Prairie Devil: Cowboys of the Flint Hills

by Tessa Layne

The teasing stopped when he touched her, reacquainting himself with her slick heat, only it was so much better this time because it wasn’t the whiskey making these hot demands. For half a heartbeat jealousy overtook him again. It killed him to think she might have been this way with some dispassionate namby-pamby touchy-feely prep school type who couldn’t possibly appreciate her depth of character or her passion. But as quick as it came, he pushed it away, refusing to let it get the best of him. Dropping to his elbows, he lowered his head to place a kiss on her thigh, nipping the soft flesh with his teeth, then smoothing it with the flat of his tongue. The scent of her buzzed through him like the finest bourbon. Her knee dropped open, inviting him in, and who was he to turn down a gift like that?

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he spoke against her skin, a surge of desire pulling his muscles tight. “I wanna make you forget your name.” He raised his head, gaze colliding with hers in a shower of sparks.

  She let out a breathless giggle. “You’re already halfway there.”

  “Then hang on tight, sweetheart. Things are gonna get wild.”

  The smile she gave him was so bright he forgot to breathe.

  “Promise?”

  He answered by lowering his head and kissing the side of her pussy before acquainting himself with her taste. He lapped up her essence all the way to her clit. She tasted like spring and spice and summer heat. One taste, and he was love drunk, ruined for anyone else.

  “Oh, more,” she begged, lifting her hips.

  He tasted again, filling his senses with the heart of her. Her thighs tensed as he lapped her up, and she clawed at his shoulders, writhing beneath his ministrations. He slipped a finger into her hot channel and twisted, searching for the bundle of nerves that would unleash her. Her breath came in harsh, sighing gasps, and as he tickled and tasted, she went rigid, letting out a loud keening cry that ended in a peal of laughter as her cream burst on his tongue.

  An answering laugh of utter delight rose within him, along with gratitude that her roommates weren’t home.

  Lydia dissolved in a fit of giggles as he continued to touch and explore her, helping her ride to the very end of the sensations coursing through her. At last, he lifted his head. This time, when their gazes locked, something deep in the recesses of his psyche pulled tight, and he braced himself against the distinct sensation of falling uncontrollably. His stomach lurched with the same realization he had the first time he was thrown off a bronc. One night would never be enough.

  CHAPTER 15

  Lydia’s breath lodged in her throat as Colton’s dark, deliberate gaze pinned her to the bed. Her brain still swirled in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm she’d ever been given. Laughter bubbled up yet again from the wonder of it. Colton had played her body like a master. Drawing responses from her she’d never imagined. Ripping her gaze away, she dropped her head back to the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  “You okay?” he asked softly, after a minute.

  The concern in his voice made her chest ache. She was unsure how to respond to this tender, soft side of him. “Of course I’m okay.” She rolled her eyes unable to keep the smile from her face. “You just took me to the freaking moon.”

  A low rumble vibrated through him. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  She propped up on an elbow, eyeing him critically. “You mean, that wasn’t your A-game?”

  The look he gave her sent a rush of wet heat to where his mouth had been.

  “But you’re not cocky or anything,” she snorted, still smiling. Who was she kidding? If he was promising more orgasms like the one she’d just experienced, there’d be no complaints from her. She ruffled her fingers through his dark hair. “Come up here.”

  Giving her a wolfish look, he complied, taking her into his arms and lying back, cradling her in the crook of his arm. She ran her palm over the ridge of his pec, and down his abdomen, sliding her fingers into the waistband of his shorts where hard muscle tensed under her. No denying his body was magnificent. Or that she’d itched to explore every inch of it since Vegas. She grazed his hip bone and down over his muscled ass and back across the top of his thigh, all hardened from years of riding. There wasn’t an ounce of softness on him. Except apparently, in his heart, and she struggled to wrap her head around that. The Colton in front of her was not the heartless, selfish young man who’d left under cover of darkness years ago.

  He rolled his hip into her palm as she continued her exploration. “You feel good,” he said with a needy grunt.

  Slipping her hand lower inside his shorts, she brushed the head of his cock, slicked with his arousal. Lydia’s pulse took off to the races, as a soft giggle escaped. He was hot, hard, and huge.

  He answered with a low chuckle. “Everything meet with your approval?”

  She propped herself up on an elbow so she could stare into his eyes, hazed with desire. She dropped her hand down his rigid length, squeezing. Then she cupped his balls, giving a tiny tug. A groan ripped from his mouth. “Jesus, that’s hot, Lyds,” he rasped, bucking under her hand.

  “You got that right,” she answered on a sigh, dropping her head to place a kiss on his collarbone while she continued to stroke him, her own body responding to his. The salt from his skin acted like an aphrodisiac, and she nipped and sucked across his chest, lifting her head at intervals to make sure he liked it. His face looked tortured, and his hand gripped the sheets. But his mouth told a different story, and she pressed her lips to his. “Colt?”

  “What is it, darlin’?” he said tightly.

  She kissed the corner of his mouth, swept her tongue across his lower lip.

  With a groan, his hand came to her back, holding her in place as he devoured her mouth with the same intensity he’d kissed her elsewhere. Her body responded in a rush of hot heat when she tasted herself on his tongue, mixed with his essence and the faint taste of whiskey. She continued to stroke his cock with the same rhythm their tongues took until he tore his mouth away with a noise that came from deep in his throat. “I’m on the verge, sweetheart. I’m gonna need that condom now if we’re gonna make this good for you, too.”

  “You already made this good for me.”

  “Not by half,” he bit out.

  A thrill shivered down her spine as she rolled away, reaching for the drawer handle on the nightstand. When it opened enough for her to reach in, she grabbed a fistful and tossed them on the bed, coming to her knees. She yanked down his boxer briefs, and his cock sprang free, heavy and thick. She couldn’t resist, she had to have a taste. She smacked her lips and bent over him, swiping her tongue up the length of him.

  He let out a guttural moan and arched as she slowly explored him, swirling her tongue around the pre-come soaked head once, twice. “Lyds.” His voice held a note of warning.

  Her clit throbbed in answer and she straddled him, grinding her wet pussy up and down against him. The noises that came from her throat were not her own, they belonged to some wanton who’d taken over her body. But he felt so good, she couldn’t help it. She wanted more, more, more.

  “Condom, now,” he rasped harshly.

  She sat back, and grabbed a wrapper, tearing it open, then slowly rolled it over the swollen head and down his cock. Her heart beat wildly as she moved over him. He grabbed her hips and entered her with a heavy thrust. They both cried out.

  “Damn, you feel good,” he uttered, fingers splaying across her ass and digging into her flesh.

  She liked that. A lot. “Do that again,” she commanded as she rocked against him. He filled her completely, hit something deep inside her that sent her on an upward spiral back to the moon. She was a goner when he lifted his head and captured a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking as he continued to thrust firmly. Her mind went white and blue as her vision blurred and she braced an arm on the headboard, completely lost in the sensations he was pulling from her. The tension built and spiraled, tighter and higher until she crested in a burst of sparks and she cried out long and loud from
it.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized Colt’s cries mingling with hers as she clamped around him, and he continued to thrust relentlessly until she collapsed on his chest, sweaty and spent. His heart pounded in her ear, a deep thrum that vibrated through her and acted as her guide back to earth. He stroked her back, still moving slowly, humming into her ear.

  She lifted her head, giving him a crooked smile. “Are you singing?”

  He raised his eyebrows with an answering grin and a shrug. “Maybe.”

  Reluctantly, she rolled off him, feeling a loss when his warmth was no longer a part of her. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

  He returned a few minutes later, washcloth in hand. “Here,” he offered as he sat on the bed. “Let me.” He cleaned her up, then tossed the cloth into her hamper, and pulled back the covers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?” He challenged, slipping under the covers and inviting her to do the same.

  “You can’t spend the night.”

  Lydia could have sworn she saw hurt flash in his eyes, but it was quickly covered by bravado. “Why the hell not?”

  “Roommates?” She would never hear the end of it if Luci and Emmaline found out. Not to mention it would be all over town in a hot second. She was already a little concerned about the fact Colt’s truck was parked in her driveway. But it was early yet, a few hours until last call. At least his presence here was plausible.

  “Fair enough.” The regret she detected in his voice, surprised her, but he opened his arm. “Lie with me for a bit, then?”

  “I never took you for a cuddler,” she teased.

  “I’m not. Usually. But, if we’re going to have an… er, arrangement, then we might want to talk about the details. You know, before you send me packing.”

  His voice stayed light, but something in his eyes tugged at her. Something that told her unequivocally that if she wasn’t very careful, Colton Kincaid could smash her heart to smithereens. “Okay, what’s next? I can’t suddenly turn into a camp follower.”

  Colt gave her a reassuring pat. “It won’t come to that. A few appearances with me on the circuit should be enough to satisfy my sponsors, and that should help your boots too.”

  “And you’re sure no one here will find out?”

  He shook his head dismissively. “Nah. This is only until things settle down.”

  “What do you tell them… later?”

  “That it didn’t work out. I can play the part of the broken-hearted cowboy for a few weeks, and no one will be the wiser.”

  Hearing him lay it out so matter-of-factly was unsettling. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re already getting cold feet?” He pushed her hair behind her ear, drawing his finger down her jaw in a way that sent shivers of awareness down to her fingertips. “That this was just a ploy to get me into bed?”

  “You.” She gently socked him in the shoulder. “Are incorrigible.”

  He flashed her a grin, waggling his eyebrows. “And proud of it.” He grew serious. “When can you join me on the road?”

  Her stomach yo-yoed at his words. She was really doing this. Starting a boot company and pretending to be engaged to Colt. If she was tired of living a boring, predictable, good-girl existence, she’d just jumped into the deep-end of the adventure pool. She shrugged. “I’m pretty flexible. But I think I should get a website up, maybe make you another pair of boots, and take some pictures of the wedding boots I made for Maddie Sinclaire. And Jamey Sinclaire’s too. I’ll get some sketches together and order some leather swatches.”

  He waved a hand at the wall. “What about these?”

  “Those are just doodles.”

  “Pretty damned fancy doodles.” Colton threw back the sheets and stood, apparently heedless to the fact he was beautifully, magnificently naked.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. I just needed this.” He bent, and stood a moment later, phone in hand, then crawled back into bed.

  “First, I want your info in my phone. Second, we need to take some pictures.”

  “Oh no.” She shook her head vehemently, wrapping her arms around herself. “No nudie shots.”

  Colton’s deep laugh filled the room. “You don’t want a dick pic to remember me by?”

  “Ewwww.” But her own laugh joined his.

  He leaned in, holding out his phone. “Smile.”

  She smiled at the camera.

  “Again.”

  This time, when she smiled, he kissed her cheek. It was ridiculous that something as simple as a kiss on the cheek warmed her the way it did. She ducked her head, face flushing. “Give me your phone.”

  He handed it to her, and she typed in her information. “What do you want for a ringtone?”

  “What do you mean, what do I want for a ringtone?” He asked suspiciously.

  She made a face in exasperation. “All lovey-dovey couples have special ringtones.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always.”

  “No way,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s for tennis players with sweaters over their shoulders and wives named Buffy.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Fine. Suit yourself.” But she was determined to make sure Colt didn’t forget her.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” He craned his neck trying to peek over her shoulder, but she turned and kept punching into his phone.

  “Nothing,” she answered with a smirk, handing back his phone.

  “Lydia?”

  “Text me those pictures?”

  “What did you do to my phone?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. Did you send the pictures?”

  His eyebrows slashed together, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I swear, if you put stripper music on my phone.”

  Her shoulders shook. “I swear. No stripper music.” Then she turned serious. “It’s almost eleven.”

  Colt’s face fell. He flashed her a dazzling smile, but she could see his disappointment in the tightness of his jaw. He slid out of bed and jammed a leg into his pants, dressing quickly. “I’ll be outta here in two shakes. Your girlfriends won’t be the wiser.”

  Except for the overpowering scent of full-on sex that permeated the room. Her chest pinched. She hated to see him go. It was for the best, she reminded herself harshly, as she followed suit and grabbed a robe she’d left draped over a chair. Pulling it tight around her waist, she followed him down the hall.

  At the door, he paused, leaning on it as he gazed down at her. “Any chance we can renegotiate our agreement?”

  For a full second, she considered it. But she couldn’t do this again, as much as her lady bits hollered for more. Rodeo life wasn’t for her, and neither was Colton Kincaid. Someday, she’d meet a nice, stable man who was interested in settling down and starting a family, who wouldn’t be threatened by her dreams. Colton was a wild adventurer, a risk-taker. The furthest thing from relationship material. Her stomach hollowed as she shook her head. “We’re going to be business partners tomorrow. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  Or won’t?

  Her conscience pricked at her. She cupped his face and popped up on tiptoe to drop a kiss at the corner of his mouth, savoring one last taste of him. “I-I don’t regret this, though. Not for a second.”

  His face remained an impassive mask as he quietly stared back at her. Twice in the silence, she almost changed her mind. So when his cocky grin slid back into place, she nearly sagged with relief. “Me either, sweetheart.” Tipping his Stetson, he opened the door. “I’ll be in touch.” Without a backward glance, he strode to his truck, all swagger, as if he knew her eyes stayed riveted on his ass.

  CHAPTER 16

  Three weeks later

  Lydia sat at a picnic table near her mother’s food truck, leafing through a shoe equipment catalog with Emmaline and Luci. “You sure it would be okay to put another industrial machine in the dining room?” The
first check from Colton had arrived by certified mail the day before and was currently burning a hole in her pocket. She was anxious to get the ball rolling.

  Luci shrugged, giving Lydia a wry smile. “When my parents gave me the bungalow, I never imagined it becoming a sweatshop.”

  “I’ll be moved back into my apartment over the dress-shop as soon as Main Street reopens,” mentioned Emmaline. She turned to Lydia. “I have plenty of space in there. You’re welcome to move your equipment in while you’re in start-up.”

  Lydia pulled a sketchbook out of the bag she used as a catch-all for her wallet and everything else. “What do you think of this design?” She pointed to one of the Grace Boots logos she’d doodled. “And I’ve been thinking, Emmaline, what if we team up for bespoke western wedding wear?”

  Emmaline’s eyes grew wide. “You mean like trying to get customers?”

  Lydia nodded eagerly. “Your dresses are gorgeous. And a bride would love nothing more than your special touches on a dress.” She grinned across the table at her roommate. “And a custom-made pair of boots.”

  Emmaline shook her head. “Oh, wow. I don’t know. I’m really just a tailor.”

  “Pfffft,” Lydia scoffed. “You’re brilliant. Can we at least team up for a photo shoot? Your dresses and the wedding boots I’ve made?”

  “Morning, ladies.” Jamey Sinclaire joined them.

  “Just the person I was hoping to talk to,” said Lydia, raising her cup of coffee. Post tornado, Jamey had teamed up with her mom to run the food truck while the diner was being rebuilt. It turned out that Jamey and Dottie made a great team in the kitchen, something that shocked and thrilled Lydia. She never thought she’d live to see the day her mother shared a kitchen with anyone, let alone a Cordon-Bleu trained chef. But stranger things had happened in the aftermath of the tornado that had nearly destroyed Prairie.

  Jamey refilled everyone’s cups, then straddled the bench. “What can I do ya for?”

  “Emmaline and I were just talking about teaming up for western wedding attire–”