by Em Petrova
“Except me. I see the strong, smart doctor as well as the sexy, sweet woman.” He ran a hand up the curve of her ass. They stared at each other for a long heartbeat before he lowered his mouth to hers.
Using her legs, she yanked him closer. His carnal kisses moved down along her neck to the tops of her breasts. As he bit her nipple through her bra and top, she cried out. Her skirt was somewhere around her hips and her panties wet with desire.
He rocked his hips again, grinding her clit under his steely cock. They shared a moan. How freeing to be away from anyone who would hear. Out here, away from the family and the threat of cameras, she felt she could finally really be with West.
He hitched her against him, his weight on his arms. Everything was happening fast, and she didn’t only mean her body ramping up. She could swear that an invisible rope had them knotted together.
He slid his hand up her inner thigh, and she groaned.
“You like that, baby?”
She mewled in answer. As soon as he found her damp panties, he groaned. “Jesus, you’re so wet for me.”
“I need you, West.” In a lot of unexpected ways. She wanted to confide her dreams about her healing oils business and share kisses over his rodeo victories. Even avoiding the cameras was becoming an experience that they’d been joking over.
He swirled his index finger around her clit until it was hard and straining. Then he eased downward and fitted his fingertip into her opening, through her undergarments. The feel of the cloth being pressed inside her body sent a fire through her.
She gasped, threw her head back. He stared down at her with the same fire in his eyes. They were walking this path together.
He probed her through her panties again, but it wasn’t enough with her clothes on. She released her grip on his back long enough to shimmy the fabric down her hips. He helped her pull the rest off, and then she went for his shirt buttons.
They seemed too tricky for her fumbling fingers. Her heart pounded in her ears, and a primal need to be claimed by this man drove her. She couldn’t get his shirt open fast enough. At last, she thrust her hands inside against his hot muscle.
They surged together in a deep kiss. The faint noise of the horses and the grasses singing in the Oklahoma breeze rooted her even more in the moment.
Passion flared. It was time—time to be the strong, commanding woman of her tribe. She nudged him until he toppled into the grass, and she straddled him. Taking control at this minute went beyond the physical. She was taking control of their relationship.
She stared down at his handsome face, with burning eyes and a body that would make a woman sin. No wonder so many females threw themselves at him, but he was hers for the taking.
She peeled his shirt back and ducked her head. Her lips met his warm flesh, and he moaned. Placing nipping kisses all over his chest, down the ridges of his abs and back up to suck on his nipples. His big hand cradled her head as he guided her from one to the other.
“I fucking love that, baby.”
“Mmm.”
She looked up at him and dragged her teeth over one. At the same time, both of them went for his fly. In seconds his shaft sprang free.
Against her lips, he rumbled, “Condom in my pocket.”
She went for it immediately. This time she opened the packet and rolled the rubber over him inch by inch.
His abs dipped at her touch. “Keep that up and it’ll be over before we begin.” He closed his fingers over hers, and in one glide had the condom snug to the base. He gripped her hips.
When the tip of his cock brushed her wet folds, a frenzy took hold. She needed him—now. Bracing her hands on his chest and staring into his eyes, she slid down his length.
“Ffffuck,” he bit off, cords straining on his throat.
With him rooted deep, she tossed her head back and issued a sharp cry. Pleasure ran through her veins. She had to move.
She rocked her hips slowly at first. But neither of them could keep that restrained pace for long. He pinched her nipples as she jerked up and down faster. They shared a grin that had her heart thumping as much as the sensations did.
He tugged her down atop him so his chest was plastered to her breasts. The light tickling of hair increased her need, and she moved restlessly, disjointedly.
With a growl, he flipped her, cradling her back as she rolled into the grasses. The rough sensation on her back combined with the hard steel against her front—and between her legs—sent her sailing into the sky.
“West!”
“That’s it, baby. Damn, I can’t get you close enough. I’ve needed you like this forever.”
Pulsations racked her, and he held her close, his tender admission reverberating within her. He wasn’t only talking about the sex.
He pumped faster, extending her orgasm. Warm juices slipped from her body to soak him. The bite of her nails in his ass grounded her, but she needed more from him.
“Rub my clit,” she begged.
He captured her mouth in a searing kiss. While pumping his hips in a rhythm as old as time, he eased a hand between their bodies. The instant he stroked her hard nubbin, she cried out. Shaking.
“So fucking tight around me. God, Malou.”
His use of her name did something to her insides—like butter spread on warm bread. Melding to him, she wrapped her arms and legs around him again. With his fingers working magic and his cock buried deep, she—
“Come with me,” he said at once.
He angled deep, penetrating in a way that sent her shooting through the sky like a star. Pleasure slammed her. She barely recognized the noises as coming from her, but he added a few of his own as he stiffened inside her, growling his release.
As he dropped his lips to hers, she gave herself over to this man who’d scared her at first—but no longer. Underneath the bad boy, West was a good man.
* * * * *
West gathered a stack of tabloids and celebrity magazines into his arms. He twitched his head at Wynonna. “Grab the rest there, would ya?”
She scooped them into her arms with a grin. “I’m enjoying this tradition. The weekly burning of your image.”
They’d been getting along more now than ever. He’d been relieved to learn that she hadn’t tipped off the cameras when he and Malou had spent the night in the trailer. He cracked a smile. “Got the marshmallows this time?”
“Jack took them out already.”
He grunted. Jack was an odd addition to their crew. West didn’t know much about the guy except he dressed like a city slicker and at dinner, he tried to hold conversations on politics. The Calhouns mostly discussed ranch life—equipment, whether or not the herd had any sickness, and if they expected more calves this year.
West strolled through the door, his boots thumping when he hit the long front porch. He sensed a set of eyes on him and glanced over to see Malou in the porch swing with two kids cuddled against her sides. She was telling a story, but no book rested in her lap.
The kids stared at her, enraptured.
A sudden pang hit West. Daydreams of their own children listening to their mother’s stories.
Stories he hadn’t yet heard but wanted to.
The sun was sinking lower, and in the middle of the yard, a few chairs already circled the ashes of the last fire. Ryder had his little daughter Merry high on his shoulders. She was having a giggling fit as he galloped around with her. Momma came across the yard dragging the best lawn chair they owned.
“Let me help you,” West said, dropping the pile of magazines where he stood.
“Well thank you, West. What a good boy.”
He smiled crookedly. “I’m not eight.”
“No, but you’ll always be my boy.”
He set the chair in the best spot and turned to retrieve the magazines he’d dropped, only to find Malou crouched there, pulling them into her arms. Her face was a mask, and he rushed forward to take them from her.
“Don’t read any of them. Don’t even look,�
� he said.
She blinked as if coming back to herself and met his stare. After a small nod, she handed them over. Disgusted, he stomped to the fire and dropped the whole mess there. One fluttered open to show another celeb who was pregnant with someone else’s baby.
Trash, all of it. Every last word.
He kicked it onto the pile.
“Whoa, West’s getting ornery again.” Buck appeared holding his son’s hand and his daughter in the crook of one arm. Behind him, Channing was bearing a long plastic container.
“Cupcakes!” Asher’s girls cried and flocked to her.
Malou drifted closer to the circle but stood just on the outskirts, chewing her lower lip. West lit a match on his teeth and let the flame spread over the crap on the ground. After it caught, Lane brought an armload of firewood. And behind him was Jack.
West shook his head. The guy was definitely trying too hard. His plaid shirt might fit in with theirs if it hadn’t cost two hundred dollars. And his boots didn’t even have a scuff. The guy didn’t work for a living, West was convinced.
But as long as he and Wynonna kept the focus off himself and Malou, he didn’t care if the man was wanted in three states.
Okay, that wasn’t true. He wanted only the best for Wynonna.
West drifted up to Malou and rested a hand on the small of her back. “Want to sit over here?” He gestured to some chairs.
Too bad one wasn’t big enough for both of them. She nodded, and they moved to the seats. He plopped his closer to hers so they could at least hold hands. Lane fed the fire with wood and Buck Jr. ran around finding sticks and a leaf or two. Each contribution made the fire glow brighter as the sun set.
Asher and his daughters often spent time on the ranch, and he was deep in conversation with Ryder. The girls had cheeks stuffed with cupcake, frosting smeared on fingers and mouths. They sat cross-legged on a blanket at their father’s feet. The flames reflected in their very dark eyes.
West didn’t draw a deep breath until the last magazine crumbled to ash. Then he stole a peek at Malou. Expecting tense lines around her lips, he was shocked to find a soft smile there instead. She appeared calm and restful. Like he’d seen her earlier in the field after they’d made love.
Funny, using that word for sex. He never had feelings beyond the end of his dick. But with Malou, that had all changed.
A few cameras moved into place as they all got settled, but he’d spoken at length with Andrew and they wouldn’t be filmed. West took Malou’s hand in his own, folding their fingers together.
She turned her gentle smile on him. He was drawn back to her revelation about finding her balance. I think I’ve found it.
She was happy here on the ranch, and because of that, he was happy too. He squeezed her hand, and she leaned closer so her head rested on his shoulder.
As the sun sank behind the horizon, the moon rose. The sky was rich indigo, and the moon cast its light on her dark hair. He had half a mind to grab the horses and head to the field with her again, just to see the pleasure in her eyes under that big, bright moon.
“Oh look! The moon’s up,” Buck Jr. exclaimed, pointing and bouncing in his boots. Then he spun and focused on Malou. “Will you tell the story again? The story of the moon man?”
“Please, Malou?” Maddie hopped up and came running to stand before Malou.
“All right, if anybody wants to hear it.”
West chafed her knuckles with his thumb. “We do.”
Without asking, Maddie scrambled into Malou’s lap, and she anchored the child against her with an arm around her middle. Silence fell on the whole group, and Malou didn’t break it right away. Letting it stretch on until it seemed like a voice of its own.
Whatever magic she’d brought was working into West as well. He felt a deeper connection to the universe with her here. Maybe he was finding his own balance.
Malou’s lips parted, and words tumbled out. A slow cadence that sounded of her ancestors, though West had never heard them speak before.
“Once upon a time, my people first came up from the villages of the underworld. There was no sun or moon, and they only felt the cold and saw darkness. They searched for firewood,” she gestured to the flames before them, “but in the dark it was hard to find.
“As they stumbled around, they came across a light and followed it. They came across a field that was rich with harvest—beans and corn and watermelon. And there was a man working the field. ‘Who are you and where have you come from?’ the man asked the people.
“‘We have come from the world below and we suffer from the lack of light and food,’ my people said.”
West swallowed against a lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. Malou’s face glowed under the light of the fire and her words burrowed deep inside him. Everyone was silent, right down to the tiniest Calhoun.
They’re all in love with her the way I am.
She continued, “‘My name is Skeleton,’ the tender of the field told the people. He gave the leader the terrible bone mask he wore and told him to lead his people out of the underground and he would help them. He gave my people food.
“Then the people showed up, and Skeleton had enough food to go around, though the crops looked so small. He gave them corn to roast and beans, squash and watermelons. They built fires for themselves and were happy. Skeleton gave them fields to plant and soon they had their own crops. But my people were not happy. They wanted land for themselves. ‘We should move on and find a place to call our own,’ my people said.
“They stumbled around in the dark again until their great chiefs counseled with Skeleton about how to create their own moon like the one they had enjoyed in the underworld.”
On her lap, Maddie squirmed a bit, and Malou settled her more comfortably on her thigh. The little girl reached up and began to feel one of Malou’s dreadlocks between her fingers as if it were a special blanket.
Malou granted her a smile before moving on. “They took a buffalo hide, well-prepared, and cut it into a circle. They stretched it over a great hoop and then painted this white with some black edges. After this was finished, they placed it on a long stick and held it up into the sky.”
At this, Maddie and Buck Jr., who had heard the telling in the swing a while ago, raised their hands high. Chills washed over West’s arms.
“Then one of the chiefs found a young man and told him to stand on the circle. They took up the cloth at the corners and began to swing it back and forth, faster and faster. All the while they sang a great song.”
“A magic song!” Maddie added.
“That’s right. A magic song. While they swung the man higher and higher on the moon image, they sang. And gave a mighty heave. The moon flew upward to the east, high and bright. And my people had light.
“But it still was not as bright as they’d like it. My people still stumbled around and had to light fires to keep from cutting their good food crops rather than the weeds in the fields. So they took another piece of cloth. Not buffalo hide but a piece of warm cloth that they’d woven—”
“And cut a circle and stretched it on a hoop,” Buck Jr. added, his voice taking on the same cadence as Malou’s. Buck and Channing looked at their son in awe.
“Exactly. They stretched a new circle on a hoop and painted it what color, Maddie?”
“Copper!”
“Yes, copper. And they painted a face on the disk along with colors of the sunset and sunrise, which the chiefs had chosen. They fastened to it the red fur of some animal and corn husks, which are gold. There were also feathers from a red bird and an abalone shell. Now the sun disk was completed.
“They found another young man to stand on the disk and again sang and heaved the disk higher and higher. When it travelled fast into the eastern sky and disappeared, the people watched. In a short time, they saw a burning like fire. And light spread across the world. So the people had warmth and light by day and a moon as guide at night. My people could build houses and plant crops and pros
per.”
Malou fell silent, and the flames crackled. After a minute, West said in a choked voice, “It’s beautiful.”
She tipped her head and smiled at the moon. “It is.”
But he hadn’t been talking about the moon.
* * * * *
“Thanks for nothin’, you bloodsucking leech!”
West poked his head out of the barn in time to see Wynonna thunder into the front yard and hurl a suitcase. Jack hurried after it and picked it up.
“The Hopis should have used her as their sun. She’s hot enough to burn down the world,” West muttered.
Maverick, the foreman in charge of the ranch came forward to look out on the scene too. “I don’t know about Hopis, but I’ll agree about Wynonna. I can’t believe that dumb fuck had enough balls to cross her. She called him a leech. Wonder what she means.”
West rubbed his glove-covered knuckles over his jaw and pondered Mav’s tense tone. “No idea. But I’m sure we’ll hear about it at lunch. You coming inside to eat?”
Maverick tossed him a grin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
They returned to their work shoeing horses. It would be quick work if they cooperated, but one of them was West’s own horse, and he hated his hooves messed with.
As they worked, they talked ranch operations.
“When’s the next rodeo?” Mav asked.
“Five days. I’ll be gone tomorrow, at auction with Buck. But you’ve got it handled.”
Mav nodded. West looked at him a bit more closely. He was in his forties, as tough as nails. Too bad Wynonna couldn’t find someone more like him. West had no idea what she’d seen in these city guys masquerading as country folk, first the show producer and then Jackass.
After a long silence, Mav said, “You think Wynonna’s okay?”
West gave him a sharp look but Mav didn’t give away anything in his expression. He seemed intent on removing a shoe from the mare Malou had ridden days ago.
His heart gave a sudden painful flip. Malou. She’d driven off in her old truck, after Ridge had made sure it was roadworthy, the tires aired and the fluids all full. West hadn’t been himself for the past two days without her. She seemed to have driven away with a piece of him.