Rocky Mountain Devil

by Vivian Arend

  A happy sound rumbled up from his chest. “You’re as hot as I remember.”

  “You’re driving me crazy,” Laurel whispered.

  Rafe ignored her. Instead, he slipped his fingers under the edge of her bra, sliding the material aside and tucking it underneath. “But are you as delicious as I remember?” he asked, utter seriousness in the question.

  This time when he put his mouth on her there was no barrier between them, and Laurel moaned. “Oh, yes.”

  He had both hands working now, cupping her slight curves on both sides. Her straps were still in place, but the actual cups were curled under to leave her exposed to his touch. Fingertips teasing. Fingers and thumbs rolling over her nipples and pinching briefly before being replaced by his mouth. His tongue and lips soothing. Stroking. Back and forth from one side to the other.

  Laurel didn’t know what to expect. One time it was a soft lick followed by a sharp pinch. The next, Rafe sucked, increasing the pressure slowly before putting the edge of his teeth to her in a move that drove a pulse from her nipple straight to her core.

  Turned on and aching for more, but willing to follow his lead, she stroked her fingers through his hair and let him play.

  His body was hard next to hers, hips pressed tight to her thigh. The thick ridge of his erection nudged her, and she moved her leg, desperately trying to give back to him. She didn’t want this to be just about her—this was them, together finding pleasure. Taking the next step.

  Rafe lifted himself slightly to gaze down in admiration. “So gorgeous. So perfect, with those tight little nipples that fit my mouth like you were made for me. I could spend all night eating you up, but I want more.”

  He slid a hand down her belly, fingers swirling for a moment over her belly button before slipping under the elastic of her skirt. “Yes?”

  Why was he even asking? “Let’s assume from here on the answer is always yes.”

  “I don’t assume. But good to know.”

  He kissed her, and she was momentarily distracted by his eager lips. Momentarily—because now his hand was under her panties and he was cupping her intimately. Rolling the heel of his hand against the top of her mound.

  Not enough pressure for her to come, but more than enough to make her feel plenty optimistic they were on the right road.

  “Touch me,” she begged.

  “I am touching you,” he teased, his mouth at her ear as he brought the lobe between his teeth and bit.

  Laurel growled. “Touch my pussy.”

  “Bossy.”

  “Rafe. Please…”

  “Well, if you put it that way. How can I refuse?”

  He dragged his hand upward, briefly tickling his fingers against her stomach before, with a wicked grin, moving where she needed him.

  Chapter Ten

  Rafe trembled on the edge of control. As he slipped his fingers through her curls, she all but purred, the sound rising from deep in her throat making him impossibly hard.

  He stroked his fingers through her wetness, slipping into her body slightly. One knuckle, retreat, repeat.

  He adjusted his thumb until he found her clit and rubbed lightly as on every pulse he pressed deeper and deeper into her body. One finger replaced by two, fingers coated with her response as he fought to keep from frantically dry humping her leg.

  It was no use. Laurel rocked against his hand, desperate noises escaping her as he fucked his fingers into her warmth. Distraction. That’s what he needed, but the only distraction at hand was her.

  Like her pretty little breasts, glistening from his mouth. He reached down to kiss them one after the other, sucking in time with his pulsing fingers.

  She made another noise, and he shifted position enough to cover her mouth with his. Capturing the sound of her pleasure and taking it into himself. Their tongues tangled, desperation growing. He was rocking against her, and she was driving her hips up harder, faster, and together they were one minute away from—

  Laurel arched under him, body tightening, her moans and little cries escalating in volume as she came.

  No way on earth he could stay in control after that.

  He pressed his aching cock against her one last time and lost it. Pressure shot from him in a rush, light bursting behind his eyes. He rocked even as he pressed his fingers as deep as possible, Laurel’s pussy gripping him tightly in the aftershocks of her climax.

  Softer now. Slower, taking her down gently. He kissed her. On the mouth, on the cheek. Over eyelids that fluttered closed a second before she let out a long, satisfied sigh.

  She was twirling her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, and it felt so perfect to lie there wrapped up with her, his hand still between her legs.

  “Wow. That was the best swing I’ve ever had,” Laurel offered.

  He laughed. He was going home with sticky, wet underwear, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

  “Never had any doubts,” she promised, stroking the side of his face as she examined him closely. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  “About what?”

  She glanced down his body. “About that.”

  Ha. “Oh, that. You did enough already.”

  Confusion covered her expression for a moment before her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  He snickered. “You’re killing me here, Sitko. Did you not notice I kind of lost control?”

  A slightly bemused smile twisted the corners of her mouth. “I must have been busy at the time.”

  “You need to learn to multitask.”

  She wiggled up on her elbows, not one bit shy about her bare breasts. “I promise I won’t let that happen again.”

  “What? Me getting so excited about touching you that I come?” He shook his head. “Don’t think that’s a thing you can make any promises about.”

  “I want you to have a good time too.”

  “Trust me, I did.”

  He trailed his fingers down her body, astonished that he was there with her. That he had the privilege of touching her and making her lose herself in pleasure.

  It was a privilege, and more, and he certainly didn’t want her getting distracted by things that didn’t matter in the big scheme of things.

  And as tempting as it was to take her home and start all over, going even farther the next time, that whole going-slow thing had a purpose.

  He slipped her bra back into position carefully, taking his time and touching as much as he wanted. “It’s gonna be pretty busy around here for the next week,” he warned. “Gabe has a ton for me to get caught up on since he’s been managing things with hired help all summer. And after that we’ll be haying, judging from the fields I spotted while we were out riding today.”

  “I remember how busy it would get for you in the fall.” She stroked her fingers through his hair, patting it into place with a satisfied smile. “I’ll email you my schedule for the week—it changes a bit every day. Call or text when you can. No pressure.”

  “I will. But plan on Friday. Dancing at Traders, if you’re okay with that.” It was the one place there was sure to be a gathering of the Coleman clan.

  Laurel nodded. “I’m helping move Troy’s stuff tomorrow, but other than that, I’m yours.”

  He liked the sound of that. He liked it an awful lot.

  They straightened themselves up and headed back to his truck, Rafe ignoring the sensation of his briefs sticking to him best he could.

  Distraction helped, like stealing a few kisses after he’d lifted her to the seat next to him. A few more after they pulled up to the sidewalk outside her place, and a final few standing with her in his arms on the concrete slab outside her door.

  “I’m going too fast,” Rafe muttered, lips brushing together as he let her up for air.

  “You don’t hear me complaining, do you?” Laurel pointed out, smoothing her hands over his chest as if she couldn’t bear to let go either. “It’s not as if we met for t
he first time two days ago.”

  Another sweet moment, tasting her briefly before shoving his hands in his pockets to stop from grabbing her. “Those weren’t years of foreplay, Sitko.”

  “No, but they were fun, weren’t they?” she said, unlocking her door and slipping inside. She offered one final smile. “Thank you. It was a good evening.”

  “A great evening,” he insisted.

  He waited until she’d closed the door and put on the safety chain before heading back to his rooms over the garage.

  The place wasn’t home. It was a bare space, with boxes stacked in piles. Gabe was right—he needed more than this, and he wanted a place Laurel would feel welcome.

  The leftover bag from Tim Hortons Jeff had left behind stuck out of the garbage box, reminding Rafe he might have a fight on his hands down the road. Not for Laurel’s affections—she’d made it pretty clear who she’d choose between the two of them.

  A small trickle of doubt slipped in. They’d been friends forever, and were learning to be more. But they’d both experienced life during the years apart. What if—

  Fuck it all, he wanted what was best for her, and what if he wasn’t it?

  Damn Jeff to hell for putting thoughts into his head. If the man did come back to Rocky, Rafe was going to do everything he could to make sure Laurel didn’t have to put up with any bullshit. What would that look like? Hopefully he’d figure it out as they went along.

  In the meantime, finding a new place to live moved up his priority list.

  He headed to the shower with a whole lot on his mind, his thoughts returning to a certain blonde-haired woman who’d moved decisively in his mind from the friends category to friends plus more.

  He’d been a hundred percent right—the entire week was a sweat-inducing mess from sunup to sundown and beyond. Forget having time to look for a new place to live, he barely had time to drag off his filthy clothes before falling into bed exhausted.

  All the time behind the wheel that summer had made him soft, it seemed, and he dove even harder into work, not wanting to let his brother down.

  Gabe and Allison had things well organized, and the half-dozen workers they’d hired to do the simple tasks were great, but the Angel spread was a big chunk of land to care for, even with the combined Coleman efforts.

  He’d bumped into what looked like a clan meeting one morning, rounding the corner in the barn to find Gabe chatting earnestly with their cousins Blake, Steve and Karen.

  They stopped talking when they spotted him, which wasn’t completely out of line—he was sixteen years younger than Blake, and all of them except Karen were in long-term relationships. They didn’t have that much in common other than being family, but usually that was enough. To find them hunkered down in the middle of the week seemed as if secret things were going on.

  “Troubles?” Rafe asked.

  “Just making some plans,” Blake answered. “Gabe will fill you in when he can. I wanted to talk to you, though. Daniel’s boys were helping at the Six Pack ranch over the summer, but they’d like to come out here for a bit.” He grinned. “You have more interesting animals or something. Gabe says it’s okay. What do you think?”

  “If Gabe says it’s okay, don’t know why you’re asking me,” Rafe answered.

  “You’d have to help supervise them,” Gabe explained. “I didn’t want to volunteer you without asking first.”

  “No problem. Will they catch the bus after school?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rafe shrugged. “We can figure it out.”

  Blake nodded. “I’ll let Daniel know. He’ll be—”

  Shit. “Make sure the boys know to come to Gabe’s. We’ll meet them here.” He glanced at Gabe. “Sorry, but…”

  “No, you’re right.”

  Ben never came over to the new buildings if he could help it, and they both knew it.

  Hell, the entire family knew what they weren’t straight-up saying. Steve and Karen were grim-faced, and Blake was nodding, and it wasn’t funny but it was because there was no way he should have to run interference to keep the boys out of his father’s path.

  Rafe was still thinking about the incident the next morning when he returned to the homestead to complete a few tasks. Terrible screeching noises rose from inside the old barn beside the house, dust shooting from the open doors of the hayloft as if a pack of demons had possessed the place and were ripping it apart from the inside out.

  He wasn’t too far off the mark.

  Rafe parked well away then cautiously opened the door to the old building, confused to find his father tearing apart stall walls, dust swirling everywhere and creating a heavy curtain in the air.

  Ben raised the tractor bucket to about four feet, adjusted the blade angle higher and tore out another section. The ripped-up boards landed with a crash, sending more dust flying, the roof creaking ominously.

  Holy shit. Rafe ran down a side path, desperate to get into his father’s line of vision as quickly as possible. He stayed back as far as he could, shouting over and over as he waved his arms until his father stopped flinging the bucket around.

  Ben’s face was folded into a scowl as he put the tractor into low gear, as if Rafe had done something absolutely terrible. “Get out of my way,” he shouted over the engine roar.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rafe rushed the tractor and yanked the keys from the ignition. The sudden quiet as the engine died made his final words extra loud, and they echoed in the open space. “You can’t take down walls without a plan. The next post over is the support beam for the main roof—are you trying to kill yourself?”

  Ben shot to his feet and out of the tractor, eyes narrowing. “I’m not an idiot, and I’ll thank you to remember that when you’re talking to me.”

  “Don’t act like one, then. And I never said you were an idiot, but that move you were about to make was damn stupid. What’s going on? You’re making a mess—”

  “Last time I checked this was still my place. Even though your brother likes to boss us around, this barn is mine”—Ben smacked his fist down on the tractor frame—“and I don’t need anyone’s permission to make changes.”

  The fear that had driven Rafe became anger. Blood pounded, and his ears rang, and the thing he wanted most at that moment was to wipe the indignant expression off his father’s face.

  “You might not need permission, but it’d be good to have a structural plan in mind,” he shouted back, flinging a hand to point at the support post his father had been mere feet away from dislodging. “Or at least if you want to bring the whole thing down on your head, give me enough time to get the animals and equipment out so they don’t get hurt by your stupidity.”

  Ben’s face had gone bright red, and his hands were clenched in fists by his hips. “I don’t like your tone, young man. I’m still your father, and you will speak to me with respect.”

  “It’s not disrespectful to try and save your life, but if you think it is, fine. That’s the last time I’ll interfere.”

  He tossed the keys at Ben, not even watching to see if they were caught. Instead, he stomped away, heading into the house to grab a drink before returning to the other side of the ranch and getting as far away from his father as possible.

  The interior of the house was well worn, but clean and tidy, little signs of his mother everywhere. Today there was a reason for additional warmth as he wandered past his mom at the stove and squatted beside the high chair where Micah was strapped in and chewing on a baby cookie.

  Rafe took a deep breath and shoved aside the anger and exasperation of the past minutes with his father. His nephew didn’t deserve second-hand frustration.

  “Hey, big fella. You living the life of leisure today? Getting spoiled by your Grammy?”

  His mother appeared at his side, handing him a chocolate chip cookie warm from the oven. “Allison’s not feeling well.” She frowned. “I didn’t expect to see you. I thought your father had a whole bunch of tasks he wanted your help
with.”

  Rafe wondered exactly how much to say to his mom. “He didn’t say anything. Although I didn’t give him much of a chance because we were too busy shouting at each other about him being an idiot.”

  “Oh, Rafe.” His mom sat next to Micah, absently brushing the hair off the toddler’s forehead. “You two are so alike at times.”

  Fuck—exactly what he didn’t want to hear. “Great. You think I’m an asshole?”

  His mom whirled on him, eyes flashing. “Watch your language, Raphael Coleman. And no, I meant you’re both stubborn when you get an idea in your head. It’s like beating rocks with my bare hands to get you to change your mind. And now you’ve both set yourselves on paths where you’re like oil and water.”

  “That’s not what I intend, but the minute I see him—” Rafe cut himself off, slightly mollified by her explanation.

  Wisely, his mom changed the topic. “I heard something interesting today.”

  Anything to not have to talk about Ben. “What’s the latest gossip in Rocky?”

  She smiled coyly. “I hear there’s a new lady in your life.”

  Rafe was tempted to lean his head on the table. Great change of topic—from one thing he didn’t want to discuss to another. “That wasn’t the kind of gossip I expected.”

  “I like her. She’s solid and yet fun, and you’ve been friends for years.” Dana waggled her fingers as she seemed to consider the matter a little more then nodded. “Yes. I think she’ll be good for you.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this with you, Mom.”

  “Which is why we’re not talking. I’m simply offering my opinion, as mothers do.”

  He chuckled. “As mothers do—you got that right.”

  “You two always did get along so well.” She eyed him. “Too well at times. I never expected the pastor’s daughter to be such a troublemaker, but all those detentions couldn’t have been your fault for so many years.