Cowboy Lust: Erotic Romance for Women

by Delilah Devlin

  There’d been times when she’d pushed Jackson so hard, she’d flinched inside at the things she’d said, at the picture of the spoiled little rich girl she’d painted. And yet, not once had he shown a bit of disapproval. When she’d floated down the aisle on her father’s arm, dressed in Vera Wang and looking like a princess, she’d panicked because the man standing beside the preacher didn’t know her, and she didn’t want him to feel cheated when he realized she wasn’t the girl she’d portrayed.

  But she knew him. She’d watched him for years. Spied on him when he didn’t know it. She knew how he spoke with other men, not mincing words or holding back an epithet. She knew how he looked covered head to foot with dust and grime from riding herd on his family’s ranch. She even knew what he looked like naked and aroused, because she’d followed him one day when he’d taken Carrie Molder to the river and made love to her on the grassy banks.

  Every flex of sinewy muscle had enthralled her. And although she’d stayed a virgin, according to her father’s wishes and despite the persistence of her many beaux, she’d known his large, rigid sex would fill her perfectly.

  There’d never been any doubt in her mind that he was the one for her. But last Sunday, she’d realized she wasn’t the woman to make him happy. Not if what he wanted was “Princess” Sammi Jo.

  So she’d bolted, ignoring the shock in his eyes and the gasps and laughter chasing her out of the chapel.

  But he’d been asking about the cabin, hadn’t he? “It’s dusty, but so am I.”

  His expression lost the sharp-edged anger that had accompanied his impromptu kidnapping. His jaw ground shut. A chilling bleakness crept across his handsome face.

  She much preferred his anger. “Daddy’s gonna have your balls for breakfast.”

  Heat flared in his hard gaze, again. And hadn’t her mama said a man’s anger could easily be turned into passion? She’d made promises, but so had he. She remembered every breathless moment she’d ever spent in his arms.

  Adjusting her legs to the side, she watched him from under the fringe of her eyelashes, knowing the shift pushed her breasts against the thin tee she’d tucked into her sprayed-on designer jeans. She’d gone braless into Shooters, hoping for a chance to start over and show him the real her. The one who wanted him to see that she was a flesh-and-blood woman eager for his touch.

  His gaze trailed down her chest, arrested on her spiking nipples, then slowly climbed again to lock with hers. Moisture seeped into her panties at the raw hunger reflected in his gaze.

  “It’s stuffy in here.”

  Without looking away, he reached beside him and shoved up the window to let in the hot breeze.

  She bit her lip and feigned an embarrassed reluctance. “I’d be more comfortable if you’d unbuckle my belt. It’s cuttin’ into my waist, Jackson. I can hardly breathe.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he strode toward her, his fingers curling.

  She straightened her legs and lay back as he reached for her buckle and flicked it open with practiced ease.

  “Better?” he drawled.

  “The button, too?” When it eased open, she let out a deep breath. “Better.”

  She knew what she looked like. Her long, blond hair spread over the plain comforter. He’d called it pretty as corn silk. Not the most poetic turn of phrase she’d ever been offered, but she’d melted knowing he thought it beautiful.

  Melted like she did now, lying on a hard mattress with her pants undone and his large body blocking the light from the flickering flame.

  “You have me all tied up, Jackson,” she said, letting her drawl deepen into a sultry caress. “What do you intend to do with me now?”

  His breath left him in a slow, even sigh. “I ought to pack you back into my truck and take you home.”

  “Whose home?”

  His head canted. “What’s your game now, Sammi Jo?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the one who changed the rules,” she said, raising her bound hand.

  He blinked once then lowered his eyelids. “Maybe, for once, I wanted you to see me, Sammi Jo. The real me.”

  His statement so closely echoed her own thoughts, her breath paused. “The real you? I don’t understand.”

  Jackson bent and skimmed his hands down the outsides of her thighs. Her breaths deepened. When he got to her knees, he tucked his hands between her legs and pushed them apart.

  “Jackson?” His name came out in a breathless squeal.

  He lowered his body until the hard ridge encased in his Wranglers snuggled against her crotch. One hand slipped beneath her, cupped her and held her close as he rocked between her legs. He braced himself on one elbow and bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Remember when I made you come like this, grindin’ on your pussy?”

  She whimpered, because then as now, the friction warmed her sex, split inside her pants.

  “I wanted you so bad, I had to jack off before seeing you.”

  She shook her head. “You never talked like that before.”

  “I didn’t want to shock you.” His head lifted. His hard brown gaze bored into hers. “Tell me, baby, did you hold me off because you were worried I’d find out you aren’t a virgin?”

  His words chilled her instantly like a splash of icy water. She went still and fought the urge to scream, managing instead to give him her coldest stare. “I held you off because I wanted to see if you were man enough to take me.”

  His hips wedged between her thighs, and he pushed up on both arms to stare down at her. “You shouldn’t goad a man when he’s hard as a post and not thinkin’ with his brain.”

  “Never took you for a fucking genius, Jackson Lowry. Fact is, I was never after your brain.”

  “What was it you wanted?”

  Anger rattled through her, shivering her breaths. “You. Like this. Making me do every nasty thing I’d ever dreamed of.”

  A hand slid beneath her head, fingers digging into her scalp. He gave her hair a hard tug. “I think you really do want that paddlin’. Don’t you, baby?”

  He’d called her sweetheart or honey before, but never baby, and he’d never looked at her before with passion glazing his eyes and firing his skin. His whole body hardened against hers as he let his full weight press her down into the mattress.

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “Good, then you can’t argue with me.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “We gonna fight?”

  “I’m gonna talk. You’ll listen. Then I’ll see about givin’ you everything you deserve.”

  “Think you’re the boss of me?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s what you’ve wanted all along.” His expression sharpened, and he leaned toward her until his mouth touched hers.

  His eyes were wide open, so even though hers were crossing, she kept them just as wide, glaring defiantly back.

  His mouth suctioned her lips, then his teeth took a nip. She gasped and opened, and he swept inside, sliding his tongue along hers. He sucked again and drew her tongue into his mouth, pulling in a rhythm that mimicked the renewed surging of his hips.

  Lord, she was close. Her eyelids drifted slowly downward.

  Jackson broke the kiss; his body withdrew.

  She tried to follow him, but the rope around her wrist was caught beneath her and kept her flat on the bed.

  Jackson stood beside the bed and slowly stripped. “I’m bigger than you, stronger, and if I’ve treated you like porcelain it’s because I didn’t wanna hurt you.”

  She sniffed, pretending she wasn’t growing more excited by everything he revealed. “I’m not fragile.”

  He shook his head. “No talkin’. Not unless I ask you a question.”

  “No talkin’? How long have you known me?”

  Shirt and boots gone, Jackson unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them and his boxers to the floor. His gaze went to his erect cock, then lifted to meet hers again. “We’ve just been introduced. Decide if you want to know more now, or this stops.”

&n
bsp; “Again. Who made you the boss?”

  One brow cocked. “It’s my way—all the way.”

  Although she was secretly thrilled with his stern tone and even heavier-handed intentions, she wouldn’t be who she was if she rolled over and gave a shy, “Yes, sir.” And she only had one hand tied.

  Still on her back, she scuffed off her boots and shoved off her pants, getting them as far as her knees and then wriggling like mad to pull her feet from the constricting denim.

  Jackson stood beside the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. “Havin’ problems there?”

  “Don’t you dare laugh.”

  His slow grin reflected pure male satisfaction.

  She did the only thing she could, bunching up her feet and spreading her thighs.

  His grin slipped, gaze arrowing toward her open sex.

  Which made her feel awkward as hell. A flush burned her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Or flap her thighs closed, although the moment stretched, and she wondered if she should have been more ladylike.

  “The shirt—lose it,” Jackson growled without looking up.

  She squirmed some more, but managed to push the tee up the rope and out of the way. With most of her body completely exposed, she began to worry.

  He hadn’t moved. His expression was unchanged, and so hard, she couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. Sure, he’d felt her up plenty, under her clothes, in the dark, but he’d never seen her nude.

  Maybe he thought her skin was too pasty. Maybe she should have completely shaved her bush rather than leaving a silky tuft on her mound. But she’d wanted him to decide how to trim it. Sammi Jo stretched down her free hand and covered herself.

  Jackson untucked her legs and stripped off her jeans, then pulled her sideways until her legs fell over the mattress. When he knelt and pushed between her thighs, she didn’t resist because his hands bracketed her pussy, both thumbs pulling apart her outer lips.

  “I didn’t lie,” she said, her voice tiny.

  “About which part?”

  “Bein’ a virgin.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared. It’s not something I expect.”

  “But you should know, right? Because I don’t really know anything.”

  “You know plenty,” he said, his eyes narrowing until she felt ready to purge herself of every guilty secret she’d ever kept.

  “So, maybe I’ve touched a penis or two.”

  “Ever blown one?”

  She shook her head. “Penises are kinda ugly. At least, I used to think that,” she said glancing down at Jackson’s fine straight cock.

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Did he mean he’d want her after this weekend? “Maybe it’s an acquired taste. Like snails.”

  His nose wrinkled up in disgust. “It won’t taste like snails.”

  “Didn’t think it would.” She chewed her lips to keep from grinning. Then she had another thought. “Maybe you won’t like the way I taste.”

  “You asking me to eat you out?”

  Her breath left in a whoosh. “Do you always talk like this to women?”

  “I try to be a gentleman.”

  “You just can’t manage it with me?”

  “You wanted it real. This is as real as it gets with me, Sammi Jo.” He looked down, drawing her glance right along as he fisted his cock. “My dick’s so hard all I can really think about is shovin’ deep inside your pussy. Or your ass.”

  “My ass?” she gasped, appalled.

  “Yeah, we’ll get to that. Don’t jump ahead.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Hell no. Have to save somethin’ for the weddin’ night.”

  Her heart stuttered, then sped up again, pounding furiously inside her chest. “Weddin’ night?”

  “Didn’t I mention it before? I called the reverend. He’ll speak our vows come Monday morning.”

  “You still wanna marry me?”

  “Let’s get this straight. I will always wanna marry you—whether you chicken out again Monday or thirty years from now.”

  “But you don’t really know me. Maybe I did you a favor.”

  “You think so?” His lids drooped as he scanned her pussy and breasts before landing on her flushed face. “Think I don’t know there’s a woman who wants me to paddle her ass and fuck her ’til she’s blind? I know it, baby. You flash me those pretty blue eyes with a hint of sparkle just before you send me runnin’ to get you a glass of ice tea. I know you. You want me to turn you over my knee. Put my foot down.”

  She breathed in sharply, secretly pleased by his firm tone. “Oh, do I? Maybe I really do get powerful thirsts.”

  His finger skimmed between her lips and came up glistening. He poked it in his mouth and sucked it. “I like the way you taste.”

  She reached behind her, grabbed the pillow, and tossed it at his head.

  Jackson laughed, then buried his face between her legs, eliciting a squeal.

  At the first tug of his lips against her clitoris, her back arched. “Jackson!” After that, she didn’t have the breath to scream or even whisper. Whimpering, a little moaning—she knew she sounded like she was dying, but didn’t care. His tongue flicked the hard knot, then swirled in slow circles, causing her vagina to constrict and relax convulsively as she came.

  She hadn’t the energy, the breath, to beg him to end it, and instead held her own breasts, squeezing them to comfort herself as her head turned side to side. Her whole body trembled, shivers shaking the thighs clasping his face.

  When he lifted his head, revealing blurred lips and wet, reddened cheeks, she didn’t resist as he pressed her thighs to fall apart again. A finger traced her slit, then tucked inside it to swirl in the fluids he’d coaxed from her body. It drove deeper and deeper, then pulled free. “No hymen,” he whispered, then gave a waggle of his eyebrows.

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “I know that. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s better this way.”

  “Better? God, you’re gonna kill me.”

  He chuckled and pushed her to the center of the mattress. When he came down on his elbows, his hips wedged between her thighs, his cock aligned with her folds, Sammi Jo felt something loosen inside her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop,” he said with sharp shake of his head. “I’m sorry too. Don’t be scared anymore, Sammi Jo. I know exactly what I’m gettin’. I won’t ever want to toss you back.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  Her lips pouted. “You aren’t gonna say it back?”

  “I’ve said it ’til I’m blue in the face.”

  So Jackson wasn’t a romantic, she could live with that. “That’s not the part you said was blue.”

  “Let me show you what you mean to me.” He pushed up on his arms. “Go ahead and put him right at your—”

  “Hole?”

  His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. “You like that better than pussy?”

  She wrinkled her nose right back. “Not really. Maybe we should name it.”

  His lips twitched. “Like you would a dog or a puss—?”

  “Stop!” She giggled, then lifted her head and kissed him. Her free hand closed around his thick, hot shaft, and she placed it at her entrance. She moved it around and wet it, listening to the lewd, moist sounds that reminded her of their hot kisses, and then she tilted her hips a fraction to capture the blunt, round head. Lord, it felt huge as he held still, poised to stroke inward. “I know it’s supposed to fit…”

  His expression softened. “Tell me something.”

  “Now?”

  “What did your daddy say to you when he was walkin’ you down the aisle.”

  “Again: now?” she whined and wriggled, trying to draw him into her body.

  “I gotta know what had you runnin’ out o’ the church.”

  She sighed. “He stepped on my dress.”

  “You were upset about a little footprint?”

  “No. Just before we left the vestibule, I told
him I couldn’t go through with it. That you didn’t have a clue what kind of person I was. I tried to draw back, but he stepped on my dress.”

  “Your daddy was tryin’ to talk you into marryin’ me? I thought he didn’t like me much.”

  She snorted. “He likes you plenty. But he thought you deserved a little hazin’ so you’d have to work harder to earn my hand. Said Mama’s daddy put him through the wringer—he was just payin’ it forward.”

  His mouth stretched into a wide grin. “You know I’m gonna have to paddle your ass. Your daddy’s been on everyone’s shit list.”

  “Daddy’s a big boy. He’ll get over the embarrassment.” Speaking of big boys… “You’re right there. How much more encouragement do you need?”

  Jackson pushed, giving a little circular motion that eased the tip of him into her body.

  “That screwin’?”

  He laughed. “Don’t, not now. I wanna go slow.”

  “What about what I want?” she said, knowing she sounded like a child denied candy, but she was greedy for it.

  “What do you want, baby?”

  “You so deep inside me we’re like one person.”

  “Gettin’ there. Swear.” The next stroke was deeper, and his girth caused a pinching pain inside her.

  She must have winced, because he stopped moving. Sweat beaded on his forehead; his lips were drawn into a thin, firm line—as though he was in pain.

  “That didn’t hurt much. Don’t stop on my account.”

  “You sure?”

  No, but it would be the shortest denouement in the history of sex if he didn’t hurry it up. “Yes.”

  He moved again, a tentative glide that pushed him deeper still. Her inner muscles clamped around him, squeezing. “Sorry.”

  “No, feels great,” he rasped.

  She arched a brow. “Any time now, Jackson. I know there’s more to this.”

  A bark of laughter erupted, and he came down on top of her, hugged her close, then rolled.

  Sitting nailed to his lap, she blinked as she tried to steady her breaths. “I like this view.” She wasn’t lying. Looking down at her herself, at her flushed skin, tight nipples and quivering belly, gave her an inkling of what was going on behind those dark eyes of his. His broad chest was sturdy, thickly muscled, hairy—so masculine and yummy she wanted to lick him like a doe would a salt block. And lord, his stomach was tight, the musculature so well-defined she could sink fingers in the deep grooves.