by Tessa Layne
He groaned loudly when she finally took him fully into her hot, wet mouth. “Christ you’re good at this.” He clenched his ass, trying not to thrust like a wild man into her mouth.
So fucking beautiful.
The back of her throat against his tip, her velvety tongue rolling over his shaft. His balls hardened to rocks as tension built up the back of his legs. “I’m gonna come, sweetheart,” he panted, his eyes rolling backwards. The ripples of sensation melted his insides, rendering him senseless.
She hummed a sigh of satisfaction, setting his cock vibrating. And then sucked a little harder. The sight of her mouth around his cock, curls gently bouncing while he slowly fucked in and out, permanently branded into his memory, and sent him over the edge into oblivion.
With a cry, he released, spurting hot waves of come against the back of her throat, and still she sucked and hummed like she was making a birthday cake instead of giving him the blowjob of his life.
He clutched at the counter, chest heaving, and waited for the spots to leave his vision. He brushed her curls, gently tugging her head up. She released him, looking like a self-satisfied kitten.
When he’d found his voice again, he started. “I’ve never…”
She leaned back on her heels, a little flash of pride crossing her face. “Was that naughty enough for you?”
He leaned over and helped her up. “Very.” In a swift movement, he’d seated her on the counter and stepped between her legs. “Let’s see what we have under here.” He ran his hands the length of her thighs, fully intending to stop when his fingers hit lace. Only they hit… nothing.
He let out a hiss. “Jesus, you’re full of surprises.”
She smirked triumphantly, running her fingers through his hair and sending shivers down his spine. “I’m waiting for that spanking, cowboy.”
In spite of the explosive orgasm she’d just given him, hunger for her, desire to bury himself deep inside her, had him thickening again. “In time, in time.”
He grabbed a chocolate covered strawberry from the plate next to her on the counter. Slowly he drew the tip toward her sex, then ran it gently up and down her slit. Her thighs tensed and her eyes widened.
“Like that?” he murmured. “Tell me what it feels like.”
She released a shaky breath. “H-h-h-hot… and cool.”
He kept stroking. “Hmm… both?”
He withdrew the berry and brought it to his mouth. She let out a needy whimper. He took a small bite, tasting the mix of chocolate, strawberry, and her. The flavor acted like a fuse, sending a hot spike of lust straight through him. He brought it to her lips, teasing her full, lower lip until she bit. A drop of pink juice dribbled down her chin.
Groaning, he leaned in, capturing the drop with his tongue before claiming her mouth. Her hand pulled at the back of his neck, inviting him deeper, and he thrust his tongue into the silky cavern of her mouth, tasting a heady mix of sweet and salt, hot and cool.
Driving his hand through her hair, he plundered her mouth, over and over, unable to get enough of her taste. Unable to get enough of her. He slipped his other hand back under her skirt, reaching for and finding her wet slit. She adjusted, opening for him, and he stroked up and down, brushing her clit with each movement. Her hips rolled in invitation, and he thrust one finger, then two, deep into her creamy hot channel. Her walls clenched his fingers and she groaned into his mouth.
He pulled his mouth away with a groan. Her eyes were wild and glazed, her breath coming in shallow movements. Sliding his fingers from her, he brought them, drenched in her essence, to her mouth.
“Taste yourself, Jamey. Taste how hot you are.” He teased her mouth open, running his wet fingers along her lips. “Suck them. Suck them like you sucked me.” He thrust his fingers into her mouth and she clamped down, sucking hard, her tongue lapping her cream like a popsicle.
The sensation brought lights to the edge of his vision. Fuck going slow, he had to be in her now. He tugged on his fingers, and she released them with a cry.
“Stand up.” He pulled her hips to the edge of the counter and helped her down. Then, turning her, he rucked her skirt above her waist, baring her perfect ass. She tossed him a wanton look over her shoulder as she bent forward, tipping her ass up just enough that her glistening pussy lips peeked out.
“God help me, you’re fucking perfect.” He buried himself to the hilt in one hard thrust. She groaned and bucked back, the walls of her slick channel convulsing around him with the same intensity her mouth had.
The crash of a tray sounded.
“Brodie,” she gasped, “What about that spanking?”
Jesus. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, her curls bouncing.
Her request hooked a place deep inside him and he nearly came undone. He brought his hand to her ass. Just hard enough to pink the soft flesh. She was gorgeous all splayed out like this, half clothed and skin flushed.
She cried out, her voice keening. “Oh God, yes. Again.”
He smacked her cheek again, rubbing over the mark, then brought his hand around to capture her clit between thumb and forefinger. He gave a little squeeze, and she convulsed around him, over and over, crying loudly in her release, and triggering his own.
He thrust deep into her, his balls bumping against the wetness of her pussy with each stroke as his vision narrowed. He collapsed over her, clutching her to himself as they slowly floated back to earth.
“I think I love you,” he murmured in her ear.
She hummed in the back of her throat. “You’re just saying that.”
“I do.”
“Tell me that in the cold light of day and not after the best sex of your life.”
He placed a little kiss behind her hear. “That good for you, too?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Even though it was only one orgasm, not three?”
“I’ll collect later.”
Warmth reignited in his chest again. He could get used to this… contentment.
The crunch of tires on gravel spurred them both to action.
“Shit.”
“Oh my God, Brodie, look at this.” Jamey stood, fluffing her skirt back into place, eyes wide and laughing.
He fumbled with his belt as the scene before him sunk in. Crumbled food littered the island. A ceramic tray lay broken on the floor, its remaining strawberries scattered across the kitchen.
He stepped backwards toward the door, unlocking and opening it just as Blake and Simon stepped to the threshold.
Double shit.
He scrubbed a hand across his face, his mind racing with excuses.
“What in the hell happened here?” Blake asked, scanning the room.
Jamey giggled, her face pink. She glanced at Simon, then back at him. They both spoke in unison. “Food fight.”
CHAPTER 34
Brodie whistled as he tossed clean hay into one of the stalls. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was going someplace. Like the universe was finally on his side. The last few weeks with Jamey had been incredible. They made a great team. Not just in bed, but in how they got through a day.
The way she’d shoot him a secret smile over the head of a guest, or she’d bring him lemonade when he was working on a project, or clearing out cedar stumps. And she no longer shooed him out of the kitchen. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
Content.
He kept coming back to that word. For the first time in his adult life, he had something to look forward to. He Daydreamed about the future. Hoped that if he was lucky, those daydreams might become reality.
Simon entered the barn with a bucket and shovel. Brodie watched with pride as the boy put up his tools and came to stand in front of him. “I got the coop cleaned out. Just like you showed me.”
“Good job, my man.” He ruffled the boy’s head.
He’d come to love Simon. It hadn’t been easy at first. Especially knowing that if things had gone different, Simon might have been his
son, not his half-brother. Ben had straightened him out with a little counsel and perspective. Now, he couldn’t imagine the ranch without Simon.
And lately, he’d found himself daydreaming of sons. Redheaded sons with green eyes… and freckles.
“When will the chickens start laying eggs?”
“Not ’till early spring.”
Simon wrinkled his nose. “I hate waiting.”
“You and me both, kiddo.”
“Can I watch you chop wood? Jamey said that’s next on our list.” Simon fished in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with Jamey’s bold scrawl, holding it out.
He waved it off. “Whatever she says. I’ll get the maul.”
Jamey was right. He needed to arrange for a tutor. But he wasn’t ready to face the pity in people’s eyes, or the mean triumph in someone like Kylee Ross’s eyes, when word got out he couldn’t read. And word would get out. It was Prairie.
Jamey had been bugging him about it relentlessly, and he’d finally promised to do it, but still hadn’t managed to make the call.
Simon trailed him out to the woodpile. “Are we having another bonfire?”
He nodded and placed the first log on the splitting stump. “Yep. Tonight or tomorrow.”
Simon stood a safe distance back and tossed bark at the tree.
Brodie swung, and the maul cracked the wood, splitting it nearly to the bottom. He heaved again and the log broke in two.
“Can I try?”
Brodie looked over his shoulder, sizing up his little brother. Simon was still on the wiry side, but determined to be a man. The protective part of him thought he was still too young. But looking back, he and his brothers had started chopping wood at a much younger age. “All right. Time you learned something new anyhow. Grab a log.”
Simon grabbed a log and set it on the stump.
Brodie squatted down with the maul. “Safety first. See this?” He ran his thumb across the edge. “Feel it. Just like I did.”
Simon gently rubbed his finger over the edge, fear and excitement in his eyes. “It’s not very sharp.”
“It doesn’t have to be. It’s still as dangerous as any of Jamey’s knives. What do you think would happen if it came in contact with a body part?”
Simon’s eyes widened. Brodie nodded. “I’ve seen careless people crush and even lose fingers. Treat it with respect.”
He stood, and placed a log on the stump. “Safety first. Do you have your protective glasses?”
Simon sprinted to the barn and jogged back, safety glasses in place.
“Come over to the wood. See all these cracks?” He pointed out the places on the wood.
“Aim for one of those, but by the edge. They’ll split better.”
He stepped back, leaving the maul touching the wood. “Next, make sure you’re standing in the right place to aim. Always mark your shot.”
“Kind of like we do for target shooting.”
“Yeah. Kinda.”
Brodie brought the maul back across his body. “See how I’m holding this?”
Simon nodded solemnly.
“This is where you start. Then as you lift, slide your hand down, and swing.”
The maul came down hard and split the wood on the first try.
“You’ll build muscles doing this.” He grinned at his little brother. “Girls will be chasing you all over the playground.”
“Just like they chased you?”
“I think I chased them, too. But yeah.” He stacked another piece, and prepared to swing.
“Are you going to marry Jamey?”
The question, asked so innocently, startled him. He missed his swing and the maul glanced off the wood. “Here. You try. Remember to hike up on the handle if it’s too heavy.” He handed the maul to Simon, hand shaking slightly.
In his mind he’d imagined them spending the future together, but he’d never named it. She was just there with him. And a few redheaded sons.
But marriage?
Getting down on one knee and proposing?
He wasn’t a love and fluff kinda guy.
And the one time he’d blurted out that he loved Jamey, she’d scoffed. So he hadn’t mentioned it again.
But she’d loved the boots he’d given her. Enough to wear them frequently. He hadn’t convinced her to ditch the hideous shiny purple clodhoppers she favored, but he hadn’t seen them on her feet as often since he’d given her the boots.
“So are you?” Simon stood staring at him, holding the maul just like he’d been shown.
“Am I what?”
“Going to marry Jamey?”
He scrubbed his hand over his face, unsure of how to answer. “You think I should marry her?”
Simon shot him a smile, then furrowed his brow in concentration as he raised the maul over his head and brought it down. It glanced off the wood. Not bad for a first try.
“I’d marry her.” Simon delivered his statement with conviction.
Brodie narrowed his eyes, studying Simon. The boy was growing up quickly. And obviously trying to imitate his big brothers. “Why’s that?”
Simon readied the maul again. “’Cause she’s pretty.”
He’d call her beautiful. Wild and strong. And beautiful. Like a mustang filly who’d never be all the way tame. “Well, don’tcha want more than pretty?”
Simon swung again, this time splitting the wood halfway down. He rolled his eyes at Brodie. “Well, duh… she cooks good, too. Everybody knows you should marry a good cook.”
He snorted.
Blake had missed that message. Maddie couldn’t even make decent coffee, but they seemed happy enough. Disgustingly happy.
This time, Simon’s swing split the log. Brodie hid a smile as Simon puffed out his chest and tossed the log on the woodpile. Then Simon swung back around and scowled, folding his arms across his body. “You do like her cooking, don’t you?”
“Of course I like her cooking.”
“Better than Dottie’s?”
God, the kid was brutal. “Yes. Better than Dottie’s. But don’t you tell Dottie that.” He nodded at the woodpile. “You want to do another?”
Simon shook his head, a sheepish smile covering his face.
“Don’t worry. Do a little every day and pretty soon you’ll be chopping the whole pile.” Brodie took the maul from Simon, its weight long a comfort in his hands.
He vividly remembered the first time Blake had shown him how to chop wood. He could barely lift the maul over his head, and Blake and Ben had rolled on the ground laughing. But he’d shown them. He’d gone out every day after school and made himself chop one more log than the day before. Pretty soon, he’d chopped circles around them, even though they’d been in high school.
Brodie placed another log on the stump and swung the maul high. Simon leaned against the tree, staring at him intently. “You know what the best thing about Jamey is though?”
The way she sighed in the back of her throat just before she came? Or the way she seemed to float through the kitchen like a ballerina when she was in her cooking zone. Maybe it was the look on her face at the moment he pushed into her slick heat. The look that told him he was everything she wanted.
Thinking of her hot and ready like that, heated his blood. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a lot more explaining to do for Simon than just wood chopping. “What?” he grunted, pulling the maul from the wood.
“She’s good. Like Maddie. She doesn’t let you do dumb stuff.”
“Yep. She definitely doesn’t let you do dumb stuff.”
“I think that’s how you know they love you.”
Brodie looked sharply at Simon. How’d the kid get so perceptive? He was starting to sound like Ben. “They don’t let you do dumb stuff because they love you? Yeah, that makes sense.”
Did that mean Jamey loved him?
All her fussing and nagging about learning to read?
“And she taught me how to cuss. Real cussing.”
Brodie
covered a smile. If the look of delight on Simon’s face was any indication, the boy had developed a serious crush. He chuckled. “Yeah. She’s a master at cussing.”
He liked the dirty side of her. Very much indeed. Especially when it involved cussing. Hell, sometimes he’d poke her just to hear her spout off.
Simon crossed his arms again. “So I think you should marry her.”
“’Cause you will if I don’t?” Something hot and possessive bloomed inside him. It didn’t matter Simon was just a kid. Anyone looking at Jamey romantically bothered him.
Simon shot him a scowl. “Because you’re just dumb if you don’t.” A small smile curved his mouth. “But I hope I marry someone like her.”
Marriage.
How would he even ask her? She’d roll her eyes at flowers. She’d laugh outright if he got down on one knee. Not that fairy tale romance was his style. Simon had certainly given him lots to think about. “Well come on, Romeo. Let’s get some lemonade. Chopping wood always makes me thirsty.”
And horny.
Hopefully, once Simon was on his way home, he could find Jamey and sneak in some naughty time. They had a small window of time this afternoon before the mad flurry of activity that occurred prior to guests arriving. He meant to make use of it.
He draped an arm across his little brother’s shoulders, surprised at how Simon had begun to fill out. He’d be a man before any of them were ready. They crossed the yard and entered the kitchen.
Brodie grabbed two glasses and opened the fridge searching for Jamey’s famous basil lemonade. It sounded frou-frou, but it was delicious. Especially after he’d worked up a sweat. He offered a glass to Simon, who was studying Jamey’s list again.
“We’re supposed to clean the drains. How do we do that?”
“First we run the dishwasher.” Brodie drained his glass, then flipped it upside down on a rack that held other miscellaneous dishes and pushed it into the washer. He pulled down the lever and showed Simon the start button. “Pretty easy, huh?”