Mocha Latte (Silk Stocking Inn #3)

by Tess Oliver

  He leaned over me and kissed my back as his hand moved around my hip and down between my legs. His fingers were cold at first but they warmed quickly in the moist heat of my pussy. He tickled my clit.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, and I knew what he meant. I straightened my arms to brace for him.

  “Yes.” My answer flowed away with the torrent of water rushing past. It was an unreal setting. I was standing against a rock wall, with a waterfall as my curtain and about to be taken by a man who had made every inch of me feel alive with a passion I never knew I had. My senses were overwhelmed with it all.

  I was expecting it, yet my knees crumpled as Jackson pushed his cock inside of me. He gripped me until I could steady myself. Then his fingers worked magic on my clit, teasing it to oblivion while he thrust into me with a force that seemed to match the intensity of the waterfall.

  In seconds, I found myself squeezing his hand between my legs for more as I pushed hard against his movements. His heavy sac slapped my pussy as he jammed himself deeper, reaching my hot center. I felt the first sensations and made a useless attempt to curl my fingers around the rock like I would around a bed sheet. But there was nothing to hold onto as I rolled over the cliff into ecstasy.

  “Oh Jackson! Yes!” My cries echoed off the rock walls.

  Jackson’s fingers dug into my flesh as he came seconds later.

  It took several moments for us both to catch our breath. The waterfall churned on. The water misted our naked bodies as we stood beneath the spray. Jackson spun me around and pulled me into his arms.

  “Sure as hell didn’t see this coming,” he muttered as if only speaking to himself.

  I looked questioningly up at him, expecting him to elaborate. Which he did. With a kiss.

  Chapter 17

  I leaned back and released a long, satisfied sigh. Peony scented bubbles sparkled around me as I stretched my legs out in the magnificent bathtub. Somehow, my hostess, a woman who I was now convinced could read my thoughts, had managed to have a hot bubble bath waiting for me the moment I arrived back at the inn.

  Jackson and I had had tons to talk about on the way back to the barn. I found he was a great storyteller and an even better listener. We’d only known each other for a day, yet I already felt a true connection with him. And it wasn’t just because of the numerous intimate moments we’d shared during that short amount of time. Jackson was someone I felt comfortable talking to, and we shared common interests. Best of all, he laughed at my dry wit, something Nate had never really liked. Along with a lot of other things, apparently. But that didn’t matter to me at all anymore. My ex-fiancé was slowly becoming a faint and distant memory, thanks to my weekend with someone who was showing me just what I’d been missing all that time.

  Stepping out of my luxurious bath was like dragging myself out of a cozy, quilted bed on a snowy Monday morning. But my fingers were starting to look like raisins, a sure sign that I’d overstayed my welcome.

  I wrapped myself in the plush towel Coco had left for me and walked out to the bedroom. My legs were certainly feeling the weekend’s activities. Both, on the horse and with the cowboy. It was a rich, achy fatigue that I could definitely get used to.

  I walked into the bedroom. While I was in soaking, Coco had left a flirty, short denim dress on a hook on the door. There was even a fresh pair of panties and a pair of ankle boots with it. A note was pinned to the collar.

  I took off the note and read it. “The dress is for tonight. The grilled cheese sandwich and dill pickle on the kitchen counter are for now. I’m out, by the way, and I won’t be back until late tonight. Have fun.”

  I stared in confusion at the note. She wrote the letter as if she had my evening planned already. I hadn’t thought too much about the night, only that I hoped to see Jackson at some point.

  After the ride, I’d hobbled back to the inn and he’d started his barn chores. I’d insisted I could stay and help, but he shooed me off, saying I’d only slow him down. Which hurt my feelings at first, until he added that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me long enough to ‘get a damn thing done’.

  I pulled on the dress. It was snug all the way down, but technically a perfect fit. I would have expected no less. I left the ankle boots off. It was a barefoot kind of afternoon. During summer days on my grandpa’s ranch when the August sun was billowing through all the farmhouse windows and his hound dogs were snoring on the front porch, I’d kick off my work boots, grab a sandwich and lemonade and head out onto the front porch to bask in the fruit scented warmth of the day. Grandpa would catch me sitting out there and look pointedly at my feet and say ‘guess it’s a barefoot kind of afternoon, eh Becca’? Sometimes, he’d even join me. Although kicking off his boots always took a more determined approach, which included me sitting on the floor tugging them until I rolled back onto my bottom with an empty boot in my hands.

  I headed downstairs and to the kitchen. The bakery was quiet. I wondered just when the customers had come in to clear out most of the trays. Of course, I’d been so wrapped up in my own stay at the inn, it was possible I just hadn’t noticed anyone else. Just as with the perfectly hot bath, the thick grilled cheese that seemed to be oozing with at least three different cheeses, was still hot. I picked up the icy, cold pickle and took a bite. It snapped off salty and tangy in my mouth. As if my thoughts about my days on Grandpa’s porch had conjured it, a tall glass of lemonade sat next to the plate. Coco was positively clairvoyant.

  I picked up the plate and glass. There was a linen napkin tucked underneath it. Silk Stocking Inn had been neatly embroidered across the top of the napkin. I could feel stitching on the back as well. I turned it over, expecting to see the same words. There was a sentence stitched in pink thread on the back. It read ‘sometimes you’ve got to look to your past to find your future’. I stared at the sentiment for a moment, thinking how often my stay here at the inn had transported me back to my wonderful life on Grandpa’s ranch.

  My stomach growled, reminding me that the sandwich waited. I tucked the napkin under the plate and carried it out to the front porch to sit. It wasn’t going to be the same without Samson and Goliath, Grandpa’s dogs, but I felt confident that Coco’s grilled cheese would make up for the lack of dog snores.

  I sat on the top step. That’s when I noticed something strange. The dead, spindly rose vines had come back to life with pink, perfume-rich blossoms. I was no expert on gardening or roses, and while I was sure it was possible to save a dying rose vine, I could find no explanation for how clusters of roses could have grown overnight. It was almost as if the Silk Stocking Inn was out of a regular time zone. With Coco’s incalculable age, bathtubs and food always being just the right temperature and now with roses springing up overnight, it was the best explanation I could come up with, even as impossible as it seemed.

  My theorizing about time and roses and Coco stopped the second a tall, broad shouldered cowboy came around the corner.

  His white smile made me nearly melt right along with the cheese on my sandwich. “Thought I’d find you sitting out here, Spunky.” He walked over and sat on the porch step below me. He leaned his forearm on the step and gazed up at me.

  “How’d you know? Did you smell the grilled cheese?” I handed him half of my sandwich. He gladly accepted.

  “Nope. I’ve just developed a sixth sense when it comes to you, Becca.” He took a big bite.

  “Is that right? A sixth sense?”

  He swallowed and took a sip of my lemonade. “Yep. I was walking this direction and, as usual, I was thinking about you.” He reached up and smoothed his hand down the back of my calf. “And these legs. And your smile. And our day at the pond.” He winked unnecessarily.

  “That’s a lot of thinking for a short walk from the barn.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say, woman? You’ve got my head filled
with thoughts, all kinds of thoughts.” He shut one eye to let me know he was assessing my dress. “Since you’ve got that hot little denim dress, what do you say we go out dancing tonight? There’s a place up the street that plays a little country and a lot of rock. There’s a crummy dance floor in the middle. Sound good?”

  “Actually, it sounds great.”

  Chapter 18

  After sharing the sandwich on the porch, Jackson had gone back to the barn for the afternoon feeding. I’d headed in to peruse the books in the sitting room. A floor to ceiling dark mahogany bookcase sat on the back wall of the room, which was painted a deep gold color. The vast room was furnished with grand looking furniture, upholstered with rich red and yellow brocade and covered with tassel trimmed pillows.

  I tried to focus on a well-used copy of Pride and Prejudice, but my mind kept slipping off to Jackson and our dance date. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone dancing.

  I shut the book for good and tapped a rhythm on the ornately carved wood trim running along the arm of the couch as I stared out the window. The afternoon sun was just starting to droop in the blue sky, but time seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace. As much as I didn’t want the weekend to end, I was anxiously waiting for nightfall. I was like a teenage girl waiting for her first date.

  With Coco gone, it was far too quiet in the house. I decided a quick jaunt to the barn to possibly lend a hand with the hay was what I needed to pass the time along faster.

  I climbed the stairs and grabbed the ankle boots Coco had left for me. They looked amazing with the denim dress. I turned around in the mirror a few times and decided I looked exactly right for a few barn chores. Especially if those chores included some heavy kissing and, with any luck, some heavy petting. And I wasn’t thinking about petting the horses.

  I strolled the long path. Once the barn came into view, I picked up my pace, nearly skipping along in my stylish boots. I hadn’t dressed in western fashion in a long while, mostly because it wasn’t something Nate would have appreciated. I was definitely going to hit a few country western stores once I got back home.

  With the thought of back home, my gait slowed and my shoulders slumped. Back home would mean away from Silk Stocking Inn, and most importantly, it would mean away from Jackson.

  “What have I done?” I asked myself aloud. It seemed I’d tried to patch my former heartbreak with another layer of heartbreak. I stopped and stared at the barn. The entire scene in front of me already seemed so familiar that it felt as if I’d been at the inn for months.

  Jackson walked out of the barn with a wheelbarrow. He was wearing his black hat, a white t-shirt and jeans. He was familiar too. As if I’d known him for months.

  I drew in a deep breath and willed my feet forward. There was no sense in stopping the weekend short just because I was afraid of getting hurt. That horse and buggy had already left the gate. I was well past the point of getting hurt. I’d just have to deal with it when the time came.

  Jackson swung the barrow around and spotted me coming along the path. His smile could light an entire television set. Feeling revived just by seeing him, I picked up my pace and headed toward him.

  He pushed his hat back as I stepped right next to him and hopped up on my toes to kiss him.

  “Well, that sure makes barn chores a lot sweeter.” He pushed the wheelbarrow, and I walked alongside him.

  “I’m here to lend a helping hand . . . with the hay.” I smiled flirtatiously his direction. “Or whatever else you might need.”

  “Is that right? Since I’m already finished feeding, I guess I’ll have to come up with whatever else.” He parked the wheelbarrow outside the barn and stripped off his gloves, an innocent enough action that caused my already tender pussy to clench. Jackson had awakened feelings and desires in me that I’d apparently buried during my long relationship with Nate. Now that they’d resurfaced, I had no intention of tamping them down again.

  Music was coming from a radio in the barn. I followed him into the tack room.

  “Counting Crows playing Four White Stallions. I love this song.” I walked over to the radio on the shelf and turned it up. I swung around and discovered Jackson had been watching me. “It’s just the right blend of rock and country, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “Just the right damn blend, Becca.” He reached out his hand. I took it. He pulled me close and placed his other arm around my back. “Who needs to waste a night in a crowded bar when we’ve got each other and a perfectly good dance floor.” He tapped the cement floor with his boot. “And the Counting Crows singing country rock tunes.”

  The great music, the lighting in the breezeway and the warm scent of hay and animals created an incredibly romantic ambience for a girl who was quickly discovering that she’d left a piece of her heart back in the country on her grandpa’s ranch.

  Jackson swung me around. My head felt dizzy with it all. I lolled my head back. He spun me around again and then pulled me tightly against him. I rested my face on his shoulder, trying to remember if I’d ever felt so secure and safe with Nate as I did with Jackson.

  “Thank you, Jackson.” I said it so quietly, I was sure he hadn’t heard.

  “For what, Becca?”

  “For this. For being you. For helping me find my heart again.”

  He responded by closing his arms around me tighter. We danced until the song ran out.

  Chapter 19

  Daylight was shifting to evening outside the barn.

  Jackson finished our impromptu dance session with a kiss. “I was thinkin’ maybe we should just stay in tonight. It’s your last night, and I don’t really want to share you with anyone else.”

  His mention of it being my last night made my heart sink in my chest. What would happen once I left the inn? We’d never discussed anything more than the weekend. In fact, he’d made it quite clear that I was his ‘for the weekend’. I’d given him just that--all of me, without hesitation. But I’d needed this, I’d needed something to take my mind off Nate dumping me. There was no way I was going to let any form of regret seep in and take hold of me.

  Jackson pushed up my chin, and his brows creased together as he looked at me. “Did I say something wrong? We could still go out dancing.”

  I shook my head. “No, there’s nothing wrong. And I’d rather not share you tonight either.”

  “Great.” Jackson walked over and picked up a bridle from the sawhorse. His boots thumped the floor as he went to hang it on the wall hook.

  I watched his muscular back and shoulders move beneath the fabric of his shirt as he lifted his strong arms to the hook. I needed badly to shake off the melancholy feelings that had swept over me. I decided right then that taking a little initiative might be fun.

  While his back was turned to me, I unbuttoned the bodice of the denim dress. The buttons led all the way down to my belly button.

  I’d just finished pushing aside the panels to expose my bra as he turned back around. He was holding a rope in his hand. A wickedly charming smile crept up on his face. His cool green gaze slid down to my exposed bra and stomach. He tried hard not to be shocked that I’d opened my dress, but I was sure I detected a small, tense twitch in his jaw.

  “Seems like you and me were thinking the same damn thing.” His deep, rich drawl sent a shiver through me.

  I looked pointedly at the rope in his hand. “Are you going ropin’, cowboy?”

  “Sure as hell am.” As he walked toward me, he took a rope end in each hand. He reached me and dropped the rope around me. With one quick tug, he had me solid against him.

  I smiled up at him. “Guess you really were going roping.”

  “Not done yet.” He held me against him with the rope circled behind my back, and he kissed me. It was a deep, urgent kiss. I melted against him, wanting more of it.

 
His hungry mouth trailed down my neck to my bra. His tongue swept beneath the lace to tease my nipples. I reached between us for his fly and unbuttoned his pants. His deep groan tickled my naked skin as I slid my hand into his pants and took hold of his cock. It was hard and hot in my fingers as I pulled it free of his jeans.

  I stroked him. He moved his hips, urging me along. Then, with a growl, he let go of one side of the rope and took hold of my wrist. I released him. He walked me to the wall where the lead ropes hung from a hook. With one swift movement, he picked up all the ropes and tossed them to the floor of the stall.

  His lids were heavy with lust, almost astonishingly so, and I trembled with anticipation of what was to come.

  “Just occurred to me that I was standing in a place with a lot of rope and the hottest damn woman in the world. Why waste an opportunity?”

  “Huh?” I sighed dreamily. “I’m sorry I faded off with the words ‘hottest damn woman in the world’.”

  He lowered his face to kiss me again, distracting me temporarily as he tied the rope he was holding around my wrists.

  “Well, this is different.” I giggled nervously against his mouth.

  “Yep. Thought I’d try something new.” He lifted my bound hands above my head and tied the rope to the hook on the wall. I should have been shocked and even a little worried, but I wasn’t. Jackson had a power over me that made me want to yield to all his commands. When it came to sex, I was his. He’d unleashed a whole other part of me that I was rather enjoying.

  He slid his hands beneath the panels of the dress and swept his palms over my back as he kissed my breasts. I moved to put my hands in his hair and remembered, with a hot blush, that my hands were tied and I was bound to the wall. It was excitingly erotic being at his mercy. My pussy surged with moist heat.

  Jackson pulled his hands out from the dress and shoved the bottom half up above my waist. He dropped down to his knees in front of me. I was lightheaded, as my pulse raced with the thought of him taking me with my hands tied above my head.