by Jade Allen
His hand moved higher, slowly working his way to her entrance. Dean watched as Christian spread her lips open, sliding a finger along her wet slit. His teasing was driving her wild and she writhed, trying to force his finger to do more. He obliged seconds later, plunging two fingers deep inside her. Olivia moaned, but Dean's mouth was there, kissing her with a fervor she'd never before experienced.
Her hands moved to his shoulders, but the fabric there frustrated her. He recognized her vexation quickly, moving to grab the hem of his shirt, and yanked it off over his head.
“Oh God,” she breathed, realizing that he was even more magnificent now than he had been years ago.
Her fingers trailed along his shoulders, his arms, his broad chest and his firm, rippling abs before the waist of his jeans prevented her further descent. Dean's hands returned to her body, one hand squeezing her breasts while the other found the aching bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He touched her gently at first, obviously enjoying watching her body writhe and buck in response. But then his speed picked up, rubbing her faster and faster, as Christian's fingers continued to thrust in and out of her pussy from behind. Olivia had never reached an orgasm so fast in her life, but she felt it building quickly. Her moans grew louder and her fingers clawed against Dean's back.
“I'm going to come, Dean,” her eyes meeting his then, the sensations of her orgasm enhanced tenfold by the fiery glint in his vivid, green eyes.
Christian slipped out of her pussy as her spasms subsided, letting his slick fingers glide along the inside of her soft thighs, leaving them glistening with her wetness in his wake. Dean turned her around then, guiding her gently to the chair she'd occupied through the poker game and pressed her down by her shoulders. He knelt in front of her, spreading her legs wide. She felt completely exposed, seeing both Dean and Christian staring at her womanhood with a hungry look in their eyes; the erotic exhibition shot her arousal sky high.
Dean found the dewy trail Christian had left and his lips kissed her thighs there, following the path upward. His tongue darted out, teasing her lips and she clenched against the tidal wave of pleasure that rushed low in her belly. She watched as Christian unzipped the fly of his jeans, pulling them off as his rock-hard cock sprang free. He was next to her a second later, his dick just an inch away from her mouth. She opened to take him in, and at the same time, Dean's tongue plunged inside her, thrusting deep before withdrawing and plunging in once again. Olivia moaned as Christian's cock slid into her mouth, the vibrations from her sounds making him groan, gritting his teeth. His fingers laced in the hair at the back of her head, guiding her movements as he fucked her mouth slowly.
His speed increased as the thrusting tempo of Dean's tongue inside her accelerated, but suddenly, Dean's tongue slid out of her. Olivia whimpered around Christian's cock at the loss. Dean's fingers filled her a moment later, assuaging the emptiness. But, this time something was different: his fingers were seeking out her G-spot, and when he found it, she almost jumped out of the chair at the intensity of the sensation. He rubbed her there, his speed increasing languidly as the exquisite pressure built within her.
In his fervor, Christian thrust hard and the head of his cock reached the back of Olivia's throat. The tightness he found there sent him over the edge, withdrawing his member to watch as he shot his hot release all over her chest. Olivia's hands moved to her breasts, testing the feel of her slick flesh beneath her fingers as Dean increased his pace. Christian's hands were on top of hers almost instantly, guiding her movements once again. The slippery, sensual massage was enough to send her over the edge; she screamed as an orgasm unlike any she'd ever experienced before soaked her completely.
Dean stood then, tasting her wetness on his fingers. Olivia was on her knees seconds later, her hands coming out quickly to reach for the fly of his jeans, eye level from her position. Her mouth began to water.
“I want to feel you in my mouth, Dean,” she breathed as she tugged his jeans down quickly.
Her lips were there, her tongue darting out to tease the head of his massive cock. She lingered for a moment, enjoying the way his hips thrust forward as he groaned loudly. But she didn't torment him for long, sliding him into her mouth, struggling to take in every inch she could manage before sliding back until just the tip remained between her lips. She continued sliding his erection in and out of her mouth slowly, savoring the feeling of his hard length.
Olivia could see movement from the corner of her eye, but she didn't realize what Christian was up to until she felt his hands on her hips from behind, urging her to lean forward as Dean moved to sit in the chair she'd occupied just a few minutes before. She moved with him, refusing to let his cock slip from between her lips, her mouth bobbing up and down on him as Christian's cock began to press against her wet folds. She moaned loudly as he entered her, sliding so slowly that her body was both enthralled and frustrated by his pace. She pushed back against him, forcing him deeper inside her. She moaned as his speed increased, thrusting backward to meet him.
“It’s my turn now, Liv,” Dean groaned huskily, reaching beneath her arms to guide her off of Christian.
He pulled her on top of him in one swift movement, lowering her down onto his enormous cock slowly. Olivia experienced a brief moment of panic, worried that he was simply too big for her, but she was so wet that he slid inside her easily. He filled every inch of her; it was the most incredible sensation she'd ever experienced. He stilled, giving her a chance to adjust to his girth before thrusting in and out of her slowly. His eyes met hers as his tempo increased.
“I've imagined you like this countless times...” his husky whisper sent tremors of pleasure coursing through her veins.
She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his, knowing they would part for her as her tongue darted out to find his. He groaned and thrust faster and already Olivia could feel yet another orgasm building within her. She wrapped her legs around him, giving her the leverage she needed to meet his thrusts. Her moans turned to muffled screams against Dean's lips as he fucked her fiercely. She felt fingers against her clit, and didn't know who they belonged to—and she didn't care, because just seconds later, her back arched and she started to come yet again, her orgasm resonating throughout every inch of her body. Before the ripples of her climax had subsided, Dean thrusted into her pussy one last time, shooting his hot release deep inside her.
Olivia collapsed against his broad, bare chest, breathing heavily as her body sought to recover from the most intense sex in her life. Dean didn't seem in any hurry to move either, his fingers moving lightly along her back.
In the quiet aftermath, Olivia heard the muffled sounds of voices moving slowly toward the barn. She recognized the voices of the men from earlier, along with a few others. No doubt they were reassembling for another late night round of poker. She stood quickly, instantly feeling empty, but looking around for her clothing frantically, nonetheless. Dean moved to stand, but Christian waved him off, already sliding into his jeans and heading for the door with his T-shirt in hand.
“Take it easy. I'll go,” he reassured them. “I'm sure the two of you have some catching up to do.” He grinned at Olivia. “I told you he wanted you, Liv.”
“Don't call me that,” she said instinctively, as Dean pulled her back down on his lap. A light blush spread across her cheeks, remembering the last time she'd said that to Christian and he'd so easily figured out her secret—which was obviously no longer a secret.
She turned her head, looking up to thank Christian for handling the group outside, but her movement left her neck exposed to Dean. Her thanks came out as a breathless moan as he leaned forward to kiss along the length of her neck. Christian's eyes swept along her naked body one last time before he opened the barn door, closing it quickly behind him to block out the on-comers' view.
Olivia heard his voice outside, making some excuse to deter the poker group, but she tuned out of the conversation quickly as Dean leaned her back on the table gen
tly, continuing his trail of kisses down over her collarbone and across the upper swells of her breasts. By the time his tongue darted out to tease her nipple, she'd completely forgotten about the scene taking place outside. And when she felt his cock—hard again already—pressing against her, she forgot that anything else existed but the man she'd fantasized about for so many years.
THE END
Desired By The Rugged Cowboy
Shy, beautiful, Leila Wright, knows many things. She knows falling in love is the stuff of fairy tales meant for everyone but herself; she knows her generous curves and broad hips are her least favorable assets and she knows she’s very unlucky in love.
But everything she knows changes one stormy night when she makes love to a handsome cowboy, Jason Fielding. When Jason claims he can’t remember Leila or the night they spent in each other’s arms, her budding love for the dark, brooding cowboy instantly turns sour.
Jason Fielding has his own personal demons but try as he might, he can’t stay away from the shy country singer who has captured his heart after just one night in his bed. Unfortunately for Jason, Leila has decided he’s the lowest form of humanity.
Can this dark, brooding cowboy convince Miss Wright that she is right for him?
Jason Fielding broodingly contemplated the cold bottle of beer clutched in his hand as he slouched lower in his seat at the Bar H, the sleaziest bar he could find close to the rodeo. His cowboy hat rode low on his forehead, shielding his gaze from the other occupants of the room which suited him just fine; anonymity was just what the doctor ordered, as far as he was concerned. Several other men in here were also competing in the rodeo and given his stellar performance today, he was somewhat of a celebrity. He really wasn’t up for more crowing and back-slapping. He tossed back his head and held the bottle of beer to his lips, gulping without coming up for air until he had drained the entire bottle.
The bar was teeth-jarringly noisy which was no real surprise since people were raising their voices to be heard above the din. Jason morosely scanned the occupants of the Bar H, his lips curling into a sneer of distaste as he watched one woman giggle and slap a man’s hand in pretend-protest while managing not to dislodge the ‘offending’ hand that was currently fondling her breast—openly. The place was a cesspool of rot, immorality, and decay, he decided, as he shoved to his feet and tossed some money onto the scarred table-top. He had nothing against stealing a kiss or two or enjoying the occasional tumble in the hay with a willing lady; but he did have a problem with unapologetic exhibitionism. Plus, he was willing to bet his sizeable estate that half the people in here were married—to other people.
It was enough to make a man jaded, he decided.
He had drank six bottles of beer in a sitting, but to his annoyance, he had still not managed to attain the state of blissful inebriation he sought. He was one of those few people who could go through three dozen beers and simply have a full bladder.
Jason tugged his hat lower on his forehead, completely covering his salt-and-pepper hair and shielding his bright blue eyes as he strode past the bar on his way to the door, his long legs easily eating up the distance. Looks like a storm’s coming tonight, he thought as lightening flashed.
“Get your filthy appendages off me,” a distressed female voice ordered stridently in a cultured voice that made several other people turn around to stare in the direction of the voice.
Jason shot a half-interested look over his shoulder not slowing his steps as he went. A voluptuous woman sat perched atop a bar stool, her purse clenched prudishly to her chest with both arms as she cast an alarmed look at the hulking giant pressing obviously unwanted attention on her. Jason recognized the giant on sight; no one knew his real name, but everyone called him Slick. And everyone knew he was trouble.
The woman was dressed wrong for such a dive in a tight sheath dress that accentuated the curves of her body and a wide brimmed hat that reminded him of Sunday school as a kid. She even had gloves on her hands; what was this, a tea party? She stood out so completely from the jeans and filth crowd that he just knew she had stepped in there seeking attention. One look at her fair, creamy, spotless satin skin and ample bosom and Jason could hazard a guess as to just what had attracted Slick. Heck, his own dick twitched warningly in his pants as he regarded the tantalizing curves of her ass and hips—but he ignored it.
Well, she must have wanted some sort of male attention if she walked into a dive like this dressed like a traditional femme fatale. Jason shook his head unconcernedly at this further evidence of rot and decay and headed straight for the door.
The sharp sound of a slap resonated through the air, making him draw up short, his disbelieving gaze flying back to the woman who was now no longer perched on the stool but standing toe to toe with the hulk and glaring at him. She had even pulled off one glove to give life to the slap. This woman obviously has a death wish, Jason thought, reluctant admiration surging through him; either that or she was just plain too stupid to live. No one, not even burly cowboys with experience on the hard trail of rodeo, ever picked a quarrel with Slick.
Without planning to, Jason let go of the doorknob and edged closer to the couple, his attention so focused on them that he trod on the toes of one patron.
The man shoved him away roughly with a muttered, “Jerk.”
Jason didn’t bother apologizing anymore since the man had already taken his recompense the old-fashioned way.
Slick growled; a loud ugly sound that said he was angry and then he balled his hands into fists as though he were contemplating retaliating for the slap. Jason looked around; everyone else was watching the show with disturbingly morbid fascination. Obviously, none of these cowboys were going to intervene.
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Slick shoved his way forward and planted himself in front of the woman; cursing his own innate sense of chivalry even as he did so.
Slick paused, eyed him up and down and sneered, “Lemme guess, you’re her husband?”
“No Slick. I’m just the guy who’s got a problem with you slapping women around,” Jason said in slow measured tones. “You wanna lay a finger on her, you’re gonna have to go through me.”
Jason’s stomach rumbled as he stared up at the other man and he tried not to let his nausea overtake him. The man was huge! Jason, at six-two, was nowhere near diminutive but considering the bad-tempered cowboy glowering at him was all of six-five and huge as three men put together, Jason could be forgiven for getting a little weak in the knees.
Slick’s laughter rumbled out of his stomach and the woman behind Jason squeaked in alarm, one soft hand shooting out to clutch Jason’s arm from behind him.
“No, I know exactly who you are; you’re the guy who’s got a death wish,” Slick said, laughing again. “Besides, I wasn’t going to hit the little lady. Thought about it for a minute, but me Mama didn’t raise no idiots.”
Jason calmly took off his hat and laid it onto a bar stool, his meaning obvious; he was prepared for a brawl if that was what Slick wanted. Slick’s rheumy eyes sized him up dismissively. Obviously, next to his towering height of six-five, he thought Jason was puny and would be easily beaten. Jason was banking on that exactly.
He turned and threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the woman; high cheekbones, pouty red lips and big forest-green eyes filled his vision. “Go!” he ordered quietly.
He saw the other man’s hand clench into a fist and he tensed, waiting. Slick swung, his hand flying in a wide arch as he aimed at Jason’s face. Jason dodged the fist, causing Slick to spin around carried by the force of his aim. Jason carelessly kicked the big man in the ass, making certain that the toe of his boots extended to the front of the other man’s crotch enough to crush some balls. The man’s howls as he staggered and crashed into a table were most gratifying. He went down and didn’t come up again.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said urgently as he grabbed the hand of the damsel in distress and began to head for the door.
�
�And who’s gonna pay for my broken table and glasses?” the bartender wanted to know as he stepped into their path with two men flanking him on either side.
“Here you go, buddy,” Jason said immediately, correctly interpreting their stance to mean trouble. He shoved some money into their hands and made to pass by them with the woman.
“Not yet. Who’s gonna see to Slick?” one of the guys wanted to know. “He’s gonna wake up mean as a bear with a sore paw and when he finds you gone, he’s going to want blood.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you; I’ve never dealt with a vampire before,” Jason said coolly. He was fast losing patience with these eggheads. He knew they were just spoiling for a fight because they were friends of Slick. Plus, the fact that they were going to stand by while the oaf disturbed the woman didn’t endear them to him.
“Please take some more money and let us go,” the woman beside Jason chirped, fear straining her voice. “I could even perform for you for free tomorrow night.”
Perform? I don’t like the sound of that, Jason thought.
Jason saw her stretch out a hundred-dollar bill; saw the goons start to grin as they reached to take it, and with a silent shake of the head at his own stupidity, he swung his fist, grinning as it connected solidly with someone’s chin. Then all hell broke loose. Punches flew about so fast it was hard to know who hit whom. Jason took a solid one to the eye and growled as he responded with an almost deadly upper-cut that completely stunned the puncher.