The Cowboy's Baby: Devlin Brothers Ranch

by Joanna Bell

  I wanted him to come inside me. Just hearing him telling me he was going to suddenly had me frantic, like I couldn't get enough, or fast enough. Jackson was close, too. I had to brace my arms hard against the wall as his thrusts got frenzied.

  "Jackson!" I squeaked as the sweetness inside me started to spread and blur and take over everything. "Jackson! Please!"

  I dug my fingers uselessly into the flat walls as I peaked, moaning and panting as spasms of bliss tightened me around him again and again and again.

  It didn't finish, either. It kept going as his breathing became ragged and uneven, and then as his body went stiff and he buried himself inside me one more time, growling my name into my ear as he emptied himself completely.

  When he pulled himself out my knees buckled and I would have fallen to the floor had Jackson not caught me.

  He helped me over to a sofa strewn with clothes and random flyers and pieces of mail and we both collapsed onto it.

  "I see your housekeeping skills haven't improved," I said quietly, looking around.

  The atmosphere between us changed quickly, from the desperate lust I remembered from all those years ago to a sudden wariness as my feelings for Jackson Devlin – outside of how attracted I apparently still was to him – came back.

  He grunted at my mild dig. We sat in silence for a little while, catching our breath and wondering what to do. I thought maybe he would take the opportunity to say something about what happened between us. I thought maybe he would apologize.

  When neither of those things happened, I glanced over at him. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, one arm thrown casually behind his head like a Roman emperor waiting for his wine and his women to be presented. He was completely, shamelessly naked. Not that Jackson Devlin had any reason to be ashamed of his nakedness.

  Whatever he was doing in Los Angeles, it wasn't an office job. He was as muscular, as perfectly, lip-bitingly beefy as ever. His thighs were thick and powerful, not the kind of thighs you get in an office. His shoulders were still burly and corded with muscle. He'd just given me 2 powerful orgasms and even as I was still recovering, I had to turn my eyes away or risk crawling into his lap for a second round when I was pretty sure round 1 was a big mistake.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, and I had to consciously keep my mouth from falling open. The arrogance. The sheer arrogance of not knowing – or pretending not to know – why I might feel ambiguous about what just happened.

  "Probably because I shouldn't be here," I replied. "But you know what?"

  "What?" He replied, visibly – inexplicably – irritated. "Actually Hailey, you're right. You should probably lea–"

  "Because I can't say no to you," I shrugged, not having heard the second part of his reply. "And I've had a very long time to think about saying no to you. You might even say that fantasies about saying no to you became a fairly large part of my mental repertoire up until very recently. But I can't. I can't do it. I never could. I don't know what it is about you. It's not like there aren't attractive men in New York, you know."

  "I bet," he replied, and it was not a friendly reply. It was sarcastic, tinged with venom.

  I laughed. "That's funny. I wish. No, really – I wish. I wish I could have lived that life. I wish I could have –" My voice cracked and I paused to press the back of my hand to my mouth and swipe a hot, angry tear off my cheek before continuing. "I wish I could have enjoyed myself like that. But I couldn't. Because of you. Because no matter what, no matter what I did or what I told myself, I could never get away from you. I could never forget you. I tried – I tried so fucking hard, you have no idea. And that's not even the worst part!"

  Jackson stayed exactly where he was. He didn't move an inch. He did not offer a single comforting word or gesture. I didn't know if I hated him more or loved him more.

  "What's the worst part?" He asked a few seconds later, eying me as I struggled not to cry openly the way you might eye an odd looking stranger on the subway.

  I mean, why not tell him? Wasn't my humiliation complete at that point? He abandoned me knowing I might be pregnant with his child – and he didn't look back. He never contacted me in New York – and it would have been easy to find me – never even bothered to find out if he was a father, or if I was OK, or if I had managed to reassemble the shattered pieces of my life back into something resembling happiness. And what did I do after all of that? I fell straight back into his arms at the first opportunity.

  I leaned my head back and looked at the ceiling, a little half-sob, half-laugh emerging from my throat. "The worst part is I haven't even been with anyone else! Not one! So you can sit there smirking like a jackass all you want. You can imply I'm a slut, too, if that's something you feel is necessary. But –"

  I didn't get to finish my sentence. Jackson sat up straight and looked me right in the eye. "What?"

  "You can imply I'm a –"

  "No," he cut me off. "No, before that."

  "I haven't been with anyone else," I repeated flatly. "Not since you."

  He drew in a slow, deep breath. "Is that true?"

  "I don't know why I would admit something so humiliating if it wasn't true. I also don't give a fuck what you think, Jackson Devlin. I don't care if you think I fucked half the eastern seaboard – so that's another reason not to lie, if you needed –"

  I stopped talking at once when I saw he was getting hard again. Not just a little hard, either. The cleft that started at the tip of his cock and continued down underneath the head, the one that was only pronounced when he was extremely aroused, was immediately in evidence. I remembered what it felt like to gently push the tip of my tongue against that spot. I remembered the sound of his deep groans when I did.

  It was going to happen again. I knew it right away.

  So did he.

  "It's because you said you haven't been with anyone else," he said, and already I could hear his voice was lower by an octave or two, the way it always was when he was turned-on. "That's – fuck, Hailey, that's so goddamned hot."

  Of course it was hot to him. He didn't care that my celibacy was about pain – pain he was responsible for inflicting. All he cared about was his male ego. The way it made him feel to know he'd fucked me so well, and then broken my heart so completely, that I couldn't even be with another man.

  When he pushed me backwards I didn't resist. Quite the opposite. My thighs, still slick with the evidence of our previous encounter, fell open like a flower falls open for the sun. Why fight it? I wanted it. I wanted it so much my body was tense with it, trembling, aching to be filled once more.

  Jackson crawled on top of me and I arched my back, my pussy twitching, soaking wet with anticipation. He bent to kiss me, slipping his tongue into my mouth so I could taste how badly he wanted me. When he pulled away and we looked at each other, our faces only a few inches away, I pushed my fingers into his hair.

  "I think I might actually hate you," I whispered, turning my head to the side and whimpering as he caressed one of my breasts and then pinched the nipple into a quick, sensitive stiffness.

  "I don't care," he replied, moving away, trailing kisses down my neck to my breasts, and then my belly. "I don't care who you hate, Hailey. You don't hate this, do you?"

  Before I could answer he had pushed my thighs open with his hands and run the tip of his tongue up against my clit, exactly the way he knew I liked it. My whole body stiffened and I moaned at the sudden rush of pleasure.

  He kept going. He kept going until I was almost completely undone, squirming underneath him, grasping his hair in my fingers and pulling helplessly.

  "Jackson," I breathed when he slowed down his pace at the exact second I needed more. "Jackson, no. Please. I need –"

  "Didn't you hear me?!" He suddenly barked up at me. "I don't care! I don't fucking care what you need!"

  For a minute, I thought it was all over. Jackson hung his head, his cheek resting against one of my thighs while my heart hammered and my
head spun.

  But it wasn't over. He moved up so his face was right in front of mine again and his cock, perfect and stiff and distracting, lay against my leg.

  "Jackson," I breathed, way too far gone for conversation or anything else that wasn't his body, his cock inside me, his mouth on mine. "Jackson. Please."

  "I love it when you're like this," he whispered. "You have no idea, Hailey. You don't know what it does to me when you your voice sounds like this. I thought about this so often, you know. All the time."

  Unable to stand it any longer, I reached down between our bodies and wrapped one hand around his full, generous length. But when I tried to put it inside me he reached down, too, and pushed my hand away.

  "You want to be fucked, don't you?" He asked, meeting my gaze.

  "Yeah," I sighed. "Yes –"

  "Well don't worry," he cut me off. "Because I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name." He pushed one hand up under my left breast and squeezed it, gently at first and then harder. Until it almost hurt.

  "Jackson!"

  He moved his body into position between my legs, nudging the head of his cock between my swollen, slippery inner lips and drawing it up and down until I was almost beside myself. And then he leaned down close to me again, kissed me deeply and thrust himself all the way in.

  I cried out, throwing my head back against the sofa and digging my fingers hard into his muscled shoulders.

  "Mmmmm," he groaned, balancing himself on his elbows so he could look at me underneath him as he fucked me. "Goddamn, Hailey. Goddamnit. You feel so fucking good, baby. You feel so good, sweetheart. I love you. I don't care if you hate me. That wasn't the worst part that you said, was it? About not being with anyone else? This is the worst part. That part where I –" he pulled out and then sank back into me with a shuddering sigh. "The part where I love someone who hates me. That's the – that's the worst – part."

  I looked up. His blue eyes were dark with what looked like anger. The way he was driving himself into me felt angry, too, even as it lifted me up higher and higher and higher.

  What the fuck was he talking about? What possible reason did Jackson Devlin have to be angry at me? I didn't know. Maybe he thought I let him go too easily? Maybe he wanted to be chased, to be begged to come back to me, and I failed to do so?

  I didn't know what he wanted. What I did know was that our bodies locked together felt better than anything else I ever experienced. It felt right. It almost didn't matter what we felt, what was in our hearts. All that mattered was the exquisite fullness in my belly when his cock was buried inside me and his tongue was entwined with mine.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I had to leave as soon as it was over. I had to get dressed and go right away, no hesitations, no conversation.

  But that was after it was over, and it wasn't over yet. Even as I wanted to slap him across the face for acting like he was the wronged party, I found my hands caressing his neck, pulling him down to me, tenderly kissing his face, desperate to please him. Desperate to make him happy.

  What a fucking mess.

  "You're getting close aren't you?" He asked, brushing my hair off my face. "I can feel it. I can feel your little pussy getting tight again, baby. I could always feel it before you came."

  He was right. I pushed my hips up off the sofa in time with his thrusts, desperate for every inch of him. He was getting close, too. It was always Jackson who got me there. It was always hearing his breathing speed up, his moans get deeper, his thrusts harder.

  He pushed into me again and I was suddenly there, teetering along the cliff's edge of complete bliss. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down to me so my breasts pressed against his chest and his belly lay against mine.

  "Oh God," I moaned as my body swung out into the void and the pleasure suddenly came to a peak. "Oh Jackson, I – oh, please! Jackson, I love you. I love you, too. I love you, too. I love –"

  And then the sweetness took the breath out of my lungs and the words out of my mouth and everything went blank.

  He came with me, holding himself off for 1 or 2 seconds after me and then letting go, his hips pumping frenziedly until I could feel him twitching inside me, and then his cum oozing down one of my thighs as he finished.

  I came hard. So hard I actually forgot what I said for a few minutes as I lay, arms and legs splayed and limp, on Jackson's sofa.

  But the sex spell wore off eventually, I regained my ability to think and walk, and I knew I had to get out of there.

  I stood up quickly, ignoring a sudden wooziness, and he grabbed my wrist.

  "Wait."

  I refused to look at him, or to answer. Instead I yanked my hand away, hurriedly grabbed as many of my clothes as I could spot, and disappeared into the bathroom. And then, once the door was closed and locked behind me, I sat down on the toilet and put my head in my hands.

  Nice. Wonderful. What an absolutely adult decision that was, Hailey. And telling him you loved him? Cherry on top. Perfect.

  I breathed in through my nose and slowly out through my mouth a few times like Candy taught me to do when I was stressed. It didn't really work.

  Just get the hell out of here. There's no salvaging this.

  I got up and started to get dressed. My arms and legs felt like they were made of lead. Once, I almost caught my own eye in the mirror before looking away in shame.

  You don't love Jackson Devlin. That was the moment talking, not you. You might love what he does to your body but you don't love him.

  "Damnit," I whispered when I realized my purse was still out in the living room. I really wanted to get out of there right away. I didn't want to have any further interaction with Jackson. I didn't even want to look at him.

  It'll be fine. Just get the purse and go. You don't owe him a conversation. Call Candy and apologize for missing the show. Then go back to New York to your kid and your family and figure it all out there.

  Chapter 27: Jackson

  I yanked my jeans on and lay back on the couch, torn between the regret I could already feel beginning to descend and the maddening urge to beg Hailey not to leave. She was in the bathroom getting dressed and I could still hear her whispered "I love you's" ringing in my ears.

  Did she mean it? Well, no. Obviously not. If you love someone, you don't abandon them.

  I wanted to believe it, though. More than I ever wanted to believe anything. Fuck dignity, fuck pride, fuck self-respect. I didn't want her to go. Five years of no contact, an afternoon of amazing sex and – what? That was just going to be it?

  I glanced at the closed bathroom door, willing it not to open. As long as the door didn't open, she was still with me. Still in my apartment. Still the girl who said she loved me – even if she didn't mean it.

  On the floor beside me her purse lay open, various items scattered on the floor next to it. I picked up a tube of that same peppermint lip-gloss she always used to wear and slid it back inside, along with a set of keys, a travel sized bottle of hand sanitizer and her phone.

  At the last minute I couldn't resist and turned the phone on. I don't even think I was trying to snoop. I knew she was going to come out of the bathroom any second. I just wanted to get as much of her into my mind as possible, an update before she left again.

  The phone's screen lit up and at first, I was just confused. Really confused.

  Why? Because Hailey Nickerson's phone background was a childhood picture of my brother Cillian.

  What the fuck?

  I leaned in closer, the adrenaline already spiking in my blood. Wait. Was that Cillian? I squinted. Or was it me? Or was it some other child who just happened to look exactly like –

  My stomach dropped. I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly as dry as the desert. My mind raced with memories. The swiftness of Hailey's departure from Sweetgrass Ridge. The sudden complete refusal to take my calls or answer my texts. That day in the truck at the canyon when she decided she wanted me to t
ake her virginity but we didn't have any condoms.

  How many years ago was that? Just over 5? I looked at the phone's screen again. The child could have been 5. Or 4. Or 8. I didn't know. I did know he looked too much like a Devlin to be anything else. My own pale blue eyes, crinkled into a smile, stared back up at me. A smattering of freckles, like the ones I used to develop every summer, covered the kid's nose and cheeks.

  Wait, Jackson. Calm down. There might be an explanation.

  But I think even then, before Hailey came out of the bathroom, I knew there was only one explanation.

  A cold, thick fury began to descend on my heart.

  And then the bathroom door opened and Hailey immediately spotted her phone in my hand.

  "Give that to me!" She cried, rushing to snatch it away.

  I held it away from her and tried to catch her eye. She wouldn't look at me.

  "Who is this?" I asked, gesturing to the phone's screen.

  "Jackson, give it back to me. Please, just –"

  "Tell me who this is first."

  "OK just give it back to –"

  "TELL ME WHO THE FUCK THIS IS, HAILEY!"

  My voice was so loud and so furious that I think it shocked her. She took a stumbling step backwards and stared at me for a few seconds, her cheeks reddening. And then she took a deep, slow breath and raised her gaze to mine.

  "Who the fuck do you think it is?"

  I admit I wasn't expecting that. She didn't sound embarrassed or ashamed or even slightly guilty. If anything she sounded angry. And what right did she have to be angry with me?

  "I – I don't know," I replied quickly. "But I can tell you who it looks like."

  She eyed me directly. "And who's that, Jackson? Who does it look like?"

  "It looks like me," I said quietly, baffled at her tone. "You need to tell me who this is. Right now."

  For a split second I actually thought she was going to physically attack me. She took a step towards me, her features curdling into something dark and murderous. And then she fell to her knees on the floor and started breathing really fast and hard.