“I can’t stop. I doubt I’ll ever be able to stop.”
The bed rocked as we fought together, against each other, for each other, driving each other higher and higher.
The mattress bounced. The bedframe creaked. I lost connection with the outside world as Ryder shoved me up the pinnacle of pleasure and I leapt.
Oh.
My.
God.
“Yes!” My pussy fisted him, setting off his own release which in turn made mine so much stronger. On and on. Wave after wave.
I’d never come so damn hard or so absolute.
By the time the last bliss stopped torturing us, I was a noodle.
We were both breathless as we slowly returned from heaven, floating back to earth.
We stared into each other’s eyes and there was so much to say, so much to ask.
But it was late.
We were emotionally spent.
It had been both a travesty of an evening and a triumph.
It was time to go sleep, to let what we’d just done settle, and face a new day together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
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Ryder
VESPER SLEPT ON WHILE I woke early.
At first, I didn’t know where I was, panicking at the foreign arm thrown over my chest and the leg entwined with mine.
Then…I remembered.
Scar.
Sex.
Her.
My heart rate instantly calmed as I gathered Vesper’s sleeping form closer. She was so warm and sleep tangled, so fucking special to me.
Normally, I didn’t like to cuddle or even be touched, but with Vesper, my normal had been torn up in order for a new chaos. I wished I could stay in bed with her forever, but nature called and there were seventeen (sorry, eighteen now) dogs waiting on me for breakfast.
Swallowing my regret at leaving her, I kissed her lips as I removed her limbs from mine then climbed out of bed.
I was used to getting up early (even if my foreman sometimes had to be the alarm clock), and I had a shit ton of stuff to do before the work team arrived on site.
First things first.
Scar.
Moving toward the large brute of a dog, I crawled into his makeshift tent and gave him a good morning kiss. “Hey, killer, how did you sleep? Enjoy the show?”
He panted with doggy breath as if giving me the thumbs up on my performance. “Don’t judge me on last night’s endurance, buddy. You have no idea how hard it’s been not coming for two days when dating that woman.”
Vesper mumbled something and rolled over, slipping back into sleep.
The bags under her eyes hinted that she didn’t rest often with her work and if I could give her a few extra winks, I would.
I could do my chores before she was coherent and then spend the day together…if she wanted to.
Backing out of Scar’s fort, I stood and patted my thigh. “Come on, boy, time for a squirt and then your palace is moving outside for the day. It’s sunny and warm and it’s about time you felt some relaxation with no fight club on the horizon.”
The dog struggled to get up. His muscles had seized in the night and I made a mental note to ask Vesper to give him more painkillers when she woke. In a valiant, breathless effort, Scar followed me down the stairs and patiently waited until I’d set up another cushion and towel bed on the front porch with the option of sunshine or shade and gave him breakfast.
He curled up utterly content with a heavy sigh and gratefulness in his gaze.
I grinned. “You’re welcome, buddy.”
Leaving him to chill, I couldn’t shake the sadness I felt knowing his time was limited but thankfulness too that we were able to give him a last few days of bliss before passing on.
My fists curled.
If I ever found out who ran that fighting pit, I’d probably kill them myself. Good job the police had already picked them up or I’d be in jail with no bail.
Striding to the kennel, I was greeted by a bay of happy barks and wriggling butts. A mismatch of Teranoodles and Cockerpoodles.
As I acknowledged each pooch and accepted my morning allotment of dog kisses, one special resident bumbled into the barn to earn her fair share of attention.
Hippo Pigglesworth nudged my knee, shoving aside an eager Pugtzu to say hello.
Dropping to my knee, I scrunched up the snout of my rescue pigmy pot belly pig with her pink and black spotted hide and soft snuffles. “Hello, Ms. Hippo.”
She huffed, shoving her large nose into my hair as if searching for truffles. “Did you sleep well, too?”
Normally, Hippo slept in the house. She preferred the guest bedroom because it was the only one with a working oil heater and pigs felt the cold. When I first rescued her, I’d been called out because of a neighbour’s distress call saying a dog had lost its fur coat and was rolling in mud.
When I arrived at Hippo’s house to visit her owner (a rebelling fourteen-year-old), he admitted he’d been given Ms. Pigglesworth for his birthday two years ago but didn’t want her anymore. The parents were due to take her to the shelter later that week as they didn’t want her digging up the rose garden anymore.
Even though my charity was for dogs, I couldn’t leave her there.
So, she became mine.
The dogs were transient and stayed with me until finding their forever families. Hippo was my baby.
Shit, wonder what Vesper will say when she meets her.
Satisfied with her cuddles, the little pig snorted and waddled off with her personal favourite pooch—a teacup Bichon Frise who often curled up together and had a nap.
I let them go and focused on getting my chores out of the way.
* * *
I was half-way through cleaning the pens and giving each dog fresh food and water before letting them free in the fenced off acre attached to the kennel, that I didn’t hear Vesper arrive.
The only sign I had company was the swarm of mongrels as they gravitated toward new company.
I laughed as she went from standing to kneeling thanks to a few well-placed nips on her legs to come down to their level. She burst out laughing as Gremlin—a terribly grumpy Pomeranian—growled and attacked her shoe lace.
“Hey, Grem, stop that!” I pushed my way through the crowd and scooped the terror under my arm like a rugby ball. “You know not to use your teeth, you damn thing.”
Vesper held out her arms to take her. “Aww, she’s so cute.”
I passed the brown teddy bear looking monster to her. “No, not cute. It’s all a ploy. She’s a she-devil and lives to make my life miserable.” I scowled at the cutest face, seeing the conniving witch hiding behind those beady black eyes. “First day I got her, she was the sweetest angel. Then the next, she peed in my sneakers. A week later, she vomited on my kitchen floor and tried to bite my hand when I went to clean it up. She lives for ways to torment me.”
Vesper laughed as the little traitor licked her knuckles and yapped happily. “I think she’s doing it to get a rise out of you.”
I lowered my jaw, drinking her in. She wore the same clothes from last night but her hair was wild and there was a glow on her face that hadn’t been there before. “You got a rise out of me last night.”
She grinned, placing the Pomeranian back on the floor as the dogs took off as another secret distracted them and their investigatory skills kicked in. “Oh, yeah?”
I grabbed her wrist, tugging her upward and into an embrace. “You’ve got another standing ovation.” Pressing her hips into mine with the flat of my palm, I smiled. “Fancy another round?”
She kissed me. “I’d love to and I plan on many more, but I’d adore a shower and for some reason, yours just spat brown goo at me and gave me the finger.”
I slapped my forehead. “Shit, sorry. I forgot the plumbers came last week to replace the pipes. It’s all lead shit that probably slowly poisoned the old inhabitants. He’s not finished hooking up the drainage yet.”
&nb
sp; Her eyes widened. “You’re telling me I had a sleep over in a building site and I can’t even wash off the grime?”
“Hey, that grime you’re talking about is me and don’t speak badly about my house.” Turning her around, I marched her outside to survey my empire.
The sun shone on the crumbling white paint and wonky veranda. And wouldn’t you know it, the house gave me a fuck you gift as a sheet from the roof chose that exact moment to slide in a loud clatter to splat on the mud below.
I groaned. “It looks worse than it is.”
She giggled. “Oh, really? I might have a stick of dynamite in my bag if you want to try another approach?”
I squeezed her. “Don’t you dare touch my project.”
“Not even to lend a hand with a paintbrush?” She poked my work jeans. “Every time I see you, you’re spotty like a Dalmatian. I don’t think you got the memo that paint goes on the wall, not the handyman.”
“I think you need bringing back in line for such talk.” Backing her up, I kept my eyes on the barn doors to the kennel and slammed her against it.
She gasped as her spine collided and I kissed her deep and ravenous.
This cat and mouse banter between us kept all my troubles at bay. How had I survived without her lightness in my life?
Pushing my chest, she murmured, “As much as I want you again and as quickly as you’re dissolving my willpower, I’m afraid if you don’t have a shower, I’m going to have to go home and change. I can’t spend the day gross. It will drive me nuts.”
Hope unfurled. “So you’re saying you don’t have to work today?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why? What do you have in mind?”
“Just answer the question. Yes or no?”
She beamed. “Nope. It’s my day off today. Polly’s tomorrow.” Her arms twined around my waist. “I’m all yours, big boy.”
My eyebrows rose. “Big boy?”
“Well, what else do you want me to call you? Small sausage?”
“Say what?” I blurted dramatically, pushing away and placing a hand over my junk to prevent its delicate feelings. “Did you just call it a sausage? A small sausage?”
She laughed as three fluff buckets charged around her leg, chasing a Cadoodle with a headless chicken toy in its mouth. “Well, it’s better than sad salami or wrinkled wiener.”
Two hands clasped over my boys. “You’re one cruel woman.”
“Oh, relax. You’re not wrinkly or sad.” She winked. “It’s perfect. So perfect I want a closer look.”
My heart rate picked up as blood flowed from my brain –where I really did need it—to the useless head between my legs. “Now that I can arrange. Free of charge.”
She smirked. “Why? Was last night at an hourly rate?”
I laughed. “Yep. I don’t come cheap, you know.”
“And you summoned a vet on a call out after hours. I bet you my bill will be larger than yours, gigolo.”
Shit, that reminds me. Scar.
My hands dropped as I asked seriously, “I’ll pay you for that. And for the drugs you gave him. Can you give him some more? I put him on the front porch.”
The mirth in her gaze dropped. “Seriously, Ryder, one thing you should know about me—it’s a sure way to piss me off by assuming I only care for animals for money.” Her finger came up. “If I had unlimited wealth and never had to work again, I would still dedicate my life to all creatures big and small because it’s what I need to do. Got it?”
The spit and fire in her gaze turned me the fuck on. Made even worse because I understood completely and agreed one hundred percent. I was in the enviable position of not having to work for money, yet I spent every penny I had on toys and food and making the dogs in my temporary care as happy as humanly possible.
“Sorry, you’re right.”
“And I already found Scar. He’s breathing okay and I’ve given him another dose of Metacam. He’ll be fine until tonight.” Her tone slipped into the one I recognised from her work at the surgery. “I’ll leave the bottle and syringe on the kitchen counter. It tastes like honey, so he won’t be a problem administering it. Just give him the dose I marked on the bottle and he’ll be good.”
My happiness level dropped. “You mean, you won’t be here to give it to him?”
She paused. “Well, no. I’ll have to go home tonight so I’m ready for work tomorrow.” Her eyes searched mine. “You’ll have had me for a solid twenty-four hours by the time I go home. I have a feeling you’ll be sick of me by then and glad for some solitude.”
I highly fucking doubt that.
I ignored my panic at her leaving and laughed. “God, you’re right. I didn’t think about that. Jeez, twenty-four hours…that’s gonna be tough.” Moving toward her again, I cupped her cheek, running my thumb over her cheekbone. “I’m going to be so bored entertaining you all day. Having to clean you, feed you, bend you over my couch and fuck you.” I pressed my lips to hers. “Man, what a chore.”
She trembled. “When you put it that way…maybe twenty-four hours isn’t long enough.”
I grinned. “Now you’re seeing it from my point of view.”
A Chiwoxy barked, running between our legs. The dog’s energy levels were infectious and it’d been a couple of days since I’d taken them all to the river. Good ‘ole Thorn River that this quaint little township was named after ran along the boundary of my property.
It was the sole reason why I’d bought this place—that and the land and no neighbours.
A plan formed in my head. “So, you know how you said you needed a shower?”
She nodded slowly. “Yessss….”
“Would a fresh water bath be acceptable?”
“I don’t know. What exactly does that entail?”
I smirked. “Me, you, naked.”
One second of hesitation showed; she probably thought about returning home for fresh underwear and a bikini—but then she threw all caution out the kennel window and laughed. “Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
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Vesper
HOW DID I NEVER KNOW this existed?
I’d been born and raised a few counties over and had swum in Thorn River where it was publically sign posted, but I’d never snuck onto private property where the river meandered into paradise.
“Wow, Ryder.” I couldn’t pull my jaw from the permanent position of amazement. “This is stunning.”
The colours of green and turquoise over saturated my eyes with weeping willows, pockets of deeper still water, and babbling shallow brooks. Rocks stuck out of the velveteen water, slick with algae while reeds played in the depths like mermaid hair.
Sunshine speared around green leaves and brown bark, dappling the embankment.
I never wanted to leave.
“You’re the only one who’s seen this.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s my sanctuary. I’m rather possessive of it. Haven’t even shown it to my brother yet.”
I swivelled to face him. “Wait, you have a brother?”
He nodded. “Yep, two years older. Wildly successful.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? Already planning on trading me in for a better model?”
I laughed. “No way. I’m very content with the one I’ve currently got on loan.”
“The loan could be made into a more permanent arrangement if you wanted.”
My lips parted. “Meaning?”
“This…” He motioned between the two of us. “It started off as a trial but I’m ready to cash in my thirty day right of return and keep you.”
My heart fluttered. “You say the most romantic things.”
His teeth flashed in the sunshine. “I try.”
A thunder of doggy paws interrupted our conversation. “Oh, help, they’ve found us.” Ryder chuckled.
I braced myself as a cloud of brown dogs, white dogs, spotty dogs, and patchy dogs hurtled around the huge oak tree protecting this amazing river grotto and berserk chaos found us.
>
When Ryder had grabbed my hand back at the kennel and unlocked the gate where a lot of the dogs were lolling in the grass or playing with one another, he’d assured me he’d done this before.
As the pack of mutts took off into the distance, Ryder guided me back to the house, entered a rickety temporary work shed, turfed out two bags of concrete that were taking up prime real estate in a wheelbarrow and wheeled it around to the front porch.
I’d known instantly what he was about to do.
And I couldn’t stand it.
Why was this guy so damn perfect? He had to have a flaw. He had to be a closet cross dresser or explosive temper or something that made him normal.
Because next to him, I felt like an unappreciative teenager while he was bloody Ghandi.
Without looking at me, he’d strode up the porch steps, scratched Scar behind the ear, and bundled him up with a nice fat cushion to plop him into the wheelbarrow.
The moment the weary dog was comfy, he pushed off as if it was an everyday occurrence to wheel a Pusky Bull across a perfect meadow while the raucous of unruly dogs barked on the horizon.
I’d stayed pace the entire way from his timeworn mansion, resting my hand on Scar’s back as his tongue lolled and he wheezed, sticking his nose into the air and looking so damn happy it made tears prick my eyes.
When we’d arrived at the river, we’d placed Scar under a large weeping willow in the shade, lashed a leash around his neck just in case he attacked the other dogs, and gave him some fresh water.
We’d had a moment’s peace before the pack arrived.
As the river went from serene to a splashing mess as dogs threw themselves at each other and barked and yipped and swam, I tried to count how many there were but lost track after nine.
Moving closer to Ryder, I asked, “Aren’t you afraid some of them will take off? How will you catch them all when it’s time to go home?”
He smiled. “I have a secret weapon.” Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he swiped on the screen and brought up an app with lots of blinking green dots on a map. “This is that lot.” He waved in front of us to the four-legged fiends. “When I rescue them, and after they’ve been assessed and micro chipped by you, I call up the company who own the recorders on the chips and assign them to a GPS tracking app that’s normally used for stalking cheating husbands or wives. If a dot goes red, it means they’ve gone ten metres too far and I use a sheep-dog whistle—” He pulled a small plastic horseshoe shaped device from his other pocket “—and call them back.”
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