Sweet-Talking Cowboy (The Buckskin Brotherhood Book 1)

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “Who else would I be thinking of? Even if I never expected you to see it.”

  His gaze lifted to hers. “You’re such a gift, Lucy.”

  The passion in his eyes lit fires in every part of her body, but the tenderness stole her heart. “I can’t wait for you to unwrap me. In case you didn’t notice, there’s a front catch.”

  “I noticed. But once I open it, all bets are off.” He rested his hand on her thighs. “And you’re still wearing your jeans and boots.”

  “The same could be said of you, cowboy. You’re way more dressed than I am.”

  “I can handle that in under two minutes.”

  “You’ve timed yourself getting naked?”

  “No, but I’ll bet I’m right.” Sitting back on his heels, he tugged off her red dancing boots and socks. “No blisters?”

  “No blisters. I’m touched that you asked.”

  He placed a kiss on each instep. “It matters.”

  She shivered at the velvet brush of his mouth on her foot. He cherished her in a way that no man ever had. No wonder she’d been eager to live a rural life in Montana with him.

  He neatly divested her of her jeans without taking off the black lace panties that matched the bra. When he’d finished, leaving her wearing only her undies, he stepped back, his hot gaze focused on her as he undid the snaps on his yoked Western shirt.

  Trembling with anticipation, she got up and threw back the covers. Then she stretched out on her side. She’d waited years for this. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

  He peeled off his yoked shirt and tossed it in the direction of the chair where he’d left his jacket. A snug white T-shirt showcased his muscled chest. Reaching behind his neck, he grabbed the back of the T-shirt.

  Moisture pooled in her mouth. Six years ago, a shirtless Matt had fueled her fantasies. He yanked the T-shirt over his head and flung it at the chair. She forgot to breathe.

  Dark chest hair enhanced a sculpted torso worthy of a calendar shoot. Bracing his palm against the wall, he pulled off his boots and socks, which worked those lovely pecs and abs. All hers for the night. Oh, baby.

  The narrow line of dark hair disappeared behind an oval belt buckle etched with an image of a rearing horse. Her pulse rate leaped into the red zone as he unhooked the buckle, unfastened the metal button underneath and took hold of the zipper.

  Then he paused. “I’d better—”

  “Don’t you dare chicken out!” She glanced up, heart pounding.

  His eyes glittered. “No way, Luce.”

  She sighed in relief. “Good.”

  “I just need to know where the condoms are.”

  “Right here.” Sitting up, she opened the nightstand drawer. An array of small foil packets in pink, red, silver or gold sparkled in the lamplight. Each color was a different size, from pink for small to gold for extra-large, and each had a message printed on it.

  Chest heaving, Matt surveyed the contents of the drawer. “Wow. Millie got creative.” He picked up three gold packets and laid them on the nightstand.

  She gulped. “Is that a prediction?”

  “An estimate. We might need more.”

  “More?”

  His gaze traveled over her as he reached for his zipper. “You know, making up for lost time.” His tone was casual, but the glow in his eyes was not.

  His intensity stole her breath. What had she gotten herself into? Then he shoved his jeans and briefs down.

  Kicking them aside, he approached the bed, virility rolling off him in waves. A deep, primitive ache settled in her core. No going back, now.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Matt dragged in a breath as Lucy scooted over to make room for him in the king-sized bed. This wasn’t real. Any second he’d wake up in the bunkhouse, but until then he’d enjoy the hell out of the best damn dream of his life.

  She welcomed him with open arms, her mouth eager for his kisses, her body flushed and warm. When he undid the clasp of her bra and cupped her pert breasts, she arched into his caress with a whimper that sent heat surging to his groin.

  He pulled one taut nipple into his mouth. As he rolled it over his tongue, she gasped his name, her fingertips pressing urgently against his scalp. She tasted like heaven and he went a little crazy, kissing and licking the sweet breasts he hadn’t been privileged to see and fondle until tonight.

  He lost track of where her hands were until she wrapped them around his aching cock. This dream just got better and better. Except a climax would put an end to it.

  Grasping her wrists, he drew back. “You’ll make me come.”

  “I had to touch you.” Her breathy voice fanned the flames as her grip tightened and her thumb rubbed the sensitive tip. “You’re magnificent.”

  What guy wouldn’t want to hear that? But he was hanging on by a thread. He gulped for air. “Turn me loose, please.”

  “Only if you promise to grab one of those golden packets and make me a happy girl.”

  He loved that she was impatient, but he’d barely begun to explore. “First I need to take off those lacy black panties.” He nibbled on her mouth.

  “I can do that while you—”

  “You bought those panties for me.” He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. “Let me take them off.”

  Her body surrendered in advance of her murmured okay. She let go of his cock and relaxed in his arms, supple and willing. Trusting. His heart swelled with a tenderness that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with an emotion he couldn’t confront straight on. It had the power to break him.

  Pushing back the covers, he made a slow, worshipful journey from her lips to the hollow of her throat. He touched down on each breast, rosy and moist from his kisses. She quivered with each caress.

  He traced a path to her flat belly and lower. Her breath quickened as he reached the black scrap of lace that passed for underwear. Hooking his thumbs in the elastic band, he drew it over her hips, revealing the blond thatch of curls covering his ultimate destination.

  The rich aroma of arousal greeted him. Her panties were soaked. He pulled them to her knees and nuzzled her damp inner thighs.

  Her sharp intake of breath announced she was onto him. “You’re up to no good, cowboy.”

  “I’m up to all kinds of good.” Sliding her panties free, he returned to the fragrant juncture of her thighs, wedged them apart with his shoulders and took command.

  Her startled oh! soon turned to cries of passion. Sliding his hands under her firm bottom, he lifted her to gain greater access and loved her for all he was worth.

  She came quickly, her climax bathing his tongue with the nectar of her orgasm. He stayed with her until her breathing slowed. Then he eased up her supple body, his sweat mingling with hers, and captured her mouth, sharing with her the taste of joyous release.

  Evidently she liked it, because she moaned and took the kiss deeper, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He settled in. Sure, he was greedy and wanted more, especially with all those golden condom packages lying on the nightstand. His cock certainly would appreciate more.

  But this unexpected chance to love her, to explore her lithe body and give her a climax—if that was all he ever had, it would be enough.

  She wasn’t moving in that direction, though. Grasping his face firmly in both hands, she exerted enough pressure to put a hair’s-breadth distance between her mouth and his. “That was wonderful.”

  “Does that mean you’re a happy woman?”

  “Very happy, but you took out three condoms.”

  “So I did.”

  “And now I have expectations.”

  His cock twitched. “Do you, now?”

  “Huge expectations.”

  “Maybe I should do something about that.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “At your service.” The fire he’d temporarily smothered roared to life as he rolled toward the nightstand and grabbed one of the foil packets.

  He read the message and smiled. Ripping
the foil, he pulled out the condom and put it on. Then he began to shake. This was a big deal. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything, but it raised the stakes.

  That wouldn’t stop him. Nothing would short of fire or flood. But no point in kidding himself. Once he sank into the warmth of Lucy’s soft body, nothing would ever be the same.

  “Matt?”

  He turned back to her. “I’m here.” Moving over her, he braced himself on his forearms and he gazed into her eyes. “I’m right here.”

  “Me, too.” She stroked his sweaty back. “Right here. Did you read the message?”

  His heart squeezed. “I did.” Keeping eye contact, he settled between her thighs and probed her slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

  Her rapid breathing made her breasts quiver. “What did it say?”

  “I’m yours.” And he pushed forward, easing into her tight channel, watching her eyes. When they widened, he paused. “Too much?”

  She shook her head. “A lot. But...” She gave him an impish smile. “I like it.”

  “That’s great news.” And bad news. This was going to be very, very good. For him and likely for her. He went deeper, up to the hilt. “Still okay?”

  Excitement created twin flames in her blue eyes. “Incredible. You feel… right.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Almost like in my dreams.”

  “You’ve dreamed this?”

  “Several times. Have you?”

  “Yes. Maybe we’re dreaming now.”

  “We’re not.”

  “How do you know?” He shifted slightly to get even closer.

  “This is way better. Perfect.”

  “Yeah.” His heart stuttered. “Perfect.” Poised on the edge of the abyss, he took a long, slow breath. Then he hurled himself over the edge.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Way better than a dream. Lucy caught Matt’s athletic rhythm and rose to meet each vigorous thrust. Her climax hovered near as delicious friction wound the spring tighter and she began to pant.

  “Come for me, Lucy.” His eyes glowed hot as he picked up the pace.

  “Not ’till you do.” She gulped in air.

  “But—”

  “Waiting for you, cowboy.”

  “Fair enough.” He bore down and his breathing roughened. “Hang on.”

  “Gotcha.” She clutched his tight buns and absorbed the rapid flex of his glutes.

  “You close?”

  “Right there.” She sucked in air as the first tremor hit. “Now.” With a wild cry, she plummeted over the edge, her release spinning her in a glorious dance of pleasure.

  “Lucy… ah, Lucy.” With a groan wrenched from the depths of his chest, Matt drove home one last time and came, gasping for breath, his cock pulsing wildly within her.

  Bowing his head, he trembled in the aftershocks. “Wow.”

  “Uh-huh.” She swallowed. “Still think you’ll use two more?”

  “Ask me again…” He cleared his throat. “In twenty minutes.”

  “That’s all?”

  He lifted his head and smiled. “Considering how great that was, it might be less.”

  “It was pretty darned spectacular.”

  “Best ever.”

  “Ever?”

  “Speaking strictly for myself.”

  She held his gaze. “Same here.”

  His eyes darkened and he opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. Then he closed it again.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind.” He eased away from her. “Be right back.”

  After he went into the bathroom, she climbed out of bed and took the complimentary terry robe from the closet. She owned one just like it, embroidered with the ranch logo of a lariat circling the initials BR. It was in the suitcase she’d left at the church.

  Tying the sash, she grabbed her sketchpad and pencils and sat in one of the swivel rockers in front of the unlit fireplace. She wanted to get the image onto paper before it faded.

  “If you’re wearing that, I’m putting on my jeans.”

  “I’m chilly, not modest.”

  He picked up his jeans and briefs. “Want me to start a fire?”

  “I think you already did.” She snuck a peek at his chest and glanced at the sketch. Not bad.

  “In the fireplace, smart-aleck.”

  “I think it’s a waste of wood. It’s not like we’ll be sitting here enjoying it.”

  “Unless you want to change the venue and spread a blanket on the floor.”

  “We still wouldn’t be paying attention to the fire.”

  “Good point.” He zipped his jeans and fastened the buckle. “What are you drawing?”

  “You.”

  “Naked?” He sounded horrified.

  She closed the sketchpad. “Would that be a problem?”

  “Damn straight it would be a problem.” He walked toward her. “Let me see it.”

  “It’s not finished.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. If there’s a naked picture of me in that sketchpad, it’s going bye-bye.”

  She smiled. He was adorable. “But I thought you were excited that I’m drawing again.”

  “Let me see it, Luce.” Scowling, he held out his hand.

  “If you insist.” She flipped the pages until she came to her most recent sketch. “Like I said, it’s not finished.” She handed him the sketchpad.

  His scowl faded. “So I’m only half-naked.” He studied the image. “Great job on the detail. The etching on my buckle looks exactly like the real thing.”

  “I was intensely focused on your buckle.”

  He laughed. “Uh-huh. That must be why you left out the obvious detail below the buckle.”

  “You mean the fact you were about to bust out of your jeans?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He glanced up. “Thank you for eliminating that element.”

  “It’s part of my mental picture, but it doesn’t need to be part of this one. And by the way, this sketch is for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Unless you want it.”

  “Uh, that would be a solid no. The one you did in the barn of me and Thunderbolt, I’ll hang that up with pride. But I’m not displaying a sketch of me looking like I’m posing for a beefcake calendar. Can you imagine how that would play with the guys?”

  “Yes.” She grinned.

  His scowl returned. “Lucy Patterson, you’d better not be thinking of showing this around.”

  “Just teasing you. Like I said, it’s for me.”

  “Something to remember me by?” He made it sound like a joke.

  But she wasn’t fooled. The temporary nature of their situation bothered him. It bothered her, too, but she’d rather have something than nothing. “I don’t need a sketch to remember you.”

  “Ditto.” He held her gaze for a moment. Then he glanced back at the image. “You said it wasn’t finished. It looks finished to me.”

  “I’d like to get more definition on a few things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Your chest hair, mostly. I only had a short time to study you after you took off your T-shirt.”

  “Next time I’ll remember to drag out the process.”

  She hesitated. “Or, if you’d be willing to sit in the other easy chair for five minutes right now, sketching from life is always better than relying on memory…”

  He glanced at the drawing. “Sure, why not?” He handed her the sketchpad.

  “You will?” He was full of surprises. “That’s awesome.”

  “How do you want me?”

  Any way I can get you. “Just sit in the rocker and turn toward me.”

  “Okay.” He lowered himself into the chair and swung around.

  Balancing her sketchpad on her lap, she picked up a pencil. The pose wasn’t quite right, though. “Scoot your butt back and sit up as straight as you can. Throw your chest out a little.”

  “Throw my chest ou
t?”

  “You did it before.”

  “When?”

  “After you took off your T-shirt.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You know, like this.” She took a deep breath and arched her back.

  His eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Very nice. But I don’t do that.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Maybe it’s an unconscious behavior when you’re aroused.”

  He smiled. “Then I guess you’d better do something to get me aroused.”

  “Like what?”

  “Slip that robe off one shoulder and give me a peek at your breast.”

  “Really?”

  “For the sake of your art.”

  “Can’t you just expand your chest?”

  His gaze sparkled. “Evidently I need the proper motivation.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” She pushed the robe off her left shoulder. “How’s that?”

  “A little more, please. Good. Very sexy.”

  She glanced at him. “Well, your chest is definitely expanding.”

  “See?”

  “Men.” She worked quickly, creating the swirls around his nipples and the pattern covering his pecs, which looked much more like they had when he’d undressed earlier.

  His breathing had changed, too. And he was gripping the arms of the chair as if to hold him in it. “Almost done?” His words sounded strained.

  “Almost.” She darkened the strip of hair that led to his belt buckle. Hm. His chest wasn’t the only thing expanding. She’d experienced the wonder of what was stretching the denim. Maybe this sketch was finished. Yep, all done.

  Closing the sketchpad and tucking the pencil away, she stood and laid everything on the seat of the chair. “Finished.”

  “Thank God.” He pushed himself out of the chair with a groan. “Another five minutes and I’d be singing soprano.”

  “That bad?”

  “Ladies have no clue what guys endure.” He closed the gap between them and slipped his hands under the lapels of her robe.

  “Poor baby. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He quickly divested her of the robe, scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.