I see a blinding white light, like I’m not even on this planet anymore. I come and come as Brooke shudders and shakes, rocking her curvy hips. She cries out, her pussy pulsing and keeping a tight grip on my cock, milking every drop.
“Brooke, fuck, Brooke,” I grunt, pumping the last of my cum, wanting every seed to have a chance to take root inside her. “Oh God, baby, you’re mine.” I’m about ready to collapse. “Jesus Christ, what you to do me. I’ve never had an orgasm like that. Fuck.”
“‘Fuck Brooke’ is right.” She grins, tightening her legs around my waist. I gather her into my arms, half lifting her off the table, and hold her close.
Sweat on sweat, my cum mixed with hers, she clings to me. I brush her damp hair off her shoulders and kiss her salty skin. I make a trail of open-mouthed kisses up her neck, her cheek, and finally to her lips. I kiss her tenderly, again and again, never wanting to let go.
Jesus, what did I just get myself into? “Are you okay, baby?” I ask, shocked at my urgency for her, how I let my raw, blinding need for her go unchecked. Sometimes I don’t realize my own strength, and she’s still practically a virgin.
“Oh, I’m good,” she purrs.
“Hmm.” I swoop her into my arms, getting a good grip under her smooth thighs.
Brooke wraps an arm around my neck and cuddles against my chest. “And where is my husband taking me now?” She giggles. “I’ve already been to the moon and back.”
“It’s bedtime, princess.” Time for another fucking. I don’t tell her what I have in mind as carry her down the hall. The door of the bedroom I just painted, Ethel’s old room, is half open. I kick the door the rest of the way and gently place her on the bed. Brooke spent so much time picking out the new bed and linens, and we’re about to cover those new sheets with our cum.
I stare down at her. My beauty. My wife. Her eyes are half closed, her beautiful features relaxed.
“Come join me,” she says sleepily.
“Oh, I will,” I say, bending and untying her blouse. All the buttons are gone—I practically tore the thing to shreds. The knot was the only thing keeping it on her. I toss it to the floor and climb on the bed. Gently kissing her, I reach around to unfasten her bra. She arches up, pressing her breasts against my chest, melding into me.
I don’t know if she even realizes what she’s doing. But the move is so giving, so trusting. Instead of being shy, or turning away because she’s sleepy, she’s opening herself to me again.
I slip the bra straps over her shoulders and take it off. The sight of her full, round breasts makes my cock lurch again. She could cut glass with those nipples, and I can’t resist.
I bend down, latch on to one, and suck. Keeping the suction locked around her nipple, I pull back, taking her nipple with me, feeling the hard nub lengthen against my tongue. Brooke lets out a gasp, and then an aching moan. I could spend a year on each nipple.
I move to the next and give it the same treatment. Taking my time, I go slow, focused on giving my princess pleasure. Brooke moans again as I suck and suck before moving down, kissing her belly until I reach the waistband of her skirt.
How I didn’t rip it off her is anyone’s guess. I undo the button, take hold of the flimsy fabric, and pull it over her hips and legs until it’s on the floor. She’s a fucking goddess and not shy about it. Seeming perfectly comfortable in her nakedness, Brooke’s fiery eyes lock onto mine with a look that asks, Well? What are you going to do now?
My cock is already oozing pre-cum. Hard as a rock, it juts out, as if it smells her pussy and would move heaven and earth to get to it.
But this time is all about Brooke. I crawl up beside her, and she turns to me. Her skin is glowing, cheeks flushed. Her parted lips are swollen, her brown eyes bright and full of excitement. Although she’s stubborn as an ox, independent, and damn thickheaded when she wants to be, her secret’s out. After tonight, I know for a fact that my sexy girl likes it when I take control. I might’ve met my perfect match.
I reach over and stroke her cheek. “Was that too rough for you?”
She grins and stares up at the ceiling. “No way. It was perfect. I wanted you to fuck me like that. I want you to do everything to me.”
Is this a dream? I crawl on top of her and nestle into the crook of her neck. “So Sleeping Beauty likes the Beast.”
“I think you have the fairytales mixed up,” she whispers, finding my lips and kissing me. “But it’s funny.” Her lips curve up in a smile. “In a way, I think I was sleeping, before you.”
The warmth of molten emotions flows through me. As I look into her eyes, I feel all the cracks in my soul fill. Crevasses and fractures I didn’t know were there start to heal with a kind of contentedness and happiness I’ve never felt before.
She’s melting me. I kiss her soft lips and—
I think I’m positively in love.
Chapter Thirteen
August
I bend, careful not to wake my sleeping giant, and give Shane a kiss on the cheek. He’s on his side, his hand tucked under the pillow. I’m tempted to run my fingers through his thick coal-black hair and wake him so we can pick up where we left off last night.
But he looks so peaceful, and he needs his rest. Shane never gets the chance to sleep in. Blade is helping again this morning, so I let my man snooze away.
Not bothering to put on a robe, I tiptoe out of the room. I haven’t had to cover myself up after the night I drove him crazy wearing that see-through skirt and no panties.
We haven’t slept apart since that night. We’re into the final month of our agreement, and we haven’t really talked about what’s going to happen next. He keeps telling me to take it one day at a time, but I feel an aching dread looming over me. How am I ever going to go back to my old life without Shane?
I brush my teeth and splash some water on my face in the hall bathroom. And then, for the fiftieth time in the last four days, I check to see if I’ve finally gotten my period. I’m trying not to hold my breath, but I’m worried.
Damn. No dice. I’m normally pretty regular. When I’m late, it’s usually only by a day, two at most.
But there’s no way I could be pregnant. I’m sure I’d know it, because my body would feel different. I haven’t been feeling queasy at all—in fact, my body feels like it’s singing.
I laugh to myself and head to the kitchen. I’ve got a whole orchestra tuned up and playing through my veins. Shane and I have been fucking nonstop.
Every cell is buzzing, and, wouldn’t you know, just the thought of Shane’s fingers expertly playing me like a Stradivarius makes the warmth pool between my legs.
I lost track of how many times we made love last night. And it was making love. Throughout the night we kept waking up and finding each other. I’ve never been so connected with another person in my life.
Should I come right out and tell him?
I get to work on the pancakes and try not to think of our charade ending. It won’t be long before I’m back in my Chicago flat. I got accepted to the Reflections art show. It’s one of Chicago’s most prestigious events. I should be thrilled about going back.
I wash my hands in the sink and look out the window. There’s an outdoor area in my apartment building. It’s nice, with couches and umbrellas, but . . . But now that I’m used to living in West Palomino, I don’t know how I’ll live without being surrounded by open land.
“Pancakes from a mix?” I smile at Shane’s raspy low voice and turn to find my sexy-as-fucking-hell beast standing at the door, his pants hanging so low they’re barely on. My eyes travel up from his waistband, over his rippling abs and broad chest. “Pancakes are my specialty.” I see a glimmer in those blazing blue eyes.
“Oh, they are, are they?” I tease, wiggling my butt, and go back to stirring the mix. He playfully smacks my ass and folds his arms across my boobs, pulling me close so my back is flush against his rock-solid chest.
“Uh, uh,” he whispers throatily, kissing my shoulder. Sp
arks race from the scorching heat of his lips straight to my pussy. “And I’m going to prove it,” he says, reaching around me and planting a quick kiss on my cheek.
I watch as he rummages through the cabinets.
“We have flour, baking powder, and sugar.” He gives me a devious wink, and I’m giddy seeing him so happy about making pancakes, of all things.
I set my bowl of the mix to the side. “I know for sure there’s milk in the fridge.”
“Perfect.” He goes back to rifling through boxes of cereal and canned soup. “And . . . the pièce de résistance, we have chocolate chips.” He waves a scrunched-up half bag of semi-sweet morsels.
I’m smiling so hard I can feel it in my cheeks. “What’s a pancake without chocolate chips?”
“Oh, but wait,” he says excitedly, digging deeper into the cabinet. “What do we have here?”
He whips out a plastic bottle and turns it so I can see the label. I raise my brows.
“Syrup. But it’s better warm,” he growls, cupping my ass and giving it a little slap on the way to the stove. He finds a small saucepan and pours the thick liquid into it.
“Don’t you think we should make the pancakes first so the syrup won’t get cold?
“Who says this is for pancakes, darlin’? They can wait.” He gives me a lecherous grin. “You’re the first course, baby girl. I’m going to coat those sugar-cube nipples of yours with this and take my sweet time licking every last sticky drop.”
Chapter Fourteen
September
Shane and I are standing in front of my easel in the living room. I’ve kept my painting covered with a sheet since the day I sent my application in to Reflections’ art committee. I didn’t want to jinx myself, but there’s no reason to hide it anymore. Besides, it’s time to pack everything up. I keep a smile plastered on my face even though I feel like crying, and carefully remove the sheet. I step aside and wait for Shane’s reaction.
He grips his wrists behind his back and bends, analyzing every inch. “This is incredible, Brooke,” he says, leaning in for a closer look.
“You like it?”
He gestures for me to come closer and then wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I more than just like it.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I love it, especially that.” Shane points to where I painted his truck in the lower right corner.
“I would’ve painted you, but the committee was looking for either straight landscapes or homes—you know, a day-in-the-life sort of thing.”
“My truck, huh?”
“Because it means you’re not at work or anywhere else—you’re here with me. That’s what makes this little ranch house a home.”
Shane’s blue eyes shimmer with surprise, before he turns back to the painting. “That’s just about the damn sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, darlin’. Is that how you really feel, or did you add my truck because you thought the committee would like it?”
I inch up closer beside him, smelling his sexy pine and warm leather scent. One sniff and I’m ready to jump him. “No, I needed your truck in the painting.” I say it as light and airy as I possibly can, but I’m on the verge of turning into a blubbering idiot. “Have you liked being married these last six months?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer. I mean, I know he’s enjoyed being together the last two months—at least he’s been fucking me like he does. But for a man who detests commitments, being legally married probably still isn’t his cup of tea.
Shane places his hands on my waist and turns me to face him. “Let’s put it this way—being married wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Fuck, this is so hard. There’s no way I can just blurt out what I have to say here. The timing isn’t right. The news would probably knock him over. Tears well up behind my eyes, and I shrug out of his hold.
“Yeah, not half as bad as I thought either.” I force a chuckle and head for the hall before I burst out crying. I’ve been so damn emotional lately. “I better start packing.”
Shit, shit, shit. I can’t believe this is happening. I go to the bedroom and shut the door. I walk over to the dresser and pick up the pregnancy stick I left there this morning. I should’ve waited to pee on the damn thing until I was in Chicago.
I study the results again, as if the red you-are-pregnant line is going to magically change to no-you-are-not green.
I respect Shane too much to give him the news today, because I know he’d want to do the right thing. But I want Shane to stay married to me because he loves me, and for no other reason.
I start throwing clothes into my suitcase. I’ll give Shane the news once I’m back in Chicago, so he won’t feel trapped.
I know he cares about me, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be is hardly the answer of a man wanting to stay married.
DID I UPSET HER? BROOKE has been a little off for the last two weeks. I didn’t want to lay it on too thick, because she can be so skittish. If I tell her how I really feel, I’m afraid she’ll bolt.
The bedroom door is closed. “Brooke,” I say, gently rapping. “Can I come in, baby girl?”
I hear a muffled “Sure” and enter the room. She has her back to me, and my heart fucking cracks when I see the suitcase.
“You weren’t planning on leaving now, were you?”
Brooke cranes her neck over her shoulder. Her eyes are swollen. “No. Not today, but I thought I should get started.” She sniffs.
What the fuck? “Are you crying, sweetheart?” I scoop her into my arms. “What is it, baby?”
“That’s exactly what it is,” she cries, burying her face in my neck.
I run my hand over her silky hair and down her back. “I don’t understand. What’s got you so upset?”
I scan the room, looking for a trace of whatever it could be. Did Steve somehow get access to a phone or computer? Did something come for her in the mail? Did the art committee change their minds about the painting? “What is it?”
“Are you sure you want to know? I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
“It doesn’t matter if I like it, sweetheart. If someone or something is upsetting you, I want to goddamn know about it.”
Brooke sniffles and backs out of my arms. She looks up through teary eyes but doesn’t say anything.
“What?”
She nods toward the dresser and then drops her head. “There’s a thermometer or something on top of it.”
“You have a fever?” I wave her to the bed and fluff up the pillow. “You should be in bed then.”
“I don’t have a fever, Shane. I have a baby.”
I swing around so fast my head almost snaps off my neck. “A baby?” I’m trying to compute. “You’ve had a baby at home all this time and didn’t tell me?”
“No, Shane. You and I are having a baby.”
I’m blanking out. A million thoughts, reactions, sounds, horns, lightning bolts, every single kind of sensation I could possibly have all seem to be assaulting my body at the same time. And then all at once, they’re gone.
The only things I’m aware of now are my heartbeat and Brooke. I swear to God the room fills with golden light as it hits me. “Oh my God,” I say, crumbling.
I quickly wipe my eyes and rush to Brooke. “Baby, baby, baby, we’ve made a baby,” I whisper, covering her with kisses. I can’t kiss her enough, or hold her close enough. “We have a baby coming?” I drop to my knees and lift her T-shirt, then kiss her stomach’s soft flesh.
“Yes, we do.” Brooke’s voice breaks as she tunnels her fingers through my hair. “I thought you’d be disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” I scramble to my feet and slide my hand to her stomach. “I think my heart is about to burst. I didn’t think I could feel any happier than I did five minutes ago, but—” My voice breaks, and damn it, if the tears don’t come. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel.”
“I was afraid you’d feel trapped.”
“Trapped? I’m fucking crazy about you. Baby
or not, I love you, sweetheart. This is just the icing on the cake.”
“So you don’t want to get divorced?”
“Hell no. If you were thinking of taking one foot out of this house, I’d move heaven and earth to make you stay here with me forever.”
Brooke seems confused, and it hurts me to think she had any doubts about us. In the beginning, sure, but not anymore. There’s no pretending now. We’ve become a real couple. What I feel for her now is unimaginable. “You don’t believe me? Come.” I take her hand. “Let me show you something I’ve been working on.”
I lead her out the back door. We pass by her lounge chair and pick up the footpath.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s just around those trees. That way you won’t have to walk too far from the house, but you’ll still have privacy, you know, when you want to work on your art.”
We take a right at the first tree, where I’ve been spending every free second I’ve had for the last two months.
It’s a small structure, with just one room. But there’s a big window in every wall, so she’ll have plenty of light. I painted it all white, so it’s sort of like a blank canvas for her. I didn’t want any colors competing with whatever she’s working on.
“You built this?” Her pretty face lights up like a firecracker as a grin covers her face from ear to ear. “For me?” She turns back to me and then rushes to the building, holding her hand over her heart.
“It’s your art studio.” I raise my voice so she can hear me inside. “I added electricity and a wood stove, so you’ll have light and heat in there year round.”
She rushes outside.
“You like it?”
“I love it!” She comes running into my arms, and my heart melts for the fiftieth time today.
I hold her close and bury my nose into her shoulder. I smell orange blossoms, cake and pussy, and everything that makes her so sweet. “I love you, baby. Thank you for waiting around for a hard-headed man like me to come to my senses. We might not have been born in the same decade, but we are one and the same, Brooke.”
Long Hard Ride: Arranged Marriage, Brothers, Cowboy Romance (The Wild Wests Book 3) Page 9