by Sawyer Belle
Her body was on fire with a sinful pleasure. He controlled the very flow of her blood with the tiniest flick of his tongue. She felt her mind losing command of her body. Even her lungs seemed to forget how to fill with air as every breath stopped short of her throat. She found herself arching her back to lift her breasts closer to him. Her hands played in his hair as pure ecstasy spiraled from the tips of her breasts down to her toes.
Finally, his tongue left her breast and traced a line up over her collar bone to her neck. He tugged lightly at the flesh with his lips as he slowly eased himself fully atop her. She could feel his shaft prodding at the lower reaches of her belly and a deep pulsing began even lower inside of her. When he took her mouth again, his hand reached down and settled in between her legs.
He rubbed the area slowly, awakening her most sensitive spot for the first time and she shuddered from the pleasure that rippled through her. She had no idea it was possible to feel like this. Her entire being was melting around his hand. She felt her legs part wider, unable to stop them even if she had wanted to.
Brent reached up and took her wrist in his hand, bringing her palm down to cover his throbbing arousal, encouraging her to touch him the same way. Mackenna panicked and went still, cursing her inexperience. She was terrified to displease him or do something wrong.
“Brent,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he answered breathlessly, lost in the pleasure she was giving him, in the pleasure he knew he was giving her. His body felt on the verge of exploding as he continued to nuzzle her neck and stroke her aching womanhood. She was beautiful. She was perfect. Their joining was so passionate, so fiery, so…
“I don’t know what to do,” Mackenna said as she still cupped his shaft. “I’ve never done this before.”
So wrong! Everything shattered in that moment for him. He stopped immediately and raised himself up. Of course she didn’t know what to do. She was a trusting virgin. A teenaged virgin. And he had just taken advantage of her.
“Jesus!” he breathed heavily. “What the hell am I doing?” He clambered off the bed, nearly tripping in the process, and backed away from her guiltily. “Oh my God. Mackenna, I am so sorry.”
Confused, she sat up in the bed, her breasts looking even larger as they fell forward and Brent spun around and put his back to her.
“Put your shirt on!” he ordered abruptly.
Wounded, Mackenna grabbed her shirt and raced past him into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. She collapsed onto the toilet and buried her face in her hands. Tears poured into her palms. She was humiliated. Absolutely, utterly humiliated. Brent didn’t want some naïve virgin. He wanted someone who knew what she was doing in bed. Someone like Kelly.
Her shoulders shook and she almost had to bite down on her fingers to keep from crying out loud. Brent was still on the other side of the door and she did not want him to know that she was sobbing. Within seconds she heard her apartment door slam shut and knew that he had gone. She released her voice and moaned pitifully into her hands.
How could she have been so stupid? How could she believe that Brent had feelings for her? He did nothing more than act like a man who was in bed with a woman. She knew he had been attracted to her both last night and this morning, but she saw it leave his eyes the second she revealed her ignorance. How would she ever face him again? She could never look at him without reliving that moment of rejection.
After what seemed like an hour of crying Mackenna finally settled her emotions long enough to wash her face. It did not help. Her eyes were red and puffy. She opened the bathroom door and peeked out, but she knew that he had not returned. She did not know whether to be relieved or heartbroken about that. When she looked to the spot on the floor where his duffel bag had been and saw that it was gone, too, heartbreak won. He had left her for good.
Brent stomped through the fast-melting snow, cursing himself both silently and aloud as he went. He carried his bag with him in the direction of the airport, not knowing exactly how to get there. Anger and self-disgust filled every ounce of his being. If it were at all possible, he would have beaten the living crap out of himself. That is surely what he would have done had some guy his age done the same thing to his kid-sister.
How could he have let himself get carried away like that? True, he was a hot-blooded man in the presence of a beautiful woman. True, he hadn’t had sex in more than a year. But Mackenna was not just some momentary fling to quench his dry spell. She was his best friend, and she was pure and innocent. She deserved better than him for her first time. She deserved someone that she loved, who loved her enough to commit to her.
Brent had been struck by how deeply he had felt for her, but in no way had it ever occurred to him that a relationship was possible. There was no point in even pondering the logistics of it. It simply wouldn’t work. He should have held onto that thought in the early morning hours, and not let his shaft do his thinking.
He was some friend. His whole motive had been to make her happy, to make her forget her troubles for the weekend, not add to them. Now, not only had he breached the very strict boundaries of friendships with members of the opposite sex, but he had walked out on her without a word. He stopped walking and cursed himself again. He had no idea what he would say to her, but she deserved some kind of explanation. He turned around and headed back toward her apartment.
Chapter 19
Mackenna had dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie, throwing her hair back into a ponytail. She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, studying the puffiness beneath her eyes when she heard the knock at the door. Her heart pounded against her chest and her eyes threatened to fill again. She knew it was him, but she didn’t want to answer.
When he continued to knock, guilt ate away at her conscience. He had no transportation. His flight didn’t leave until the next day. She would not make him find a place to stay. Regardless of her own embarrassment over the situation, she couldn’t turn him away. She searched through her makeup bag for something to cover the evidence of her tears, but she knew nothing could erase the obvious.
She went to the door and opened it, keeping her eyes on the ground. She focused on his boots as they stepped past her and into the apartment. He only walked a few steps before he dropped his bag and turned to her. They were both silent for so long that she was beginning to wish she had left him on the other side of the door.
“Mackenna,” he said but did not continue.
He waited for her to look up. When she did not, he repeated her name. Slowly, her face lifted and she looked at him with bloodshot, swollen eyes and splotchy cheeks and he hated himself even more.
“Ah, shit,” he said as his shoulders sagged and he rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. He shook his head at himself and opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off with a raised palm.
“Stop,” she said. “I can’t bear to talk about it. If we’re still friends, let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”
“I think we need to talk about it,” he countered.
“I don’t want to talk about it!” she said forcefully. “You said I could ask any one thing of you. Well, this is it.”
He stared silently at her for a long moment, knowing that she was furious with him for taking advantage of her. If she was still willing to be his friend, even after such a trespass, he would grant her wish. He nodded in agreement.
“Good,” she said with relief. After an awkward pause, she spoke again. “I’m assuming you haven’t changed your flight?”
“No, I haven’t.”
She nodded. “Then, I want to take you somewhere. Bring your bag.”
She grabbed her truck keys and he picked up his duffel and followed her out to her truck. He figured she was going to take him to a motel, which would be very wise and very deserved, but she took the first entrance onto the freeway instead. Maybe the airport, he thought, but she sped passed it without even a glance. The drive was long and awkwardly silent.
&n
bsp; A half an hour later, she turned off of the highway down a gravel road that was wet with yesterday’s slush. Ten minutes grated over it and she made another turn down a long and tree-rimmed drive. He surveyed the area as she came to a stop in front of a two-story house with white siding and dark blue shutters. A porch wrapped-around as far as he could see, and rows of white fences stretched away from it toward the shadows of the Sierras, corraling what had to be three to four dozen horses. She killed the engine and peered up through the windshield.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“This is home,” she answered and climbed out of the truck. “Grab your bag,” she told him as she fumbled with the keys on her ring for the one to the front door.
Once they were inside, the sound of erratic tapping clattered over the wood flooring and soon a hairy golden retriever rounded the corner and leapt excitedly toward them. Mackenna dropped to a knee and held her arms out wide to receive him.
“Chance!” she cooed excitedly. “How’s my good boy?!”
The dog pawed her and sent his tongue lapping over her throat and chin as she laughed and scratched him behind the ears and under his chin. Once the greeting was over she led Brent upstairs, Chance right at her side. She pointed out rooms and features, bits of furniture that were family heirlooms and photographs of six generations of her mother's family who had inherited this land from Mackenna's ancestors, Morgan and Lila Kelly. She ended the tour when she came to the end of the hall. There were two bedrooms opposite each other. She pointed to one door.
“This is my room.” She then went to the door opposite her room and opened it. “This is where you’ll sleep tonight.”
He followed her into the guest room. It was spacious, cozy and far finer than any room he’d ever owned. He set his bag on the end of the bed and thanked her. She shrugged.
“The folks aren’t due back for a few days. Their home is far more comfortable than my little studio. Plus, you can see where I grew up.”
And I’ll be safe in my own bed away from you, Brent thought to himself.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him. He shook his head.
“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place?”
She nodded and led them outside. The acreage rolling away from the house was sectioned off into six large pastures, all adjoining. At the far end of each pasture were large red barns housing stables that could be entered from either inside the paddock or from the walkway on the other side. There were ten stalls in each stable. Just beyond the last pasture fence was a river meandering along the base of the mountain.
As Mackenna led them down the walkway Chance pranced happily beside her, scurrying every now and then to bark at the horses, or a darting critter. She took Brent into each barn, introducing him to her mother’s overseer, employees, and of course the animals within. Each horse had a history and Mackenna knew every one of them. With each new introduction, the emotional morning was ebbing from her features, replaced with the concern and affection she felt for the animals.
He understood why she had brought him here. This was a healing place for more than just four-legged creatures and he saw the effects of it in her already. The animals, too, perked up in her presence, neighing and nuzzling affectionately. He knew she would make a great vet one day.
She picked up a bucket of oats as she led him into the last barn. The chestnut mare was already hanging her head over the wooden door to her stall. Chocolate-colored mane hung loosely over her eyes while the rest tumbled over her thick furry neck. She whinnied and waved her head in a succession of brisk nods. Mackenna laughed and pet her favorite.
“This,” she told Brent, her voice full of love, “is my little darlin’ Tip.” She tickled the only white spot on the tip of the horse’s snout to show how she earned her name.
Brent reached out and petted the horse as she chomped through the bucket Mackenna held out for her. She was a beautiful animal with thick and muscular legs.
“Does she belong to you or is she someone that your mother is rehabilitating?” he asked.
“She’s mine,” Mackenna answered. “She was sort of left on our doorstep.”
He made a face that showed he didn’t believe her.
“It’s true,” she said. “About five years ago, I was going out to do my chores and I saw her tied to one of the trees on the drive. No note or anything. At first, it didn’t seem like there was anything wrong with her. Her temperament was calm and cooperative. She had no obvious injuries. We decided to saddle her up and see how she rode. I had her lead rope tied to a rail tie. I put the blanket on her and the saddle without any problem. As soon as the cinch touched her belly through, she went crazy.
“She yanked back so violently that I almost got trampled. She reared and tried to pull away from the rail tie, but all of her jerking only tightened the knot that I had used. She ended up getting herself so twisted up that she fell onto her back with her neck turned almost completely around. I was afraid that her neck would snap as tight as it was tied to the rail. I tried to pull the knot free with my hands while she winced and whined, but I couldn’t get it out.
“I ended up running for a curry brush and basically sawed through the rope. Once her neck was free she was back on her feet, bucking and rearing until the saddle finally fell off. As soon as it was off, she was fine as can be, perfectly placid. We worked with her, mostly me, for almost a full year to no avail. She would never allow a cinch to touch her belly. I didn’t see any reason to try and force one on her. She’s obviously suffered some trauma to the belly, probably some jerk tightening it so she couldn’t breathe or something.”
“So, you’ve never ridden her?”
“Oh, I’ve ridden her, but just bareback, and just around here. That’s plenty. She enjoys it. I enjoy it. There’s no need to add anything. There’s no benefit to aggravating an old wound. Huh, Tip?” she asked the horse as she scratched between her ears.
Brent agreed on more than one level. Some wounds never heal. The more time he spent with Mackenna, the more he cared for her and the worse he felt for what he’d almost done to her in the morning. She was goodness and innocence and her genuine virtues made him feel even more sullied and flawed. This was where she flourished. This was where she belonged. He belonged in Montana. But he knew he could love her and so he had resolved to distance himself from their friendship as soon as he returned home.
They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening cooking in her parents’ home with Mackenna filling Brent’s ears with sweet childhood memories. He recounted some of his fonder ones, always omitting his father’s role in them. He spoke lovingly of his sister and mother. They joked and teased each other like the days of old, each doing their best to ignore the undercurrent of unresolved passion and apprehension as to where and how they would go on.
For Mackenna, the visit proved that her heart was well and truly lost to him. Even with her embarrassing admission in the bedroom and his hurtful reaction, she knew that she was still desperately in love with him. Barring his rejection of her, the weekend had been perfect and life had never felt as right as it had with him sharing it all with her, her bed, her parents’ house, her animals, her meals. She knew now that she was empty without him, and if he had asked it of her, she would have returned with him. She would have abandoned her degree, her plans, her dreams and followed him wherever he went.
But he didn’t ask. He simply said good-bye.
Chapter 20
Brent sat at the kitchen table and rubbed his tired eyes with dirty fingertips. He had slept a total of six hours in the last two days. It was calving season and they’d already lost four calves and two of the mothers. This was the time of year that was the busiest and most taxing. He was in need of a good, hot shower and a full night of perfect sleep, but he would get neither for a while yet. He was home to cook for his mom and snag an hour of sleep and then it was back to the ranch.
He leaned back in the chair and reached behind him to remove his wallet from his back pocket.
As he counted out the money he’d need to fill his tank up, a folded piece of thick paper fell out of it. He picked it up, knowing what it was, and unfolded it. Mackenna’s image smiled sweetly at him and a familiar ache thrummed in his chest.
It had been three weeks since he’d seen her and they’d had no communication since. True, he’d been busier than normal, but he knew that was not the reason that he’d stopped contacting her. He needed distance from her, emotional as well as physical. The attachment was too strong already. Plus, he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to contact her. She hadn’t reached out to him either. Maybe she wanted the distance as well.
As he studied the photograph, his weariness wore down his will and he gave in to the need to reconnect. He opened up the laptop and signed onto the Internet. She was not online so he opened up a new email. As he watched the cursor blinking at him with a background of blinding white, no words came to him and his fingers rested on the keys.
What did he want to tell her? Nothing of any consequence. He really just wanted to talk to her, to tell her about his day and ask her about hers. He wanted to perk up the way he did when he saw her name pop up on the instant messenger. He wanted her to tease him and make him laugh. He wanted to encourage her and support her after a rough day.
Even as he thought those thoughts, his fingers never translated them to the screen and before he could begin again, his mother called to him from down the hall. Brent chewed his bottom lip, still focusing on the unwritten email. Alora called again.
“Hang on, Ma!” he called back.
“Brent!” this time with more force and panic in her voice and his head snapped up. He shut the computer and took off at a run down the hall.
Mackenna signed onto the Internet and inhaled happily to see Brent’s name on the instant messenger, but before she could double-click on it to open the chat box, he signed off and her mouth fell with her heart. Her momentary jolt of happiness crumbled. He hadn’t wanted to talk to her. It was the first time she’d seen him on the Internet in the three weeks since he left and the fact that he would sign off just after she signed on cut her deeply.