Filthy Cowboy

by Amy Brent

  “I wasn’t thinking about that,” she said.

  “Then what were you thinking of?” he asked.

  “Well, for starters, that you’re wrong about me.”

  “Oh?”

  “I may not be a lady, but I still always say ‘Thank you’ to those who take the time to show me a thing or two.”

  Kellan’s hands squeezed a little harder—across from her, Truman’s eyes went wide. “I ain’t never done this before,” she said, working her way down Tucker’s body, “so you’ll probably have to give me some pointers—”

  “Just go,” he said breathlessly, lying back and closing his eyes.

  Kellan’s hands reached between her legs, re-lighting the sensuality that had been, reminding her of how good it felt to be touched, and what she wanted Tucker to feel. Her clit was still a little raw, but the pleasure of being touched outweighed the pain and when she took Tucker into her mouth she wanted him to feel that pleasure, feel that—

  Ten-foot Tucker, indeed, she thought, as she felt him harden and swell. It felt as if his cock was as wide as it was long—her eyes began to water as she tried to take him deeper, but he was just too long. But his eyes were rolling back in his head as he watched her, and she’d discovered that you might be able to fake the scrams but there was no faking the shudders that started from deep within.

  I can do this, she thought, and even through her tears she could see him panting and groaning as she wrapped her tongue around him and pressed her lips to his shaft, sucking on it just a little—it was barely a kiss—but he began to spasm and shake inside her-and she felt Kellan put just a little pressure against her clit and she wanted to gasp but he was already inside her and when her throat twitched as her body tried to cry out Tucker came, a rush of salty-sweet-sour cum washing over the inside of her mouth, running down and out.

  “Swallow,” Kellan whispered, and she obeyed—the slime was already mixing with her spit and as he pulled her off of Tucker he asked her, “What in tarnation were you thinkin’?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “That no woman,” Tucker gasped, his voice hoarse and his breathing unsteady, “has ever—given me—a blowjob—of her own accord.”

  She laughed nervously. “That sounds funny,” she said. “If you’re really as good as you say you are—”

  “Honey,” said Kellan, chuckling, “You’re gonna find out that when it comes to sex most men lie at least half the time and Tucker is more than most men.”

  She sighed. It wasn’t exactly a surprise—she’d pegged Tucker for a talker the moment she saw him. Still, it would have been nice to know that he was more than just pretty words. He did give you the time of your life, she thought. But afterward? Afterward, what then?

  “Come on,” Kellan said, holding open his sleeping bag. “I got room for you under here.”

  “Thanks,” she said, settling against him. She’d learned, at any rate, to like the way Kellan held her—firmly, gently, just one touch from setting off the electric tingles, and if she behaved nicely, he would make that one touch. Was this how addictions started? She didn’t care. It was nice to be wanted, even if it was only for a day.

  CHAPTER 13

  It was Truman who saw it first—the flashing yellow lights of the snowplows the next morning. “Woo hoo!” he hollered. “We can get outta here!”

  She pulled on her underwear and her bra again, dressed herself in the stockings and the dress of her waitressing uniform. Then she put on some coffee—if these were cowboys they’d appreciate a cup more than most. “Thanks,” said Kellan, when she came out with the cups. “We’ll shovel you out when we leave.”

  But he couldn’t hide his reluctance to leave. At first Shandy thought that maybe they were hungry. “I can make you boys pancakes or waffles,” she offered.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” said Tucker. “But we’re just lazy—ain’t two ways about it. We shovel enough shit in our lives. Don’t need to shovel no snow, either.”

  “The highway is clear,” Truman called. He was standing on one of the tables. “All we gotta do is get the truck out.”

  Kellan snorted. “That snow drift is ten-feet high,” he drawled.

  “Well, your truck got a V8 engine,” said Tucker.

  “So is that it, then?” she asked, her voice cutting through their transportation concerns

  “Honey,” said Kellan. “I tried to warn you—”

  “I know you did,” she said. “I just—can’t you—maybe promise me that you’ll come back? I mean, I know you guys are gonna be in and out. I don’t mind that. I just need to know that you still want me—”

  “My dear, sweet little Shandy,” murmured Tucker as he took her in his arms. “We’ll always want you.”

  “I promise—I’ll keep myself for you three—”

  “No,” Tucker said. “You go and find yourself love, you hear? You go and find yourself that man that will love you the way we showed you and you marry him and make fat babies together. We’ll come back until you do, okay? Promise. But we ain’t the guys to give you the kind of love you deserve.”

  She found herself nodding along, crying for some reason. She didn’t know why—she knew they wouldn’t be staying. She knew, too, that they’d probably forget about her in a fortnight. That she wasn’t a virgin anymore, so how could she be special, still? What have I done? Tucker hugged her again. “How ‘bout we set a date?” he asked. “We can do it in your place—it’s close by, ain’t it? Maybe get some toys, and another girl in on the action?”

  “Can you—” she sputtered, “—are you—serious?”

  “Never know if something’s gonna rock your world ‘til you try it,” he said, smiling and winking at her. “And frankly, I think you’d like it.”

  She coughed, not knowing what she could say to that. She was imagining herself with a girl, now, eating her pussy and sucking on her tits. The idea frightened her a bit—and yet, she had to confess, the thought of being with another woman made her curious. What would it be like to have that kind of power over someone?

  She shook her head. That wasn’t important, not now. The important thing was that they were coming back. “I’m off on Thursdays,” she said. “My place is above the dry-cleaner’s. There’s a doorbell.”

  “Which—” he began and then he realized what he was saying. “Right, silly question.” There was only one dry-cleaner’s in a town as small as Vernon. “I’ll go help Kellan,” he said. “If you can write down the name of the place before we leave, I’ll be much obliged to you, miss.”

  “Shady. My name is Shandy,” she said. “Don’t tell me you forgot it already.”

  He grinned at her: You’ll never know.

  “See you in two weeks, then,” she said.

  CHAPTER 14

  Two weeks later the blizzard was a distant memory but the streets were still walled on either side by a mountain of snow. She was working—it was Wednesday—and Marvin, her sketchy oversexed boss, swore that he would make her pay for the food that the three had eaten while they were stuck there. It didn’t matter to him that they’d paid for it. “You can’t do that,” she said, fear rising in her voice when she realized how he wanted her to repay him. “That’s sexual harassment.”

  “It’s getting what I’m owed,” he said, his voice petulant and mean. “So either you do what I want, or it’s a whole week of me telling every single driver that you are the skankiest piece of ass on this side of the Mississippi.”

  Her shift was over; still no signs of the three. She put her panties back on, wondering how many people had divined what she wasn’t wearing. That was the deal, fulfilling Marvin’s wet dream of having a sweet piece of bare ass prancing about his diner. She felt like throwing up.

  She needed Tucker’s touch more than ever, but as the parking lot remained bare she began to cry in despair. She’d been bracing for this but now that it happened it surprised her how much it still hurt. They weren’t coming back for her. Maybe they were coming back on
Thursday, she thought. Thursday was so far away—

  She managed to make the drive back to her apartment without getting into any major accidents. “Hey, everything all right?” asked Mr. Rye, the old man who owned the dry cleaners. He was locking up.

  She nodded, glum. “Well, chin up, girl,” said Mr. Rye. “It can only get better.”

  No, she thought. It all goes downhill from here.

  It wasn’t until she was on the walkway to her apartment when she noticed the familiar-looking pickup in the lot, and she wasn’t surprised when a blond woman wearing a corset, stockings, and not much else opened her door for her, saying, “Welcome home, Shandy.”

  Exclusive Excerpt and Cover Reveal: Boss Me Please!

  Excerpt

  Chapter 1: Grace

  At night, the office was a ghost town. During the day, however, it was a colorful ecosystem filled with inside jokes, efficiency and the delicious scent of coffee. As much as I liked being a part of that environment, I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed the darkness and silence a lot more. The office after hours was my domain, one I was happy to share with only one other person.

  I looked at the other size of the hall where the door to Fletcher’s office was. I wasn’t sure if it was because he loved what he did or because he hated going home, but either way, Fletcher Cox loved working late.

  The idea of spending a million dollars in an apartment you only ever used for sleep was one I couldn’t fully comprehend—probably because I wasn’t filthy rich like Fletcher—but that was my boss’s reality. He had the dream home, the sizable staff and every luxury in the world, and still, he spent every waking moment of every day sitting at his office desk chair. What a waste.

  “Grace.” His voice was muffled through the closed door, but it still made little butterflies flutter inside my stomach.

  Quickly, I got up and made my way to his office. Even though I knew he wanted me in there, I knocked before I opened the door and popped my head in.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Cox?”

  Fletcher stood next to the dark bookcase at the corner with a tumbler containing his usual three fingers of whiskey in his hand. It was that kind of night and, because I was weak and stupid, my lips curled into a happy smile.

  As per usual, he waved a hand at me. “Fletcher. Please. We’re not working anymore, are we?”

  He wasn’t working. I still was. As his personal assistant, I wouldn’t stop working until he left the office. I thought about reminding him of that, but my lust made me decide against it. Although I knew it was wrong and pointless, in late nights like these, when Fletcher was drinking and asked me to call him by his given name, I wanted him to forget that I was his employee. Things always got fun and exciting when he did.

  “I guess we’re not,” I said in an agreeable tone that made him smirk.

  He smiled back at me. “Good, Gracie.”

  The pet name made me pull in a sharp breath. I glanced down at the glass he was holding and knew it wasn’t his first of the night. Although he could hold his liquor better than most people I knew, his words were just a little t.oo sloppy around the edges and he was sweet to me. That only ever happened when he was hammered.

  Even though I knew it was the booze talking, I couldn’t help but swoon just a little. In all my twenty-six years, I had never met a man as ridiculously gorgeous as Fletcher Cox.

  His messy, light hair had recently started graying at the sides, but it looked good on him; like highlights from too much time in the sun. His square jaw was lightly dusted with a carefully manicured stubble that called your attention to his straight nose and those perfectly kissable lips. His fit body was draped in a navy, tailor-made suit that matched his eyes. He was everything I had always wanted but knew would never have—at least not when he was sober.

  “Why are you here so late?” he asked as he approached me.

  The smell of his cologne mixed with the pungent smell of alcohol made my head swim in the best possible way.

  “I’m here in case you needed something, sir.”

  His eyes slid down my body, and I could feel every part of it like he was touching me with his stare. The hungry intensity of his glance would have made any other employee turn around, run away and file a sexual harassment suit against him. However, I was no ordinary employee.

  I was the pathetic kind who had a crush on her boss and would do just about anything for even a second of his drunken attention. I literally hated myself for it, but I could never hate him.

  “In case I need something.” The words tumbled out of his mouth as an afterthought. He pulled a deep breath through his open lips and said, “This dress looks great on you.”

  Suddenly very aware of what I was wearing, I looked down at my royal blue dress. It was a simple wrap number that emphasized my curves, cleavage, and the dark chocolate hue of my skin. Although I had had it for years, this was the first time I actually appreciated how I looked in it.

  When I looked back up at Fletcher, I saw that his eyes were lingering in my cleavage. Without even thinking, I inflated my chest, pushing my boobs out in his direction. His lips curled up in appreciation.

  These were the nights I lived for. The ones when reality fell away, and it was just him and me. It was like everything was colored in a different light, and the possibilities were endless.

  Fletcher stepped even closer to me, and the smell of his cologne made me dizzy. There was something dark that lurked underneath his scent, something sexy and dangerous that only came out when he drank. Deep down, I knew I should have stepped away. It was the appropriate thing to do, after all. However, I didn’t. I wanted the inappropriate, the dangerous, the forbidden. But above all, I wanted him.

  Slowly and sexy as usual, Fletcher lifted his hand and ran a finger down my cheek. It was a seemingly innocent gesture, but we both knew it was anything but. His eyes and the touch itself were so full of lust it left a trail of fire in its wake.

  With my heart violently pounding in my chest, I closed my eyes and imagined that our circumstances were different. I pretended that he wasn’t twenty years my senior, a billionaire, the owner of the company I worked for, and completely out of my reach. No, in my mind he was an Adonis sent from the heavens to rescue me, and holy shit was I a woman in distress.

  As my eyes opened again, Fletcher’s face was so close to mine I could see the light freckles on his nose—the ones that only appeared after he went on a holiday to the Caribbean last year. His breath smelled like whiskey and something that reminded me of despair. The fingers of the hand he had on my cheek stroked my skin lightly, as our eyes locked in a heated gaze.

  Like so many times before, I closed my eyes and waited as his face inched closer and closer to mine. Immediately, I was sucked back into the bubble that we created whenever it was just the two of us alone in the office.

  Kissing Fletcher was like waking up when I’d been asleep for so long. Whenever our mouths connected, everything felt different, looked different, smelled different. It was as if life and all the heartbreak it entitles was finally worth it.

  As I waited for his lips to touch mine as I knew they eventually would, my mind bounced around, going to all the fantasies I’d created around him. In that short moment when everything seemed possible, I pictured Fletcher pushing me onto the desk. In my mind, I saw the stationary falling to the ground as he pushed my skirt up and kissed me like he meant it. I imagined the grit of his beard scratching the soft skin of my face as his hands explored my body. I ached for his touch so much that my back arched and my breath caught at that simple fantasy.

  Wetness pooled between my legs as I felt the warmth of his skin approaching my face. Then, just as his mouth grazed mine, the phone rang, and everything stopped. My delicious fantasy died, and Fletcher stepped away from me like he was flammable and I was fire.

  “I think you should get that,” he said, filling my body with dread.

  I swallowed hard as my body refused to return to the real world. Tears threatened
to fill my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. Regardless of what had just happened, I was at work and had to professional.

  Ignoring the wetness between my legs and the bulge on Fletcher’s pants, I walked to his desk and picked up the phone. To my revolt, it was a wrong number, and I couldn’t help but curse silently as I put the receiver back in its cradle.

  “Why don’t you go home?” Fletcher asked as I turned to looked at him. He looked uncomfortable and regretful as he always did after one of our moments. “It’s late, and you’ve been working hard.”

  Despite his politeness, the dismissal still hurt. I hated the fact that he didn’t want me here just as much as I hated myself for being in this position again. But, what was I going to say? He was still my boss, after all.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

  Yes, offer yourself to my pleasure, I imagined him saying. But instead, his real words were, “No, Miss Taylor. That will be all.”

  Miss Taylor. My shoulders sagged at the properness and distance of the term.

  “Very good, Mr. Cox. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I said as I turned and walked out of his office smoothing non-existent wrinkles from my skirt.

  I was at the door when he cleared his throat. Filled with the tiniest sliver of hope, I turned. His hand was on his buckle, and he tugged at his pants, adjusting the clear evidence of what had just happened between us. I couldn’t help but smile.

  After a long glance my way, his face darkened, and he asked, “Will you contact Ms. Bauer for me?”

  It was like a punch in the gut. With tears forming in my eyes, I nodded and closed the door behind me. My heart ached as I dialed the number I had called so often I knew it by heart and waited.

  “Hello?” Charlotte Bauer’s voice was like a purr.

  I cleared my throat. “This is Mr. Cox’s office.”

  “Hello, Grace.”