Cowboys Like Us

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I wasn’t talking about that kind of protection.”

  “I am.”

  “So are we driving to Jackson to find a twenty-four-hour pharmacy?”

  “We could. Or…” She moved closer and rubbed her hand over the fly of his jeans. “We can get creative.”

  His happy cock leaped to immediate attention. “Like how?”

  “The bar is loaded with all sorts of interesting items. You should know. You used to be a bartender.”

  As the possibilities slowly unfolded in his fevered brain, his body tightened in anticipation. “Are you suggesting we grab a few supplies and take them upstairs?”

  “We’ll have to figure out a way to ring them up and pay for them, but, yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” “Whipped cream?”

  “For starters. And flavored liqueurs.”

  His johnson began to ache. “I’m in.”

  “I thought you might be. Let’s go raid the pantry.”

  Fifteen minutes later they’d locked up the bar and climbed the stairs with their purchases.

  “This could be messy,” he said.

  “I plan on it.” She moved around the kitchen and living room, lowering shades.

  “I don’t want to get anything on that handmade quilt.”

  She braced one palm on the kitchen counter as she tugged off her boots. “That’s why we’re going to do it in here, instead.” She glanced at him. “Are you planning to get naked or not?”

  “I am.” He pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down to take off his boots and socks. “But I have dibs on the first round. I have plans for the butterscotch schnapps and the cherries.”

  “I have plans for the whipped cream.”

  He paused in the act of pulling off his second boot as his penis responded to that statement by swelling with enthusiasm. “I can only imagine, and once you start licking whipped cream off my cock, it’ll be all over. That’s why I’m going first.”

  “But you’re so slow.” She flicked off her bra and shucked her panties before walking over to him. “I’m finished and you’re still mostly dressed.”

  “So I see.” Reaching for her, he pulled her down to his lap. “I’m still a city boy who’s not used to boots and jeans.”

  “I’ll help you.” She straddled him, nudging her damp curls against the ridge of his fly.

  “Much more of that kind of help, and you won’t need the whipped cream.” He spanned her waist and slid both hands up and around until he was cradling her breasts. “Mmm.” He stroked his thumbs over her tight nipples. “I might not need the butterscotch schnapps, either. Lift up a little bit for me.”

  Putting her feet on the floor, she rose up so that her nipples were even with his lips. “Like this?”

  “You read my mind.” Slowly he drew in one firm tip and rolled it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. They had all night this time, and he intended to make the most of it…or as much as he could without condoms.

  So he would feast on the wonders of her body, with garnish and without. As he showered attention on her breasts, her breathing grew shallow and she began to quiver. She had such an erotic nature. She might give him credit for being good in bed, but she was the most responsive woman he’d ever been with.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he licked and massaged, nibbled and sucked. On impulse he reached between her thighs and rubbed his thumb over her clit. Just like that, she climaxed, arching her back and gasping his name.

  Kissing his way upward to her lips, he lowered her to his lap.

  If only he could lower her onto his cock, which strained against his jeans.

  Logan feathered kisses over her parted lips. “You’re easy to please, Miss Caro,” he murmured.

  “Not…” She gulped for air. “Not always.”

  “No?” He stroked her sleek backside as she sat on his jeansclad thighs.

  “You…turn me on.”

  “That’s good news.” Logically, he should want to believe she was like this with any man, because then it would be easier to let her go. But his possessive male instinct roared with pleasure knowing that her reaction to him was unique.

  She took a shaky breath and looked into his eyes. “I want your shirt off.”

  “Then take it off.”

  Sliding both hands into the open neck, she yanked, and the snaps popped all the way down. “There.” She flattened her palms against his bare chest. “I haven’t spent nearly enough time touching you, either.”

  He hoped he could take it while she did. Her slow massage was sexy as hell, especially when she leaned down and began to play with his nipples. He had to admit they were more sensitive to her touch than to any woman’s before her.

  He moaned and shifted her weight so that she wasn’t bearing down on his increasingly interested pride and joy. She was getting him riled up with nothing more than a chest massage and some attention from her hot little mouth. Incredible though it might seem, she might be able to make him come like that.

  But he wouldn’t allow it. When she reached for his belt buckle, he stopped her. “Not yet.”

  “But I want to—”

  “I know, and you will.” He lifted her off his lap and stood. “But first…” He glanced around the kitchen, planning his next move. The table was out, according to Jack. But the kitchen counter was fair game. He approved of the rounded edge on the laminate. That should suit his purposes nicely.

  “Here.” He circled her waist with his hands and placed her on the counter, thanking all those sessions in the gym for the upper-body strength that allowed him to do it without dropping her. That would have put a real dent in the mood.

  As it was, she seemed sort of impressed that he could swing her around like that. She gazed at him in obvious anticipation. “What now?”

  “Butterscotch schnapps time.” He pulled the bottle out of the bag, along with a jar of long-stemmed maraschino cherries. “Lean back against the cabinets while I mix up a little something special.”

  Putting her hands behind her, she relaxed against the oak cabinets while she watched him.

  “You said I could get creative, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” She ran her tongue over her lips.

  He fished some cherries out of the jar and laid them in the lid. “Every time I made a buttery nipple for a customer, I wanted to make a real one.”

  “That’s why you wanted—”

  “The butterscotch schnapps. Yep.” He opened the bottle. “Hold still.” Tilting it, he allowed a little to drip on each breast.

  She shivered. “Cold.”

  “That’s because you’re so hot.” Lovingly, he smoothed the schnapps over her nipples. As they tightened into hard little nubs, she closed her eyes and whimpered. “That feels sinfully good.”

  “You’re not garnished yet.” Picking up a cherry, he tied the stem around her nipple.

  She gasped. “What are you…ohhh, wow…” She closed her eyes again. “Funky. I like it.”

  “Not done yet.” He tied the other one securely. And then he began to lick and nibble, both her and the cherries.

  “Ahh, Logan…” She arched toward him, offering her breasts, squirming against the counter as he tugged at the end of the cherry stems. Tunneling her fingers through his hair, she gripped his scalp and began to breathe faster.

  At last he closed his lips over both nipple and cherry, pulling them into his mouth and squeezing them against his tongue. By the time he moved to her other breast, she was writhing against the laminate.

  “Logan, I want…could you please…”

  With one final caress, he moved back and picked up the schnapps bottle. “Yes. Now. Just open up a little….” He nudged her thighs apart and dripped the liqueur onto her brown curls, where it slid down into the pink treasure hiding beneath.

  She moaned and opened even more for him, all hesitation gone in the flood of her need. Her trust and surrender were complete, a gift he prayed he was worthy to receive.

  Crouchi
ng down, he tasted butterscotch and woman, mixed into a heady brew that drove him insane. He would need some relief soon, but first…first he would give her this. He didn’t rush, even as the pounding of his blood and the pressure on his cock, and yes, the tension in his knee, begged him to hurry.

  Instead he started with gentle movements of his tongue and an easy suction. But gradually he bore down, pushing her harder as her cries grew in intensity. He held her hips to keep her right where he wanted her, right where he could… there, that was the spot.

  Her thighs began to tremble as she let out her breath in one long wail and came, bathing his tongue in her release. He held her and kissed her drenched curls as she sank back to the counter.

  Taking his head in both hands, she urged him upward. “That was…”

  He gasped as pain jabbed his knee.

  “Oh, Logan. Your—”

  “Not a word.” He looked into her eyes. “Not one word.”

  “All right.” She met his gaze. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  “Now it’s your turn.”

  13

  CARO CONVINCED LOGAN to move into the bathroom, where they could rinse off in her tub shower. She knew it would be a tight fit for him in there, but she didn’t think he’d fit any better on her kitchen counter. She lit a couple candles for atmosphere and brought the can of whipped cream as she led him into their new venue.

  But it wasn’t until she finally had him stripped down that she noticed the large bruise on his backside. “Yikes, Logan. You hit the ground really hard, didn’t you?”

  “And I don’t want to hear anything about that, either. Next thing I know, you’ll decide I’m too feeble for the whipped cream treatment. I’m a professional athlete. I can take it.”

  She slid her hands up his powerful chest. “You’re one tough guy, huh?”

  “Yes.” His lips curved in a smile. “And don’t ever forget it.”

  “I won’t, but I’m putting my fluffy bath mat in the tub before you sit in there.” She positioned the mat at the end of the tub. “Climb in, big boy.”

  “Is it pink?” He peered at it suspiciously in the flickering candlelight. “It looks pink.”

  “It’s salmon. Besides, when I’m through with you, you won’t care if it’s purple with green and yellow spots.”

  That made him laugh, and he stepped into the tub. “No doubt.”

  Once he was in, she surveyed the situation. There wasn’t much room left for her. He was a bigger guy than she’d realized. “Can you put one foot out on the floor?”

  “Like this?” He accomplished it easily, by bending his knee and angling his leg outside the tub.

  “Perfect.” Now she had a spot right where she needed to be, facing his impressive package. Once she completed this maneuver, she’d never be able to mix a drink that involved whipped cream without thinking of Logan.

  She started to ask him if he was comfortable, but that was a silly question. Of course he wasn’t. He had a bruise the size of a saucer on his fanny. His knee probably still hurt from crouching down to give her an orgasm to end all orgasms. He was the walking wounded, but she intended to make him forget that, at least for a little while.

  Stepping into the tub with the whipped cream can in one hand, she lowered herself carefully to her knees. “Hold still,” she said, copying his words on purpose. As if she’d been able to hold still once he’d started smearing butterscotch schnapps on her nipples.

  “I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. Your tub has me in a hammerlock.”

  “Good. Then you can’t get away.” She put her finger on the nozzle of the can and pointed it at his gloriously erect penis.

  “I have no desire to—ah! That’s cold!”

  “You won’t be cold for long.” She decorated him with whipped cream from tip to base, and he flinched with each sweep of the spray can.

  “Am I supposed to like this?”

  “You will in a minute.” She set the can outside the tub, leaned forward and began to clean him up. Oh, yes, this was fun. He tried to maintain his cool, but soon he was breathing hard and twitching with every swipe of her tongue.

  The combination of salt and sweet was delicious, and she was tempted to spray him again, except she didn’t think he’d last through another coating of whipped cream. Whenever she glanced up, his eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was tightly clenched. He was desperately struggling not to come.

  That desperation aroused her, too, and she realized that must have happened to him while he’d treated her to his revised version of a buttery nipple. He had more self-control than any man she’d met, but she was about to destroy what little he had left.

  After taking care of the last smears of whipped cream on his quivering penis, she closed her mouth over the tip and slid down, taking him as deep into her throat as she could. His answering groan was her reward. Hollowing her cheeks, she drew back, caressing him with her tongue as she moved upward.

  His voice was strained. “Devil woman.”

  She released him and blew across the velvet tip. “Yeah. Want more?”

  “Yes.”

  With a smile, she enveloped him in her warm mouth once again, and this time she reached down and cupped his tight balls. Some more suction, a gentle massage, and he was hers. With a hoarse cry, he erupted, and she took all that he had to give.

  He lay there, his massive chest heaving in the aftermath of his orgasm. With one last swallow, she released him and sat back to survey her handiwork.

  He opened heavy-lidded eyes. “That was incredible.”

  “Glad you liked it.”

  “Is it okay if I stay like this forever?”

  “Sure.” It was easy to say—they both knew he wouldn’t. But for now, she’d live for the moment, and this particular moment was pretty doggone wonderful.

  LOGAN DIDN’T BELIEVE they’d both fit in the shower at the same time, let alone have room for him to give her another orgasm. But apparently they were both inventive and reasonably agile, because that’s how it worked out. Afterward, they dried each other off, gave in to exhaustion and crawled under Caro’s quilt to sleep until dawn.

  Morning came with the cry of a hawk as it wheeled through the brilliant Wyoming sky. Logan pulled Caro close and couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.

  She snuggled against him. “What time is it?”

  Lifting his head, he was able to make out the numbers on the digital clock on her nightstand. “Eight.”

  “Eight? Seriously?”

  “Unless your clock’s on the blink, it’s eight.”

  “We have to get a move on.” She wiggled out of his arms and climbed out of bed. “Grandma Bonnie expects me there by nine every morning.”

  Logan thought Caro needed to break Grandma Bonnie of that habit, but it wasn’t his place to say. He’d offered to go with her to Jackson, and he couldn’t very well start off by criticizing her handling of her grandmother.

  He swung his feet out of bed. “We’ll pick up breakfast on the way.”

  “There are usually doughnuts and coffee in the visitor’s lounge. She’ll want to go there, especially if she thinks people will be excited about seeing you.”

  He wasn’t used to making do with coffee and doughnuts, but he didn’t mention that, either. After a lifetime of eating foods that would create the peak performance he required for his job, he was in the habit of eating a decent breakfast even though he was no longer playing ball. But if Caro needed to be there at nine, and that meant coffee and doughnuts were the easy solution, he’d put up with that for one morning.

  “You take first shower,” he said. “I left an overnight bag in the truck. I’ll go get it.”

  She went into the bathroom and tossed his jeans out before turning on the water. “You’ll need these if you’re going down to your truck.”

  Putting on jeans without briefs was a trick, but he managed it with great care. The shower was already running by t
he time he went outside, barefoot and shirtless, and started slowly down the steps. His knee was stiff, but it usually was in the morning. Considering the workout he’d given it yesterday, it could have been worse.

  Maybe sex was good therapy for his knee. He smiled at that as he walked gingerly over to the Chevy, his bare feet coming in contact with a few sharp rocks along the way. In his haste to be with Caro, he’d left the truck unlocked, with the keys dangling from the ignition. Not cool.

  His overnight bag was still on the seat, though, along with his hat. He doubted the crime rate was particularly high in Shoshone, Wyoming.

  A guy in a battered old sedan that was probably some shade of brown under all the grime pulled over and rolled down his window. “Everything okay?”

  Logan gave him a wave. “Fine, thanks.”

  “Don’t often see shirtless, barefoot cowboys out on the street.”

  “I suppose not.” Logan didn’t consider the parking lot exactly “the street,” but he should have realized that coming out here wearing only his jeans would add to any rumors circulating about his relationship with Caro. He didn’t mind being described as a cowboy, though.

  “I’m Elmer Crookshanks,” the guy said. “Run the gas station across the street. If you need gas, I’m your guy.”

  “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

  “You’re that baseball fella, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Staying with Caro, I see.”

  “Uh, no, not exactly.” Now Logan really regretted not bringing his overnight bag up last night.

  “If you say so. Well, gotta go open the station. You take care, now.”

  “You, too.” Logan felt like banging his head on the roof of the truck. He might as well have put up a billboard announcing he was sleeping with Caro. Now every person who stopped to buy gas from that scrawny little guy would get the word—“that baseball fella” had been parading around minus his boots and shirt, which had to mean he was fooling around with one of the local girls, namely Caro. Shit.

  Logan didn’t say anything about Elmer while he and Caro got ready to go to Jackson. He would eventually, because she needed to know in case it came back to bite her later on. Caro insisted on driving, and he was sure relieved that she didn’t need any gas from Elmer’s station before they left.