I bite my lip and cry outright as a thin line of telltale sweat forms across my brow.
“Come to me,” I hiss, opening my arms to him as he crawls like a cat up the length of my trembling body.
Soon our arms and legs entangle between us as he strips away the confining fabrics of my calico gown.
Soon he bows his head to kiss every inch of flesh he so salaciously reveals, nipping the skin of my neck before kissing and suckling my breasts.
I writhe and slither in his arms as he pulls me closer to him; finally surging upward to claim my lips in another deep, impassioned kiss.
Our bodies move together in a decadent tango as I reach downward to stroke the skin of his hard-muscled chest and sleek sculpted abs; finally yanking off his tight black pantaloons to reveal his massive golden shaft.
Our kisses deepen as my lover cradles me to him, stroking my breasts as his long, stiff manhood soars dramatic between us.
Our tongues and fingers entwine between us as our hips and thighs interlock; his shaft teasing my feminine cleft as I thrust myself against him.
Our strong mutual power seems to merge our souls as our bodies follow in divine suit; rolling as one across the length of Duke’s soft feathered bed.
Paying my lips with the sweetest kisses, my lover settles himself between my thighs as my tender breasts crush his massive chest; letting loose with a low and lusty growl as the strands of his silky ebony hair whip restless across my breasts.
Wrapping my arms around his bulging shoulders and my legs around his firm trim waist, I throw myself against his hard-muscled body and lose myself in all things Duke; savoring the lap of his silken tongue as it canvases my mouth, inhaling the essence of his citrus tinged scent, and succumbing to the magic of our binding embrace.
Finally and fully he joins us as one, surging his long hard shaft to the depths of my soaking wet feminine garden.
Our enjoined hips claim an immediate motion as he moves slowly but with great purpose inside me; our hands canvassing one another’s bodies as we continue to kiss and cuddle.
Surging forth to my very core, Duke runs his hands like streams of warm water down the base of my sensitive spine; smacking his full warm lips against mine as the reverberating music of the saloon downstairs supplies a rhythmic backdrop to our sensual frolic.
The heat intensifies as our bodies slide together to create an incredible friction; one that intensifies as he runs an adoring hand down my planned stomach to stroke my feminine fruit.
Moaning deep as this move provokes a tender rain of sparks that fly wild throughout my entire being, I part my thighs to grant him greater entry; delighting as he drives his manhood deeper still within me.
Finally and with an animal scream, my lover and I explode together in the raw heat of an incredible mutual climax; and through my ecstatic haze, my mind is struck by a most peculiar notion.
“Duke and I actually started this day at each other’s throats—and we end it right smack in one another’s arms,” I muse. “I tell ya. Destiny sure is a right pesky varmint….”
Chapter three
Have ya ever awakened fresh from a full night’s sleep, sat up to bask in the rays of a new Texas sun…
…then smacked yourself upside the head and demanded, “Good Lawd! What have I just done?!”
Well, then you've been in my boots.
I—Duke Wyatt—just woke up in bed beside a beautiful, sensual woman. Don't particularly pity me, do ya? Well, you might if you consider the fact that this same woman could also become my partner in business. Well, that and the fact that—following a long and heated night of intimate and unbridled passion—the first thing that she says to me this morning is, “Dang, I think I want to chow down on some blueberry pancakes.”
Kind of injures a gent’s ego, know what I mean? Yet nonetheless I did not object when she rose from our bed, dressed right quick, and hightailed it to the main floor of the Yellow Rose Saloon; the dusky and sinful passion pit where folks do things that they never do confess.
Also the place where, lucky for her, they also serve the best dang blueberry pancakes this side of Austin.
I declined to join her at the breakfast table, though, because—as far as I see it—I have some thinkin’ to do.
“Tough guys shouldn’t have to think,” I scoff, turning over in bed and burying my head beneath a big feather pillow. “But if any gal will make a fella contemplate long and hard, well it would have to be Miss Elizabeth Collins.”
I never have met a woman quite like her. I so love her fire, her wits, her pure natural beauty; and if I was courting her, well heck I’d be in heaven right now. Instead of planning long horseback rides and picnics by the lake, though, instead we’re plannin’ some sort of business venture. And, well, I just don’t know what to think!
I never have even contemplated courtin' a business partner; and considerin' that my standard business partners wear mustaches and 10 gallon hats, well I guess it's little wonder.
At the same time, though, I just can’t pass up the opportunity to do business with a lady who has such a sharp mind and a cunnin’ business sense. Any woman who can beat me at an auction is bound and destined to be my partner in horse wranglin’.
I only hope, of course, that she’ll also continue to be my partner in other ways too; and that the magical night we just shared will be the first of many.
As if on cue the door to our private paradise swings open; revealin’ the beauty who looks even prettier by light of day.
“Well hello there, Darlin’,” I greet her on a purr, tossing our crisp cotton sheets clear to the floor to reveal to her my hard-muscled body. “Care to come back to bed, so we can get a right good start to our day?”
I frown just then as she turns away.
“You and I face a choice, Duke,” she insists, folding her arms before her. “We can either be partners in bed, or in the horse barn. We can’t have it both ways.”
I shrug my shoulders, searing her with a big ol’ catlike smile that I know will drive her plum nuts.
“We’ll see, Darlin’. We’ll just see.”
Chapter four
As Duke and I take leave of our room at the Yellow Rose saloon, I also vow to leave behind what I now see as a night of misbegotten passion.
Passionate, ecstatic, and a whole lot of fun. Ah, but misbegotten all the time.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m mad attracted to the man beside me, and was more than half tempted to spend the duration of the day in bed with him; not just—well—continuin’ with all that passionate lovemakin’, but also learning all I care to know about this handsome, interesting and smarter than a whip man.
Then I remind myself, though, that it is simply never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. So with that in mind, I ask Duke whether he’d care to go back to his ranch or mine; and we settle on both, but only for the purpose of picking up some horses and carting them to yet another ranch—for the purpose of a sale.
Eventually, we find ourselves at the site of a sprawling slice of acreage just outside Austin; one owned by a gentleman who, or so Duke tells me, is a major player in the horse racing game.
Although I take a moment to admire the tall, stately oak and magnolia trees, the lush wildflowers in scarlet and azure, and of course the yellow roses that grace this stretch of farm land, I soon turn with a flourish to stare my new business partner straight in the eyes.
“Now I want your promise right now, Duke, that the gentleman we’re about to meet is just that—a gentleman,” I insist, planting my hands on my hips. “I shall not sell my horses to a man that might in any way abuse or mistreat them—as some horse racers tend to do.”
Duke nods.
“I agree with you whole heartedly, Gal,” he insists, raising a firm finger for emphasis. “I sell my horses to only the most reputable dealers and racers. If I don’t know ‘em or I don’t trust ‘em, well I just don’t sell to ‘em. And believe me when I tell you that this man we’re visitin’ toda
y—Mr. Edwin Palmer—treats his mounts with the upmost care and the greatest respect.” He pauses here, shuffling his feet beneath him. “Unfortunately, though, I can’t quite say that he treats womenfolk with quite the same respect. Now please don’t misunderstand, Edwin would never insult or mistreat a lady. Given his overall belief system, though, I don’t know that he’ll take all that kindly to buying horses from a woman.”
Standing up straight as I hear this news, I soothe the fabric of my foot length dress-a high collared work of scarlet muslin—and stride forward with my chin held high.
“A Texas man who respects a horse substantially more than he does a woman,” I snort, trudging forth through the fields before me with Duke by my side. “Well unfortunately, Duke, this is not a new or unusual phenomenon. Just wait until he meets up with me.”
Soon my companion and I approach the centerpiece of this grand Southern estate: a three-story ivory manor complete with tall columns and a broad front porch.
Standing at the center of this iron gated porch is a short, pudgy man who seems stuffed into the fabrics of a white mohair suit; his obviously bald head just barely concealed by a wide-brimmed ebony hat.
“So the varmint wears a black hat,” I mumble to Duke. “Fitting, I suppose.”
Smothering a robust chuckle, Duke nonetheless raises his hand in friendly greeting as we approach the man on the porch.
“Top of the mornin’ to ya, Edwin!” he greets our host, who spits forth a nauseous stream of tobacco juice in response.
“Charming,” I muse in silence, offering a faint, forced smile as Edwin steps forth to meet us.
“Well good mornin’ to you, Duke!” the racer returns, engaging my companion in a manly handshake. “What business do you have here on this fine mornin’?”
Duke grins.
“We’re here to sell ya some prime horses today,” he announces, clapping his hands together before him.
Edwin nods, turning his beady eyes to rake me with a long, lascivious look.
“Well then I guess it’s well and fittin’, then, that ya brought a prime filly right along with ya,” he all but growls, leering openly at me as I sneer outright in response. “And who might you be, Miss? Are you the new lady in Duke’s life?”
I step forward, offering him my hand and a raw, stony glance as I report, “No, Sir. As it happens I am not Duke’s lady. I’m his business partner. We both are here on business, and each has brought you our finest rides today for your kind consideration.”
Ignoring my offered hand, the man before me opts instead to laugh full and hard in my face.
“A woman horse dealer?” he scoffs, shaking his bald head from side to side. “Now that’s a funny joke.”
Pointedly ignoring the way that Duke’s near frantic glance now flits fast and hard between us, I withdraw my offered hand and lift my chin to prideful effect.
“Well as it happens, Sir, this ‘joke’ has been my life for the past five years,” I report, folding my arms before me. “I am one of the top horse dealers in this area. If, however, you’d like to pass up the chance to buy some of the finest mounts in Texas, then that is your choice—as well as, I must say, your misfortune.”
Duke sighs.
“Now I didn’t mean for this pleasant business transaction to turn into a reenactment of the Civil War,” he insists, holding his hands up before him in what seems a defensive stance. “Why don’t we all just mosey on out to the horse barn, Edwin, and let you take a look at the fine examples of equestrian excellence we have to offer you this mornin’.”
Keeping his gaze trained on my scowling face, Edwin suddenly lets loose with another stream of misbegotten tobacco juice—one that just barely missed the toes of my boots as he shakes his head in response to Duke’s offer.
“I personally have no earthly intention of buyin’ a horse from a woman,” he spits out this last word like it was venom. “Unless, of course, she can beat me in a horse race.”
I blink hard. But not as hard as Duke.
“A horse race?” we respond together in a flawless chorus.
Edwin nods.
“Well she seems to be pretty good at runnin’ her mouth,” he points out, searing me with an annoying smile. “Let’s see how good she is at runnin’ her horses.”
Duke has heard enough.
“As much as I hate to cut this visit short, Edwin, I’m afraid that we may have been making a mistake in coming here today,” he informs our host, raising a firm finger for emphasis. “I will not stand by and watch my lady friend here be so direly insulted…”
“I’ll do it.”
Stepping forward to stand tall and strong between the two men, I agree at once to Edwin’s challenge.
Just before I question my very sanity.
Within moments I sit astride a tall ebony stallion; one identified as the fastest and finest ride at Edwin Palmer’s estate.
Avoiding the condemning eyes of the man who rides beside me at the center of a grassy, emerald leaved field—and the wide, excessively frantic eyes of the second man who watches us from the border of the field—I lean forward above the head of my horse and grab a firm hold on my leathery reins; taking a deep, sustaining breath as I lock my thighs around the horse’s flanks and square my slender shoulders.
“Go!”
At the command of my competitor I touch my heels to the sides of my ebony stallion, driving the horse forward as his hooves canvas the grasses beneath us.
“Ha!” I cry out, leaning my body into the race as I savor with a smile the sensation of flight.
As an avid equestrian, I know it is this feeling that launched me into the horse trade; this singular sensation of the wind blowing through my hair, the birds singing loud in my ears, the power of the animal beneath me as we race with fury across the length of the field.
My worries and concerns dissolve from my mind as I drop the reins beneath me; shutting my eyes tight and spreading my arms as suddenly I become one with the wind.
The feeling is fleeting. For the moment that my eyes fly open, I see that my surly host has arrived already at our makeshift finish line; the fence that borders his field.
Yet when I arrive there seconds later, his welcoming smile both shocks and startles me.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Edwin murmurs, nodding approving as I bring my mount to a slow, smooth stop. “The filly sure can ride a stallion.”
I roll my eyes as Duke smothers a raw chortle in response to these words; these same eyes widening as an enthused Edwin beckons us toward the horse barn.
“Now let’s see if she can sell horses,” he insists, “Just as good as she rides ‘em.”
Retreating at once to Edwin’s horse barn, Duke and I watch in wonder as our previously surly host raves outright about the selection of horses we have brought to him that day for his inspection.
And the rides that earn his loudest raves, I can’t help but notice, originate from my stables.
“I’ll take the whole lot of ‘em, Missy,” he tells me with a smile. “And you can feel free to come back to my place anytime.” He pauses here, adding almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and do feel free to bring Duke with you. If you must.”
Moments later the afterthought and I take off on the horses that brought us to the ranch; striding along peacefully side by side as Duke pins me with an intense look.
“Penny for yer thoughts,” I say finally, our gazes colliding across the expanse of a crisp, gem green meadow.
Duke smiles.
“I was just sittin’ here thinkin’ how beautiful you look in your natural element. Ridin’ a horse and one with nature, flyin’ as fast as the wind,” he reflects, pressing his heels to the side of his own regal, ivory hued ride. “I want, no need, to see you that way again.”
With these words, he takes his reins firmly in hand and surges forward with a mighty cry of “Let’s race!”
More than eager to meet this challenge, I surge forward to ride the range at jarring, breakneck speed; m
y new copper skinned filly charging forward to overtake her competitor.
Soon Duke and I race neck and neck toward an imaginary finish line. And though we both ride at a frenetic pace that makes our hearts pound in divine accord, neither of us seems in any undue haste to overtake the other. Instead our gazes lock as we seem to lose ourselves in our own nature made world.
Duke resembles a noble archangel atop his fiery steed; his ebony hair flying wild behind him as his muscles flex with the rhythm of the ride.
Our gazes collide and lock between us as we ride just a little bit closer together; still refraining from slowing our stride as we share a secret smile.
The joy that I feel at the thrill of the ride is reflected in the pools of his azure eyes; and on an impulse, I can’t help but feel that I have found a kindred soul.
At once our horses come to a halt at the border of the meadow. Suddenly Duke and I are sitting stock still atop our horses, our breaths escaping in hard, rugged gasps as we stare deep into one another’s eyes.
My heart pounds as Duke surges forward on his horse; pursing his full, soft lips with obvious romantic intent.
For a timeless second I sit still as stone on my horse, wondering, hoping if the man before me will seal our race with a kiss.
“The business partner before me,” I correct myself, a gust of Texas wind sweeping fatefully past me to cool my raging desires.
And once again, I run away.
Chapter five
The next morning find Duke and I riding the range, this time just for pleasure; meeting for a morning ride that takes us to the far reaches of Texas—a wild plain lined with bronzed sands and boasting a background of sagebrush and cacti that seems untouched by human hands.
Choosing our best rides from our respective stables, both of which sport chestnut coats that glow in the rays of the sun above, we race each other with wild whoops through the heart of the Texas plain.
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