“Lane,” Grant moaned, the vibration causing her pussy to throb.
“Keep licking her pussy or I’ll stop,” Lane commanded, his voice rough and sensual.
Grace watched closely, admiring the way the muscles in Lane’s huge chest flexed as he gripped Grant’s hips. She could see the way his hips jerked forward and back, but he was maintaining an incredibly slow pace.
“Oh,” Grace squealed when Grant slipped two fingers inside her. “Oh, yes.”
Her eyes met Lane’s over Grant’s body, and she saw so much in the dark brown pools. So much emotion, so much desire. It nearly overwhelmed her.
But before she could let it, Grace’s attention was ripped back to the man sliding his tongue through her slit, driving his fingers into her oh-so-slowly.
“Grant.” She said his name in warning, as the incredible pleasure sent her closer to the edge. Right to the point she thought she was going to come undone. And then when Grant wrapped his lips around her clit, using his tongue to flick relentlessly, there was nothing she could do but ride the waves of her orgasm as it crashed through her.
“Fuck yes,” Lane growled. “I love watching her come.”
But Grant wasn’t finished. He released her clit from between his lips as he held himself up with one hand, bracing his body as Lane began pounding into him ruthlessly. Grant continued to thrust his fingers inside her, adding a third until she was begging and pleading, another more powerful orgasm cresting.
■□■□■□■□
Lane was holding himself back, desperate to send Grant careening into the abyss. As he drove into the man harder, faster, over and over, his balls drawing up against his body, Lane sucked in air like it was about to be a scarce resource.
“Oh, God, yes!” Gracie screamed, her body thrashing on the bed, her hands gripping the headboard.
Fuck, she was beautiful when she came. Her sweet tits thrust upward, her taut stomach stretched as she drove her hips up against Grant’s mouth. Watching her nearly unraveled him.
Lane had to tear his eyes away or he would’ve exploded instantly. Instead, he focused on driving himself deeper into Grant, gripping Grant’s hips and pulling him back against his punishing thrusts.
When Grant heaved himself up on his hands, still bent over the bed, Lane increased his pace, slamming into him while Grant drove his hips back against Lane. The sound of their sweat-slick bodies slapping against one another, mixed with the pounding of Lane’s heart and the harsh breaths he was dragging into his lungs, were the only things he could hear for what seemed like an eternity.
But then Grant was saying his name, repeating it over and over, the sound so sweet on the man’s lips.
“Lane. Oh, shit that feels so good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Come for me, baby.”
Lane saw Gracie move, realized she was scooting down on the bed until she was practically beneath Grant.
“Oh, yes, Gracie, baby, stroke my cock.”
“Come for us,” Gracie whispered. “Come on me.”
Oh, fucking hell.
Her words had Lane’s balls drawing up even tighter to his body. The strong, hot grip Grant’s ass had on his dick was almost more than he could bear. But Lane didn’t want it to end, wanted to stay right there, buried to the hilt in Grant’s body.
“Oh, fuck yes. So good, Lane. Harder!”
Lane wasn’t sure he could give any more than he was, but he focused on pounding Grant harder, reaching around him and holding him with one arm while he fucked him, alternating between shallow and deep. “Come for us, baby. Come all over Gracie’s beautiful tits.”
“I can’t hold on… Oh, shit. I’m…” Grant’s muscles locked on Lane’s dick, sending both pleasure and pain ricocheting through Lane’s entire body until he couldn’t hold on any longer.
Lane roared as his orgasm gripped him, his fingers digging into Grant’s hip as he tightened his hold on his waist, pulling him against him as he drove as deep as he could, his dick pulsing and throbbing as he came hard and fast.
And when Lane couldn’t hold himself up any longer, he withdrew quickly, stripping the condom off and tossing it into the trash can sitting in the corner before flopping onto the bed alongside Gracie.
Grant disappeared but returned a minute later with two washcloths that he used to clean Gracie and then Lane as they lay side by side. Closing his eyes, Lane focused on the soft sound of Gracie’s breathing while he tried his best to stay conscious. He must’ve succeeded because he heard Gracie’s request for them to get under the blankets, which he did without argument, pulling Gracie against him while reaching for Grant.
No one spoke. Lane wasn’t opposed to the silence that time. They’d done plenty of talking earlier. Right then, he wanted to hold on to the two people who’d managed to weave themselves deep into his heart. And as he drifted off to sleep, he managed to whisper the words “I love you” to both of them.
He had fallen hard and fast for these two, and he didn’t have a problem telling them. As his brain went offline, giving in to sleep, he wondered when the two of them were going to come to terms with their feelings, too. As much as he truly believed they felt the same way for him, Lane still longed to hear the words.
After all, it’d been a damn long time since anyone had told him that they loved him.
Chapter Nineteen
A little later that night
Grant crawled into his house around ten thirty with just enough strength to make it to the couch after grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. After the exertion from their evening activities, Grant didn’t think he’d be able to make it as far as the bedroom.
He knew he should’ve been at Gracie’s, should’ve stayed in bed with her and Lane and slept right there, but his mind wouldn’t wind down. He was still worried about his mother, and tossing and turning all night would’ve just disturbed Gracie and Lane. Which was why he’d woken them up to inform them that he had to go.
Neither of them had been happy, but Grant — following the theme of the day — had told them the truth. Although they tried to talk him out of leaving, he got the impression they understood.
On his way home, he had realized that with everything going on, he hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Jerry about what had happened that morning with Darrell — and his intentions to do so had been good.
Your own damn fault. You’re the one who wasted half the day waiting for your father to show up.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. The stupid little voice wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Lucky for the voice, Grant wasn’t interested in arguing. Even with himself.
He took it as a good sign that Jerry hadn’t hunted him down, though. He still wasn’t sure the man wasn’t going to, but for now, he opted to breathe a sigh of relief.
On top of not hearing from Jerry, Grant hadn’t heard a peep out of his father, either. Not one single text or phone call ever since the blowup in Jerry’s office, which offered him a sense of both worry and relief. Neither more prominent than the other.
If Darrell wasn’t harassing him, then there was probably a reason for it. Like the man was up to no good, and Grant was going to pay for it in the end.
Closing his eyes, his head resting on the cushioned back of the couch, he willed the thoughts away. He did not want to sit there and ponder his father’s whereabouts or what he was up to. Nothing good would come of it.
Grant’s eyes flew open as one thing came to mind.
Holy shit.
Surely not.
Crap.
Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Grant dropped his head into his hands. Surely, Jerry hadn’t given Darrell a job… What if Darrell showed up on Monday morning ready to go to work? Wouldn’t that just be all fucked up?
Grant’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. Oh, hell. What if Jerry had loaned Darrell money? That would be the last thing that needed to happen. He’d much rather have to deal with working alongside his fathe
r day in and day out than be indebted to Jerry Lambert. And if that were true, then Grant needed to get with Jerry so he could set up a payment plan because there was no way in hell that Darrell was good for the money, no matter what he’d told Grant’s boss.
Shit.
Forcing himself to his feet, Grant grabbed his truck keys from the counter. He was too damned tired to walk back to the main house, even if it was only ten minutes at most.
A minute later, he was in his truck, easing along the dirt path that wound through the ranch. He noticed that Jerry’s office light was on, which meant the man was probably burning the midnight oil, although midnight was still a couple of hours off.
Jerry Lambert wasn’t a man who stayed up late.
At least not that Grant could tell.
No, good ol’ Jerry was usually locked up tight in the house by seven on a good night.
Pulling up to the office, Grant tossed the truck in park and climbed out. The night was still, not even a breeze stirring the trees; the only sound was the gravel crunching beneath Grant’s boots.
Sometimes he hated summer in Texas. By the time he made it to Jerry’s office door, just a few measly yards away, he was sweating.
Wanting to get this over with, Grant rapped his knuckles lightly on the door before turning the knob.
Uh…
Oh, fucking hell.
Grant pulled himself up short and blinked rapidly as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. It took all of two seconds for his synapses to kick in, and he was backing out the way he’d come, easing the door shut, a wide grin forming on his face as he started to chuckle like a school kid.
Holy shit.
Jerry had a woman in there. And he wasn’t going over the books with her, either. Well, they were kind of over the books, from a technical standpoint. After all, the woman was on the desk.
“What are you doing out here? Is my dad in there?”
Faith jolted Grant from his chuckle-fest, and he turned to face her, every ounce of humor draining out of him at the sight of the youngest Lambert daughter. “He’s … uh… No, he’s not,” Grant lied.
Making his way to where Faith stood, he tried to distract her, hoping she wouldn’t insist on checking for herself because … mother of all things holy, Jerry was making out with a woman right there on his desk.
Yes. On. The. Desk.
Thank God Jerry and the mystery woman were both dressed because Grant wasn’t sure his eyes would’ve been able to tolerate the sight of his boss naked. Not that he didn’t think Jerry was built like a brick shithouse or anything, but seeing Jerry and a woman would be like seeing his own parents going at it.
That was a scene that would require Grant to bleach his brain.
“Can I help you with something?” Grant asked, coming to a stop directly in front of Faith.
“No.” Her answer was quick, and if Grant wasn’t mistaken, it was also a little sad.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“But your truck’s right there.”
Grant peered over his shoulder, realizing his truck was, in fact, right there.
Hmmm.
How to get out of that one.
“I’m having problems with it. I was gonna have Cody look at it in the morning,” he lied again.
This was certainly not his finest hour.
“Oh. Okay.”
Faith turned and started walking, so Grant fell into step with her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
It wasn’t that he was in the mood to talk. He was actually ready to face plant on the hard ground at his feet, but he really didn’t want Faith to see her father making out with a woman in his office. Ol’ Jerry needed to learn to lock the door.
“Yes. Maybe. No,” Faith responded, clearly exasperated.
Grant didn’t say a word, not wanting to interrupt in the event she was going to continue.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Can you have a talk with Rusty?” she asked, turning her bright blue-green eyes on Grant.
“Talk to him?” Please, please, please, don’t let this be personal. “Is he doin’ somethin’ he shouldn’t be doin’?”
“Technically, yes,” Faith said, stopping abruptly and turning to face him. Grant forced his feet to come to a standstill, taking a deep breath.
“Technically?”
“Yeah,” Faith reiterated. “He’s askin’ me to go out with him.”
Shit. This was almost as bad as walking in on Jerry. Grant decided to play along. “And that’s a bad thing, why?”
“Because my father forbids any of the ranch hands to date his daughters.”
“Don’t you think maybe that’s just your dad being a … I don’t know, maybe just being a dad?”
“No,” Faith said adamantly. “I don’t think that’s just him throwin’ his weight around. My dad’s serious when he says we can’t date the cowboys. Remember Garrett Daniels?”
“Yeah,” Grant said hesitantly. He remembered Garrett. He’d been the head wrangler about five years earlier, before Hope had stepped into the role.
“Dad fired him because he stood up to him, said he wanted to date Trinity. Went so far as to tell my father that he didn’t care what he said. A week later, he was fired, and Hope stepped into the role as head wrangler.”
Shit.
“I thought…”
“That Garrett got caught using the equipment after hours?” Faith asked. “Did you actually believe that crap? That’s the story they ended up tellin’ people. I mean, seriously, would my dad really care that Garrett was usin’ equipment after hours? Hell, most of the wranglers do it.”
Yeah, Grant knew that. They all used the equipment after hours, mostly the mechanic’s tools when they were working on their personal vehicles, sometimes taking one of the work vehicles into town for personal trips, or every now and again taking the horses out when they brought a woman to the ranch. No, he didn’t believe that Jerry would fire Garrett for that reason. Surely not. “Did you ask Trin about it?”
“Didn’t have to. She was so upset when it was all over, she locked herself in her cabin for a week.”
Grant didn’t even know what to say to that, but he had to cop to a moment of panic as he thought about Jerry booting him from the ranch for dating Gracie. Or worse, Jerry sending both him and Lane packing… No, scratch that… Worse would be Jerry burying them six feet under because they were both seeing her.
Faith started walking again, and Grant fell into step beside her, pondering this new information.
Holy shit. His entire life would be in a shambles if he lost this job.
But is your job worth more to you than Gracie?
Grant was ashamed to say that was a question he couldn’t very well answer. His job was his life, and not just because it paid the bills. He loved working at Dead Heat Ranch. He had found something he was good at, and maybe he hadn’t reached all of the little goals he’d set for himself, but he was happy with how he spent his days. He’d been at the ranch since he was nineteen years old, for chrissakes.
“Thanks for walkin’ me,” Faith said, pulling Grant from his thoughts. Stopping alongside Faith, he looked around and realized they’d made it to her cabin.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
“So, will you talk to Rusty for me?”
Grant studied Faith for a moment. “Don’t you think that would be better comin’ from you?”
“No,” she refuted. “Knowin’ him, he’ll go talk to my dad if I say something.”
Yeah, that wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Please.”
Oh, hell. Grant was never good at telling a woman no, especially when she said please.
“Fine. When I see him, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you!” Faith exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. She pulled away and ran in the house.
And it wasn’t lost on Grant that Faith had just hugged him because he had a
greed to break up with a man for her.
Shit.
As though things weren’t bad enough already.
Chapter Twenty
Friday morning
Where was everyone?
More specifically, where was her father?
Grace was sitting in the tiny kitchen where her father took his morning coffee as she waited for him to show up. The place was a ghost town, not a single person having come in or out in the last half hour that Grace had been nursing her now-cold coffee. At least, no one was traipsing back and forth in the part that was purposely separated from the rest of the house.
Several years ago, Jerry had insisted that he should be allowed at least a few minutes to spend with his kids if he wanted to, without people always interrupting them, which had prompted her father to section off an area where they could meet without encountering guests.
Ummm … no guests.
But also no dad.
Where was he?
They utilized the small kitchen area mainly so they could talk in private if necessary, which, yes, Grace was actually interested in doing.
Grace glanced at her watch, wondering just where he was. He never slept late. Ever. Hell, most of the time he was the one sitting at the scarred little table waiting for one of them to come in to chat.
Not today.
Because she still didn’t believe it, Grace grabbed her cell phone, which she had been mindlessly spinning on the table, and glanced at the clock on there, too. Nope, her watch wasn’t broken. Her dad was late.
The screen door opened, causing Grace’s head to snap to the side.
“Mornin’,” Mercy said with an exaggerated yawn. “Where’s Pops?”
“No idea. I was wonderin’ the same thing.”
Grant walked in a few heartbeats behind Mercy, glancing between the two of them before making a quick detour to the coffeepot.
“Maybe he had a late night,” Mercy added.
“Who?” Grant inquired.
“My dad,” Grace answered.
Grant looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared back at her, his eyes then sliding over to Mercy.
Betting on Grace Page 18