, I wanted to know.

  “Tabor’s here for you,” Reeve answered. “When I leave, Anatolios will come with me and Tabor will stay to look after you.”

  To protect me? Or protect Reeve from me? I didn’t have the balls to ask, but it would have been nice to know if I should be offended or flattered.

  We lingered after our meal, drinking and enjoying some friendly banter. Reeve, I learned, was happy with a beer but preferred bourbon if the bar had a good brand, which it did. I also discovered he had a real camaraderie with his men, jesting and poking fun at them with ease. He’d been like this occasionally with me, but I hadn’t expected it with the staff members of one of his many properties. I made a note to ask about that later.

  Parker was the youngest, just a little older than me, and was a regular comedian. Charlie, though quieter, had a laugh that made it impossible not to join in with. Brent had fifteen years on Reeve and was the storyteller of the group. He provided most of the entertainment, flirting with the waitresses, recalling how things were in the good old days. He’d worked the ranch since he was a teenager, I learned, when Reeve’s father was still alive. A few times I’d tried to lead him to talk about the Sallis family or about more recent times – the months that Amber had stayed there, for example – but he never took the bait. He dodged so artfully, I almost didn’t realize he’d been coached.

  Until the end of the night when I asked if foxes often got in the henhouse, and I caught a look that passed from Reeve to Brent, a look that could only be taken as a warning.

  If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have been able to tell from Brent. He scooted his chair closer to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, then leaned in close to say, “There’s always foxes, darling. Whether they’re in the henhouse scalping your chickens or the river eating all your fish, you can never be off your guard.”

  I laughed, hiding my disappointment as easily a
s he’d hid his cover. I’d hoped to learn things from him, but though he might be more likely to give me information when Reeve wasn’t around, I had a feeling he’d be just as tight-lipped. He seemed pretty loyal. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.

  Reeve took my hand as he added, “Sometimes they’re even in your bed.” His smile was amicable, but his tone felt off. He was moody after that, and I regretted trying to dig.

  It was dark when we made it to Kaya. We stopped first at a security gate much like the one at Reeve’s house, but this one was manned with two guards packing firearms.

  After we drove through, the driver parked so that Reeve could run into the large building next to the gate.

  “Security office,” Brent said in explanation. “Cameras from the ranch feed in there. The guns are all housed there as well. Reeve also keeps his personal set of keys for the house in the safe there. He’s getting those.”

  The keys made sense – I wouldn’t expect Reeve to keep all his resort keys with him in LA. The security, on the other hand, seemed a little excessive. “Lots of security for a ranch. Is that typical?” Or were there additional measures because of the Sallis connections to mafia?

  It was Anatolios who gave Brent a pointed glance this time and my question wasn’t answered.

  At the house, there was another man in slacks and a button-down at the doors, whom I presumed was another guard because of the gun on his hip. Though maybe that was a Wyoming thing. Our driver brought our luggage in, and though there was much to look at, it was too late and we were too tired to do anything but settle in and go to bed. Reeve showed me my private bedroom, which was down the hall from his master suite. I dropped my belongings there and unpacked a robe and some toiletries to bring with me to his room.

  Once the door was shut in his quarters, I learned the true source of Reeve’s moodiness. Turned out it wasn’t about chickens or Vilanakis at all.

  “You and Brent got along well,” he said, loosening his belt. “He’s known around here for being a player. Is that going to be a problem?”