“Fuck, honey.” I can feel her wetness growing, finally coating my fingers like she always does, and I spread it to her clit.
I let her nipple go with a soft pop and lift up to see her face. Slowly, I circle her clit, watching as she begins to keen for me. Her brows pull together, and she’s muttering, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over. I move faster, knowing what she needs to get there but drawing it out, giving her as much distraction and peace as I can.
It may not be right, probably some degree of gross misconduct to fuck her on the night of her father’s funeral, but I get it. It’s cleansing, a rain of pleasure to wash the hurt away, even if it’s only for a moment.
“Luke, please,” she begs.
I move over her, covering her with my body as she spreads her legs for me. One hand on either side of her head, I press into her slowly as I stare into her eyes, not wanting to add to her pain. I begin to move, inch by inch, retreating and then filling her as she grips me so tightly. Her lashes flutter as her eyes roll back in her head.
“Nu-uh, keep your eyes open. Look at me, Shay. Stay here with me, honey, in this moment right here,” I tell her, and her eyes pop open. They’re bloodshot, but I can see my woman in their depths, the strength she always shows falling away for me. Only for me. With me, she’s vulnerable, she’s soft, and I’ll protect that sweet innocence inside her at all costs.
Even if it’s by giving her a rough fucking that will take her mind off everything outside these four walls and our writhing bodies.
I stroke into her harder, my hips slamming into hers as I keep the slow pace that will drive her wild with need. Each thrust damn near shoves her up the bed, and she lets go of the grip she has on my back to press her hands to the headboard above her for leverage. The air hits my skin, and I hiss, feeling the raw spots where I know she’s left half-moon-shaped marks along my spine.
She cries out, and I lick my thumb before slipping it between us. I massage her clit in strokes that match the pounding of my cock inside her.
“Come for me, honey. Feel everything about this moment—your sweet pussy squeezing me tight, my cock rock hard inside you, your hard clit pearling up for me, your tits bouncing with every stroke. Feel me loving you, right now and forever.” My words are growled vibrations through gritted teeth as I try to hang on for her.
Thankfully, she detonates beneath me, her cry coming from her soul, loud and cathartic. “There you go, honey. Keep going, keep coming for me,” I tell her, keeping my punishing pace as she rides the first orgasm into another. I fly then, meeting her in the dark abyss of pleasure.
I am deeply, completely, utterly lost in the sea of her. Before, I’d felt like she was taking me on a roller coaster, but now it feels more like riding the waves of the ocean. Sometimes fierce and wildly untamed in its up and down swells, sometimes softly lapping at the sandy foundation of shore but always constant in the way it surrounds and fills me.
That’s my Shayanne.
With a shudder, she comes back to life. There are tears tracking down into her hair, and I wipe them away gently. “Shayanne?” I ask, my voice hoarse from my own cries of pleasure.
She nods. “I’m good. Thank you. I . . .” Her voice trails off as she gives me the barest hint of a smile, reassuring me that she’s okay. As okay as she can be after everything that’s happened the last few days, but definitely all right after what we just did.
This was different. Not quite fucking, not quite making love. Therapy, solace, a life-affirming connection, a way to feel something other than loss.
Soft now, my cock leaves the warm heaven of her. I turn her back to her side, wrapping my arms back around her in a cocoon once more. “Get some sleep, honey. I love you,” I tell her, burying my nose in her hair to press a kiss to her crown.
“I love you, too,” she sighs.
Within minutes, she’s asleep. Her breathing is a steady hum in the dark room, but it’s a long time before I fall asleep too.
Chapter 22
Shayanne
Waking up in Luke’s bed is everything I’d dreamed it’d be when I set out in the November chill last night. It’s warm and safe, a haven against the storm roiling in my heart and through my family.
But the bright light of morning invades the sweetness of my escape into his arms, into his bed.
Time to rise and grind. Pull up your big girl panties and get shit done.
Except I don’t have on panties. Or shorts, or anything else, for that matter. Luke’s naked body is pressed to my back, and I remember last night, how sweet and caring he was, how far he was willing to go to make me feel better.
I’d seen the uncertainty in his eyes when I begged him to make me forget for a moment, and I’d seen the moment he gave in. Not for himself, but for me. His gaze had been heavy on me the whole time, his blue eyes never leaving my face as he searched for my every reaction, ready to give me whatever I needed.
God, I love this man. And just as importantly, he loves me. It feels unreal, but also the most real thing I’ve ever experienced. He’s my anchor as the world churns around me, and I snuggle back into him, wanting the harbor that only he can offer me, wanting to pretend that tragedy isn’t lurking outside the door for just a little bit longer.
His morning wood presses against my back, and I grind my ass against him, tempting him, teasing myself. Seems the dam’s broken, and I can’t get enough. He groans in his sleep, hips surging forward, and I shudder, ready for the escape he can give me again.
His hand tightens on my hip, squeezing me hard enough to stop my movement. “Shayanne.”
His voice is rough and deep with sleep, a note of warning threading through the drawled syllables of my name. He pulls us together, not a breath of space between us, his cock sandwiched against the fullness of my ass.
“Honey, use me anyway you need to,” he growls in my ear, “anytime, always. But I think you need to get home before your family comes stomping over here, shotguns ready, to find you naked in my bed, impaled on my cock.”
My eyes flutter open and I realize how bright it is in the room. I’d studiously avoided thoughts of what time it might be, what I might be missing at home, and what responsibilities I’m shirking by skipping out into the night. His words drive me mad with want, but he’s right.
I sigh, sagging in his arms, and he rolls me to my back, watching me lovingly. His fingers dance along my hairline, smoothing the riotous mess of tangles I rock every morning. I should probably be embarrassed by the wild hair, puffy eyes, and morning breath, but Luke’s quiet eyes tell me he still thinks I’m beautiful. Even broken and weak as I am now.
“What do you want, honey?” he asks, letting me make the decision for myself. It’s another thing to love about this man. He sees my strength even when I don’t. He knows my most vulnerable parts, is probably the only person who truly does, and he gently cares for them while never making me feel like that’s all I am.
I blink slowly, digging deep and finding the core of steel that’s trying damn hard to crack. But I refuse to fail my brothers, not when they need me. “I need to go home.”
Luke’s kiss is unexpected. He has zero cares about my breath or his own, both of which could probably wilt an oak tree and together are evilly potent. But it’s raw and real, the soft support I need. When he pulls back, there’s a light in his eyes like he’s proud of me. “There’s my woman. Let’s get you home so you can handle your shit.”
He stands up, and I mourn the loss of his warmth in the bed. His cock juts out from his body, drawing my eye even though I just agreed with him that I need to go. His big, rough hands cover the goods and he tsks lightly. “Ma’am, are you ogling me?” His teasing tone is just what I need to break the somber spell I’m under. A small smile tentatively breaks across my face, feeling foreign when he jokes, “Just a piece of meat to some people.”
He grabs for my hand, pulling me to stand before picking me up in his arms and carrying me to the bathroom, setting me back on my feet but letting m
e slide down his body. He cups my face in his palms, his face serious. “Honey, just know that you’re always beautiful to me,” he says cryptically before kissing my forehead, and my brows knit together in confusion.
“Huh?”
He spins me in place and I see my reflection in the mirror over the sink.
Oh, shit.
I’d figured I was a mess, but I didn’t realize that I never took off the makeup I wore for the funeral. It’s now trailing in dried black rivers down my face and smudged to the side in a wash of dirty specks. Waterproof, my ass.
“Luke Bennett, why didn’t you tell me I look like the before in a waterproof mascara commercial?” I’m already scrubbing beneath my eyes after licking my fingers, figuring spit’s better than nothing. “Shit, I might as well be a damn raccoon.”
Luke’s unsuccessfully trying to hold back a smile. “Like I said, always beautiful.” He opens a drawer, and it’s a veritable cornucopia of feminine hygiene products, everything from face masks to tampons and enough ponytailers to tie up an entire cheer squad. “Is any of this what you need?”
I grab for a makeup remover wipe and glare at him. “Do I want to know whose shit this is?” Jealousy is hot and sour in my blood and apparent in my biting question.
Luke’s smile grows, no longer restrained. “It’s Sophie’s, honey. Can I tell you a secret?”
The slight reassurance that it’s Sophie’s and not some one-night-stand concierge drawer soothes me . . . slightly. I nod, not sure I want to hear it if it’s got anything to do with who else Luke’s been friendly with.
“You’re the first woman to ever sleep in that bed with me.” He says it straight-faced though I’m sure he’s lying through his perfect white teeth. I narrow my eyes, looking for the tell. But what I see is a slight pink hue tinting his cheeks. He’s embarrassed but apparently, he’s telling the truth.
I must look shocked, because he lifts my chin with one thick finger. “To be clear, I’m not a saint, but I never wanted anyone in my space before. The barn and my home, they’re my sanctuary, you know?”
“And now?” I press, not caring in the least that I sound like a needy, greedy bitch.
He steps closer, capturing me between the vanity and his body. “Now, I want you everywhere. My barn, my bed, hell, around Mama’s dining room table.” For a cowboy like Luke, that’s serious. If he wants to take you home to his mama, you’re this close to walking down the aisle.
Goosebumps pop out on my bare flesh and he brushes his calloused fingers along them. “Know what else?” I swallow, shaking my head. “Jealousy looks good on you, honey. But you’ve got no reason to be, ever.” He hunches over, breath hot in my ear, and whispers, “I love you, Shayanne Tannen.”
No way am I letting that go to waste.
I hop up on the vanity to get at cock-level, ready to go. Not for an escape this time but because I want this. Us. Luke squeezes my hips, helping me get situated on the edge of the thankfully sturdy sink cabinet.
This man is going to be the death of me.
The errant thought is a common turn of phrase, but ‘death’ stops me in my tracks as the rest of the world hits me like a freight train. I freeze, and Luke’s eyes narrow. “Shay?”
I shake my head, trying to smile. “Sorry. My mind ran away for a second, but I’m here. I’m good.”
He pulls me to him, my cheek hitting his chest and his hands tangling in my hair. The mood between us shifts, cooling but deep like ocean waters. “I think it’ll always happen. Something will be an unexpected trigger, and it’ll remind you. It happens a lot at first, less as time goes on. And you get better at not letting it define the moment. Now, I can see something that makes me think of Pops and it’s not a fresh stabbing pain. It’s more like a soothing hand on my shoulder. Does that make sense?”
I nod against him, as comforted as if he’d wiped away fresh tears though none come. I guess I’m all cried out after the last few days. Instead, he takes the makeup wipe from my hand and gently dabs it along my face and under my eyes, cleaning up the mess.
He tosses the wipe in the trash and hands me a scrunchie. “Sophie’s.” Then he opens another drawer and hands me a packaged toothbrush, like you’d get at a hotel. “For the ranch hands who sometimes come through.”
He smirks knowingly, and I should feel embarrassed by my jealous outburst, but instead, he makes it seem cute and adorable.
He leaves me to it, disappearing only to come back dressed in jeans, a flannel work shirt, and boots. He looks damn good, I’ll admit, but nothing tops a naked Luke.
Except maybe me, I think, forcing my brain back to more pleasant thoughts. Being on top becomes a new adventure on the list of things I want to do, see, try, and experience.
He’s got my pajamas plus a pair of his sweatpants in his hands. “It’s too chilly out for you to go back in shorts,” he says, a gentle reminder that I’d been close to freezing last night by the time I got to his door. But it’d been a distant discomfort, nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
I nod, not arguing and he seems relieved, like he’d expected me to put up a fight about it.
Once I’m ready, he leads me over to the barn. “Figured we could ride to your house?” I nod and he gets Duster saddled up quickly, his movements efficient from years of practice.
I stand back, enjoying the grace of his body as he works and letting the calm of the animals soak into my soul as I scratch Demon’s cheeks and nuzzle his nose for kisses.
Luke looks over and shakes his head, a twitch to his lips.
“Damn horse whisperer.”
It’s a compliment of the utmost degree from him.
He climbs up and holds out a hand to help me up. Sitting behind him, I lean in, pressing my breasts to his back and wrapping my arms around his waist. He pats my hand comfortingly, though it seems more to reassure himself that I’m secure than anything. I like that he cares for me without smothering me. It feels . . . good . . . different . . . empowering.
Outside, the chill hits me even with Luke as a windbreak. I can see Duster’s hot breath misting in the fall morning air. But it’s beautifully sunny, miles of green and gold as far as the eye can see.
The clop-clop of Duster’s hooves is the only sound as my heart slows to match the slow, undulating walk. And for a precious moment, I feel . . . peace.
* * *
As soon as our homestead appears, that serenity evaporates on the wind. Brody is in the goat pen, tossing out their morning feed, his eyes burning through Luke and me as we approach on Duster.
Luke lowers a hand to my thigh, rubbing soothingly without a word. There’s a question in the caress, too.
What do you want me to do?
“I’ve got this. I ain’t scared of Brody. Only problem is, he ain’t scared of me neither. But he should be,” I reply softly, ready for war.
He’s going to have to get used to this. He has to because I need him and I need Luke. I don’t ask for much in this life, but right now, I’m asking any damn power that’s listening to make Brody see reason in this.
I see Luke’s nod of agreement out of the corner of my eye because I’m laser-locked on Brody, a challenge and a dare in my hard glare. He pulls his hat off, curling the already rounded brim a bit more before jamming it back on his head angrily.
I climb down off Duster, patting his haunch in appreciation of the ride, and Luke follows suit, doing the same.
“G’morning, Brody,” I say, nice as apple pie. Well, maybe cinnamon-apple pie, because while I let my usual sweetness shine, there’s a hint of spice beneath the warmth.
He grunts in response, his eyes dark as onyx as they sweep down my nightwear outfit. I swear I can see the thoughts stumbling through his mind right now.
Luke tries too, holding out his hand. “Brody.”
Brody drops his eyes to Luke’s outstretched hand but then holds his up, showing that his hands are covered in feed dust. “Bennett.”
He’s sticking with last names, appa
rently. I’d bet that even if his hands were clean, he wouldn’t shake Luke’s right now.
Feeling like that’s as good as it’s going to get, I take Luke’s hand. “I’ll call you later, ’kay?”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders and I enjoy the softly worn flannel at his ridged belly. I feel the gentle press of his lips to my forehead. “Anytime, honey. Love you.”
I glance up to see that though he’s speaking to me, he hasn’t taken his eyes off Brody. He’s expecting a sucker punch, I’m guessing. Eye on the threat and all that.
“Love you too.”
With that, Luke steps back and climbs onto Duster. With a two-fingered wave, he starts to ride away. After a few dozen yards, he lets Duster loose and they begin a quick gallop. At Duster’s age, he can’t hold that pace for long, but it probably feels good to be a little wild, for both horse and rider.
I turn back to Brody to see his mouth is pressed in a flat line.
“Brody,” I start.
He shakes his head. “Don’t want to hear it, Shayanne. We’ve got enough shit to do. Gotta catch up from your playing hooky this morning.” He says it distastefully, like the thought is bitter.
I sigh, resigned. “Fine. I’m going inside to eat breakfast and get to work on some paperwork.”
“He didn’t even feed you breakfast?” Brody snaps. “Asshole.”
“He didn’t feed me breakfast because he knew I needed to get home,” I retort. “It was because he cares, not because he was being an asshole. Though it seems like you’re an expert on the topic of assholery.”
The comment is acidic, but it pours from my mouth automatically. It’s not our usual teasing but real and painful.
I stomp toward the house, hating this. I don’t want tension and anger between us, but I don’t know how to fix it. Not and get everything I want, everything I need.
Chapter 23
Shayanne
Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 23