Texas Longing (A New Adult Cowboy Romance): Prequel to Texas Temptation

by Shay Warner

  How could I disobey a command like that, when I was enjoying feeling how hot and strong the shaft in my hand was? I was pleased to have made him so hard, pleased to have him ready and willing to fuck my mouth. Having Mike desire me turned me on, even if he got a little bossy in bed.

  Or, well, in the entryway, I thought, and laughed around his cock.

  After I teased him for a few moments, just the tip of his cock in my mouth as I flicked my tongue against the underside, I started bobbing my head a little bit, spreading my saliva along his length, my hand and my mouth meeting in the middle.

  I tried to take him too deeply into my mouth and choked a little.

  "Easy," he said. His voice, already deep, was even lower than normal, with that edge of raspiness that turned my knees to jelly. "Don't hurt yourself, now."

  I opened my eyes and looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He was smiling at me and I smiled back around his thick member.

  Shutting my eyes, I returned to my task, focusing on the softness of his skin and the musky smell of him, the comforting warmth of his body. I could feel tingles in my nipples and below, a fire burning that I didn't know how to put out.

  "I'm going to put my hand on your head, okay, Laura?" he asked.

  I nodded, still focusing on his cock and the feelings it was stirring in me.

  His hand wrapped around the base of my skull and tangled into my hair, careful not to pull the strands.

  He didn't force his cock deeper into my mouth, but he did apply a gentle pressure, speeding up my pace and setting the rhythm that worked for him.

  It was pleasant, not to have to think about how to suck his cock, to simply enjoy the feelings and have him set the rhythm.

  I reached down with one hand and stroked myself through my sundress in an effort to relieve the ache that was building there.

  He stopped and took his hand off of the back of my head, pulling his cock slowly out of my mouth.

  "Do you need some attention?" he asked, with a slow smile.

  “I wouldn't say no to that,” I said.

  He leaned down and took my hand, pulling me up. I kicked my shoes off into the corner and headed up the stairs to the bedroom, taking two or three steps at a time, running and laughing until I got to his bedroom.

  His bed had a thick, wonderfully soft, eggplant-colored comforter on it. I pulled it back and tossed it to the end of the bed before I unzipped my sundress and stepped out of it, leaving it pooled by the side of the bed. Everything else I was wearing soon joined the little pile, and I climbed, bare naked, into his bed.

  Mike was just behind me, naked almost as quickly – although he laid his clothing over a chair in the corner – and in bed and all over me almost as soon as he was in the room.

  He cupped my breasts in both hands, released them, and bent over to lick and nip at my nipples. Every touch inflamed my desire, and I continued to writhe under him.

  After giving my nipples a few minutes of attention, he reached down and pulled my jeans and my thong off, leaving me bare before him.

  He spread my legs easily and knelt between them, running one finger down in a slow path from my belly button down between my legs, making a frustrating detour around my clit, and finding my dripping entrance. He pushed his finger inside, experimentally, and found that it slid easily in as deep as it could go. He added another finger, stretching me pleasantly as I thrust against his hand, trying for more stimulation.

  With his other hand, he started to rub slow circles around my clit, teasing me with little waves of pleasure as he inserted another finger inside me, taking great care to stretch my body slowly and gently.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I nodded and spread my legs for him to have easier access.

  As I pulled him close, we joined in a fast rhythm, hard and desperate until I crossed the edge and cried out in pleasure.

  He sped up, slightly, and came in a few short, hard strokes.

  We lay side by side, spent and sated, basking in the glow of our orgasms. It took me a moment to get my breath back, and when I did I curled on my side to look at him, enjoy the sight of his naked form, trail my fingers down his chest.

  Mike smiled lazily at me.

  “The ice cream is melting,” he said.

  I laughed. “Where did it end up, anyways?”

  “Still in the hallway,” he said.

  “I'll take care of it,” I said. I got up slowly and padded down the stairs, grabbing both of the bags of food and putting them away. I carefully wrote the contents and date on the leftovers with a permanent marker I found in his kitchen drawers before I put them in the near-empty fridge.

  “You look good, naked in my kitchen,” Mike said, standing in the entryway.

  I gestured to the fridge. “Leftovers and hot sauce. You don't cook a lot, do you?”

  He shrugged, unsmiling. “Why should I? I can afford to eat whatever I want and never dirty a pan.”

  I looked at the rack of gleaming stainless steel cookware above his stove. “You cooked for me on one of our first dates,” I said. “I thought you might enjoy it.”

  “You did your hair on our first dates,” he said. “I guess we were both still trying to impress each other,” he added with a toothy grin.

  I didn't know what to say to that, so I opened the freezer door and took out the ice cream I'd chosen.

  “Want a snack?” I asked.

  “Sure, why not,” he said. “I paid for it, might as well eat it.”

  “I would have bought it,” I said, a little stung. I'd offered to pay for things all the time when we had started dating, but he told me that banks paid a hell of a lot more than the USDA, and I should save my money, he was happy to treat me.

  “I know you would have,” he said. “It's here, I mean. Let's go ahead and eat it.”

  His kitchen stools weren't particularly comfortable, but I didn't suggest eating in front of the television at his place. His living room was immaculate, as perfectly-decorated as I had vaguely intended to make my apartment when I first moved in, and I was afraid that I'd get ice cream on his couch and stain it irreparably.

  Scrubbing at a sofa and apologizing didn't seem like a good cap to the evening, so I figured that eating in the kitchen was the safer option.

  We spooned the ice cream into bowls and ate quietly, enjoying each other's company. The detour we'd made to have sex had left the ice cream soft and perfect to eat, and I hummed in appreciation of the treat. I didn't usually splurge on the fancy brand of gelato he chose, it made my favorite flavor – mint chocolate chip – even better.

  “Have you ever had any pets?” I asked suddenly. I wanted a dog, but it wasn't fair to keep one in an apartment with the long hours I worked, so I didn't really think about getting one any time soon.

  “Nah,” he said. “Too much mess. I like the mess in my house to be made by pretty girls,” he added, winking at me and grinning.

  Early the next week, I finally ran out of pasta and chicken. After a long day at work, I went to the store to buy something else to eat.

  I felt very virtuous, buying food to actually cook, instead of relying on pizza.

  With spinach and carrots already in my cart, I headed for the meat section. It was time for a change from chicken. I rummaged through the pork, but when I turned to put a plastic-wrapped cut of meat in my cart, I saw something odd.

  Normally I wouldn't take a second glance at a man and a woman walking through the grocery aisles together, but this was different. The man at the far end of the store looked familiar, looked like Mike.

  I tried to watch them for a minute without being creepy.

  A few glances showed the man, who I was more and more sure was Mike, wrapping an arm aroung the woman.

  He didn't mention that his sister was coming into town, but he didn't mention a lot of things like that. It wouldn't be unlike him for it to slip his mind. He'd said a few times that he thought that she and I would get along.

  I turned my cart and
headed over to introduce myself.

  Just then, the man I was watching turned, so that I could see that it really was my boyfriend.

  Unfortunately, he turned so that I could see that it was him kissing another girl, one who looked nothing like him, and I sure hope wasn't his sister. He kissed her with all the passion and devotion he'd been showing me.

  Mike was cheating on me.

  I considered walking over there. I considered confronting him and the girl and accusing them both of being homewreckers, loudly and publicly.

  Unfortunately, they weren't. What, exactly, were they wrecking beyond the expensive dinners and great sex? Mike and I didn't have a home or life together to destroy. We didn't have deep conversations I'd miss and long for.

  We ate fancy food and we had sex.

  I wasn't even as sad as I should be to see him with another woman. I was hurt, and jealous, and it stung like hell, but I wasn't sad.

  Even more than that, that's just not who I was. I felt like it should be, like I should march over there and show him what he was missing, make him regret being unfaithful to me, but the idea of causing a scene like that made me squirm with embarrassment.

  I turned the cart around and put the groceries away, one by one, in the order I'd selected them. I worked quickly and looked down at my cart as much as possible.

  When I saw a flash of Mike's jacket, I wheeled the cart and went in the opposite direction.

  I put my cart away and I walked out of the store.

  It wasn't until I'd gotten in my car, started the engine, and drove to the other end of the parking lot and stopped it in a shady, secluded spot, that I burst into tears.

  Mike called me the next day on my lunch break. I saw his number flash on my phone, and I wondered whether he had seen me and was calling to apologize.

  Or, even better, maybe he hadn't seen me, but was calling to apologize anyways. Perhaps he just kissed her, and then woke up and realized what he had done, and wanted to make it right.

  “With another pint of mint chocolate chip forgiveness?” I heard Karen's voice in my head.

  I knew that my imaginary version of Karen had a point.

  I answered, anyways.

  “Hey, sugar,” he said. His voice was as cheerful as it had been every other time he called me.

  How many times had he cheated on me, and called me, just this pleasant and friendly?

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Your voice is about as warm as ice in January,” he teased. “What's wrong?”

  I couldn't even answer before he interruped me.

  “Oh, before I forget – are you free Friday night? I have tickets to see Dirty Dancing, the musical is coming to town,” he said.

  “No, I don't think I am,” I said. “I don't think that I want to go out with you again.”

  I was proud of how calm my voice sounded.

  “Why not?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

  “Well, the woman I saw you kissing in the grocery store last night might have something to do with it,” I snapped.

  I guess I couldn't remain calm about it forever.

  He was silent for a moment.

  “Not going to bother denying it? Say that I saw someone else? Say that you'd never cheat on me?” I asked.

  My voice caught a little as I added “Say that you love me?”

  At that, he did the last thing I expected.

  He laughed.

  “Why would I bother falling in love with you?” he asked. “A self-centered workaholic who can't carry on a conversation to save her life?”

  I gasped.

  It felt like he'd punched me in the stomach. I wanted to throw up everything I'd eaten that day.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You,” he said. “I'm talking about you. As always. It's all you ever want to talk about. Your job, your coworkers, your promotion, your sexist bosses.”

  “That's not true,” I said. “You never answered many of the questions I asked you. I guess now I know why, you couldn't keep your lies straight between me and... and... whoever that was last night.”

  “Lisa,” he supplied.

  “Right, you never bothered making up stories for me and for Lisa,” I said.

  “It is true, though. You love your job too much, Laura. You haven't left room for anything alive, anyone to make you human.”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,” I yelled. “Why the hell would you say something like that?”

  “Getting louder doesn't make what you say more accurate,” he said, in a maddeningly calm voice.

  What a cold man. What a cold, petty, unpleasant man. How could I have spent so much time with him?

  He answered the question I didn't know I asked.

  “You liked being my girlfriend,” he said. “You liked the attention, the sex, the restaurants you couldn't afford. You don't have to give all that up. I'll still take you out this Friday. You'd like Dirty Dancing, I think.”

  “And then go to your apartment and have sex with you?” I asked.

  “Pretty much,” he said.

  In that moment, I missed the phones my mother and grandmother had had in their house when I was growing up. If I could have slammed that phone on a wall, I would have done it.

  Unfortunately, all I could do was press 'End Call,' gently, with an unsatisfying little beep.

  He didn't even bother to call me back.

  I told Karen all about it the next day over our lunch break, at the little cafe where she'd told me she was pregnant.

  “You told me he was too flirty,” I said, miserably. “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you.”

  “I'm sorry I was right,” she said. She reached across to squeeze my hand, and smiled at me in a sympathetic way. “Are you going to date someone else? Charlie at the office is pretty hot, and he's asked about you a few times.”

  “No way,” I said. “I don't think I'm up to dating anyone else for a while. Maybe a year or two. I don't know if I can trust my own judgement after failing so badly.”

  Karen grinned.

  “Oh, you say that now,” she said. “I bet some long, tall drink of water is going to sweep you off your feet.”

  If you enjoyed Texas Longing, continue Laura’s story in

  Texas Temptation

  by Shay Warner

  Laura Flint is a USDA inspector who longs to be taken seriously in the career she's worked so hard to get. She hasn't let romance get in the way for over a year. When she arrives on the Richards ranch, though, she can't resist her attraction to the owner, Carl Richards. They fall quickly into a relationship of passion and longing.

  But when their work conflicts more and more with their relationship, something has to give. Carl disapproves of her boss and his possibly-shady ways, and Laura wants Carl to step back from the ranch a little and learn to let someone else shoulder some of the load.

  Will Laura be able to choose between her job and Carl? Will she give up the life she's made for herself for a life by his side?