Stripped Down
A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella
By Lorelei James
1001 Dark Nights
Stripped Down
A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella
By Lorelei James
1001 Dark Nights
Copyright 2015 LJLA, LLC
ISBN: 978-1-940887-70-8
Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose
Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Book Description
Stripped Down
A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella
By Lorelei James
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lorelei James, a new steamy story of the Blacktop Cowboys…
Never challenge a cowboy to a little naughty competition…
A flirty game of sexual truth or dare between best man, Wynton Grant, and maid of honor, Melissa Lockhart during their BFF’s wedding reception results in a steamy hookup.
But their plans for a one and done change when a family crisis leaves Wyn shorthanded at the Grant Ranch. Experienced horsewoman Mel volunteers to help out and gets way more than she bargained for living under the same roof as the sexy rancher. Playing house has never appealed to Wyn…until now.
But the feisty redhead is keeping secrets and Wyn’s not above stripping her bare—body and soul—to get to the bottom of it…
About Lorelei James
Lorelei James is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary erotic romances in the Rough Riders, Blacktop Cowboys, and Mastered series. She also writes dark, gritty mysteries under the name Lori Armstrong and her books have won the Shamus Award and the Willa Cather Literary Award. She lives in western South Dakota.
Connect with Lorelei in the following places:
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Facebook Reader Discussion Group
Newsletter
Also from Lorelei James
Click to purchase
Rough Riders Series (in reading order)
LONG HARD RIDE
RODE HARD
COWGIRL UP AND RIDE
ROUGH, RAW AND READY
BRANDED AS TROUBLE
STRONG SILENT TYPE (novella)
SHOULDA BEEN A COWBOY
ALL JACKED UP
RAISING KANE
SLOW RIDE (free short story)
COWGIRLS DON’T CRY
CHASIN’ EIGHT
COWBOY CASANOVA
KISSIN’ TELL
GONE COUNTRY
SHORT RIDES (anthology)
REDNECK ROMEO
COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY
LONG TIME GONE (novella)
Blacktop Cowboys® Series (in reading order)
CORRALLED
SADDLED AND SPURRED
WRANGLED AND TANGLED
ONE NIGHT RODEO
TURN AND BURN
HILLBILLY ROCKSTAR
ROPED IN (novella)
WRAPPED AND STRAPPED (Nov 2015)
Mastered Series (in reading order)
BOUND
UNWOUND
SCHOOLED (digital only novella)
UNRAVELED
CAGED
Single Title Novels
RUNNING WITH THE DEVIL
DIRTY DEEDS
Single Title Novellas
LOST IN YOU (short novella)
WICKED GARDEN
MISTRESS CHRISTMAS (Wild West Boys)
MISS FIRECRACKER (Wild West Boys)
BALLROOM BLITZ (Two To Tango anthology)
Need You Series (debuts Jan 2016)
WHAT YOU NEED (Jan 5 2016)
Lorelei James writing as mystery author Lori Armstrong
Acknowledgments from the Author
A 1001 thanks to the fabulous Liz Berry for all her love and patience with me—and for asking me to be a part of this amazing project.
And thanks to my readers who wanted to know more about Sutton Grant’s brother Wynton, and London’s pal, Mel. This love story is for you…
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1001 Dark Nights story
The First Night
by Lexi Blake & M.J. Rose
Table of Contents
Book Description
About Lorelei James
Also from Lorelei James
Author Acknowledgments
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Also From 1001 Dark Nights
An excerpt from Roped In by Lorelei James
Special Thanks
One Thousand and One Dark Nights
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories… to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian: شهریار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday’s wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier’s daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story… I begin a new
one… like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
Chapter One
“Weddings make me horny.”
Best man Wynton “Wyn” Grant turned to look at Melissa Lockhart, the curvy redheaded maid of honor. Today was the first time they’d met, so the comment threw him off—as had the other sexual remarks she’d made over the past two hours. Wyn wasn’t sure if she was playing him…or if she wanted to play. He offered her a nonchalant, “Really?”
She smirked at him. “A strapping, handsome rancher such as yourself doesn’t have anything to say to that besides…Really?”
Enough. He angled his head and put his mouth on the shell of her ear. “Gonna get yourself in trouble, you keep teasing me.”
“You think I’m teasing?”
“Only one way to find out, ain’t there?” He traced the rim of her ear with the tip of his tongue. “Words don’t mean nothin’ if you can’t back it up with actions. And darlin’ I am a man of action.”
That caused a quick hitch in her breath.
He smiled and backed off.
After the last guests passed through the receiving line, Wyn’s younger brother Sutton, aka the groom, snagged his attention. “The photographer wants a few shots of us alone, so can you—”
“Make sure the wedding party gets to the head table?” Wyn supplied. “No problem.”
“Thanks.”
Wyn’s new sister-in-law, London, whispered something to Melissa.
Melissa leaned over, giving Wyn a peek of her magnificent tits. She attached the train to the back of London’s wedding dress so it didn’t drag on the ground. Then she straightened up and looked at Wyn.
He offered his arm. “The party waits.”
She slipped her arm through his. “Such a gentleman.”
Cres, Wyn’s youngest brother, snorted. “Gentleman, my ass. He’s been pullin’ one over on you, Mel. My big brother is the biggest manwhore in three counties.”
Little did his baby brother know that Wyn had been damn near a monk the past eight months, but he didn’t bother to try and mask his playboy reputation. “Actually, I prefer the term man-slut,” Wyn replied. “Manwhore implies that I take money for something I do very well. For free.”
Melissa laughed. “You and I must be slutting around in different counties, Wynton Grant, because I don’t have your name in my little black book of bad boys.” She paused. “Yet.”
They stared at one another with identical “bring it” challenges in their eyes.
And that’s when he knew, without a doubt, his sexual dry spell was about to end.
“Oh for the love of God. You two have been eye-fucking each other all day. Just sneak into a horse stall and get it over with already,” Stirling, London’s sister, and the other bridesmaid, complained.
Cres’s annoyed gaze flicked between the best man and the maid of honor. “Take Stirling’s advice. And don’t even think about givin’ one another head beneath the head table. Tonight ain’t about your uncontrollable urges.” He paused. “Got it, Super Man-Slut and his new sidekick, Slut-Girl?”
Wyn struck a superhero pose and Melissa snickered.
After heaving a disgusted snort, Cres muttered to Stirling and they started the trek to the reception hall.
“I do believe I’m offended,” Melissa drawled. “My sidekick name should’ve been Amazing Slut-Girl at the very least.”
He laughed. “Come on, Melissa. Let’s see what kinda dirty, dastardly deeds we can get away with.”
“Deal. But call me Mel.”
“Mel? Nope. Sorry. No can do.”
“Why not?”
“Mel is the name of a line cook. Saying, ‘Suck harder, Mel,’ or ‘Bend over, Mel,’ brings totally different images to my mind than ‘I’m gonna fuck you through the wall, Melissa.’”
“I see where you’re coming from, cowboy.” She paused outside the sliding wooden doors that led to the lodge. “But that just means I’ll be calling you Wynton—even when you’re not making me come so hard that I scream your name.”
“Darlin’, you can call me anything you like as long as I get to bang the hell outta you tonight.”
“Oh, there will be banging. But I’m gonna make you work for it to see how bad you really want it.” Her eyes danced with a devilish glint that tightened his balls.
“That ain’t gonna scare me off.” Wyn let his gaze move over her, taking in every feature. From her cinnamon-colored ringlet curls to the broad angles of her forehead and cheekbones. From her bee-stung lips to the pointed tip of her chin. Then down her neck, noting the smattering of freckles across her chest and the plump breasts. Moving down her torso, imagining softness and curves beneath the long, emerald green dress. He took his time on his visual return, mentally shoving her dress up to her hips, pinning her against the wall, feasting on her skin from neck to nipples as he drove into her over and over. Finally his eyes met hers. “I love a challenge.”
Inside the lodge, it was obvious London’s parents had gone all out for their oldest daughter’s wedding. The ceremony itself had taken place in a meadow on the Gradsky’s land. One of the few places—according to London—that wasn’t a horse pasture. Even the weather, always iffy in October, had cooperated, filtering autumn sunshine across the meadow grasses, creating a dozen shades of gold against the backdrop of a clear, vivid blue sky. After the simple ceremony, the newlyweds had hopped into a horse-drawn carriage. The wedding guests were loaded onto flatbed trucks—a fancier, classier version of a hayride—and returned to the lodge for the receiving line and reception.
“Isn’t this magical?” Melissa said with a sigh. “It fits London and Sutton so perfectly.”
“That it does,” he murmured. Strands of lights were hanging from the rough-hewn log rafters and twisted around the support poles. Centered on each table was a lantern bookended by mason jars filled with flowers in earth tones ranging from gold to russet. Shimmery white tablecloths were tied at the edges with coarse twine—a mix of elegant and rustic.
He glanced at the far corner of the enormous room and saw a band setting up behind a large dance floor. A makeshift bar had been erected in the opposite corner, coolers stacked on top of hay bales and bottles spread across a wooden plank. Long buffet tables stretched along the wall. Beneath those serving dishes was beef raised on the Grant family ranch. Wyn had checked out the slow-cooked prime rib prior to leaving for the ceremony. Between family, friends, and Sutton’s rodeo buddies, as well as the Gradsky’s big guest list, he suspected there wouldn’t be many leftovers.
“Whatcha thinking about so hard?” Melissa asked.
“Food. I’m starved.”
“Me too. I hope the photographer doesn’t keep the newlyweds forever. At least being in the bridal party, we get to eat first.”
Cres and Stirling were standing in front of the head table with guests crowding around them.
“Looks like our receiving line duties ain’t quite over yet.”
Wyn steered Melissa to the other side of Cres so any well-wishers would have to talk to them first—even after the bride and groom slipped in.
It turned out that these few stragglers had skipped the receiving line and were looking for a private word with the newlyweds. Wyn kept his smile in place as he repeatedly told the guests that the bride and groom were finishing up with pictures. He had no patience with people who didn’t listen to the announcements or thought they were above the rules.
“I hear you growling between guests,” Melissa whispered.
“I don’t like the unspoken sense of entitlement. Every one of these people should’ve just waited in the damn receiving line like everyone else.”
“Agreed. I’m glad Sutton and London aren’t being bombarded with this. They deserve a little time alone, away from the maddenin
g crowd.”
Melissa’s smile tightened when the last couple approached them.
Breck Christianson whistled. “Mel, you’re lookin’ fine. Damn girl. I thought maybe you’d turned into one of those binge and purge kinda chicks at the beginning of the rodeo season. Skinny as a wild dog. Then here you are. Back to all those plump curves.”
Wyn didn’t bother to bank his annoyance with this blowhard. He’d never liked Sutton’s rodeo buddy and he liked him even less after that bout of verbal diarrhea. “I don’t know if you’re already drunk or what, but sayin’ that bullshit to her ain’t gonna fly with me.”
Breck’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t say to an old friend?”
“I’m a man who won’t put up with your disrespect because from what I hear, you do this all the time. So it ain’t happening at my brother’s wedding.”
“Jesus, Mel, are you dating this guy?” Breck asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Wyn said coolly. “What does matter is telling Melissa you’re sorry for bein’ a loudmouth.”
“Or what?” Breck challenged. “You gonna pound on me, tractor jockey? I throw down steers bigger than you every damn day.”
“Breck,” Cres said sharply. “You’re bein’ a jackass. Knock it off and move on.”
Breck leveled Cres with a dark look, but Cres didn’t back down. Then Breck dropped his arm over his date’s shoulder. The miniature-sized bleached blonde barely reached the center of Breck’s chest.
Her sneering gaze rolled over Melissa and Wyn from head to toe. “They’re not worth your time, Brecky.”
Melissa held in her reply until the obnoxious couple drifted away. “How the mighty have fallen. It looks like Brecky had to buy a bargain basement escort to the wedding. The idiot has lost a lot of friends in the past year.” She stood on tiptoe. “Thank you for calling him out on his lack of tact.” She brushed her mouth over his ear, sending a shiver down the left side of his body. “But you didn’t have to do that to impress me, because Wynton, I am a sure thing tonight.”
Wyn nudged her chin with his shoulder, forcing her to look at him. “I did it because he was outta line. Had nothin’ to do with how crazy I am to taste the freckles on the back of your neck as I’m driving into you from behind.”
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