“First off, are you aware of my abilities?” Savannah’s voice became distant and almost toneless as she spoke, striking fear in Tink’s heart. Everything she’d heard and observed indicated Savannah was a strong woman and not easily frightened. Any bravado she’d exhibited, real or imagined, evaporated when she’d gone into a trancelike state, holding her rounded belly in a protective manner.
Tink nodded. “Kate told me about your visions.” Not that she put a lot of stock in psychic visions, but maybe getting to know these women would help her figure out the puzzling cowboy.
“Wyatt Bodine owns…er, owned the neighboring ranch. The Bar B.”
“Uh-uh,” Sandy interrupted. “You have to start with Mandy and the camping trip.” The quiet woman trembled but nodded at Savannah, encouraging her to start over.
“Yes, the camping trip. Sandy, her husband Craig and their daughter Mandy were camping in a park not too far from here.”
Steph’s arms went around Sandy, lending silent support as the story unfolded. Tamara held Savannah’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Tink was amazed by how the women supported and comforted each other. She’d never let herself get that close to anyone. Not even Kate.
“Mandy got separated from her parents during a violent storm. Wyatt Bodine found Mandy and herded her like cattle toward his property.”
“H-he pushed her into a chasm.” Sandy rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm.
Tink’s hand fluttered to her lips, holding back the gasp she didn’t want Sandy to hear. Her mouth became dry listening to the details of the poor girl’s torment.
“Each day he’d toss down a bottle of water and one sandwich. It was enough to keep her alive, but not adequate nourishment to replenish her energy.”
The whole time she talked, Savannah stared sightlessly ahead, as if seeing the events unfold. The way she appeared so detached and emotionless as she recited the details was totally creepy.
“Mandy’s anguish reached out to me and I began to have visions of her. One night I had an extremely strong vision and finally realized she was on Shadow Mountain, on Bar B land. I-I…”
Tink had to bite her cheek to stifle a laugh over how funny that sounded—Barbie-land. There was nothing funny about the story though.
Tamara took up the tale after Savannah’s voice failed. “Van had used her visions to help the police find an abducted child in her hometown. Instead of treating her like the brave hero she is, the townsfolk became leery and uncomfortable around her. Some sought her out and begged to be told their future. Her abilities don’t work that way, and people would get angry when she couldn’t perform on command.
“People’s fears and misery bombarded her. She had no way of blocking out their emotions. When her grandmother passed away, Van packed up and headed west, no real destination in mind. She followed her heart and found this place, where she feels at peace.”
Steph took up the thread next. “Well, until Cord, but that’s a different story. She hired the guys and together they created wild games to play, driving out Van’s unwanted visions.” She continued to rock with Sandy. “Van and Cord share a link. A kind of bond that allows them to communicate without speaking.”
Savannah’s dark eyes swam back into focus. “To make what’s become a long story short, I tripped in the dark and fell into the cavern where Mandy had been trapped. I used our connection to guide Cord and the others to us.”
“T-there was a trial,” Sandy said, rejoining the conversation. “Wyatt was sentenced to sixty years.”
Tink was stunned by the horrible experience that had forged an indelible bond between the four strong women. Still, unease rippled through her. “And you sensed this sicko here?” The story got to her and she glanced around for any threat.
“No, it’s not Wyatt.” Savannah made eye contact with each of her friends. “It’s okay. He’s still in prison. What I felt must have been a flashback, probably because of the dream I had last night. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Her words and soothing tone calmed the others, but not Tink. Her gut insisted there was more to what Savannah had felt than she was telling them. But she bit her tongue and said nothing because she wasn’t part of their tight-knit group. She was the outsider here, and never in her life had she felt more isolated. Until Tamara spoke, breaking the uneasy mood.
“Sooo, tell us about the trip out here with Brock, and don’t leave anything out. We want all the juicy details, woman. Spill it!”
Chapter Two
“Whew, I need to burn off some steam.” Savannah stared down at her tummy and rubbed soothing circles over the taut mound. “You two are seriously cramping my playtime.”
Tink watched and felt a strange pang in her chest she couldn’t identify. There was something familiar about Savannah. The two of them appeared a great deal alike on the outside—long blonde hair, curvy full figures. Savannah was a little taller, but not by much. A stranger might mistake them for sisters. “Two? Wow, when are they due?”
Savannah groaned. “Not for another four months. I need to have some fun now, though.” She started pacing around the porch.
“Oh boy,” Tamara groaned. “Here we go again.”
Sandy excused herself and headed inside. “I need to spend some time with Mandy.”
“Did Millie restock the first-aid kit after last time?” Steph fidgeted in her chair.
Once again the outsider, Tink had no clue what had created the odd undercurrent. Regardless of how nice everyone treated her, she didn’t belong here.
A loud blast rent the air. Tink yelped and clutched her chest. Her heart raced beneath her palm. If they were anywhere near the ocean she would have sworn it was a ship’s horn, but the ranch was landlocked.
“Jesus, Van! Was that really necessary?”
Looking over her shoulder to where Tamara had directed her complaint, she spotted Savannah standing at the doorway holding an air horn. Hearing the pounding of boots against the hard-packed ground, Tink’s head snapped toward the ranch yard. The vision before her made her entire body clench.
Dayum, she must have been a very good girl.
Four rough-and-ready cowboys were headed for the porch at a rapid clip. Well, three cowboys and an Indian. Her mouth watered as she watched the flex and play of muscle as they moved.
“That’s one fine sight,” someone muttered. Tink agreed but didn’t take her eyes off the men to say so. Her hungry gaze devoured the hunks she’d met briefly upon arriving at the ranch.
Cord, Savannah’s husband, wore a stern expression. A riot of emotions blazed in his stormy gray eyes. The man had the broadest shoulders and most amazing biceps. Savannah was one lucky woman.
To his left must be Dakota, black hair fluttering around his shoulders, bright sunlight making some of the strands appear deep blue. His dark gaze was indulgent and watchful.
The only one actually smiling was Riley. Dark hair hung down into blue eyes filled with youthful exuberance. Her fingers itched to sweep it back in place. The man was too sexy for his own good.
But when she caught sight of Brock, the breath caught in her throat and her libido kicked into overdrive. His body in motion was pure sexual enticement. From easy rolling gait to confident demeanor, he made her think of long sultry nights spent making love.
“Close your mouth, sugar,” Tamara whispered in her ear. “Don’t let him see how much you want him. The payoff will be much sweeter if you make him sweat it out.”
Tink’s jaw snapped shut and she considered denying the attraction but it would be an exercise in futility. There was no concealing the desire surging through her veins.
“Hey, honey.” Savannah gave her husband a sweet and innocent smile.
“You can forget whatever crazy damn stunt that’s playing through your pretty little head, Van.” His hard expression made it clear Cord didn’t buy into her act.
Savannah pouted. “I’m not always running around stirring up trouble.”
His voice gre
w firm. “I’m serious, sugar. There’s too much work to get done before winter arrives and starts dumping snow on us.” He stomped up the steps, not stopping until they stood toe-to-toe.
Tink almost laughed at the brazen way Savannah rubbed against her husband in an apparent attempt to distract and sweet-talk him. “But, honey. The boys have been workin’ real hard. They need a break.”
“Don’t ‘but, honey’ me.” Cord stood firm, unwilling to budge, and yet Savannah must have seen a crack in his armor. They stared into each other’s eyes and raw energy crackled between the couple.
“Oh, great,” Tamara sighed. “There they go again, having a private conversation with their eyes.”
The way Tamara leaned toward Dakota’s body made Tink think of a flower bending to soak in the warmth of the sun. It must feel wonderful to share a love like theirs.
“Come, my spirit. Let’s go to the cabin and have our own private talk.”
His softly spoken words were meant only for Tamara’s ears. Overhearing them made Tink feel as if she intruded on their intimate moment. Dakota somehow knew and reassured her with a wink as the pair strolled away. Tink knew by watching them she put off meeting Brock’s intent gaze, but didn’t trust herself with all the pheromones flying around.
Cord growled, “One hour. Not a minute more, sugar. And don’t even think about joining in the games.”
Savannah rose up on her toes, sliding her arms around Cord’s neck. “I love you.” They melted into each other and indulged in a scorching-hot kiss.
Tink didn’t even try to avert her gaze. Her pulse rate soared as their heads tilted for deeper possession. Savannah’s lips parted on a gusty sigh, their tongues beginning a carnal dance that had Tink breathing shallow and fast.
Her breasts swelled and her pussy heated. Slick cream slid over her sensitive folds. She needed something long and hard to fill the empty void and ease the internal quivering. The friction of a large cock slamming into her core, heavy balls slapping against her body would do the job nicely.
Brock.
Her gaze shot to the tall cowboy where he stood on the bottom step, body tensed, fists clenched. A generous bulge strained the front of his jeans, angled to the left and extending to his hip. Tink licked her lips, knowing his natural, earthy scent would be richer there and wondering how he would taste.
She couldn’t take her eyes of the rolling of his hips as he moved up the steps onto the porch, putting his pelvis front and center in her field of view. Becoming aware of his weighty stare, her gaze traveled upward. The faded material of his T-shirt hugged a flat stomach and firm pecs. His rapid pulse was visible—a spastic, thrumming beat in the corded column of his neck. The pressure of his rigid jaw compressed his lips into a thin white line, a stark contrast to the dark mustache above. His nostrils flared with each accelerated breath he drew. She still avoided meeting his gaze.
“Look at me.” His voice was full of command, demanding she surrender to his will.
An unaccustomed fear fought against innate curiosity. Oh God, no. The raw emotion coming from him was too intense. Powerful and consuming. She had to get away before she crumbled and lost herself.
Brock watched in stunned silence as a visible change washed over Tink. The unguarded loneliness and blatant need illuminating her face disappeared behind a stony mask. She drew them inside, twisting them into dark anger that vibrated through her as she rose, casting an accusatory glare in his direction but failing to meet his eyes. The truth hit him with the force of a two-ton truck. The hellion was afraid of the emotions he stirred to life within her.
“Don’t order me around, Tex.”
She spat out the last word as if it was distasteful. Fire flashed in her turbulent eyes. An angry flush reddened her cheeks. Her breasts quivered with the quick expansion and deflation of her lungs.
Fucking magnificent.
“You’re aroused and that scares the hell out of you. Why is that, darlin’?” It wasn’t a true question so he didn’t expect an answer.
“Oh, please. Wait, let me guess. You’re going to claim credit for this supposed sexual affliction and offer to fuck it out of me.”
“She’s even more of a bitch than Tamara.” Riley’s muttered comment went ignored.
Damn, Brock found it sexy as hell when she stood up to him no matter how much he scared her. Her eyes widened in shock when he didn’t back down either. Obviously, Tink was used to men letting her have her way.
“Brock,” Savannah cautioned.
He ignored the warning. “I wish you could see yourself. Your hair is wild, skin flushed, eyes dark, pulse erratic. I can feel the need burning up your body without even touching you.”
Pushing her physical boundaries, he leaned forward. Everyone and everything else disappeared from his consciousness. For each backward step she took he advanced until they were separated by the barest fraction of an inch, the wall at her back blocking her escape.
“You’re wet. I can smell the cream flowing between your thighs. I can feel the heat rising from your skin.” He dropped his voice to an intimate whisper. “You want me.”
“I want you to drop dead,” Tink snarled. She pushed up on the balls of her feet, meeting him glare for glare.
For the briefest second, as she lifted her fists, he thought he’d gone too far but she opened her hands and he gasped as she clutched the sleeves of his shirt, fingernails digging into his biceps. Then the hellion exploded. Only instead of pushing him away in anger, Tink yanked him closer. She pressed into him, smashing her breasts against his chest.
“Fuck me!” Her voice sounded harsh—desperate.
“Cord, do something,” Steph implored her big brother.
Brock took his eyes off Tink only long enough to rip his shirt over his head and toss it to the porch railing.
“Riley, Steph, inside now,” Cord ordered. “Give them some privacy.”
“Privacy, on the front porch?” Riley snickered. “Get a room.” His laughter trailed away behind him as he moved into the house.
Boots scuffed over the wooden porch and the screen door slapped against its frame. Still, Brock didn’t spare the others a glance, easily picturing them scrambling in a mad dash to get inside before he fucked Tink right there against the wall. None of it mattered and all was forgotten as he lowered his head and their lips met.
There was nothing tender or gentle in his kiss. It was blistering, naked, carnal. Needs held in check too long erupted. Lips clashed, teeth gnashed, tongues battled for supremacy, each taking what they needed and demanding more. Fingers groped and tore at clothing in a near violent attack that drove them both higher.
Brock squeezed her full breasts and pinched her taut nipples without mercy. She enjoyed a firm touch, thrilled at the heady rush that came with the sharp bite of pain, becoming a wildcat in his arms, single-minded in her lust. Fuck, yeah, what a turn-on! His cock jerked, excited by her increased frenzy.
He snuck his hand beneath her shirt, popped the clasp nestled between her breasts and yanked both the shirt and bra over her head in one hard pull. She whimpered at the loss of his lips then latched on with renewed ferocity once the barrier was out of the way.
Jesus, they were both insane. They went at each other like two animals in heat. Unable to control the urge, Brock sank his teeth into her lip then soothed the insult with his tongue. Her sharp cry followed by a gurgling moan urged him on.
He continued to torment her nipples, the other hand dropping along her belly, slipping beneath the loose waistband of her pants. Locating the thin elastic edge of her panties, he pushed beneath the flimsy material, moaning into her mouth when his fingers met hot, damp, bare skin.
Perfect. He loved nothing better than spending some quality time with his head buried in a waxed pussy, teasing exposed, sensitive tissues, lapping up a woman’s rich arousal.
“Fuck, yeah!”
Reaching the limit of the give in her pants, he was trapped in place, fingers mere inches from paradise yet held at
bay. He wiggled his hand and roared in exasperation.
“Millie…no!”
Steph’s sharp cry registered at the same time a shock of icy cold water cascaded over them. They floundered, gasped, scrambled to get their suddenly cold bodies functioning and face the assault.
“Don’t sass me, honey child. Someone had to cool those two down before they ripped each other to shreds and set the house on fire.” The feisty cook ambled back inside holding an empty bucket, letting the door slam behind her.
“I, uh…” Tink stammered. She looked ridiculous. Wet hair clung to her face and she shivered, from the cold this time instead of arousal, he thought. Her arms were crossed over her bare breasts in a feeble attempt at modesty.
“You look like a drowned cat,” he chuckled. The words escaped before he could stop them. Not that he would have. He’d learned enough about the hellion to know her anger would give her back a bit of dignity after being caught in such a compromising position.
Tink began to shake, cough and wheeze. The wet hair covering her face hid her expression but he knew she was feeling vulnerable and exposed. Cursing, he grabbed his shirt. He tried to get it over her head but her furious shaking made dressing her an impossible task.
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
She doubled over, holding her abdomen, hair cascading toward the floor, then she viciously jerked upward. Water sprayed across his chest as her hair flipped back to reveal her reddened face.
She had not been choking with tears. The complicated, perplexing and thoroughly unpredictable woman was laughing her ass off. Perhaps she wasn’t quite the hard-ass bitch he’d made her out to be. Brock’s shock wore off quickly and he joined in the infectious laughter.
Someone inside muttered, “They’re both fucking certifiable.”
The vehement declaration only caused them to laugh harder.
* * * * *
She was still laughing over the incident on the porch as Savannah led her upstairs. For Tink, finding the humor in awkward situations eased the way. The shocked expressions that had greeted her as she strutted into the house soaking wet and wearing Brock’s shirt had been priceless. She’d stood tall and unashamed of her actions, earning a respectful nod from Cord.
Brock's Hellion Page 3