Falling For A Cowboy

by Anne Carrole

  He kissed his way down the silky skin of her throat, her flowery scent tickling his nose. He tongued between her breasts and resisted the desire to feast on them again. He showered kisses down past the ribs rippling under tanned skin and mouthed the slight crater of her navel.

  “Clay?” She shifted under him as he aligned his body lower. His legs were hanging over the foot of the bed, his stomach rested between her knees.

  “Humm…” He muttered in a half-answer as he swirled his tongue over those pale curls, his hands holding her hips like an offering. To him they surely were.

  “What are you…”

  Her voice trailed off as he laved her. Her salty, sweet taste was like heavenly elixir.

  “I’ve never…no one has ever…”

  He raised his head. Her stomach was heaving, her cheeks were crimson and her body tense. Her former lover had a lot to answer for.

  “Honey, don’t deny me, now,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could muster given the circumstances. “I’ve wanted to taste you since…well pretty much since we met.” He craned his neck to see her better. She had propped up on her elbows. Her face was flushed and her eyelids heavy. She looked like she’d been drugged. That it was by him gave him no small measure of pleasure. “Just relax and let me take you someplace you may not have been before. Will you do that? I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  She didn’t answer but sank back into the mattress. Her body relaxed and her breathing calmed.

  He lifted her hips, spread her thighs wider, and placed his mouth over her. His chin dipped into her opening and his tongue swirled over the nubbin in a set tempo, then flicked at random moments. Each time he flicked she moaned. He drew on her lightly and she writhed under him. When he began flicking her again, her moaning increased, her breathing grew rapid, and she elevated her hips as if to seek more. He increased the rhythm in concert with her breathing. She was near if she would let herself go. He stepped it up.

  She cried out, his name ringing loud in the still air. From outside the door he heard a small yip. Her body shook as he lowered her gently onto the mattress. He’d love to come into her now, feel the clenching and unclenching of her release, but if this was her first time, she’d need a moment to recover. Instead he slid up next to her, gathered her in his arms, and pressed her close. Her body was warm, her skin dew-kissed, and her muscles relaxed.

  She felt so slight, like he was holding a delicate crystal vessel. She hid her head in his bare shoulder, wrapped her slim arms around him, and squeezed herself against him. He was hard, heavy, and ready to take her.

  “That was incredible.” Her breath tickled his skin.

  He wanted to ask if it was her first orgasm, but he knew it was his ego talking. “We’re just getting started, honey.”

  She pulled back to stare at him. Her hand slipped between them. Her delicate fingers caressed his length. “I know.”

  He went even harder.

  Chapter Eight

  Dusty slid her hand up and down his velvety smooth shaft while her heart pounded hard against her chest. He’d just consumed her, sent her up in flames, and they were just getting started? This wasn’t anything like what she’d experienced before.

  She’d wondered why Tara Lynn loved sex so much. Now she knew.

  Looking into Clay’s eyes as he lay beside her caused her heart to flip. She saw longing and desire in those blue depths, along with a clenched jaw and rigid smile. She knew he was fighting for control. She stroked her thumb over the moist tip of him. His eyelids fluttered shut as a low moan escaped his open lips.

  She longed to check out the hard, thick length she was stroking but she was too embarrassed. Bradley hadn’t been built anything like this. It made her wonder if she’d be able to accommodate Clay.

  She felt his hot breath as he nuzzled her neck. “You ready for me, honey? Because if you keep stroking me like that it’s going to be all over.” He kissed her throat.

  “I’ll try.”

  “You’ll try?” he muttered against her skin.

  She pulled back to look at him. His eyelids were half-closed, his pupils dark, but the smile on his face had her insides dancing.

  “You’re…you’re big Clay. I’m not.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as his grin broadened. “Honey, I’ll fit. Long as you’re wet enough.” He pushed her onto the mattress. “Got to put the cowboy hat on.”

  He reached for a foil wrapper he must have placed on her bedside table. She wished she felt confident enough to help him but he seemed more than capable, slipping it on over his engorged member with ease. She’d bet they were magnums.

  Once the condom was in place, he stretched out over her and his hand pushed between her thighs. With her muscles turned to jelly, she’d no notion of resisting him. His fingers probed her before she felt them enter. He stroked her, his fingers moving in and out, sending wonderful little tremors through her, and causing moisture between her thighs. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she gave way to the erotically hypnotic sensations.

  “That’s it. Enjoy it, honey,” he crooned against her ear.

  With the next breath she felt the weight of his body on her. Instinctively, she opened her legs to accommodate him and he answered the invitation, nestling at her opening.

  “Open your eyes, Dusty. I want you to look at me when I come into you.” His voice was husky and gritty, like sandpaper scratching rock.

  She did as he asked. His flushed and handsome face loomed before her. He held his features tight as he pushed against her with a gentle thrust. He’d moved just inside of her.

  “More.” She whispered her need.

  She watched as his hands grasped her hips and he leaned back. His form was a shadow in the gray light, an outline of broad shoulders, muscled arms, and a torso that narrowed to the spot where he joined with her. He thrust his shaft into her again, filling more of her and then he slowly pulled back out, creating wonderful friction. He bent over and nipped her neck before his next thrust sent him deeper. The electrifying tremor that shot through her seemed to flip on all her nerve endings, amplifying the jolt. Again he pulled out and thrust further in. Out, in, out, in. The strokes were long and leisurely eliciting quiver upon quiver until she was awash in sensation.

  “You’re tight honey. Nice and tight.”

  She hoped that was a good thing. From the bliss on his face, she figured it was.

  He slipped an arm under each of her knees as he worked her, pushing her thighs back against her stomach. Suddenly the sensations he’d been creating were magnified. In, out, in, out, his hips pumped in a rhythm as measured as a line of music.

  Oh God.

  He chuckled.

  She must have said the words out loud. Through the slits of her lids, she saw him throw his head back and close his eyes as he moved his hips in pace with her breathing. It was building again. That delicious tension from before was building. He moved slightly faster as he pushed against her thighs. In, out, in, out. The luscious friction wound her tighter and tighter. She arched, her body tensed.

  “Let it go, honey,” Clay’s husky voice coaxed. “Let it go.”

  He pumped faster—once, twice, three times, and she shattered. While her muscles pulsated, he pumped harder, again and again. “Dusty,” he called, as he tensed. Then collapsed on top of her.

  The hard weight of his body felt so good, so warm, and so protective. Tears fell on her cheeks and she nuzzled against his bare chest to hide them. She didn’t know why she was crying. She was happy, ecstatic, and wonderfully sated.

  “Did I hurt you?” Clay was looking down on her, a frown on his face.

  She shook her head and wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m happy.”

  He smiled and the sparks in his eyes danced. “So am I darling, so am I.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning Dusty had started breakfast by the time he came down. Dressed in fresh jeans and a
plaid shirt with pearl snaps, he looked every inch a cowboy. A cowboy with a sexy smile and the body to deliver.

  Earlier, he’d threatened to join her in the shower. Given that they’d just concluded another round of love-making, she’d begged him for mercy. As incredible as it had been, and it had been incredible, she needed time to recuperate, time to sort out her feelings. He’d been true to his promise and taken her someplace she’d never been before. And now she feared her heart had gone along too.

  When she’d been dating Bradley, their relationship had been comfortable. No heart-pounding moments, just steady contentment. And sex had been a way of feeling closer, not necessarily to give and get pleasure. With Clay she’d achieved both intimacy and gratification at a magnitude she’d never even imagined.

  Was this just afterglow or was this real? She feared it was real. If it was, she’d likely set herself up for incredible heartbreak—deeper and broader than anything that had happened before. Or incredible happiness, a small voice of hope countered.

  Clay sauntered over to where she stood at the stainless steel stove, Whitey following on his heels. Clay growled as he kissed her throat and then pecked her cheek. The scent of sandalwood followed him. It was a sweet peck, and she returned it.

  His gaze softened, taking away some of the awkwardness she felt.

  “I’ve made bacon, the home fries are almost done, and the eggs will be coming up in a minute. Scrambled or once over?”

  He smiled, a full faced smile. “Scrambled. I kind of like this. Feels nice and homey. Can I help?”

  She smiled back. “No. Everything’s good. Just sit right down at the table and I’ll get your coffee.”

  As she busied getting his coffee from the coffee maker, she heard the scrape of his chair on the tile floor. When she turned back he was seated with his legs stretched out.

  “Service, too?” he asked.

  “With a smile,” she said, and set the steaming hot cup before him. “Milk and sugar?”

  “I take mine black, but I’d like a little sugar. From you.” The blue of his eyes deepened. “Come here.” He opened up his arms.

  After last night she had no embarrassment about kissing him. He pushed back in the chair and spread his thighs. She came and stood between those powerful limbs, rested her hands on his shoulders and stared into those baby-blues. What would it be like to stare into them on a regular basis?

  “I intend to earn your trust, Dusty. I want more. From you.”

  Something deep inside of her let go. She believed him. She was just going to say so when an acrid smell greeted her nose. “The fries!”

  Gratefully, they weren’t too burned and she was able to get the eggs finished without setting off the smoke detector. Sitting across from Clay, eating their breakfast together, it wasn’t hard to imagine them as a couple. But she would need to know a lot more about him first.

  “This is good, honey.” He gave her a wink as he inhaled more food. “I like my ‘taters well-done.”

  She looked down at the mix of brown and blackened potatoes and cringed. “They’re a little on the crisp side.” She squirted some ketchup over them.

  He dropped a piece of bacon in Whitey’s direction. The dog gobbled it up in one bite.

  “We don’t really feed him table food.” She sounded like her mother.

  “Hard to resist those button eyes. I was just trying to make up to him for taking his place last night in your bed.” He gave her another wink.

  Her stomach fluttered. But this was no time to get distracted. If he wanted a relationship with her, there were things she was curious about. “Clay, can I ask you some questions. Some personal questions?”

  He stopped, fork in mid air, and gave her a long look. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You said you were here to earn money. If it’s not to get to the NFR, can I ask for what?”

  Setting down the fork, he leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m not a rodeo rider—but I’m not exactly a cowhand either.”

  She raised her eyebrows. Possibilities swirled in her head. “What exactly are you?”

  “I’m part owner of a ranch, with my mother. It’s our family spread. When Pa died I inherited forty-nine percent.”

  “A rancher?” Rancher meant prosperous and someone tied to a place. That ember of hope was sparking. “What kind of ranch?”

  “It’s a cattle ranch, but with the price of beef and all the issues with raising cattle, we’re struggling with our modest spread. I’m considering raising and training cutting horses instead.”

  “Like Sweet Water?” Sweet Water Ranch had a long history and a sterling reputation.

  He chuckled and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. “Well, maybe by the time my kids are running it we can say like Sweet Water. For now, I’m just trying to raise stud fees.”

  “You can’t afford stud fees?” Maybe not so prosperous.

  “Well, my mama…” He looked up at her from under his eyebrows, “She isn’t as convinced as I am about all this. I’m determined to raise the money myself. I own a fine mare with good bloodlines from Cogdell stock and I’m hoping to breed her to a prize-winning stallion from Sweet Water.”

  “Sundancer?” He was the finest at the ranch.

  Clay nodded. “He’s the one.”

  And very expensive. “You can’t convince your mother, huh?”

  “Kate Tanner’s a smart woman but change comes hard to her. She’s from the “show me” state of mind. She’s got to see something before she’s going to embrace it. In the meantime, I’m also looking into going organic. Costs more but you charge more for your beef and for a small outfit like us, the numbers could work out.”

  Dusty rested her back against the chair. She was impressed. Clay was full of ideas. Full of dreams. But it sounded like he wasn’t just dreaming, he was doing something about them. She had to admire that. From working at Sweet Water in the summers, she knew what he planned would take a lot. Even Sweet Water, with its storied reputation, had fallen on hard times before Del Hanover had come along, though that had more to do with outside forces than the nature of the ranch.

  “So you’re really not a rodeo cowboy?”

  He shook his head as he took a large forkful of fries. “Disappointed?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “No.”

  “Good. Because I’m afraid you’ve let your breakfast get cold.”

  After nuking her breakfast for thirty seconds in the microwave, she sat back down. He’d finished and was sipping his coffee, apparently watching her every move.

  “How about you? Like, what if you got a job in Fort Davis. Would you move down there? It’s not all that far from Marfa.”

  That sounded an awful lot like planning for a future. If she didn’t watch it, that spark of hope might ignite something. “I’d consider it.”

  He shot her a slow and sexy grin. “Is that what you want, to be a teacher?”

  She loved kids, enjoyed teaching. But what she really loved were horses, which was the reason she worked the ranch in the summers. Maybe it was a legacy from her father. Maybe he had left her that after all. Pride swelled inside of her. Not for herself but, for the first time, it was for her father.

  But she didn’t feel comfortable enough to confess her dream to train horses, yet. Besides, what she really wanted would probably be enough to send him running. No time like the present to find out. “I like teaching, but I want more.”

  “You do?”

  “I want it all, Clay. Home, family.”

  “Kids?”

  She nodded—especially kids. “And a man who comes home at night.”

  “Can’t imagine any man not coming home to you, sweetheart.” He gave her a wink.

  Why did he have to be so appealing? It was no wonder women pulled back the covers for him. Just like she had done. “And you, what do you want?”

  “Besides more time with you? I don’t know. I’m just in the process of finding that out. But I’m looking in the same direct
ion as you are.”

  “Really?”

  He chuckled. “I hear that disbelief in your voice. I don’t blame you. You had me pegged pretty accurately. I have been a player. A one-night stand kind of guy. But maybe that’s because I hadn’t found the right woman.” His gaze traveled along her body as if to make sure she had no doubt as to his meaning.

  “You don’t even know me, Clay.”

  “Funny, I feel like I do. I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” He reached a hand across the table and settled it over hers. “And I’m coming back, darling, next weekend, to find out even more. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter Ten

  The sun beat down on Dusty’s back as she sat on the blistering hot seat at the only free table near the edge of the hospitality tent. Thank goodness her scrap of a black skirt covered enough to keep the back of her legs from getting burned. A bead of sweat channeled down between her breasts. Small but perky breasts, Clay had said. She liked the idea of perky. Apparently, so did Clay because he’d kept his promise. He’d returned the last two weekends.

  Her mother had still been away and they’d spent those Friday nights, Saturday mornings, and Saturday nights, after the rodeo, in bed. He’d only placed third the first weekend and had gotten bucked off the second weekend, but he’d told her he’d had the best rides of his life. So had she.

  A smile slipped past her lips as she remembered their long, slow lovemaking. He’d made her feel sexy and desirable, shown her all that was possible between a man and woman. She hadn’t been able to concentrate during the week, hadn’t even worked on getting more teaching interviews, had barely been able to keep on task at the barn. She wasn’t hungry, she wasn’t tired, and she wasn’t interested in doing anything but thinking—day and night—about him.

  They’d traded opinions and ideas on training horses, shared their love of the Old West, and swapped names of southern blues bands they followed. She’d told him her real name, Deanna. He’d said he couldn’t think of her as anything but Dusty, which was fine by her.