When his cock was buried in her body completely, she brought her hands down, simultaneously slapping both his butt cheeks.
He shuddered.
She did it again.
And again, until Bran circled her wrists and pinned them above her head, grinding his mouth onto hers in a frantic kiss. His hips pistoned faster. Then he stilled completely. He ripped his mouth free and roared like a beast as he came.
Harper felt every pulse as his cock gave up its seed, bathing her inner walls with slick heat as she contracted the muscles around it, trying to prolong his orgasm.
He gasped, “Enough. Stop. You’re killin’ me.”
She traced his skin with her hands, loving the rippling movements in the muscles of his damp back.
As he started to move off her, she whispered, “Stay with me tonight,” hoping he wouldn’t deny her the chance to have him in her bed until dawn.
Bran sweetly nuzzled her jawline. “I need to clean up first—”
“No. I like you sticky.”
He lifted his head and looked at her strangely. “Why?”
“Because we always clean up and then I go home. Just for once I’d like to stay like this, a sweaty, sticky, tangled mess. All night.”
His eyes took on a softer sheen and he said, “Anything you want.”
Chapter Seventeen
Branding day started as early as everything else in the cattle business. Helpers on horses, on ATVs, and in pickups headed for the pastures to round up the cattle. Anxious mama cows weren’t happy to be separated from their babies, and by the corrals the din of moos was deafening.
Harper was relieved to stay at the house and coordinate the food. She’d seen enough of the cows and calves up close and personal, and it appeared Bran had plenty of help. Given the rainy weather the last few days, she’d been happy to see sunshine for the branding and for the feast afterward.
Bran’s neighbors had shown up, as well as his friends and even their family members. He’d explained that other nearby ranches staggered branding days, spreading them out over a few weeks so they could help one another. The long-held tradition in the community was one they all took seriously.
He’d also assured her that other women would come bearing food. So after Harper set up the tables under the big white canopies and organized everything she could possibly organize, she found herself at loose ends.
She had just decided to take a quick drive up to the corrals to see where they were in the branding/vaccination process when Lainie Lawson’s Dodge Durango pulled up to the trailer. She ambled over and saw Lainie unloading a huge box. “Hey, Lainie. Let me help you with that.”
“I’ve got this one, thanks, but there’s another one in the back.”
Harper caught a whiff of something sweet and tangy. “Is this all food? My God. You baked, like … half a dozen pies. From scratch.”
“They’re just rhubarb pies. No big deal.”
They carried the two flat boxes over to the tables. Harper’s mouth watered at seeing the perfectly browned crusts and the pink liquid that had bubbled up through the precisely made slits in the center of the top crusts. “Lainie. These look wonderful. I’m afraid if we don’t leave right now I might just sit down and have myself a pie-eatin’ contest.”
Lainie laughed. “I’ll admit I’ve been bribed to share my grandma Elsa’s famous recipe because it’s so darn good.”
“Can I get you something to drink? There’s lemonade and iced tea. And beer. Lots of beer.”
“Cowboys and beer? Say it ain’t so.”
Harper smiled. “Since I’m not much of a beer drinker, Bran bought me ‘bitch beer,’ also known as Mike’s Hard Lemonade and Jack Daniel’s berry-flavored mixers.”
“I’ve never been fond of that term,” Lainie said. “So I’ll take a real man’s beer—Bud Light.”
“Coming right up.”
After they’d cracked the tops and wandered under the tent, Harper caught Lainie giving her a subtle inspection. Paranoid that she’d broken an obscure rancher’s rule, she said, “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“God, no. You look fantastic, as usual. It pisses me off a little, to be real honest. Anyone else would look like a total wannabe cowgirl, wearing that super-girly floral dress and boots to a branding. But it’s a natural look on you.” Lainie swigged her beer. “I’m jealous. Wish I could pull it off.”
She waved off Lainie’s compliment. “Sure you can.”
“I don’t have any fashion sense whatsoever, since I spend most my time in scrubs at the hospital.” She grinned. “Or naked, if Hank has his way.”
Harper almost said, “Bran is of the same mind-set,” but she bit back the comment and changed the subject. “How goes the housebuilding project?”
“Slow. I can’t freakin’ wait to have our own home. Sounds like we’ll be able to move in two weeks.”
“How are things between Abe and Hank?”
“Better. Us having our own space will help. Sometimes I think Hank has mixed feelings about moving out of the house he grew up in. It’s the only place he’s ever lived.”
“I’ve never had that kind of permanence in my life.” Harper pointed to Bran’s abandoned ancestral home. “So I don’t understand why Bran doesn’t live there. I know he still considers that his grandparents’ house, but it’s a shame to let it fall to ruin.”
“I agree. When I asked Hank why Bran lives in a trailer, he looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. But it does remind me of my grandma’s house. I loved that place and was really sad I couldn’t afford to keep it after she passed on.” Lainie took another sip of beer. “Have you ever been inside?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope.” Lainie looked at Harper with challenge in her eyes. “What do you say we take ourselves a little sneak peek?”
Harper started to refuse, wondering if Bran would consider that a breach of privacy, but he’d never exactly come right out and said she couldn’t explore it. Curiosity won out over propriety. “Let’s do it.”
She wasn’t surprised the front door opened without a key, since Bran never remembered to lock his own door. Dust motes danced in shafts of watery sunlight streaming through the dirty windows.
They stepped into a large entryway with a wide staircase stretching along the back wall.
“Left or right?” Lainie asked.
“Umm, left?”
Their footsteps sounded hollow on the wooden floor as they entered what must’ve been the dining room. Big windows faced the shelterbelt, and Harper could imagine sitting at a long table, gazing out those windows, watching the seasons change.
“Look at the woodwork in here,” Lainie said, running her hand down the mahogany-colored trim around the doorframe.
“It’s gorgeous.” Dark trim also ran the length of the floor, and the ceiling boasted elaborate crown molding. Harper walked through an arched doorway to the kitchen. No appliances had been left behind. The countertops were dated and chipped, as were the cupboards and the linoleum covering the floor, but the space was large for the time frame in which it’d been built.
“It’s weird that the kitchen is in the back of the house. Almost every house I’ve seen from this era has the kitchen in the front. And you enter the house more formally through the back.”
“You mean like this?” Harper asked. An enclosed porch spanned the breadth of the back of the house.
“Oh, wow. This is seriously cool. We’re putting one of these three-season porches off our kitchen too. This house was seriously ahead of its time, although it does appear to have been constructed backward.”
Harper wandered through another arched doorway into the living room. It also had a door that opened onto the porch. More windows. More gorgeous woodwork. More feelings of sadness that Bran could just ignore this beautiful home that was so much a part of his personal history and should be part of his future.
She wound through the L-shaped room, discovering a small bathroom with limited
headspace that had been constructed beneath the stairs as an afterthought when they’d added indoor plumbing. “I’m going upstairs,” she said to Lainie.
The handrail and the balustrades were made of that same mahogany-colored wood. The instant she cleared the last step at the top of the stairs, she smiled. The floor was wider than a hallway, with a sunny landing. She imagined Bran as a little boy playing with trucks and Legos under the watchful eye of his grandmother.
Five doors were spread at random intervals. Behind the first door she found a full bathroom. The next two doors she opened led to small bedrooms. She knew that neither of these rooms had held Bran’s childhood dreams and memories. The biggest room appeared to be the master bedroom, but it was small in comparison to modern-day master bedrooms and master suites.
The room directly across the hall, she knew without a doubt, had belonged to Bran. No faded marks from posters marred the walls. But there was one obvious sign of his residency: fishhooks embedded in the woodwork surrounding the window. Probably some fancy hand-tied lures, which made her wonder why he’d taken everything out of the house but left those.
“Harper? I think I hear the guys coming back. We’d better get going.”
She gave the barren room one last, lingering look and returned downstairs.
ATVs, pickups, and horses trickled in from the field. Around that same time, wives and kids, girlfriends, and others showed up with heaping bowls of side dishes. Harper knew almost everyone, and if they were surprised to see her acting the part of hostess at Bran Turner’s branding, they didn’t mention it—an achievement itself in their small community.
After the guys washed up, they dug in like they’d never seen food. Harper had secretly suspected Bran was crazy for having her order a hundred pounds of shredded beef and fifty pounds of shredded pork, but now she wondered if there’d be enough.
The weather was beautiful, the food delicious, the beer cold. Everyone was having a great time. Even Bailey had driven out with her friend Amy. They hadn’t stayed long, despite the urging of the younger single cowboys for them to stick around for the bonfire.
Both she and Bran mingled, separately. But she sensed his gaze on her several times. Okay, all the time. It gave her a secret thrill that no one had a clue about his rapt attention because his eyes were hidden beneath dark sunglasses and his ever-present cowboy hat.
Harper knew, though. Her skin prickled with awareness in anticipation of what he’d do to her when they were finally alone.
Food consumption dwindled as people lounged beneath the canopy and chatted. Harper gathered the temperature-sensitive condiments and took them to the trailer. She’d just shoved the mayonnaise into Bran’s refrigerator when the screen banged open. She looked over the fridge door and saw Bran stalking toward her. All male, muscled sweaty goodness. Wearing the dark, sexy—God, hungry—look in his eyes that let her know he’d tracked her down for one reason and one reason only.
And he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Her blood raced. Her body heated and softened. He could do this to her. Without a word. Without a touch. With just a single look.
Bran shut the refrigerator and pressed her up against it. His mouth greedy on hers, his hands roving down her sides to grip her butt. His tongue invaded and conquered. He tasted like beer and sunshine and need.
Need. How could she need him this much?
He’d plastered his body to hers. Harper latched onto the denim covering his hips. One of his hands slid up to her scalp. He threaded his fingers through the loose strands of her hair and tugged her neck to the side, giving himself total access to the flesh of her throat. His lips followed the curve of her jaw to her ear. “Fuckin’ sexy little goddamn sundress. Been drivin’ me nuts all day.”
A shiver washed over her, his hot words searing her skin like a brand.
“Want you, Harper. Now.”
“Yes.”
Bran stepped back, grabbed her hand, and dragged her into his office. As soon as they were inside, she was between a hard cowboy and a hard door.
She let his passion consume her, drive her higher. She ripped open his pearl-snap shirt and raked her nails down his chest, eliciting his full-body shudder. When she stroked and pinched his nipples, he groaned in her mouth.
The kiss grew more and more frantic until she couldn’t breathe without breathing him in.
He buried his face in her throat. “Can’t stop. Sweet Jesus I don’t even want to slow down.”
“So don’t.”
“Remember you said that.” He nipped her neck and pushed back, giving her a head-to-toe inspection. Without taking his eyes off her, he rolled the chair away from the desk. “Bend over the chair.”
She didn’t hesitate. She brushed past him and placed her palms flat on the foam armrests of the chair, her pulse pounding from her nipples to her groin as she awaited his instructions.
Strong, impatient hands landed on her hips. Battered Tony Lamas appeared between her boots and kicked her feet apart. “Widen your stance.”
Her heels slid out a couple of inches.
“Wider.”
Her position must’ve pleased him, because he growled. His thumb traced the arc of her spine up to the nape of her neck. A hand tangled in her hair. Instead of urging her head up, he pushed it down so she could see between her legs. “Watch me.”
Cool air teased the backs of her thighs as Bran flipped her sundress up. His fingers hooked in the elastic band of her panties. He tugged them past her kneecaps and stopped. “I’m hobbling you.”
She bit her lip. He had no reason to hobble her; she had no intention to try to get away from him.
“Better yet, I’m taking them all the way off.” Yank. Rip. “Oops. Looks like you’re goin’ commando the rest of the day. It’ll be handy for later.”
“Later?”
“Uh-huh. This is just an appetizer. Later, I’m gonna want a full meal of you.” He gathered the dress material and tucked it out of his way. When he dropped to his knees, every inch of her body seemed to catch fire.
But even her flaming skin couldn’t match the desire burning in Bran’s eyes. Those strong, calloused hands clamped onto the outsides of her thighs. He licked the crease of her left knee and swept that naughty wet tongue up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Gooseflesh broke out, tightening her already taut skin.
He opened his mouth directly below the curve of her butt cheek and sucked. Hard. Hard enough to leave a hickey.
“Bran!”
“Hush.” Then he nibbled up, across her behind, letting his tongue follow her butt crack until the tip reached her tailbone. And back up went that meandering tongue and wandering mouth. He sank his mouth and teeth into her flesh, gifting her with the same sucking love bites on the opposite side.
“Oh, God.”
Before she’d recovered from his intimate mark, Bran licked her slit. Twice. Three times, never quite reaching the top of her sex. His frustrated rumble vibrated across it. “Bend your knees and cant your hips so I can taste you.”
It was one of the sexiest sights she’d seen, peering between her spread legs, watching Bran’s hungry mouth working her—lips, teeth, and that amazing tongue. She imagined his eyes were closed in ecstasy as he ate and sucked at her soft, wet folds.
His hands moved from the outsides of her legs to the insides, his fingers holding her pussy open so she could feel every bit of his sensual blitz.
Liquid excitement poured from her core. She caught a whiff of her own arousal and heard wet sucking sounds as Bran pleasured her. All those sensations, combined with the fierceness of his grip, increased her body’s urgency to hit that point where she flew apart.
The spiral toward orgasm didn’t begin slowly; it spun inside her as fast and furious as a tornado. “Oh, God, Bran, please.”
Somehow, despite the unusual angle of his head, Bran’s mouth fastened to her clit. When he sucked—ding ding ding! game over. She came hard and fast, digging her nails i
nto the arms of the chair, throwing her head back, gasping his name. The man knew just how to send her soaring, and he did it without hesitation.
She was still experiencing buzzing aftershocks when he released her throbbing clitoris and scrambled to his feet.
His belt buckle rattled, the tines of his zipper made a quiet rasp, and his clothes rustled. The head of his cock prodded her entrance once and then he slammed inside fully, with enough force to move both her and the chair forward.
“You feel so good, Harper. Every goddamn time.”
Instead of holding her hips, Bran curled his hands around her shoulders, giving him the depth he needed with every powerful stroke. His pelvis pistoned lightning fast, matching the thundering in her pulse and his harsh, labored breaths. Each relentless thrust built on the next until he shoved deep and stayed there, grunting while hot spurts heated her channel as his cock jerked inside her. She squeezed those muscles and he swore a blue streak even as he groaned her name.
He slumped across her back, exhaling into her hair, placing kisses across her shoulders where his fingers had dug in. She loved that Bran was so affectionate in the aftermath of explosive sex. She remained quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment.
“Now I don’t wanna go back out there.” His breath teased the damp skin below her ear. “I wanna take you into my bedroom and lock the damn door for the rest of the day and all of the night. And all day and all night tomorrow too.”
Harper turned to nuzzle the side of his head, trying not to read too much into his declaration. “How long does this shindig last?”
“Usually the guys stick around the bonfire until the wee small hours. But I’m thinking tonight … I might hurry them along a bit.”
“Mmm. I like the sounds of that.”
Pause. Then he murmured, “Harper, I—”
The hallway creaked and the bathroom door slammed shut.
Immediately Bran pulled out with a muttered curse as if he just realized they were screwing in his office where any partygoers could hear them. They hadn’t exactly been discreet. Or quiet.
Normally she’d be the one worrying if people were standing outside listening, gossiping about her reckless behavior or comparing her to her mother. But right now, sated from an intense sexual encounter with a smokin’-hot man who couldn’t keep his hands off her, she had a hard time caring what anyone thought.
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