by Mima
“You were wonderful. You saved my life.” She stood before him while he cleaned her face. From the sting, she realized she had many scratches across her face.
His hazel eyes glowed in the light shade, a pretty golden brown. “You did good, too. You stayed still, didn’t panic till it was over.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice that matched her small spirit.
He nodded. “It coulda been bad. I’m worried about one of Wheezy’s tendons. But we’re all still standing. Any other issues?”
Looking at her trembling hands holding the first-aid kit, she mourned, “I broke a nail.” It had been a fresh manicure, too, with French tips.
He gave a disgusted noise.
“Just bruises. And a cut on my shin.”
He put disinfectant on that and then got out Neosporin and slathered that on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Do you have a cell?”
“Nah. Why? You need to make a call now?”
She shrugged. “I thought we could call for help.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Help? We’re fine. We’re not even that far from the ranch.”
“Oh. That’s good.” She didn’t feel fine. She would very much like a car to come pick her up now. The thought of getting back on Wheezy made her tremble.
“Here.” He offered her an honest-to-God canteen. It was round and metal with a canvas bag around it. The water tasted like metal, too, but she didn’t care.
She gulped it thankfully. Gratitude swelled in her. “Thank you for killing the snake.”
“You’re surely—”
“And for coming back for me,” she blurted.
“You think I’d leave you up here?” He resettled his big brown hat in agitation. “I said I’d be back.”
“I didn’t know how long you’d be. You might’ve sent someone else back.”
Again he gave her that incredulous look, and she felt the last of the burgeoning connection between them die. It hurt, like a little twang in her chest.
“Let’s head on down.” He gathered up the reins and led Wheezy over the crest of the ridge.
Watching him walk back down the hill, she asked, “We’re not going to ride?”
He shook his head. “I rode him up because I was worried about you, but you’re fine. I don’t want any weight on him until he’s been rested and looked over. Back left leg is stiff.”
Oh. With a sigh, she started down behind them. Wheezy lifted his tail and farted as though to express his opinion of the afternoon. Gross.
The walk back to the ranch took them into deep twilight. It felt endless. The sun sparkled through the trees, then burned as it grew low, and finally vanished in a wash of orange that turned the color of the forest off.
The woods were thinning and the incline became less steep when she couldn’t stand it anymore. She blurted, “How much farther? It’s getting dark. Do you know where we are?”
“Follow on, Miss Lauren. I’ll get you home.”
But it wasn’t home. The air still smelled of sun and pine, but now a more sinister scent of rock and blood seemed to gather around her. The stress gathered in her chest, her breaths coming shorter.
“I’m c-c-cold.” Her voice came high and scared. As the temperature plummeted, her sweat seemed to freeze on her skin.
He just kept walking. “Best not to stop. The lights are right there, you’ll be fine.”
Her feet cramped and burned with blisters. “Right where?”
“Ahead.”
“Walt! I’m hurt and scared and cold! How much farther?”
He finally stopped walking. Both he and Wheezy looked over their shoulders at her.
She’d never felt more defensive in her life. “This is horrible. My feet are killing me. I don’t want to get lost.” She was whining and her throat was thick with tears.
“Listen to me.” Walt’s voice was cold. “This is Montana. You go out into the woods, then you make sure you have what it takes to get back. I’m not putting you on my horse, but I could put you over my shoulder and carry you over to the goddamn stables that are five hundred yards away.” He put his hand on his hip.
She gasped in outrage. “You’re not putting me over your shoulder!”
He let go of Wheezy’s reins and stormed over to her. “Or I could put you over my knee.”
Staggering up to meet him, she shouted, “I said I was sorry!”
He stopped directly in front of her. “We could have had a fine time at the waterfall. But you were a coward and now you can’t stop complaining.”
Her gasp this time was long and so deep she almost choked on the injustice of his words. “I have walked down a frickin’ mountain”—she stabbed her hand out into the dark—“and not said a word!” She jabbed a finger into his big, plaid chest. “You threw me off your horse!”
His hand came up and swallowed hers. “It was safer than the slide.”
Warmth rolled off him. He loomed over her, a completely dark, muscular blob. “I kissed you,” she accused in that way arguments had of sometimes not making sense.
His other hand cupped the back of her neck and his lips pressed to hers. The touch was brief, frustrated.
Wrenching her hand free, she grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down, kissed him harder. Just like that, lightning sizzled down each of her limbs. She pulled away, staring at him in shock. “You bastard. I almost died.”
“You brat. You almost got us killed.”
They were kissing again, hands grabbing at ribs and waists, pulling to seek under clothes. Her hands seized his biceps. His closed around one cold breast like a brand. She arched into his searing touch. “This sucks.”
“Are you sure?” His mouth covered her throat, lips, and teeth, just like before. His breath thawed her chill.
“Yes. It sucks. Like you should suck.” Outrageously furious, she hauled up her tee and yanked on his neck. His face slid lower to her chest and then that warm mouth covered the throbbing tip of one nipple. His hat tumbled away.
He scrabbled to pull her shirt higher, and she shrugged her shoulders, tearing it over her head. His teeth closed over one nipple before the grip was replaced by firm lips.
One of her legs wrapped around his thigh where he stood in a splayed stance. She pulled on his hair with both fists, dragging him over to her other exposed, freezing breast. “Suck me.”
He moaned. His mouth opened wide, nearly engulfing her whole breast, and then he began to suck.
His tongue laved along the lower slope, and she felt his throat swallow, drawing the suction tighter. “Oh. My. Gawd.”
The trees were a still, black silhouette against a lavender sky. Her skin glowed very white in the gathering night. Chills raced over her, raising goose bumps.
“Can I suck, Miss Lauren? You need me to suck harder?” His hands pulled at her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet with the fury he worked against her jeans.
“Wh-wh-what—yes!”
And then he was on his knees, his kisses on her ribs passionate and wild, as he peeled her jeans down to her knees. Her scent rolled up over both of them.
His eyes were a dark glimmer as he looked up at her, his mouth shining with wetness. Her fists were still locked in his hair.
“Be clear,” he growled. “Be very clear.”
Her jaw worked a bit as she sought what to say. Her brain wasn’t working. Their hard breathing sounded loud and rough in the frozen forest. She’d never in her life had angry sex. She cursed the logistics of boots and sweaty clothes and condoms.
Shifting her legs restlessly, she whined, “I can’t open my legs.”
His hands bit painfully into her hips. “Still complaining about something I can solve very easily, Fairy Brat.”
Oh! “I
’m not having sex with you,” she snapped. Her breasts throbbed, both nipples aching. Her skin was raw, and she felt wetness seep from her core. “Uh.” She staggered and he held her up.
“All right,” he gritted. “That’s probably for the best.” Then he dove in for her belly. He kissed and sucked, nipped, licked, breathed fire from hip to hip, stopping to ravish her belly button on the way.
When he stopped, she was folded down over him, braced on his shoulders, moaning like the ghost of a gold town whore.
“Are we done then?” he asked. The tips of his thumbs rasped the curve where her inner thigh met her torso.
Her knees trembled. Oh, man. “I’m not quite done.”
“You need to be done?”
“Yes. I need this to be over.” This was crazy. Were they talking about the disaster of the walk or this angry passion?
“So am I carrying you out?”
“No. I’ll walk. I just needed a rest. And answers.”
“We’re almost there. I told you.” His thumbs toyed deeper into the smooth, waxed fold of her mound, shifting sensitive skin. His voice wasn’t angry anymore. The rasp was deep in his throat. “Just be clear on what you need to finish.”
Her face flamed. It seemed a little late to be embarrassed, standing bare-chested and bare-assed in the cold dark. She could barely say it, it was so wild. “Suck.”
The word lingered. Oh my God! She had said it. Would he do it? Would this guy go down on her? Shifting restlessly, she struggled with the fact her tight jeans wouldn’t allow her to open her legs. This wasn’t going to work.
His hands slid around to her ass, grabbing her cheeks, pulling them wide. Before she could do more than groan, his hands slid down the backs of her thighs, then jerked on her knees. She fell forward onto him, but he was rocking forward himself, his arms up to cradle her back and then she was on the ground, and the leaves were freezing and sharp.
“Walt!” she screeched, shocked.
But then he’d dragged her jeans farther down her legs to the tops of her ankle boots, set his big hands on each knee and wrenched them wide. Her feet were tied and her core was open to the icy mountain air. His hands shoved under her ass, cold leaves biting between his grip, and then his mouth was on her.
His heavy shoulders pressed against her thighs, keeping her from her instinct to close her legs against the blast of sensation. Her hands clutched in his hair and she held on as his face bucked into her. His jaw opened wide, his hot tongue swishing everywhere. He started to head, as all men do, toward the deepest part of her, but she yanked on his head, hauling him up.
There. He centered at the right spot. She felt his whole body shudder as he lay across her legs, and she thought she caught a muffled, “Yes, Ma’am.”
His lips closed, his tongue pressed, and he sucked. Once. Twice.
“Faster.” Her nails set in his scalp. The leaves were so bitter against her shoulders, and something was poking her in the ribs.
His hands came up next to his face and held her folds wide as he firmed his mouth around her and the suction came in harder pulses, the tongue flickering faster. Her hips raised, ass clenched, core tightening, thighs shaking to push against his strength.
She came. It was glorious. Against her closed lids, she saw shooting stars.
Her body collapsed. She sprawled loose. He rose up on all fours, swaying. She could no longer even make out his face. He shuffled in the leaves, handed her shirt over, and put his hat on his head. Sitting back on his heels, he wiped his mouth with his arm.
“Hell,” he breathed.
Her thigh twitched, bouncing one sagging knee. “So. The ranch is close?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good.”
He stood, using a tree for support, then held out his hand.
She took it and he hauled her up. They stood face-to-face for a minute, still breathing hard. He reached down and adjusted himself. Stepped back.
Swallowing, she pulled her T-shirt on and brushed the leaves off her ass, then pulled her jeans up. It took a while, and she lost her balance once, grunted some, but finally got them closed.
He was standing back with Wheezy, holding the reins. She ran her hands through her hair and pulled out a small stick with a grimace. They walked. Her nipples were still stark points chafing her shirt. And her feet now screamed in fiery agony much worse than before they’d stopped.
The brush around them thickened, and they came out onto a field. The last light hung over the mountains, a sullen purple.
“Oh my God! The resort!”
She heard him snort. It could have been Wheezy, but she was pretty sure it was Walt. Now that they walked on the level field, she could distinctly tell that Wheezy was limping. “I’m so sorry, Walt. Thanks for getting us home.”
She felt small. After all that had happened, and their wild passion, he still seemed to have gotten the short end of the stick.
He sighed, deep and blatant. “We’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
When they strolled into the stables the automatic lights turned on with blinding intensity. Lauren’s steps literally dragged. Her thighs twitched from overuse.
Her arms tight around herself for both warmth and to hide her unsatisfied nipples, she lamely offered, “Do you want to come over to my cabin to get cleaned up?”
“No, thank you. I’ve got to see to Wheezy for a little bit. Then I’ll find a ride home.”
“So you’re not going to the dance?”
The sound of a band carried in the still night.
His head turned to look toward her. With the combination of the harsh backlight and his hat, she couldn’t make out his face.
“No. Not going to the dance.”
She felt the sting of his rebuke. Nodded. Apologized again. “I’m so sorry, Walt. You did a great job getting us back here, and I really hope Wheezy is okay.”
“I’ve seen enough to know he’ll be fine.” He turned and walked the horse into the stables. Wheezy’s head hung down by his hooves, the animal was so wiped.
“Is there anything I can do? I’d be happy to pay for any vet bills you—”
“Not necessary.” The words were quiet but firm and clipped. “It’s just a strain. He’ll be fine.”
Standing alone in the freezing cold air, she shifted from foot to foot. Eventually she had to go follow him. “Walt?”
“Yeah.” His voice was distinctly curt. Wheezy was at a water trough and Walt was taking the saddle off.
“You have my room key.”
“Oh. Right.” He fished it out of the saddlebag and handed it to her. “Good night.”
Lauren nodded and gave a truer answer. “Bye.”
Congratulations. You have found the ending called City Slicker. Click this link to return to the Choice Index. Dare to decide again!
“I think it’s wonderful of you to offer me some lessons. You work here, right?” She started her seduction with some conversation, looking for innuendo.
He grinned. “I sure do. It’s a fine ranch.”
She grinned back, walking up to face him. “What do you do? Surely I haven’t found the official dance instructor?”
He ducked his head. With better light, she’d bet twenty that he was blushing. “I’m the pool boy.”
Lauren froze the laugh that wanted to burst from her. Oh. This was just too funny.
“I’m going to work in the stables soon, though.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “One of the other guys got a park job, and Sorrel knows I’m qualified.”
Sucking in a breath, she asked gently, “How old are you, Jeb? Have you worked here long?”
“Oh, I’m just out of college. Got a business degree, but I’m thinking of joining up. Won’t if I can get the stable position, though. I’ve had this job for the last three summer
s.”
Okay. So he was legal. There was less than a decade between them in years, but for some reason, she thought she probably could have eaten him for breakfast even when she was in P.S. 29 back in Brooklyn. Socially speaking. He had a big frame, but she suddenly found herself hungry.
Taking her hat off, she set it on a shelf piled with horse blankets. She fixed her hair, then stretched to show off her lean figure—honed with a killer trainer and many salads—and cocked one hip. This was fun. She hadn’t been the aggressor in ages.
Jeb shifted.
“I’m glad you introduced yourself.” She walked right up to him, crossing her feet in a slow stroll, wishing for her heels. Toying with one of the buttons on his shirt, she lowered her voice even more. “And I’m glad you showed me the hats.”
He didn’t pull away, so she slid her hand up to his shoulder. She heard him swallow. “I like you, Jeb.” She guessed the answer, but it was nice to be sure. “Are you with anyone tonight?”
He shook his head, mute.
“I’d love to dance with you. Later, though.” She flicked her nails against his jaw. It was very smooth and soft. Reaching up, she took his hat and playfully perched it on her own head. “How do I look?” She vamped up at him.
He smiled, chewed his lip. “Sorry. Still doesn’t sit quite right.” His gaze dropped down to her mouth. “Sure does show your face nice, though.”
She moved away, set his hat down next to hers. Considering the room they were in, she judged it insufficient. Playfully planting her hands on each side of the door, she leaned out and looked into the quiet darkness of the stables. The position showed her ass to best advantage. “What’s down there? Anyplace we could talk, nice and quiet?”
He came up toward her with a rolling gait that signaled interest, brushed one hand up her forearm to cup her elbow. “I know a spot. You feelin’ tired?”
She nodded up at him, solemn. “I’m not sure. I feel out of sorts.”
He guided her into the wide, dark hall, farther into the stable. Something intriguing on the wall caught her eye, and she snagged it when he wasn’t looking. Opening a door, he stepped in, closing it after her. The room was small, but blessedly warmer than outside. Two huge desks were covered in papers. Each had a sleeping computer whose monitor glowed blue. As seduction spots went, it sucked. She figured he’d gone for efficiency over ambiance.