Cowboy's Kiss

by Sierra Hill

  “For the record, darlin’. I was betting for ya, not against ya.”

  “Mmm-hmm. I’m sure.”

  Now that I’m astride the horse, I take a big gulp of air to settle my nerves and stretch in to the feel and curve of the animal underneath me, stroking the mane gently. Cutter walks in front of the horse, checking the bits and other tack of the saddle before moving to the other horse, easily maneuvering himself up and over, throwing a muscular leg over to mount and sits tall in his saddle.

  “You have ridden before, right?”

  “Of course, I’ve ridden before. I took riding lessons when I was a girl. I’m not completely ignorant.”

  Seemingly satisfied, Cutter clucks his tongue and using the reins, leads the way as we move out toward the mountain range.

  “Okay. But just so you know, it’s gonna be a very long day and this isn’t arena riding.”

  I wave him off and adjust myself in the saddle. “I’ll be fine. By the way, what’s her name?”

  Cutter gives me a backwards glance, bringing his horse to a full-trot. “She’s Thistle. This is Arrow.”

  I follow behind closely but leave enough room between us, enjoying the scenery. And by scenery, I do mean his denim-and-leather chapped ass.

  As we approach the hill crest, I sidle up next to Cutter and Arrow, as he slows at my approach.

  “Are you going to share what we’re doing today, or should I just guess?”

  His expression is enigmatic, with a hint of indifference, stopping the horse’s forward momentum with a quick jerk of the reins.

  Cutter nods his chin toward the east, as my eyes scan the horizon, the green and brown of the rolling hills glinting gold as the backdrop of the pinks and orange canvas of the morning sun. It’s breathtaking.

  Although we haven’t gone far, I can already feel the numb tingling in my buttocks, my glutes and thighs that all sing a chorus of long-forgotten aches.

  “We’re heading out to field four to check on some fencing repairs. The crew will be riding out to field 3 and moving the herd to a new pasture.”

  He cuts me a glance. “Any other questions?”

  I stare him down. “You’re hard to get along with.”

  “That’s not a question.”

  I lift a shoulder. “I can see why you’re made for this sort of life.”

  He laughs, amusement licking at the ends. “You already have me pegged, do you?”

  “It’s not that difficult to figure out the man under the hat.”

  The corners of Cutter’s mouth lift in a smirk as he tips the edge of his hat.

  “I wear many hats, darlin’. Only one of them happens to be a cowboy hat.”

  And then he thumps Arrow on his flanks with his boots and takes off in front of me, leaving me behind in the dust to wonder where on Earth this is going.

  All I know is this man – this cowboy – has something inside that I want to expose. To peel back and figure out what lies under the skin.

  So, I do the only thing I can do.

  I follow his lead.

  Oh my God. I haven’t been this sore since I tried competitive ice skating in the fifth grade and was bruised up and down my legs from all the falls from practice.

  We’ve stopped for a dinner break, the blazing sun working full force to remind us who’s boss out here in the mountain range and God’s country.

  Most of the cowboy and ranch hand crew have headed back to the bunkhouse, their day of fencing repairs complete, as Cutter and I dismount near a stream. With both hands on the horn, I swing my leg over Thistle’s croup, her soft whinnies filling my ears as I stand to her side, trailing my hand down her forehead and muzzle.

  “Good girl, Thistle. Thanks for being so good to me today.”

  I lift my eyes sensing Cutter’s stare, turning to find him regarding me curiously.

  “What?” I snap, tying her reins to the post he’d pointed out so the tired horses could drink from the stream.

  “Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to be such a natural.”

  I can’t help but smile at the compliment. What I’ve learned from my observations of Cutter throughout the day is that he is tough and firm with his men, but has a good sense of humor, constantly ribbing them good naturedly, but never stepping over the established boss/crew boundaries. However, he isn’t quick to show appreciation, so his remark sparks a giddy lightness inside my heart.

  In fact, I’ve gotten so used to his bossiness, I’ve come to like it.

  “Is that a compliment, I hear, Cowboy?” I tease, sitting down on the blanket he’s spread out on the ground and extracting my notebook and pen from the satchel next to me. “I guess it’s true what they say. It’s just like riding a bike. Or, a horse in this case.”

  He makes a grunting sound, which I assume is laughter, and I reach for the sandwich he hands me. Our fingertips graze over one another’s, the gentle touch over powered by the shock of electrical current that explodes across my skin, up my arm and then plunges between my legs.

  There’s a moment when everything seems to just stop – even the horses sense our profound connection and quiet down. I finally shake my head clear and begin peppering him with questions while we eat.

  What’s the most difficult part about ranching?

  How would you describe the work?

  What makes you anxious in your day-to-day role?

  What do you want others to know about the struggles you face?

  Where do you see yourself in five years?

  Cutter answers each and every one of them with scripted ease until we come to the last question. He’s silent at first, lifting his eyes to the sky, where storm clouds have taken up residence against the backdrop of the mountain range.

  When he finally answers me, I’m not expecting his honest response to include me.

  “I can see myself…” he says, leaning to his side, his hand on the ground next to my hip, his warm breath whispering over my cheek. “With a woman like you.”

  Cutter

  Maybe it was long hot day in the saddle, or the scent of jasmine mixed with her sweat and musk, but sitting next to Avery after the day we spent together out on the range, watching her handle everything thrown at her with grace and ease, wore me down and took my last scrap of sanity.

  I was on the verge when we left the house this morning. But now after getting to know her?

  I had to kiss her. I had to make her mine.

  So, I do what I do best.

  I wrangle.

  I corral.

  I rope her in and use the low timber of my voice against her neck, my fingers clutching against the sensitive part of her nape, feeling her reaction in both her breath and the goosebumps sparking over her flesh. I clasp her straw-colored ponytail in my fist and yank her head back, my cock thrilled to see the flash of excitement in her eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Avery. Any objections?”

  A short puff of air bursts from her mouth, her tongue flicking over her bottom lip as she gasps.

  “None whatsoever.”

  And then I claim her mouth with mine, lips crushing against hers, my parched tongue seeking entrance to quench this deep thirst that had been building over the last twenty-four hours. From that first taste of her lemonade flavor, I know.

  I goddamn know she is mine.

  And with the intensity in which she kisses me back, I know this fiery woman yearns to be tamed.

  Avery wraps her arms around my neck as my body bends over hers, pushing her onto the blanket. Thunder rumbles in the background as the horses chuff their disagreement, but none of that even registers for me.

  Avery is the only thing I see, feel and need.

  As the evening swirls around us, the crickets coming out to sing us their songs, and the heavy heat of the day slowly cools with each dropping inch of the sun, I kiss Avery as if my life depends on it.

  My cock grows hard and demanding between us, pressing against the zipper of my jeans, as I’m captivated by the rise an
d fall of her breasts beneath me.

  I lift a hand to her plump breasts, outlining the contour and weighty-shape, my thumb stroking with both a tease and a demand, as it coaxes to life from my touch. Her nipple peaks hard under my ministrations as I slide my mouth from hers, nipping along her jawline, down her neck, collarbone and then land on the very tip of her pebbled nipple, hidden under her shirt.

  Flicking my tongue over her shirt, she moans and presses her breasts skyward, into my lucky palm.

  “Darlin, you have no fucking idea how hard I’ve been for you all day. That spirited mouth of yours and your tight ass bouncing up and down in the saddle has turned me into a madman.”

  I speak between her breasts, my hand slipping underneath the hem of her shirt with a little tug, as her hands spear my hair and nails dig into my scalp.

  The pressure she applies to my head brings my face up to hers, as she flicks the tip of her tongue over my lips and I growl.

  “Good. You deserve to be tormented a little,” she says with a nip of my lips, parting her legs so I can dip my pelvis and press my heavy cock into her valley. “But I’m glad I’m not alone in how I felt.”

  Stealing a long, wet kiss, I finally pull back, looking down at her. She’s gorgeous this way – the flecks of gold in her hair shimmering even in the dusky evening as it fans out around her.

  “You’re not alone, Avery. And you won’t be sleeping alone for the rest of the week if I have any say in the matter.”

  She lifts her hips in response, the friction turning me up a notch. She slides her hands down my side, then around my back, over the curve of my backside and wedges them under the leather of my chaps, palming my ass and squeezing hard enough to nudge my cock against her.

  “I’m all yours, Cutter. And I want you in my bed.”

  “Goddamn, woman. I’m not waiting to get you into a proper bed.”

  Avery lifts a brow. “Impatient, are we?”

  I thrust forward, hard enough so she grunts, pinning her to the ground. “What do you think?”

  Her smile is pure sex.

  “I think a more sensible woman would make you wait.”

  She wedges a hand between us, palming my cock hard and stroking it rough, just like I like it.

  “But I’m not that woman.”

  I let out a loud groan of relief as she deftly unbuckles the buckle, unzips my jeans, and slides her hand over my aching cock. The skin-on-skin is much-needed and feels incredible, but I won’t be satisfied until I am inside and taking possession of her pussy.

  I lift my hips, helping her to remove my jeans and briefs, as I busy myself with unbuttoning her shirt and peeling it back like I’m opening a present.

  Hoisting the cotton material of her tank top up and over her head, she’s left only a sports bra and her jeans and panties. Those can wait. I have things to take care of first.

  “This has to go,” I grunt, yanking at the cotton material of her bra, as she tugs it over her head and through her arms. And then I falter, struck dumb by the perfection of her tits. “Ah fuck, how’d I get so lucky?”

  Her breasts are plump and ripe, her nipples a pretty rusty-rose. Using my tongue, I sweep a stripe across the lush curve of one, pinching the nipple of the other to draw out a little whimper from Avery’s mouth. A smile flashes across my lips as my mouth grows hungry to take in this feast and banquet of flesh.

  I’m wild now, the blood pumping in heavy doses through my veins, my dick throbbing against her jean-clad thigh, dying to be engulfed by her pussy.

  Continuing to lave my tongue over her sensitive flesh, my hand travels down the soft incline of her belly, until it dips into her denim. I tease the soft expanse of skin right above her waistband, before I flick the button open and unzip her jeans.

  Avery sucks in a sexy breath just as I slide my hand down under her panties. I trail a finger through her folds, finding her drenched and wet. Slipping a finger in, I coat it with her essence and draw it back out, painting her wetness over her clit. I continue the cycle, pushing and retracting as she moans and bucks against my hand.

  “Yes, like that,” she cries, her hand gripping my bicep and digging into the muscle. “Cutter, I’m so close.”

  I like the sound of that. I continue feathering and flirting with her clit, until I press two fingers inside her heat, curling with just the slightest effort, and find the spot that sends her up into the heavens.

  Her body reacts strongly as she comes, at first jerking and thrusting against my hand until it’s as if she’s been lifted off the blanket and shooting straight up into the stars. Avery turns her head to the side as a long moan pours from her lungs.

  “Ohhhhhh…”

  Before she can even think about moving a muscle, I reach into the pocket of my jeans, extract the protection and sheath my aching cock.

  Had I planned on using this condom with Avery as I got dressed today? Hell no, I didn’t. But a guy can hope. All that sexual energy that bounced between us all day, gave me wicked, dirty thoughts of fucking Avery every which way from Sunday.

  Avery reaches down between us as I snap the end of the rubber in place, her hand enclosing around my shaft in a tight fist.

  “My God, Cutter. You are one strapping cowboy.”

  “We’ll get to the straps and ropes later, darlin’.” I wink salaciously, dragging my cock through her folds, coating my dick with her wetness.

  She flops her head back against the ground with a groan.

  “Put your hands above your head.”

  Her eyes pop wide as a playful smile appears at her lips, her teeth cutting into her bottom lip as she does what I command.

  With one hand, I pin her wrists together and press the tip of my cock into her opening before driving all the way to the hilt.

  And then all I see is stars.

  Avery

  I swallow the gasp as Cutter enters me, unable to successfully draw in a breath. He is one big man and it takes a bit to accommodate his size. Now I know what he’s been hiding underneath those Wranglers.

  “Lord on high, you have a tight little pussy,” he growls into my ear, his palm clasping around my wrists above my head, pinning me to the earth presumably so I don’t float away. “I’m not hurting ya, am I, darlin’?”

  When I open my eyes and stare up into his cerulean blues, I’m floored to see the concern evident in his eyes. To think that over the last 24-hours I’ve only found him to be contentious and extremely rude.

  But Cutter’s personality is just like the leather on a new saddle. It starts off as hard and unmalleable, until its tough exterior is smoothed over, each sinewy grain of rawhide becoming pliable and supple. Turning a rough and tough cowboy into my doting lover.

  I nod my head in consent because hell yes, I’m more than fine. More than all right. His cock and body are a sight to be behold, and the way he thrusts inside me like a proud stallion is indescribable. Although his movements are calculated and controlled, there’s a wildness in his restraint.

  Surging my hips upwards to meet his next thrust, he grunts and then his rhythm speeds up when I lock my teeth into his shoulder with a bite.

  Cutter pounds into me, each time the base of his cock hitting the perfect spot between my legs, shooting off zig-zagging shots of pleasure down to where my toes curl into his ass.

  We rock together now in an up-tempo dance, each searching for that moment of release.

  “Please, more…” I say, squirming in his firm grasp, my hands still imprisoned in his hold above my head. “I need…”

  “I know what you need and I’m going to give it to you. And then you’re gonna give it to me.”

  I can only agree. “Mmm-hmm.”

  His hand skirts over my hip, runs the length of my leg and then back up as he hooks his hand around my knee, drawing it up to my navel and using it as leverage to pound me harder. With more intensity.

  The burst of fire inflames my entire body before centering low in my spine, as it then shoots out like a starburst wi
th blistering speed and intensity.

  I don’t have words, so I simply scream his name.

  “Cutter!”

  As if it gives him permission, Cutter grinds himself against my pelvis, plunging one last time as deep as he can go as he throws his head back to deliver the final growl of satisfaction and release. I watch as the ropey muscles in his neck constrict and tighten, his mouth going slack and the tremors in his body finally subsiding.

  Cutter releases my leg and my wrists, sliding his body to the side and landing heavily against the ground next to me.

  “What was that?” I’m not sure if he wants me to respond or if it’s a rhetorical question, but all I know is I feel the same way.

  One minute we’re at each other’s throats, Cutter constantly riding roughshod over me through the course of the day, and the next we’re getting each other off with such force and unexpectedness, we’re like two tectonic plates rubbing together emitting more friction than a California earthquake.

  And I loved it.

  Cutter is a man who knows how to handle a woman.

  And then I remember the first night at the bar and how that woman was madder than a wet hen over how she was treated by Cutter.

  That thought niggles in the back of my mind, but I push it out of my head as I slide up my jeans and fumble around for the rest of my clothing. I brush my messy hair from my face, picking out straw and grass blades lodged in the strands from our wild ride.

  When I glance over at Cutter, he’s watching me with a steely gaze.

  I pinch my brows together. “Something on your mind, Cowboy?”

  Suddenly I’m hoisted into the air, his strong hands pressing into my hips, as he finagles me over his lap in a straddle.

  His hands slide to my ass as he rocks me into his body, my hands mapping the terrain of his chest and firm pecs, roaming over the marked skin of a man who has battled with the elements and realities of the ranching business.