Scarlett bit back tears that threatened to spill. She ran two hands across Barrett’s work-hardened abdomen up to his chest. With all the force in her small body, she shoved against him. “Sure as shit took you long enough,” she growled.
Being over a foot taller and almost a hundred pounds heavier, he didn’t budge from her assault. In fact, he smiled and opened his mouth to speak.
But she beat him to it by blurting, “I’m gettin’ married in June.”
Barrett’s smile fell, his face ashen, and he stepped back. His thumbs found his pockets, and he glared at his boots. “Any talkin’ you out of it?” he asked, his voice rasping.
“No. I’m in love.”
He turned a half step away from her and looked out at the horizon. She followed his line of sight. From up there the river looked like a blue snake winding its way over the land. Clouds were close enough to touch. Air was clean and peppered with the scent of wild spring blooms. The wide expanse of green and blue made their drama feel closer, more intimate, real.
“He’s a lucky man.” Laughter brought his gaze up fast.
“He sure is. Lucky I don’t kill him for goin’ off and leavin’ me heartbroken and wonderin’ what I’d done wrong for six long years.”
“What are you sayin’, Scarlett?” he asked, with a hint of desperation.
“I’m say you’re marryin’ me in June, and there’s not a thing you can do to change it.”
If the impact of his chest barreling into hers wasn’t enough to knock the wind out of her, his crushing hug was. One second her feet touched the ground, the next she was swept up in Barrett’s embrace. His lips dappled kisses across her brow, down the bridge of her nose, across each cheek and the line of her jaw. When he reached her neck, he swept thick locks of her red hair over her shoulder. The sensitive skin tingled as his kiss grew more compelling. The warmth of his tongue caressed her skin, leaving slick trails that cooled in the breeze. Teeth nipped at her collarbone.
Desperate for his mouth on hers, she grabbed his face.
Finally, his soft ample lips collided with her own. His hands knotted in her hair as he maneuvered her head, gaining better access to her thirsty mouth. Their tongues tangled and tasted.
Need, carnal and urgent, flared inside Scarlett’s body. She lassoed chap-covered legs around Barrett’s waist, pulling him tight against her core.
Grabbing two handfuls of her ass, Barrett adjusted her across the hard ridge of his penis.
A moan poured from her lips into his mouth as he rocked slowly and ground their bodies together. Friction burned. Jeans chafed. Her clit spasmed, and she bucked wildly with a climax. Scarlett’s back bowed, then contracted in rapid succession, milking the sensation. Her last fit tumbled them over onto the knee-high grass.
Barrett rolled on top and kissed a trail down her body, unfastening buttons, unclasping buckles and freeing zippers as he went. “Christ, Scarlett. Next time don’t wear so many clothes.”
Still panting and enjoying aftershocks of her first orgasm with another human being, Scarlett nodded in agreement.
After freeing every inch of her body from the confines of denim, cotton and leather, Barrett sat back on his heels. His studied her from head to toe without a word or touch, and then smiled.
The adoring gesture washed Scarlett in confidence. She sat and kissed him firmly. Her hands gasped the fabric of his shirt and peeled the thing off his torso. He shucked his pants and boots in record time, and Scarlett sat back to examine her man.
She had to bite her lip to quiet the Wow! threatening to escape. He was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Sculpted as a man should be. The lines of his body highlighted in lean muscle. His skin bronzed from long days working in the sun.
His cock jutted out from a tuft of dark hair. It bobbed with his pulse and seemed to grow with each passing beat. Tentatively, Scarlett reached for the rod of silky flesh.
Barrett pushed her back onto the ground. “First things first, Sassy. We’ll do show-and-tell later.” He covered her, his large body blocking the mid-morning’s light.
By instinct, she spread her legs wide ready to receive him.
One strong arm braced her against his chest. The other propped his large body above her. Contact began with a soft rock of his hips. His cock grazed her slick folds.
Scarlett arched her body, prolonging the touch. The hair on his chest abraded her nipples, and suddenly it wasn’t enough. She angled her hips and his fat tip found home, sinking an inch or two. Against his shoulder she muffled a gasp. Delight warred with agony.
He pulled out and she ached for more. His tip entered and withdrew time and again until Scarlett dug her heels into his buttocks and drew him deeper. She readied herself for more, bending and opening for him, but Barrett stilled.
Breathing labored between them for a moment. Then with careful precision, Barrett asked quietly, “Scarlett, baby, are you a virgin?”
A small chuckle escaped her throat. “Been waitin’ to give it to you since I knew what it was, and if you don’t take it already, I’m headin’ to town and givin’ it to the first man I see.”
In response, Barrett thrust deeper with each rock of his hips, capturing what she offered.
A tear of relief rolled down her cheek as she rocked with him. Scarlett rolled her hips, working the length of his shaft with her tight pussy. Deep inside she felt the pinch of his dick stretching her tight passage, the massage of its girth rubbing her slippery walls. Outside, her clit beat against his pelvis.
The rhythm increased to a frantic pace.
Barrett bit her earlobe and drawled, “Come for me, baby.”
The demand lit an explosive orgasm. Her insides reverberated from the power of it. Scarlett squeezed her eyelids shut in rapture while he pounded deeper, driving her into the earth until he groaned.
Scarlett’s eyes flew open when Barrett pulled out of her body. She marveled as he gripped the column of his dick firmly in his fist, it’s bulbous head exposed.
Barrett’s chin lifted toward the sky. His breath suspended. The wide tip of his penis turned red, then purple and seemed to grow before jets of white erupted from it, sprinkling her belly.
Barrett fell to the grass, threw an arm over Scarlett and pulled her close. In between deep breaths he said, “Condoms. We need condoms. Can’t get you pregnant…yet.”
“Well,” Scarlett said, “I don’t have any condoms.”
He propped on his elbow and began cleaning her off with his discarded shirt. “Didn’t expect you would. I have some in my truck.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Scarlett asked, while she shoved his hand away and jumped to her feet. Standing naked on the hillside, she rifled through their strewn clothes.
“Sass, what are you doin’?”
“I’m goin’ to the truck.”
She pulled jeans over her bare bottom and winked at Barrett. “Wanna race?”
HER CAPTURED COWBOY
Layla Chase
Overhead, thick, puffy clouds hung low in the eastern sky. The midday sun beat on Bo Hadrian as his horse, Midnight, picked out the easiest trail down the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Air as heated as if he stood beside a blacksmith’s forge attacked his nose. This part of Colorado Territory was best suited for lizards, tarantulas and snakes—a place where an ex-bounty hunter like him felt right at home.
Stones skittered downhill, snapping and popping off boulders, and Midnight stumbled, his front hooves slipping several feet down the incline.
“Easy.” Bo tightened his grip on the reins and leaned his hips against the cantle. His gaze scanned the rocky landscape for the movement of any stray cattle. Three hours since breaking off from the main herd, and he hadn’t spotted a single animal to hustle back to the Triple R Ranch.
Midnight lifted his nose and snorted with a shake of his head.
The rush of water running over rocks reached him before he smelled the clean, fresh scent. Ah, a soaking would feel great right about now. Giving Midnight hi
s head, Bo glanced around the scraggly pines and aspens, ever alert to shadows under and behind boulders.
Murmurs and guffaws sounded from behind the cluster of madrone bushes. “Oo-wee, looky that. See them big, round titties.”
Damnation. Bo’s body tensed, and he kneed Midnight’s shoulders, easing the animal along the path.
“And that coppery thatch.”
Rounding the last bushes, Bo spotted the broad backsides of a couple of pairs of ragged overalls. He leaned a forearm on the saddle horn and rested his hand on the butt of his holstered revolver…and waited. Men could be such jackasses over a bit of bared female flesh. No doubt liquor was involved.
He cleared his throat and watched both men jerk and slowly straighten. Thumbing back his hat, he squinted his eyes into narrow slits and gave them the glare that had made plenty of criminals pause.
“We’re just leaving.” Looking everywhere but at the man on the horse, the men shoved at each other. They turned and ran in the opposite direction, crashing through bushes.
Sweat trickled along his temples and he lifted his hat, scrubbing his forearm over his damp forehead. The sound of splashing reached his ears, and he craned his neck. Through the green foliage, he spotted movement near the waterfall—long slender limbs and creamy white skin. An immediate jolt of lust tightened his groin. “Hey, lady in the falls.”
A flash of wavy red hair and rounded ass disappeared beneath the water. She surfaced near a rock and grabbed a long hunting knife, breathing hard. “Who’s there?”
Her voice was raspy and low, deepening his attraction. “Your audience is gone.”
“My audience? I don’t know your voice, stranger. Show yourself.”
Bo urged Midnight closer to the water’s edge and tipped a forefinger to the edge of his hat. “Bo Hadrian, ma’am.”
Her body bobbed an inch lower in the water, her gaze shifting to the surrounding bushes. While she studied him, she kept an arm moving to disrupt the pool’s water.
With determination, he forced his gaze above the water’s depth, even though every male cell in his body screamed for another look at her creamy skin. “I’m alone, ma’am.”
“Don’t move closer. And don’t even think about stealing my clothes.” The woman shifted a couple of feet to the right. As she jerked her head around to scan the perimeter of the pool, she lifted the knife and jabbed the wide blade in his direction.
Tightening his knees, he urged the horse forward, all the while holding up his hands, palms out. “Like I said, I’m alone, ma’am.”
Midnight bent his head and slurped at the water.
“Don’t call me that.” Her chin jerked upward, and she flipped wet strands of hair over a rounded shoulder. “I stopped being a lady the summer I was twelve.”
The hollow tone of her voice stabbed him in the chest. What could have happened to cause that? “Those scalawags won’t be back.”
“I can take care of myself.” Her light blue eyes narrowed, and she jutted out her chin.
“I see that.” Her vigilance showed him she’d been alone for a while. Feistiness in a woman was sexy as hell. He couldn’t stop his lips from spreading into a smile. “Just ridding the area of vermin before I take a swim.”
“Don’t much matter. Giving those fools a peek now and then is the price I pay to live near town.” She rested the knife on the top of a boulder, sunlight glinting along its honed blade.
What the hell kind of arrangement was that? The need to defend overtook him, and he swung from the saddle, tossing the reins onto a nearby bush. “That water sure looks good. You about finished here?” With quick jerks, he loosened the knot in the kerchief from around his neck and swabbed it across his throat.
“Sure, why not?” The woman spun and stroked across the pool.
Thick welts crisscrossed her back, and Bo winced at the sight of her severe punishment, his gut shriveling into a knot. He’d seen marks like that before on captives of Indian tribes.
“I’m getting my clothes. Turn around.”
Grinning, Bo pulled out the tails of his shirt and turned his back to the pool. That swim was gonna feel real good. Washing off the trail dust was just what he needed.
A rock bounced into the water with a plop. “The pool is yours.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hands on his belt buckle, he pivoted on his boot heel and spotted her at the head of the trail, clad in a fringed buckskin Indian dress, her feet encased in moccasins. Her pale skin and wavy red hair contrasted with the clothing, but the brandished knife looked like it fit. “Might I know your name?”
“Meghan Hegarty.” A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’m the local healer.” With a smooth move, she sheathed the knife into the scabbard hanging at her waist and walked out of sight.
For several seconds, he stood in place, his thoughts on the puzzle the strange woman presented. Then he shucked his clothes, piled them on his saddle, and waded into the pool until he could duck beneath the surface, letting the cool water sluice the grit from his body. Ah, so refreshing. Five strokes took him across the pool, and he tucked to turn in the opposite direction and surfaced, blinking water away from his eyes.
A double-action metallic ratchet filled the air.
Bo jerked his head to the edge of the pool where Midnight waited. Aw, hell. His chest pinched.
Beside the horse stood Meghan, his rifle leveled at her hip. “That’s right, swim over here.”
“What are you doing?”
“Climb out and get on your clothes. We’re going for a ride.”
He glanced around, searching for a way out of this mess. “I’ve got three bucks in my saddlebags. Sorry, but payday’s not for another two weeks.” As he walked forward, the water dipped lower along his muscled frame. Two final strides brought him to the damp dirt at the edge of the pool. Water ran off his body in rivulets and pooled at his feet. He jammed his hands on his hips.
Meghan’s gaze dropped to his waist, and her eyes widened, the gun wavering a few inches lower. She bit her lower lip and then a slow smile grew.
His traitorous body reacted to her response, and his cock lengthened along his thigh. “Toss me my clothes.”
Keeping her gaze locked on him, she raised her left hand to the saddle, grabbed his jeans, and tossed them his way.
Bo caught the warmed denim and shoved his feet into the pant legs. How had he let a female get the drop on him? In ten years of bounty hunting, that had only occurred once. That one incident prompted his decision to leave the job of searching for outlaws to younger gun hands. Much safer to hunt down stray cattle.
Until now.
“My shirt?” When he turned, Meghan had stepped back several feet.
“Won’t need it. Grab your boots and let’s get going.” She waved the rifle toward Midnight with a jerk.
He eyed the strap of his holster around the saddle horn. Maybe he could get his pistol while stepping into his boots. Or he could slip a hand into the saddlebag where he kept his spare revolver. At Midnight’s side, he leaned a shoulder against the horse’s withers as he brushed pebbles off the bottom of his foot. But the angle was wrong—she’d see any attempt to reach a weapon. Pissed at being at her mercy, he stomped into his boots and reached for his shirt still lying across the saddle.
Pain exploded in the back of his head and his vision went black.
Meghan struggled, her legs quivering with the effort to push the cowboy onto her mattress. Once she’d shouldered him up to sprawl belly-down over the saddle, she figured the toughest hurdle was crossed. But the well-muscled, dark-eyed man was heavier than she’d thought. She blew out a breath and yanked on the blanket she’d used to drag him into her cabin, releasing one edge to roll him onto the ticking.
Her first sight of this handsome man at the waterfall sparked a plan. A woman who’d been held captive for a dozen years by Indians didn’t stand a chance at receiving a second look by a decent man. But this cowboy had shooed off those fools who wouldn’t know how to do anything but o
gle her flesh. He’d honored her privacy and treated her with respect. He’d proven himself worthy.
If she wasn’t so hellfire bent on having a man between her thighs, she might have felt a twinge of guilt about bashing him over the head. With quick moves, she stripped him of his boots and jeans and used rawhide thongs to tie his hands and feet to the bedposts. Only a few moments were spent on securing his horse in her lean-to outside, setting out a pan of grain and a bucket of water.
Then she returned to the cabin to shed her dress and rub mint leaves over her body. Not like the French perfume her mama had used, but Meghan had adopted many of the Indian ways. A fact that probably kept her an outsider, even on this Colorado frontier.
Two years had passed since an Army attack on Chief Rising Cloud’s tribe of Cheyenne released her from her capture. The soldiers had dumped her in the closest settlement of Ouray. Barely remembering how to speak English, she’d been at a disadvantage from the outset. Kindly church folks provided shelter and meals and refreshed her language skills. But after a few months, she’d relocated to an abandoned miner’s cabin to escape the distrust in the eyes of the townspeople, especially the women.
Standing at the foot of the bed, she gazed upon the bulges and planes of Bo’s body. Dark hair contrasted with the skin of his calves and thighs—so different from the bare skin of the Indian brave, Bright Eagle, who’d claimed her as a wife. Curly hair on his groin cushioned the cock that lay broad and thick on his left thigh. As she watched, the shaft lengthened and rose away from his body. Amazing, even in his sleep.
Her gaze snapped up to his face. His dark eyes glared from under scowling eyebrows.
“What are you doing?”
His raspy growl sent a shiver up her spine, and her nipples tightened into beads. Knowing he couldn’t fight his response to her nakedness, she felt emboldened. “Taking what I need.” To gain the most pleasure from an experience that may have to last her a long time, she started a slow caress of her own body. Trailing one hand over her belly and hips, she used the other to cup and mold her aching breasts. A sigh released through her lips, and she slid around to the far side of the bed.
Cowboy Heat Page 6