Cowboy Up

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “I don’t know.” She reached for him, brushing her fingers over his chest. “You’re my type, and you’re a cowboy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She chuckled. “I like it when you sound like that. Maybe cowboys are my type, after all.” She toyed with his nipples.

  He drew in a deep breath. If she kept that up, they’d be searching for the second condom very soon. “But the thing about cowboys is that they tend to hang out at ranches. That could be a problem for a surfer girl.” He said it lightly, but he hoped she’d heard what he was trying to tell her.

  “I guess so.” She moved her hand lower and encountered his rock-hard penis. “Oh, my goodness.” She wrapped her fingers around it. “What are we doing talking when we could be engaged in something far more stimulating?”

  “Beats me.” He didn’t want to admit he’d been holding off using the last condom because then he’d have to leave. Technically the relationship was supposed to be about sex, but for him it had already gone beyond that. When he’d woken up this morning he’d thought he didn’t much care for Emily Whitaker. What a difference a day made.

  “It’s party time.” She rubbed her hand up and down, her touch firm enough to make her intentions clear. “Do you know where your condom is?”

  “Yes. Don’t stop what you’re doing.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Leaning back, he reached blindly over the side of the bed, located his jeans, and pulled them onto the mattress. Once he’d taken out the condom packet, he shoved the jeans to the floor and tore open the wrapper.

  “Wait. I want to put it on.”

  “In the dark?”

  “You did.”

  “I’ve had lots of practice.”

  “Let me try. I’ve always wanted to and never felt I could ask before. It seemed too personal, somehow, and I was worried I’d mess up.”

  “So you’re turning the guy you barely know into a test subject?” He was secretly flattered. It meant she felt more comfortable with him than she had with other guys.

  “Funny, but it feels like I know you really well.”

  “You will if you fumble the condom application, because all that contact is liable to have an undesired effect, like early lift-off, if you know what I mean.” He handed it to her and hoped for the best.

  “So you can give me instructions.”

  He groaned. “Just let me do it.”

  “No. Lie down. It’s probably good for you to have somebody else in charge once in awhile.”

  “Fine. You can be in charge of pulling up the ladder after I leave. How’s that?”

  “Boring. I’m in charge of this. Go on, now. Lie down.”

  He stretched out on his back and wondered what he could think about that would keep his climax at bay. Not his work, that was for sure. That was all about stallions getting it on. So he’d think about…

  “I blew air into it so it would go on easier.”

  “You did what?” He raised up on his elbows and discovered that even in the dim light he could see she’d created a balloon out of the condom. “Tell me, have you ever seen a guy do that?”

  “No, but it seemed logical. Men aren’t always logical about these things. Besides, you weren’t giving me any instructions, so I had to figure it out for myself.”

  “Let the air out.”

  “Okay. But I’ll bet it will slide right on now that it’s all expanded.”

  “Not really. That’s why you’re supposed to roll them on gradually. It’s not like putting on a sock.”

  “Oh! It’s like putting on nylons. I get it. I’ll just scrunch it back up. Okay, I’m ready now. Hold still.”

  Clay could predict she was going to have trouble with the condom now that she’d handled it so much, and he knew the solution but was afraid to suggest it. Anticipation had him balancing on the very edge of an impending orgasm.

  Sure enough, the condom didn’t want to simply slide on the way it would have fresh out of the package. The more she struggled, effectively massaging the sensitive tip of his johnson, the more his control faded.

  She made an impatient noise. “I can’t seem to make it cooperate.”

  He couldn’t see an alternative. He’d just have to be strong. “If you get the surface wet, it should go on easier.”

  “Oh. Oh! I should have thought of that.” And she began to lick.

  He clenched his teeth together and thought about the most boring job in the world, stringing fence. It didn’t help. “That’s enough,” he muttered.

  “I don’t think so.” She took all of him into her mouth.

  “Emily!”

  Slowly she released him. “I want to make sure you’re wet enough.”

  A hint of laughter in her voice told him she knew he was in bad shape. Of course she’d know. He was breathing like a winded trail horse on an incline. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Just remember what I warned you about.”

  “I’m not worried. You’re all about discipline and order. You wouldn’t let yourself come. And when you do, after all this torture, it’ll be more intense. You’ll see.”

  He dragged in a breath. “That’s assuming I live long enough.”

  “Poor baby. Here you go.” She put on the condom, and although it wasn’t the most efficient application ever, she accomplished the task. “And since you’re already on your back, I’m climbing aboard. After all, you know what they say on the bumper stickers.”

  “Save a horse, ride a cowboy?”

  “Exactly.” Positioning a knee on either side of his hips, she poised herself above him. “Ready?”

  “I’m beyond ready.” He braced himself for the sensation of her slick heat, and still he groaned as she lowered herself, taking him right up to the hilt. It would be so easy to let go, but she was right about him. He was all about self-discipline.

  It took every ounce he had to keep from coming as she braced her hands on his shoulders and rode him hard. He bracketed her hips with both hands and urged her on as the blood roared in his ears. He felt her tighten around his cock, and only then did he begin to let loose.

  At the moment of her climax, she slowed her movements and kissed him, yet the mouth-to-mouth contact wasn’t enough to quiet her deep-throated moans of pleasure as she rocked back and forth. Heat poured through him, demanding release. With one mighty upward thrust, he found it, and his world shattered.

  As he whirled in the carnival ride of an incredible orgasm, he wondered if he’d come back to earth and discover his world was still in pieces. If so, only one woman could put it back together. That made him vulnerable. Very vulnerable, indeed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emily longed to spend the rest of the night wrapped in Clay’s strong arms, but that was a risk neither of them could afford. Life began early on the ranch, especially during the summer months, and Clay needed to be back in his bunk long before dawn. So she didn’t stop him this time when he came back from the bathroom and started gathering his clothes.

  She slipped back into her boxers and tank top, as if to help signal that the rendezvous was over. “Did you hear the plan for tomorrow… I mean today?” she asked as he pulled on his jeans and tucked his shirt into the waistband.

  “No. All I know is I have another semen collection in the morning.”

  “From the same horse?”

  “No. Different horse. We don’t want to collect Bandit’s semen too often, because that lowers the value.” He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

  “Darn it. I wanted to watch that process, but I’m supposed to help Dad work with Calamity Sam on the plastic bag thing.”

  “They’re making Emmett do that on his birthday?”

  “It’s a tactic, so he won’t notice all the non-perishables being trucked out to the picnic site.”

  “Oh.” He stood. “Usually with a desensitizing session, the horse gets a break now and then to run around the corral and l
et off steam. You might be able to come over and watch the collection process during one of those breaks.”

  “I’d like that. I have to admit I’m fascinated. How do you get the stallion… excited?”

  His smile flashed in the dim light. “I can only imagine what you’re picturing. And some people actually do use manual stimulation.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “It’s strictly a clinical process.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “It is, I swear. This is business, like milking a cow.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, anyway, I prefer using a teaser mare.”

  “So how does that work? Do you dress her up in fishnet stockings and a bustier?”

  “We’ve only had to do that once, and nobody thought to take pictures.”

  She stared at him. “You’re not serious.”

  “No.” He smiled and reached for her, drawing her into his arms. “Unlike the human male, all a stallion needs is a whiff of a mare in season, and he’s ready to roll. We just have to make sure he never gets to her.”

  She nestled against him, relishing the solid feel of his body. “You intercept the goods, in other words.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly right.” He massaged the small of her back.

  “I think I’ve figured out what an AV is, too, and it’s not an automatic vacuum, is it?”

  “It didn’t seem like the sort of subject you wanted to discuss with your dad, so I made that up.”

  “Instead it’s an artificial hoo-ha, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Clay, I have to see this. I’ve heard about artificial insemination. Who hasn’t? And the insemination part was never a mystery. But I never thought about how the semen was collected. For animals, I mean. I know perfectly well how sperm banks operate.”

  “This is… different.”

  “I can tell! And when you’re working with such a large animal, the logistics boggle my mind.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll stop by the corral and let you know when it’ll happen. Oh, and if I carry the canister out on my shoulder again, does that mean you’ll be hot for me tomorrow night, too?”

  She looped her arms around his neck. “After what happened here tonight, you won’t even need the canister, cowboy.”

  “That’s good to know, but I’ll probably saunter by the corral with it on my shoulder, just for good measure.”

  “I’ll look forward to that.” She stood on her tiptoes, sliding her body against his, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “You need to get going.”

  “I know. But I need one for the road.” He lowered his head.

  His kiss was so thorough that she was achy again when he finished. “No fair. How am I supposed to sleep after that?”

  “You’re not.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re supposed to lie here and miss me. You’re supposed to miss me so much that you can hardly wait until I’m back in your bed tomorrow night after the party. Back in your bed and deep inside your sweet—”

  “How about you?” She rubbed her pelvis over his crotch. “Will you be lying awake missing me?”

  “What do you think?”

  Reaching down, she caressed the bulge pushing against his fly. “I think you will.”

  “I will.” After one quick, hard kiss, he walked over to the window and raised it. Then he leaned down, picked up the ladder, and hooked it to the sill before letting it drop. “Here’s hoping my hat’s still down there. I don’t see it, but it could be there in the shadows.”

  “Do you only have one?”

  “No, I have another one, but that’s my best hat, and I’m partial to it.”

  “Then I hope it’s there.” Emily held onto the top part of the ladder as Clay climbed out of the window and started down.

  When his face was even with hers, he leaned forward. “One more.”

  She kissed him quickly. “That’s all. You’re making me nervous.”

  “It’ll be fine. See you in the morning, sweet cheeks.” With a cocky grin, he climbed to the ground.

  She started pulling the ladder up, but paused when she heard him swear softly. “What’s the matter?”

  “Can’t find my damned hat.”

  “You need a flashlight.”

  “I know, but I don’t dare get one and prowl around with it. Someone might think I’m a burglar.”

  She peered downward. “What color is it?”

  “Brown. Which doesn’t help much in the dark.”

  “I can’t see anything from here, either.”

  He glanced up at her. “Go ahead and pull the ladder up and close the window. If I don’t find it soon, I’ll come back tomorrow and look for it.”

  “Okay. ‘Nite.” As she finished pulling up the ladder, he continued to search. She kept hoping to hear him call out that he’d found it. When he didn’t, she closed the window. She sure as hell didn’t want to add a bat to the night’s excitement.

  On the other hand, she was having more fun than she’d had in a long time, and that wasn’t even counting all the great sex with Clay. She tried to picture her mother riding out to the picnic site in an old truck and helping to dig fire pits. No way. She would be worried about ruining her manicure.

  Emily hadn’t thought about her manicure once today, and she wasn’t about to turn on a light and look at it now. No, she would stretch out on this lovely bed that still held Clay’s scent and relive the time they’d spent together there. She’d think about the fun they’d had today and how quickly the time passed when she was with him.

  All that added up to more than a purely sexual affair, and she doubted he believed that’s what they were having, either. She really liked him, liked him more than maybe any guy she’d dated. She wasn’t sure if she liked cowboys in general or this particular one, but the boots and hat were part of who he was, and she was into it.

  Her mother was right about the life of a rancher, though. Emily wasn’t sure how she’d feel about spending all her days working outside and dealing with animals, both domestic and wild. Besides that, there wasn’t a beach even remotely close to Jackson Hole. Lakes, yes, but lake surfing just hadn’t caught on for some reason.

  Surfing was her ultimate stress-buster. Catching a wave required split-second timing, and once she was up, the rush of riding that wave swept away all her worries. Californians loved their therapy, but she thought surfing beat sessions on the couch any day.

  On the other hand, the beach where she loved to surf had nary a cowboy on it, let alone someone as yummy as Clay. Her dad had once told her that life was about choices, and for every choice you make, there’s something else you’re giving up. She’d never thought about that statement much until now.

  She must have been more tired than she thought, because in spite of desperately wanting Clay beside her, she drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of a cowboy riding a surfboard wearing a brown Stetson. She woke up to sunshine and the fervent hope that Clay had found his.

  Clay didn’t find his hat, not that night, and not early in the morning when he gave some lame excuse to the guys about why he needed to go wandering over behind the ranch house. Worse yet, the mangled screen he’d shoved behind the bushes was also gone. He could blame the missing hat on raccoons. They loved carrying things off, for some reason.

  But he couldn’t picture a raccoon carting off that screen. It was too big and not the sort of thing they’d be willing to drag to their den. Someone had found it, and now he had to sweat out who it might be and whether they’d draw any conclusions about why a screen that had obviously fallen from Emily’s window was tucked into the bushes.

  He reminded himself that nobody knew how close he and Emily had become yesterday. But she had opened her mouth last night about inviting him to the family dinner table. That could be a tipoff. All he could do was go about his business and see how everything played out.

  Breakfast at the bunkhouse had been a raucous affair because it seemed Watkins
hadn’t slept in his bunk last night, either. It was a testament to how preoccupied Clay had been that he hadn’t noticed that Watkins left the bunkhouse late in the evening and never came back, not even for breakfast.

  Everyone speculated that Watkins had finally talked his way back into Mary Lou’s bed, but if he’d struck out, he might have been too embarrassed to come back and had spent the night under the stars. Clay was glad Watkins’ love life provided such a distraction.

  If he could be lucky enough to have Watkins find his hat, things might be okay. Watkins would just return it without asking questions.

  After breakfast down at the bunkhouse, Clay put on the hat he’d worn the day before, the one he didn’t mind sweating in. The brown Stetson had been his dress hat, and he’d been a vain fool to wear it in an attempt to impress Emily. No hat at all would have been the smart choice.

  What would have happened if he’d shown up under her window with no hat? Would she still have agreed to let him climb that ladder? He’d never know, but he’d gone all out in an attempt to get into her bed, and for all he knew, his good brown hat had tipped the balance in his favor. But he wished it hadn’t gone missing.

  He’d taken Patches, a brown and white Paint scheduled for collection this morning, to the wash rack. As he hosed down Patches, Emmett walked by and Clay called out a birthday greeting. He’d bought the foreman a new pair of work gloves, really nice leather ones, but he wouldn’t bring those out until tonight’s party.

  Emmett raised a hand in greeting. “Thanks!” And he kept going toward the ranch house.

  Clay shouldn’t assign any special meaning to the fact Emmett hadn’t stopped for a chat. His daughter was at the house and they had a project planned for this morning. Emmett must be going to get her and didn’t want to waste time.

  Clay understood that. But if Emmett had stopped for a word or two, even about the weather, which continued to be hot for Jackson Hole, then Clay could have gauged whether there was anything different about Emmett’s attitude toward him.

  As it was, Clay had to comfort himself with the thought that if Emmett had found that brown hat under Emily’s window, he would have raised holy hell about it. Emmett had been the foreman when the Chance boys used those ladders to sneak out at night for keggers in the meadow. Emmett had to know about those fire ladders. Clay tried to calm the churning in his gut.