by Joanna Blake
I pulled back my arm and threw one last punch.
Philipe slumped to the ground, laying in the gravel driveway like the piece of garbage that he was. I took a closer look. I am pretty sure he was drooling.
I spat on the ground near his head. It was red. Whoops. I realized I might be in worse shape than I thought. The pain started to set in. Wrenching, twisting pain. I could hear Francesca saying my name over and over again. She sounded so far away. I started to tilt. But I didn't fall. Strong arms held me up. I knew my brothers had caught me.
The next thing I knew I was lying in my bed, staring up at Francesca.
"Welcome back Cowboy."
Francesca
I held the ice pack against his cheek again. He was starting to come around. Daniel had scared the hell out of me when he'd nearly fallen like that.
He'd gotten the hell beaten out of him.
All because he'd been defending my honor.
I couldn't lie. It had made my heart race to see him like that. He was more than strong. He was a ferocious protector.
Even better, he was protecting me.
I liked it. A lot more than I would have imagined. I liked having my own knight in shining armor. Even if he was wearing beaten up old jeans and a cowboy hat. Actually, I was growing rather attached to that look...
"Hello beautiful."
Daniel's stunning golden eyes stared up at me. I smiled at him, holding a glass of water to his lips.
"Here, have a sip."
He drank, staring hungrily at me the whole time. When I put the glass aside he was still staring at me. There was a look of awe on his face.
"You're still here."
"Of course I am. Where else would I be?"
He shrugged, looking away. My breath caught in my throat. He'd thought I'd left him. That I would go with Philipe after everything that had passed between us these past few weeks. That I would abandon him.
I smiled, trying to make light of it. But it hurt.
"You thought I would leave with him? Really Daniel, credit me with better taste."
"No. I thought you might have left again though. I know you don't like being tied down."
I brushed his hair off his forehead.
"Maybe I don't mind as much as I thought I did."
His eyes flared at me and he reached for me. He winced as he pulled me in for a kiss. I kissed him back, running my hands over his strong chest and shoulders.
I sat up abruptly, feeling his arms go limp around me.
Daniel had passed out again.
He would be alright though. The doctor had already come to check his eyes for a concussion. We were supposed to 'keep an eye on him' but that was all. Obviously, I had volunteered to do so.
I grabbed the melted ice pack and empty pitcher of water and headed back to the kitchen.
I was in the hallway when I felt him grab me from behind. He spun me around so fast I nearly lost my balance. He looked calm but his eyes were seriously. Deadly serious.
He tilted his head, staring at me with those warm golden eyes.
"Where are you going?"
"To get you some more ice."
He grabbed my wrist and started pulling me backwards.
"I don't need any damn ice."
"Daniel! You're injured. Be careful!"
"I'm fine."
I was giggling helplessly as he propelled me back into the room, slamming the door behind him. I watched as he locked the door then walked over to the window. He opened it, never taking his eyes off of me.
I reached out my hand to stop him as he held his hand outside and let go.
He'd dropped the damn key into the bushes.
"Daniel!"
He smiled at me. Something about his face reminded me of a shark's face. It was predatory. And determined. He started walking towards me. I was suddenly very, very nervous.
"You aren't leaving me again."
"O-okay."
"I'm keeping you."
"Daniel, you sound crazy!"
He kept backing me up until I was pressed against the wall. There was nowhere left to run. And I didn't really want to run anyway. I wanted to stay.
"I am crazy."
His smile widened as he straddled me, running his hands over my body.
"And it's all your fault."
"My fault?"
He nodded slowly.
"You made me fall in love with you."
"Daniel..."
"No. You don't get to ignore me. I want to talk about the future."
He was touching me all over. Teasing me with all his skill. I could barely focus on what he was saying. All I heard was the word 'love.'
"Please, can't' we do this another time?"
He shook his head, his hands working their magic on my curves. Just touching me though my clothes. I was speechless, just feeling his touch was driving me wild.
"You are in love with me too. I know it."
I tried to look away, to avoid talking about this. But he wouldn't let me. He held my face in his hands.
"I'm going to make you say it."
I shuddered, knowing that he could break me down with his hands and mouth. He was smiling again. This time it was a smile of pure anticipation.
"And I'm not letting you out of this room until you admit it."
I watched as he unbuttoned my blouse. Then he kissed my chest, thumbing my nipples through my lace bra. They stood up for him immediately. He pulled one into his mouth and flicked his tongue against it, making me moan in pleasure. He pressed my legs apart, rubbing me through my riding pants. I moaned, feeling myself get instantly wet.
He didn't do anything else for the longest time. Just rubbed me softly through my clothes. I wanted more pressure. I wanted him. I was already on the edge as he kissed my throat and breasts, suckling my hard nipples again and again.
"Anything you want to tell me?"
I moaned and he laughed, pulling my bra down to feast on my breasts. He kept the same maddeningly slow pace as he stroked me between my legs. I was rocking my hips against his hand but it was futile. He was going to keep me on the edge like this for hours. He was going to make me say it.
It was going to be a very, very long night.
Two Weeks Later
Daniel
Francesca stood in my bedroom in an ivory silk dress, looking like a statue. Her golden hair was loose, her tawny skin glowing, her deep blue eyes subtly lined, and her lips a dark red. She looked good enough to eat. In fact, I'd been trying to take her to bed and gobble her up. But she wanted to talk.
Now of all times, she wanted to talk.
"It's been four weeks. Hand it over."
I grumbled as I pulled the chain over my head. Francesca may have admitted she loved me that night two weeks ago, but she was still a flight risk. The girl was as skittish as a foal.
The past few weeks had been bliss. We rode together. Read the paper in bed. Argued and discussed things. And had mind boggling sex. Lots and lots of sex.
I did not want the four weeks to be up. I did not want to give her the key. I wanted to marry her and make a baby with her. I still needed time to convince her. Or knock her up, whichever came first.
But a deal was a deal.
I dropped the key and the chain into her hands. She smiled at me coyly before walking to the door. I thought she was going to leave. Instead she bent over. It took me a moment to realize she had used the key to lock it.
My mouth was open as she turned to face me. She slipped the chain over her neck as she started to pull her clothes off. My jaw dropped as she stripped for me, making me hard in an instant.
"Now it's my turn to keep you locked inside."
Relief flooded my chest.
"You aren't leaving?"
She shook her head slowly.
"For how long?"
She shrugged.
"As long as you keep me satisfied."
I grinned.
"Woman, that is not going to be a problem."
"I damn well do."
She walked past me and lay down on the bed. I was still frozen in place as she crooked her finger at me.
"Prove it Cowboy."
I growled and climbed on top of her. I didn't need to be told twice. Like I said, I was not a stupid man.
<<<<>>>>
Ride With Me
Joanna Blake
Chapters
Chapter One - Dangerous
Chapter Two - Impetuous
Chapter Three - Scandalous
Chapter Four - Hellacious
Chapter Five - Flirtatious
Chapter Six - Cantankerous
Chapter Seven - Curious
Chapter Eight - Tumultuous
Chapter Nine - Adventurous
Chapter Ten - Spontaneous
Chapter Eleven - Circuitous
Chapter Twelve - Fortuitous
Six months later
Chapter One
Jake
I gripped the handlebars of my Harley, my calloused hands barely feeling the strain of riding all day. My heavily muscled forearms were tanned where they peeked out of my broken in black leather jacket. It was almost too warm for the jacket. I could have done with just a vest. But if I didn't wear it, I'd have to pack it.
And I liked to travel light.
Material possessions didn't mean anything to me. I had a handful of worn in clothes. A phone, my boots and my bike. That's it. I moved from place to place when the urge struck me.
And it struck often.
Nothing had any permanence in this life and that's the way I liked it. Easy come, easy go. I had a take it as it comes attitude when it came to clothes, personal belongings, friends and women.
Especially women.
In fact, I had just taken off from my last apartment when Suzy, one of the girls who hung around the bar I worked in, got a little too clingy. Hell, she got a lot too clingy. She'd started acting like she was my girlfriend.
I snorted. A girlfriend. That was a laugh. I didn't believe in relationships.
Hell, I didn't believe in much of anything.
A good beer, a good meal, a good lay. That and the feeling of my bike between my legs, hugging the road, riding like the wind. I liked to go fast.
I got a lot of traffic tickets. But that was okay. I could afford it.
Hell, the family lawyer was on retainer whether I used him or not. As aggravating as my family was at times, that lawyer had come in handy after a bar fight or twelve. Especially the time I broke a guys jaw for hitting a woman in the parking lot.
That was one fight I never regretted, no matter how much it cost my old man.
I had been at the end of my shift and enjoying a cold beer and a smoke out back when I heard it. A guy had been smack talking his woman. It had quickly progressed to him laying hands to her, roughing her up and more than just a little.
I had come to the lady's defense. Just doing the right thing. Nothing more, nothing less. But by the next morning, the lady had been singing a different tune. She'd said my attack was unprovoked, even saying that her bruises came from getting in the way of the scuffle.
That was the part the pissed me off. Her saying I had actually caused some of the marks. Accidentally of course. Even a scam artist wouldn't go so far as to say I hit a woman. Nobody on Earth would buy that.
I had a reputation, but not that kind of reputation.
From gratitude to gold digging in just a few hours.
I shouldn't have been surprised. Hell, even if I knew in advance what would happen, I would have done it anyway. The feeling of pounding in the face of a no good woman beater was worth it, and then some.
But still, the lady could have told the truth instead of trying to take advantage.
That's what always happened. As soon as they'd found out who I was, who my family was, the gold diggers started swinging their pick axes. Nothing made me more disgusted than someone who was after my family's money.
Nobody robbed the Delancey's. It was a point of pride, even for me, the black sheep who'd turned my back on it. All seven billion of it.
Oh yeah, I'd walked away from all that dough without a backward glance.
I didn't want a cent of it for myself. I was a firm believer in living off what you made with your hands. Of course, I was also a firm believer in working as little as possible.
That's why Jake Delancey, youngest son of the richest family in the state of Tennessee, was a bartender.
I smiled to myself.
Sometimes I wasn't even that. I'd been bar back more than once. I didn't really care one way or the other.
But, oooeeee, it sure pissed off my folks. And that was what I was after really, wasn't it? Punishing them for what they'd done to me.
What they'd believed.
I took the winding road through the expensive suburbs of Brentwood out to where the houses started to thin out and farms and ranches took over. As I crested a hill I could see it; Delancey Stables.
Home sweet home.
I nearly snorted. As if I'd called it home for more than a weekend since I'd been shipped off to military school at the tender age of twelve. I'd barely been back in all that time. But now I'd been summoned by my eldest brother Jackson. Not that I wasn't tempted to ignore such a high handed demand.
Just like I'd ignored all the other missives I'd gotten over the years.
This time it was different though.
This time, our Dad was sick. I wanted to be there, even if was just to argue with the old man. It would probably perk him up to yell at me a couple times.
I was practically penicillin.
Not to mention I was tired.
It was starting to feel like I'd run out of places to go. I wanted to come home, if only to remind myself why the hell I ran in the first place. And it would make the servants and my brother Daniel happy to see me at Christmas.
Home for the holidays.
What a joke.
Elle
"Damnit all to hell!"
I was bent over, picking up the shards of broken china. I was stacking clean plates between shifts. The plates were still scorching hot, which is why I'd dropped one in the first place.
"Tsk tsk."
I glanced up to see Shirley staring at me.
"Best not let Mr. Peabody hear you talk that way, girl. He'll dock your pay."
I stood up, brushing my hands off on the skirt of my uniform.
"Yeah well he didn't hear me now, did he? Sorry Shirl, I'm just having a day."
Shirley clucked her tongue sympathetically and bent down to help.
"Here, I'll hold the dust pan for you."
I nodded and grabbed the broom.
"Thanks Shirl. I don't know what I would do without you."
I meant it too. When I arrived in Nashville without a work visa, no one would hire me. It was a lucky break and a band that was looking for a singer on Craigslist that started all of this. Not only had I gotten a gig with a killer band, but everything else had fallen into place.
More or less.
Mark the bassist's sister had been looking for a roommate. That's how I met Shirley. Now we shared a sweet little apartment outside of Nashville. That led to befriending my roommate and eventually to landing this job.
They didn't even bother to check my papers when I applied. Shirl said that's because the Country Club relied on illegals to do so much of the grunt work on the golf course. And thank God for it too.
Otherwise God only knew what would I would be doing to survive. After the first week in the youth hostel I'd been relying on extra crackers and a cup of soup to make it through most days. Things had been dire to say the least.
I'd known coming to America was a risk. But as a singer, I'd been irresistibly drawn to Nashville. The center of the music industry. There was a reason they called it 'Music City U.S.A.'.
Not that I sang country. Not exactly. My style was a bit ed
gier, a bit more rock and roll. But my voice blended beautifully in the country style. And since I'd known my share of heartbreak, I could sing country with the best of them.
Life may have been hard but the music had always been there for me.
Born to a single mom in a poor as dirt part of the Irish countryside, I had grown up hard and fast. The former mining town had one restaurant, owned by my mother's brother, Uncle Dave. If it hadn't been for Uncle Dave, my mother and I wouldn't have been able to eat, let alone live. As it was, my mum was a waitress slash cook slash cleaning lady. I had worked alongside her since I could walk.
Good old fashioned childcare my mother had called it, with a wry wink. For no matter how hard life had gotten, my beautiful mother had never stopped smiling. Or singing while she worked. My mother's voice was one of the prettiest I'd ever heard.
I was still trying to live up to my mother's example. I did my best not to complain, work hard and to make the best of the cards I'd been dealt. And when I made it big, my mother would never have to work again. I would buy her a big house, with a maid and a cook. And she could live anywhere she wanted in the whole world.
Hopefully somewhere near me. The French Countryside... or Los Angeles... or even here in Nashville. In one of those big fancy houses that lined to roads around the country club.
Anything was possible as my mother liked to say. I believed it too. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here, risking my meager savings on a plane ticket and a dream.
I just had to get heard by the right people and it would happen. I knew it. With my voice and drive, I knew it was only a matter of time.
Looking like a blow up doll didn't hurt either.
Huge green eyes and dark hair marked me as Irish for anyone who looked. And plenty did. My skin was pale as milk and unmarred, other than a tattoo high on my right hip. My long dark hair and plentiful curves meant that I was forever fighting off the unwanted advances of men.
As if I had time for the opposite sex.