Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3)

by Dany Rae Miller

  There goes my cock, again.

  “Good. Only thing you’ll be riding is me.” I glance over at her. Blushing, she’s biting her lip trying not to smile. “Trust me, sweetness. I already told you no horseback. I’ll add no bull-back to that.”

  Fifteen minutes out of town, we arrive at the stables. My girl undoes her seatbelt, reaches for the door handle. I still her hand, making her wait.

  “Let me be a gentleman and open your door.” I hurry around the back of the Hummer. As I lift her down, of course I look for tit spillage. None yet.

  Plunking her hat on her head, I guide her to the stable office.

  I introduce Cherie to the owners. The Avalon refers a lot of business here — trail rides, carriages for weddings, romantic sleigh rides through the snow complete with jingle bells.

  While the owner brings the rig around, his twenty-something son pays too much attention to Cherie. The two walk the stalls. She wants to know each horse’s name. Of course she does.

  When she sees the team of big draft horses attached to our transportation, Cherie’s eyes light up.

  “A carriage ride?” She links her arm through mine, squeezes. The poor kid showing her around frowns. “I’ve never been on one,” she says.

  Score a fresh and new experience for me.

  I help her step up, get situated with my arm around her. The owner provided several pelts and blankets, not needed now but we’ll most likely need them on the way back.

  With a “Ha” and a click of the driver’s tongue, the horses move out.

  Mi ninfa let’s out a small joyful squeal. Taking off her hat, she leans over — pressing her lush tits into me, kisses my neck. I want her this fucking happy always. I cannot resist kissing that smiling mouth, cupping a breast, stroking the nipple with my thumb.

  “Victor.” She pushes at my hand, looks at the driver’s back.

  I grip her tighter, whisper. “He can’t see. Be quiet and he’ll never know.”

  The material of that teddy must be very thin. I can feel the slight puff of her areola as I roll the taut nub in my fingers. She whimpers.

  “Silencio.” I kiss her again, move my hand to her crotch, massage there. From her mouth, I nip her jaw, kiss behind her ear. “I should have told you to wear a dress.”

  “Mmmmm. How long is this little carriage ride?” Her whispered moan undeniably feminine, the grind against my hand completely carnal, the mix brings on a painful erection pressing against my zipper.

  “Too fucking long. Whose dumb idea was this anyway?”

  She laughs, leans away. “Yours.”

  Pulling my hand from between her legs, she holds it in her lap. I focus on the landscape, the setting sun, smile at the powerful desire pumping through both of us.

  A few miles away from the stables, two dark skinned men dressed in American Indian garb, wearing feathers and paint approach the carriage on horseback.

  Cherie smiles.

  “You’re supposed to be afraid of them,” I say with a grin.

  “Am I?” She bites her bottom lip, watches them.

  The men come closer. Despite playing a role, they both have a difficult time not smiling back at her. One of them speak. “We are here to escort you to our village.”

  “Escort away,” Cherie says.

  “You are no cowering white woman are you?” The indian says, grinning openly now.

  She shakes her head, laughing.

  He chuckles. “Good. Then you’ll enjoy our hospitality.”

  One of the men rides ahead, whooping and hollering. Next, we hear drums and chanting. As we crest the rise, the authentic teepee village comes into view. Cherie bounces in the seat like a child on Christmas.

  In minutes, I’m lifting her down from the carriage. The village is normally a tourist trap. Tonight, my friends who run the place have assured me that they’d reenact what life was truly like for the tribe when the white man first started appearing on their lands.

  My girl takes a million photos with her phone as she sees how the squaws grind grain, takes an archery lesson from a young brave, learns about the construction of a teepee all as the scent of food cooking on the central fire waft around us.

  Finally, the hosts sit us down to eat an authentic Anasazi-style meal of chopped elk on tortillas, fresh wild blueberries and a bean dish made from various plants gathered in the area.

  As darkness falls, the villagers take up the drums and dance for us under the bright moon. During one dance, they insist that the two of us dance with them. Mi ninfa was right about that teddy. Her tits bounce wildly, deliciously as she dances. It’s time to get her alone, time for some privacy.

  At the end of the dance, one of the women tucks a feather into Cherie’s hair and presents her with a pair of handmade moccasins. “A gift,” the woman says. “For you, bruja.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t. These are exquisite,” Cherie says.

  “We insist. Mr. Santana wants you to have these as a souvenir,” the woman says.

  Cherie narrows her eyes at me, then, tongue in her cheek, turns back to the woman. “Can I buy a loin cloth as a souvenir for him?”

  Everyone including the carriage driver laughs. The woman, though, disappears into a teepee, comes back with a huge smile and a much too tiny cloth. “How much?” Cherie reaches into her purse to get her wallet.

  “Complimentary. Consider it part of the package,” the woman says, causing another round of laughter. I have no doubt that I’ll pay for it in future ribbing. These guys will never let me hear the end of this.

  Cherie argues for a few minutes, insisting to pay for it. Eventually, she gives up. “Thank you.” Cherie retakes her seat next to me. She kisses my cheek.

  “I am not wearing that.” I chuckle, hug her close to my side.

  “Aw. Come on. For me? I wore itchy stockings for you.”

  I nod. She did wear those for hours and hours. Let’s make the loin cloth an incentive. “Okay. I’ll wear it for you when you come back from Santa Fe.”

  The teasing smile disappears, my girl looks away.

  Fuck.

  chapter thirty-six

  VICTOR SENSES THAT I might not be coming back from Santa Fe. That’s obvious. I think Maria is aware, too.

  I haven’t changed my mind exactly, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if The Graces would be a better fit for me. Yeah, it’s technically not the career path I’ve been wanting. Still, it’s a prestigious job and, who knows, I may enjoy wellness hospitality that includes Wicca.

  Not denying that the sex with Victor is incredible. Even with the little sexual knowledge I have, I’m smart enough to realize that now. He’s hot, sweet, thoughtful, fun, romantic — and my boss should I follow through with the internship and the Fast Track program. He’s crept under my skin alarmingly quickly, made me fall for him despite my overriding goal to protect myself.

  God, leave it to me to fall in love with the first guy I have sex with — like some innocent Victorian maiden. I’m so stupid.

  Locking myself into five years with Santana Resorts could be even stupider. What if Victor and I fizzle out, and I can’t get away from The Av during those years? How horrible would it be working for an ex? Especially if he’s an angry ex? I’m certain it’d be horrible. Getting away now seems far wiser. The question comes down to whether I’m smart enough to do that.

  “Are you ready to head back?” I say, watching the dancers rather than looking at him.

  He grips my chin, and turns my head toward him. Concern laces through the brilliant gold specks in his chocolate eyes. “You’re mine for tonight. Don’t think any further than that. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I try to smile.

  He’s right. What’s one more night of being stupid? I can think in the car tomorrow morning. I can think, and probably think clearer, while I’m in Santa Fe and away from his effect on my body.

  I get up and take a few more shots of the colorful scene. Lit by the fire and an almost full moon, it’s magical. Victor
’s magical. And we’re a heartbreak waiting to happen. Through the fire, I zoom in on him. He watches me, serious at first, but then he winks and sticks his tongue out. The shutter captures his nuttiness.

  Helping me into the carriage, Victor puts his jacket on me and heaps a heavy pelt on my lap.

  I laugh. “I’m not cold, Victor, and this is huge.”

  “Silencio.” He flashes his creases with a smile and leans into my ear to whisper. “I have my reasons.”

  The driver gets the team going. The moonlight lights the little dirt road perfectly. I lean back onto Victor’s arm and look up into the night sky. I bet the stars are amazing on moonless nights. The rhythmic clopping of the hooves soothe my nerves.

  Victor pulls me closer and with a finger under my chin, turns my face to look into his. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he simply stares — his gaze roaming from my mouth, to my cheeks, to my eyes and back, again. He traces my brow with a finger. The finger smooths over my nose to my lips.

  See. It’s this stuff that he does, wrapping himself more and more around my heart. And he’s absolutely right. It scares me — scares me to death.

  Finally, he lowers his head and kisses me, softly at first. With a hand holding my head, he deepens the kiss and my tongue can’t resist. I taste him back.

  The hand holding my head moves lower, undoes the top two buttons of my shirt. He fondles the lace under it.

  “Oh la la,” he whispers with a raised eyebrow.

  Then, he pulls the jacket over to cover my chest before sliding his hand over the teddy fabric to caress a breast.

  “Mmmmm.” He moans to my mouth. “Damn, that’s soft.” His hand moves the fabric aside so he can touch skin to skin. “But your skin is even softer.” He caresses the bottom of my breast. “Especially here.”

  Taking my mouth in a demanding kiss, he slowly circles the nipple with his middle finger. I arch into his hand. His mouth muffles my moans as he tortures me with soft pinches.

  That big hand slides lower across my belly. I suck in my abs so it’ll fit under the waistband of my jeans.

  “Thank you for wearing loose jeans,” he whispers.

  “I thought we’d be riding,” I whisper back.

  His fingers stroke over the fabric of teddy and my hips move with him. I bite my lip trying to be quiet. With a wicked grin, Victor watches my face. He finds the crotch snaps and opens them.

  “Five minutes.” The driver gives us a warning.

  I blush, because I know that he knows we’re making out back here. Victor smiles, replaces my teeth on my bottom lip with his before roughly filling my mouth with his tongue and filling my vagina with a finger. My muscles clench to bring the finger deeper, to keep it.

  “So wet for me,” he whispers. “I’m going to lap up every last drop of your nectar, peaches.” He moves his finger to circle my clit. “Then, I’m going to feast on this engorged little bud, make you come over and over, screaming my name.”

  His dirty talk kicks my arousal higher. The moisture between my legs pools in his hand. He dips two fingers back in. I clench my muscles tighter, bite my lip hard to keep from moaning. Sliding his hand out of my pants, he sucks one of fingers that was inside me. He licks his lips and then sucks the other finger.

  “Delectable,” he whispers.

  All I can do is smile. “You are a bad, bad boy.”

  He smiles back. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m taking notes, Mr. Santana.” I laugh.

  Throwing his head back, he laughs. “Aw, mi ninfa. I cannot wait for your next exam.” Softly in my ear he says, “The next time I fuck you, I want you to call me Mr. Santana like you do.” He shifts in the seat, trying to rearrange himself in his pants.

  I reach under the pelt and rub his shaft through the fabric. He hisses in a breath, grinds against my hand.

  I lightly bite his earlobe. “Of course, Mr. Santana. I’d like to practice sucking you.” I whisper. “I’d like to see if I can swallow more of you next time. Will you let me do that, Mr. Santana?”

  A low growl from his gut means my dirty words hit the mark. I back away to look into his face. His hooded eyes are almost black and his tongue licks the corners of his grin.

  I sit back to button my blouse, smile at him. “Now we just need to figure out who gets to go first.”

  His white teeth gleam in the moonlight. “Ladies first.”

  I’m not sure whether he means he does me first or I do him first.

  The lights of the barn come into view. Victor pulls the pelts away, his erection plainly obvious. He lifts his pelvis to sit in another position, adjusts his pants.

  I giggle. “Do you need some help, cowboy?”

  “Evil little filly.” He chuckles.

  The carriage slows and stops by the barn. Victor gets down first, turns to help me. I knew it was going to happen and it does. My right breast escapes the flimsy cup that passes for a bra on the teddy.

  “Cherie. You get me any harder, I’ll have to visit the ER.” He closes the jacket to cover me.

  “Not my fault,” I say, covertly pulling the lace back up.

  Victor and I thank the driver and the stable owners. Dustin, the son, hands me a card with his cell number scrawled on the back. I slip it in my pocket.

  When Victor gives me a hand into the Hummer, the card pushes up and becomes visible. He takes it out and reads it.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Victor throws the card on the dash. “The kid’s got balls hitting on you in front of me.”

  I retrieve the card as Victor walks to the driver’s side.

  “It’s for my job at The Av. He said to call him anytime with questions or to set up rides.”

  “I just bet he’d like that.”

  “For referring guests, Victor.”

  Starting the vehicle, he smiles, leans across to peck my cheek. “You are so naïve, Cherie. You don’t need his private number to refer guests. You’re so fucking sexy that Dustin was willing to risk a beating from me to get to you.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into it, Mr. Santana.” I smile and tease him. I don’t want him to be jealous.

  At the corner of the road leading off the ranch and onto the county road, he puts on the brakes. Victor reaches over and opens the jacket, then, unbuttons my blouse almost all the way. He pulls the shirt halves aside.

  “Fuck. I’ve been dying to see this thing.” He runs a hand across my belly, fingers the lace at the cleavage. Watching my eyes, he runs his fingertip just under the lace, teases a nipple until it’s puckered and wanting his mouth.

  I whimper. “Victor. You shouldn’t be doing this here.”

  “You’re right.” He quickly pulls away, shifts the Hummer into gear like it was nothing.

  “Are you teasing me?”

  He chuckles, winks at me. “It’s only fair.” He points at his bulging crotch.

  Reaching over, I undo the top button on his jeans, reach for the zipper.

  “Cherie.” He hisses through clenched teeth, capturing my hand. He growls.

  “I just want to touch you, Mr. Santana.”

  He opens my hand flat, presses my palm to his jeans and the rock hard erection under there. Taking one hand off the wheel, he undoes his zipper. I slip my hand inside, wrap it around him and pump.

  “Aw, fuck.” He comes off the seat. The Hummer lurches when he presses the gas accidentally.

  I take my hand out, sit back in my seat. “We better stop. People have gotten hurt doing stuff like this in cars.”

  “That’s urban legend.” He grabs my hand, holds it firmly on himself.

  I shake my head, try to take my hand back. “It’s not. Two friends in high school got in a wreck while the passenger was giving the driver a blowjob.”

  Jerking the Hummer hard to the right, Victor takes a side road that leads up into the trees. He comes to a stop and kills the engine at a secluded spot overlooking Telluride.

  “Oh, what a nice —” I don�
�t get the rest of the sentence out before Victor’s mouth crushes mine, his tongue demanding to be inside. I let it in.

  He undoes his seatbelt and mine. While he kisses down my throat, he moves one side of the teddy aside and with hot suction, takes a nipple roughly into his mouth.

  I arch into him causing the fabric to slide back into place, hampering him. Growling in frustration, he rips the teddy right down the middle.

  “Victor.”

  “I’ll buy you another one.” He pants, puts his mouth back on the nipple, grazing it lightly with his teeth. I can’t sit still and I can’t be quiet. I fist his hair, rock my body against him, whimpering incessantly.

  He quickly unbuttons my jeans, slips a hand in. The teddy crotch still open, he glides two fingers deep inside my vagina, pumps them fast.

  “Oh, god.” That’s what I want.

  “Aw, yeah. So fucking wet for me. Come in my hand, peaches. I want feel you come apart right now.” He presses a thumb to my clit. “Now.” He orders.

  And I do, right on his command, screaming through the explosion of stars, the waves rippling through my body.

  Vaguely aware of him getting out of the Hummer, I jump a little when he yanks my door open.

  “I gotta taste you, mi ninfa.”

  He lifts me out, pulls my jeans down then lifts me back up, positioning me sideways on the seat — my legs hug his hips as he stands outside.

  Kissing me, he kneads both my breasts, tugging and rubbing on both nipples.

  “Please, Victor.”

  “I love when you beg me, sweetness. Are you up for some wild wilderness sex?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “Lick my nipples, please.”

  “Who should do that?”

  “Mr. Santana.”

  “Good girl.” He latches on tight, almost sucking my entire breast into his mouth, biting me lightly. God, it feels amazing. I grind my pelvis into his hard abs.

  “Take off your shirt, Mr. Santana.”

  Panting hard, he stops, stands up and does it. Instead of going back to my nipple, he kisses and nips down my belly.

  He lifts my legs over his shoulders, fingers me lightly, teasingly. “Fuck. You’re drenched.” He pushes his nose into my crotch.