Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3

by Mia Hopkins

  These girls came and went. But Melody was his best friend. She bullied him into Academic Decathlon. She enrolled him in advanced placement classes without asking him first.

  And senior year he realized something—he was in love with her, and not just in the way a magician loves his assistant for making his illusions look good. He wanted her. Alone, in the shower particularly, he often liked to fantasize about the moment when—if she ever became interested in such things—he could show her what was in his pants.

  Clark never asked her out, a chickenshit move that he regretted to this day. They graduated before he worked up the nerve. He got into the local state college to study farm management and business. She got a scholarship to a fancy university in San Diego to study education and English literature. And just like that, his one constant was gone.

  He’d lost her.

  Until now.

  She didn’t want a relationship—fine. He was never any good at boyfriend-girlfriend stuff anyway.

  But hell if he was going to let her go tonight.

  Melody led him into a small bedroom, closed the door and turned on a bedside lamp. As she stashed her clothes in the closet, Clark noticed that the room was nearly empty. The outlines of paintings and picture frames marked the walls. The only furniture was a big bed, a nightstand stacked with books and two cardboard boxes marked Goodwill.

  “Tell me if you’re cold. I can switch the heater on,” she said softly.

  As Melody turned down the covers, a quiet realization settled over him. She’d moved into her mother’s old room. How much grief could one woman process at one time? The loss of a long-term relationship. The loss of her mother. Melody had taken on the task of looking after her sister with such grace and strength, it was easy to forget the burdens she was carrying.

  Clark went to the bed and stood behind her. She was still gloriously naked. As he ran his hands slowly over her bare arms, her smooth skin puckered under his touch. When he began to massage the tension out of her shoulders, her head fell forward and she let out a soft sigh.

  He leaned down and whispered, “I’m not cold. Are you?”

  “No,” she said, turning around.

  When she got up on her tiptoes to kiss him, Clark closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her soft, full lips on his. She tasted cool and sweet, like the limes she’d put in their cocktails. As she kissed him, her hands roamed his body, stroking his neck, his shoulders, his back and his arms. She pressed her breasts against his chest, and he swore he could feel the sizzle between them like drops of water on a hot griddle. He pulled her close, and she jumped in surprise, recoiling a little.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Your belt buckle. It’s cold.”

  Before he could say anything, she dropped to her knees and undid his belt and the buttons on his fly. Together, they pulled down his jeans and his drawers at once. He danced out of his socks and kicked everything out of the way. Eyes wide, Melody slid her hands down his sides, resting her cool palms on his hipbones.

  Finally free, his cock rose up toward her, aching and wet at the tip.

  Oh God. Yes.

  “So this is what all the girls talked about when we were back in high school,” she said, looking up at him with a sly smile.

  He grasped the base of his cock and stroked himself slowly. “I didn’t know they talked.”

  Melody raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “They did. And I heard.”

  “Once you heard, did you ever wonder?” He was finding it hard to keep his cool. He was hard as fuck, and the head of his cock was a half-inch from her lips.

  She gave him a half shrug. “I didn’t think it was right, wondering about my best friend’s dick.”

  He slid a hand over his aching balls. “Is it right to wonder about your best friend’s pussy? Because that’s what I was doing.”

  “Liar.”

  “God’s honest truth, Mel. I had the biggest crush on you.” I still do.

  She rolled her eyes. “When did you ever have time to have a crush on me? During five-minute breaks between banging everything with a smile and a snatch?”

  “Hey now,” he said, stroking her hair. “Why don’t you put that sassy mouth to use?”

  With one sideways glance at him, she took his wrists and moved his hands away. When her soft fingers encircled his shaft, he almost collapsed forward with pleasure. When her pillowy lips closed over the head of his cock, a strangled groan jumped out of his chest.

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

  Like everything she did, Melody gave him her all. At once, she slid her mouth down as far as she could go, pushing the head of his cock into the deepest part of her throat before drawing him slowly back out. Massaging his exposed shaft with both hands, she did this again and again, pausing only to lash the underside of his cock with dozens of hot, sweet licks that set off fireworks of pleasure all throughout his body, from the bottoms of his feet to the tips of his fingers.

  “Look at me,” he said, stroking her cheeks.

  Full of silent laughter, she looked up at him with her enormous dark eyes. She blinked once, twice, then slid off his cock and went to town licking and sucking his balls, which had tightened up against his body, threatening to blow and embarrass him in front of the woman he’d been in love with for almost all of his life.

  “Stop, stop,” he hissed. “Ah, fuck.”

  He grimaced, all of his energy going to denying himself an orgasm. Hot, translucent drops of precome fell on her chest, sliding down between her breasts. He stared at the sight, transfixed, as she smirked at him like some kind of wicked wet dream.

  “You okay, MacKinnon?” she said, teasing him.

  He closed his eyes and regained control. When he opened them again, a deeper hunger took over than the one that had brought him to her bedroom in the first place. He wasn’t just in love with Melody. He was in love with who he was when he was with her—strong and potent, just like her.

  He reached forward, grasped a handful of her silky black hair, and gently but firmly pulled her head back.

  “You okay, Santos?”

  Something shifted in her eyes. Her playfulness disappeared at once, replaced by something else. Something he knew well. Lust. Hunger.

  “Open,” he whispered.

  They stared at each other, both knowing that something had forever changed between them. When she opened her mouth, he took a moment to look at her. This woman had haunted him for so long he’d come to accept that she’d always be a ghost in his life. But here she was. So real, so beautiful and so vulnerable that touching her almost hurt.

  Still holding her hair in one hand, he grabbed the base of his cock and slid himself into her open mouth. She looked up at him, hypnotized. He drew back and slid forward, thrusting against her tongue until he was deep enough that his balls grazed her chin. The supplication in her eyes set his blood on fire, as did the eventual realization that while he fucked her mouth, Melody was stroking herself, her fingers working between her legs until he could hear the wetness of her arousal.

  His body ignited. He began to sweat. This was the fucking sexiest thing he’d seen. Ever.

  Carefully, he put his hand under her chin and pulled himself out of her mouth. He let go of her hair, bent down and kissed her, a long, hungry kiss that reflected the scorching knowledge that had just risen between them.

  She likes it dirty. Just like me. Hallelujah.

  Clark picked her up and laid her on the bed. He grabbed the condom in his jeans, ripped it open and slid it on. In a second, he was kneeling on the bed between her open legs, staring down at her, his heartbeat in his throat.

  “You ready?” he said softly.

  “I think so,” she whispered. Worry shadowed her expression. “You’re really big.”

  He nodded. “We’ll go slow.”

  Clark took hims
elf in his hand again and leaned forward. Slowly, he dipped his tip between the drenched folds of her pussy, then pulled out and circled the wet head of his cock around her swollen clit. Pleasure dripped like hot morphine through his veins. He repeated the motion once, twice. Each time he did it, Melody’s nipples hardened and her chest rose and fell with deep, frantic breaths. So he did it again. And again. When he did it the sixth time, he leaned forward and gave each of her tender nipples a long, hard suckle. She moaned his name, and he almost came again.

  Get it together, Clark.

  He braced himself above her and moved his hips until the head of his cock was lodged inside her. She squeezed him and he swore his balls kicked themselves. Clark’s nerves were shredded. This would be over too soon if he didn’t concentrate. He clenched his jaw. This shouldn’t be happening to him—he never lost control in bed.

  “I feel like I’m gonna die if I don’t feel you all the way inside me.” Her voice was the faintest whisper above his ragged breathing.

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  He locked his eyes on hers as he pushed himself forward into her in one slow, agonizing thrust. The resistance of her body combined with her hot slickness lit up the highway between his cock and his brain. He’d just dipped his cock in nirvana.

  When he was halfway inside her, she clenched up and whimpered. He froze, responding to her pain.

  “Ease up. Breathe, Mel.” He balanced on one forearm and licked his thumb. “Shh.”

  He reached down and slid the pad of his thumb up one side of her pussy where it was stretched taut around his cock. Gliding upwards, he found her tender clit and with the gentlest pressure, began to stroke her.

  Melody closed her eyes and dropped her head back on the mattress. “Oh God.”

  Clark pulled back and pressed forward, a little at a time, while she grew wetter and wetter around him. He kissed her neck, assaulting her sweet spots with his tongue and lips, even grazing her skin with his teeth. The moment she stopped bearing down, he lifted himself up on his arms, swung his hips forward and drove the length of his cock into her. She stifled a moan and dug her nails into his back. It was the best kind of hurt.

  “Clark,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  He got control of his breath. “I know.”

  She was drenched. Her clit was slick and stiff against his thumb. He dragged his shaft out and thrust again, watching her face to gauge her reaction. Her lips parted. Her neck went slack. Only her eyes were shut tight, crinkled up with tension.

  “Look at me, Mel.”

  She opened her eyes. Up close in the soft lamplight, he saw the galaxies swirling in her dark brown irises, that familiar filament of copper like a lightning bolt straight to his heart. He could close his eyes and picture hers as clear as a photograph. He’d memorized them when he was seventeen years old.

  He began to make love to her, slow, deliberate thrusts that knocked the words out of his brain. She arched against him and spread her legs wider, rising to meet him. He was hot—so hot. Their bodies began to glisten with sweat in the cold bedroom and the sound—God help him—the sound of him fucking her filled his ears. He replaced his thumb with his forefinger, pressed down gently on her clit and began to rub her just as he’d done with his tongue. Her pussy grew even wetter. She grabbed the bedsheets.

  “Oh God.”

  She came in a furious, sudden shudder, the convulsions massaging the length of his cock from tip to root and back. A whispered torrent of swear words and gibberish poured out of her mouth. She drenched his hand and the front of his abs in a filthy, sexy baptism. Clark had never seen anything like it.

  Not waiting for her to finish, he sat up and tucked his shoulders against her calves. Leaning deep against her thighs, he cupped her ass with his hands and lifted her an inch off the soaking sheets. The angle gave him full access to her tight little body.

  “I’ve fantasized about this for so fucking long,” he growled.

  Her eyes were wild. “Then do it.”

  Clark took one last coherent breath and slammed into her, balls-deep. His brain shut down. He became an animal, driven by a desperate need. He pounded into her. He dripped sweat on her. Pleasure overloaded his nervous system.

  The springs in the ancient mattress began to chirp like a flock of birds. Riding on a wave a mile high, Clark leaned forward, bending her into a sharper angle that left her completely vulnerable to him. She closed her eyes and tightened around him, her smooth inner muscles crushing the last of his control.

  The room pitched. He threw his head back. Every muscle in his body flexed. An orgasm too powerful to be real ripped through him, emanating from the molten-hot point where his body joined hers. He was going to die—death by an overdose of pleasure, injected straight into his bloodstream.

  When he was coherent again, he opened his eyes. He’d collapsed onto her, still inside her. She was stroking his cheeks. Her face was wet with sweat and tears.

  He panicked. “God, did I hurt you? Are you all right?”

  She smiled and sniffled. “Shh. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” Her eyes were luminous as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Clark blinked at her, just as speechless. Sex this wild—it didn’t happen between friends. It didn’t happen, period. He wiped her tears away with his hand and did the only thing that made sense. He kissed her again.

  * * * * *

  A strange muffled sound roused Clark from a deep sleep. He opened his eyes. He was in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar bed. A sleeping girl was nestled against him, soft and warm. Her gentle breaths stirred the hair on his arm where he held her in a tight embrace. The memories of what they’d done the night before came to him slowly, like a remembered dream.

  Melody. He sighed. Fuck yes.

  Under the blanket, he had a boner the size of the Washington Monument.

  Blue light filled the room. It was early.

  And then he heard the sound again—the buzzing of his phone on the carpet. He willed it to go away. It did. Then it started right back up again.

  Probably important. Stifling a groan, Clark gently untangled himself from the beautiful sleeping woman, stumbled into his jeans and picked up his shirt and the phone. He stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door silently behind him.

  In the living room, he answered the call. It was his youngest brother, Caleb.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “Jesus God, finally.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Where are you? I need the truck. I gotta take Mom and Dad to Bakersfield.”

  “Where the hell’s your truck?” Clark buttoned his fly and buckled his belt.

  Impatience flared in Caleb’s voice. “Dean has it again. He’s doing some work at the Singh place.”

  A chronic problem. Too many brothers. Not enough trucks. “Then use the van.”

  “Godfuckingdammit, Clark, the van won’t start. You run that thing into the ground.”

  Clark sat down on the couch and sighed. “Is Dad okay?”

  “He hasn’t felt right since his last chemo session on Tuesday. Mom wants him in urgent care.”

  “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Hurry.”

  Clark hung up. When he looked up, he almost jumped out of his skin.

  “You two tie one on last night?” Looking like the devil hocked a loogie on her, Harmony stood at the kitchen counter. She wore an old pink bathrobe with cows and crescent moons on it. She tore open a packet of Alka-Seltzer and dropped the tablets into a mason jar filled with water. “That couch is uncomfortable as hell. You should’ve just crashed with my sister. She wouldn’t have cared.” Harmony watched the trails of bubbles then looked up and winked at him. “My bed’s comfortable too. I wouldn’t have cared eithe
r.”

  Clark gave her a half-smile. She was a hot little mess but nowhere near as sexy as her sister. He shook out his T-shirt and put it back on. “You are a passel of trouble, ain’t you, Harm.” He got his boots on, located his hat and headed for the front door. “Listen, tell Melody I have to go. I’ll call her this afternoon.”

  “Will do, Superman.”

  * * * * *

  Clark gassed up the truck and drove it home. After he showered and changed, he picked up his phone. He was about to call Melody when his brother Dan cracked the whip.

  “You’re late for chores. Let’s go.” Dan tossed him a pair of work gloves.

  For many years, Dan and Clark, the middle MacKinnon brothers, had worked the ranch under their father’s supervision. Now that their old man was sick, it was up to them to run the show. Together, they managed employees, ran operations and handled all of the accounting decisions that made the ranch a viable business. They faced a lot of challenges. This year’s drought was bad. Both brothers worried that the pastures wouldn’t be healthy enough to support their stock.

  After six hours working outside and three hours in the office, Clark was dusty and ill-tempered. It was early evening. One of their crew members was butchering some meat to sell at tomorrow’s farmers’ market in Santa Barbara. Clark would have to check in with him to pack the coolers and double-check the inventory. After that, he’d have to figure out what was wrong with the van. He’d be lucky to be done by seven.

  The office was tucked behind the mudroom of the farmhouse. Dan had already gone home to his wife and kids, who lived in their own bungalow a five-minute walk away.

  Clark leaned back in his chair, stretched and yawned. He’d been up late with Melody. They’d gotten three, maybe four hours of sleep. He smiled to himself, remembering what they’d done instead.

  Feeling giddy, Clark pulled out his phone to call her. When he tried to start it up, he realized it had died—he hadn’t charged it last night. He went upstairs, plugged it in and turned on the screen.

  Three missed calls from Melody, no messages, no texts.