Lauren Page 17

He raised a brow. “In a rush?”

  “I’ve got more. Are you going to have sex with your hat on?”

  He grinned. “City Girl.”

  She shook the greasy condom at him. “Come on up here, Country Boy. I have to geld you.”

  Barking a laugh, he walked on his knees up the length of her body, stopping at her waist to sweep the head of his cock around her breasts. Her nipples were enormous, tight and swollen. She shivered.

  He moved up, his erection waving over her face. It was so lusciously different. She could see his pulse in the thick veins. It grew darker as she watched, licking her lips. Her gaze traveled up and down his length, examining the heavy hanging sack, the dark, wiry nest, and the textured skin. The head was swollen, with a perfect bead of white in the center like a pearl. Oh, yeah. That brought her back to the moment.

  Concentrating on not pinching him, she rolled the condom on. Looking up the muscled plain of his body, she met his dark eyes, the brim of his hat framing the harsh angles of his face. He was such a stranger—and she liked it that way.

  “What makes a guy ride like you do? It’s so dangerous and crazy, getting on an angry animal and pounding your body like that.” She cupped her breasts, plucking at the nipples.

  He backed down over her and moved to the inside of her thighs. He sat on his heels, his cock pointing right at her, glistening in its protective sheath. Stroking both hands from her hips down to her ankles in a slow, steady glide, he stared at her bare labia.

  “It’s about being a man.” He collared each of her ankles and lifted them, pressing her knees up to her chest. “Men need to test themselves. If you don’t test, and stretch, and strive, then you wither and die. I suppose there’s lots of ways of testing and proving, but for me it’s got to be real. Horses are simple. You either stick or you don’t.”

  Propping her ankles on his shoulders, he lined his penis up with her folds. “Got any other burning questions you feel like asking at this moment?”

  She laughed, giddy with adrenaline and drunk on the moment. “Yeah, maybe. I’m wondering if I can ride you, later. And wear your hat.”

  “I’ll think about it. Now stop yammering. Let’s just fuck awhile.” He was obnoxious, but he was also deep inside her body in one lunge.

  She cried out. It was like his flesh had just punched euphoria into her bloodstream. His hands braced by her shoulders, and hers reached up to latch onto his biceps. He pulled his hips back, pressed tighter against the back of her thighs, and surged forward. His hips ground into her ass and his pubic hair sizzled her bare, spread folds.

  He pumped himself in her body. It was hard and deep. His erection slid back and forth, pushing into her. A burst of tingling rays lit her up every time he seated himself, crushing her clit. In this position, with her body folded, it was all about the internal pressure. It was invasive and harsh, raw and wild. He moved so fast and steady that the pulsing waves merged, flowing into a glow.

  She didn’t know this person. How intense would he get? How hard would he work himself? What could she ask for, seeing how there wasn’t a chance of seeing him past the morning? Holding his narrowed gaze, she struggled to arch her back beneath his strength, and whispered, “Harder.”

  A smile tipped his lips. His breath rasped, his body flushed and growing slick. Her swollen breasts were mashed, her breath heating until her throat burned. His body slid so hard in her tight grip—and the light burst. She came, but he didn’t pause.

  It was too sensitive then, and she clawed at his arms, twisting, but he kept her pinned by the way he’d doubled her body. Her legs straightened with the weight of him, and eventually, her body softened.

  His dark eyes flashed in the shadows of his hat. “There ya go, girl. Beautiful.”

  She rocked, moaning, gasping, then suddenly she was tightening again. Desperate to get to her clit, she worked her hand down between her legs and fingered herself. She could feel his balls smacking the crack of her ass, and he began to grunt softly on each inward drive.

  Pinching, rubbing hard, circling the tiny hard point as fast as she could, she watched his perfect map of muscles flex and bulge. The orgasm sprang again, her hoarse breathing changing to mewing and moaning. A few strokes later, he came too, his body stiff and shuddering while he gasped out curses.

  He fell onto his elbows, and the extra weight on her legs made her glutes burn. She squeaked. He eased her legs off his shoulders and down to the side, and dropped next to her, propped on his arm, blowing hard.

  Reaching down, he peeled off the condom and dropped it over the side of the bed. When their breathing eased, she heaved herself up opposite him, mirroring his position.

  From this angle, she could see the red wound she’d helped him with. The scabs were just forming, and the skin was still badly chafed and raw.

  Leaning in, she blew over the underside of his forearm. “How do you feel?”

  He leaned in and blew across her chest. “I feel like I just fucked a goddamn beautiful woman. Ready for round two?”

  Feeling daring, she plucked the hat from his head. It was on tight and she had to pull to get it off. His hair was a disaster, wet and mashed. She dropped the hat on her own head, and it wobbled there, much too big. “Ready.”

  That night, she rode him on the bed, he rode her from behind, and then she rode him again in the shower. He did her hard and steady each time, although it took longer and longer for him to go off. She didn’t mind, because she herself took less and less time. She would barely catch her breath, then make herself burst and shine again.

  After a shower, with the hoedown’s surprisingly good big band music filtering through her brain, she sprawled on the trashed bed.

  Luke tossed the wet towel against the wall and hovered over her feet. “Mmm.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Trotters.” Then his mouth closed over the arch.

  She scrunched up her face, bracing for a ticklish backlash. It never came. His lips feathered around her ankle as his hands expertly massaged the ball of her foot.

  “Ohhh,” she sighed—for the thousandth time that night. “Is this the reason they call you Sweet Luke? Because of your way in the bedroom?”

  Without any fanfare he simply said, “Yes.” His lips slid down over her big toe. Warm, wet mouth, teeth running the edge. She was glad she’d had a pedi recently.

  “I can’t move,” she groaned. “That last time up against the wall in the shower took every shred of energy.”

  And sanity. He’d found a brutal pulse setting on the showerhead, and pushed her face-first against the wall. Her breasts against the smooth tiles, the water hot, his hips even hotter against her ass as he held her in a crushing grip . . .

  “That’s okay, darlin’. You don’t need to move no more. I’m gonna finish with a simple pleasure.”

  “What?” She burbled out a laugh in disbelief. “Finish? No more, Luke. I’m done. Crisped.”

  “Naw. This won’t take anything from you, just a little something I polish on my best girls.” He set her ankle down on the bed, swinging her leg wide.

  “Luke . . .” she warned.

  He pushed her other leg wide. She was so relaxed her knee bent and flopped her thigh completely open. She didn’t even twitch in embarrassment. He’d seen and touched it all.

  “You remember what you asked me earlier tonight?” He lay down between her legs, walking up close to her body with a sensual, dangerous elbow-crawl.

  “No.” She barely remembered her name right now.

  He blew lightly over her distended clit. His hands came up along the inside of each thigh and ever so delicately pulled her folds open. “You asked me to make you feel beautiful.”

  His mouth closed down over the middle of her body. “You believe it yet?” Warm breath seared her.

  She’d thought she was numb, after all they’d done, but pleasure rolled over her, wave after wave
. “Yesss.”

  She was drowning in the tenderness with which he kissed and licked her. No teeth, no heat—just soothing, relentless sensation.

  Up the side of one fold, down the other, around, in, below, circling. His mouth was warm, his tongue firm then light. He hummed and flicked.

  She came. It started at her toes, plucked at her knees, tensed her thighs, tossed her hips, and kept rolling on.

  “Yeah, Blue Eyes. That’s it. Come for Luke.”

  Her belly shuddered, her breasts flowed, her arms writhed, and her neck stretched, driving her face up and back, as the orgasm exited the top of her scalp with a painful light.

  “Hunh.” She collapsed again, skin twitching.

  Luke licked his lips noisily. “Yeah. Sweet and Beautiful, that’s us.”

  Lauren drifted off to a sea of stars.

  She hadn’t pulled the shades, and that’s how she woke up. The sun streaming through the window happened to fall right across her face. For a minute, she was freaked out, completely confused about where she was.

  Then she remembered. Rolling out of the sunbeam, she smiled, stretching her aching body. Burying her face in the pillow, she caught the scent of sex and man. It was perhaps three full minutes before she realized he wasn’t in the cabin. It didn’t surprise her in the least.

  Sitting up, she scrubbed at her gritty eyes and slid her feet over the bed in the direction of the bathroom. Her toes landed on something cold and slimy. With a squeal, she yanked her foot up. Used condoms littered the floor. Lovely. What a gentleman to clean up as he left. One, two, four, six?

  Grinning, she picked her way over to the bathroom and stared at her glowing reflection in shock. Half her bangs stuck straight up on her head, and her eyes had enough make-up smeared below them to make her look like a Goth. She had a hickey on her neck.

  Wow. She was a real, honest-to-goodness floozy, having wild sex with a black hat bronco rider. Her thighs ached from straining, her belly ached from coming, her toes ached from enduring sensual torture. She picked up her toothbrush and winked at herself in the mirror. Here’s to Sex in the West, she thought gleefully.

  Brushing her teeth with vigor, she knew it was going to be a beautiful day.

  Congratulations. You have found the ending called Naked Spur. Click this link to return to the Choice Index. Dare to decide again!

  “This is too crazy.”

  She was panting from the dual blasts of heat. Between Luke and the surging water, she was going to have a heart attack. “I’m really into live music and looking forward to this hoedown. Let’s cool down.”

  He grunted with disappointment. “Well, shit. Here I thought you were gonna be fun.”

  That made her eyes bug out. “Excuse me? Rephrase that.”

  He laughed. “I like you. You keep it real for me. You’re not afraid to bust my chops.”

  He lifted her out of the hot tub, plopping her on the fieldstone patio like a saddle. “I gotta get dry. You go to your cabin and change. Meet me back here in ten.”

  He stood, whipping a towel from the nearby stack and wrapping it around his trim hips. With his boots in one hand and the rest of his clothes wrapped in one arm, he walked away, up into the lodge.

  Lauren sat there blinking, considering running after him and shoving his arrogant, unchivalrous ass into the pool. But then she decided a black hat cowboy was what he was. He’d come clearly labeled—and she’d wanted him.

  She squelched to the cabin, showered, did her hair sleek, and poured on her strongest eyeliner with smoky shadow, strong blush, and dramatic lipstick.

  Yanking a short, shimmering silver dress on over nothing but her lotioned skin made her feel naughty. Not trusting Luke, she put a condom in her small purse. Just because she’d said no to her cabin didn’t mean she wouldn’t succumb to the rogue soon.

  Considering, she added two more. Back in her strappy silver sandals, she set off, the tiny sequins all over her dress lighting up in the setting sun.

  When she entered the cathedral-like main room of the timbered lodge, she saw Luke come out of a swinging door that seemed as if it was for staff. He was in black jeans and a plain white undershirt, his boots, belt buckle, and hat all back in place. He stopped so hard when he saw her that his boots skidded on the polished floor.

  “See? I’m still fun.” She winked at him and spun, cocking one hip.

  He walked up to her and took her hand, kissed the back of it, and tipped his hat. “Miss Lauren, it’s an honor.”

  She swallowed, charmed and touched. “Why, thank you, Mister Luke.”

  He pulled her closer, firmly palming her ass. “You got panties on? ’Cause you sure as shit ain’t got no bra again.”

  Considering the tube dress was strapless, his deductive powers were fierce. She grinned and shrugged coyly. “What a question to ask. A lady can’t be expected to answer that.”

  Guitars wailing in rocker feedback drifted through the thick timber walls, followed by the cheering of a crowd.

  He slid his hand between them and used their closeness to hide the way he adjusted himself. “Blue Eyes, let’s dance.”

  The air was freezing as they walked up the hill. The barn was packed solid. Lauren looked around for Sorrel, but Luke towed her over to the open bar. The rockabilly band took up the whole far end. The floor was half full of modern mosh pit dancing, while the other half seemed to be orderly rows of people doing intricate knee flips while holding onto their waists.

  “Whiskey or beer?” he shouted.

  “Beer!” she shouted back.

  Luke ordered two shots and a beer, then pulled her out of the crush. He tossed back both whiskeys like they were Kool-Aid, then stomped his foot on the floor five times in his best Thumper imitation. He held a paper bowl full of what appeared to be chicken nuggets.

  Popping some into his mouth and chewing fast, he said, “Want one? Prairie oysters all around!”

  She leaned in. “What’s that?”

  “Fried steer balls, darlin’. Delicious.”

  She grimaced, unsure if he was pulling her leg. He wiggled his eyebrows, finished them off, and dumped the shot glasses and bowl onto a table.

  With a war cry, he dragged her out into the border between the two groups, wrapping himself around her and tucking his hips in tight.

  He two-stepped her around to the thrashing drums and heavy guitars. She laughed, dizzy, her beer dangling over his shoulder. His hands roamed her ribs and waist, cupped her ass, and squeezed. “Ready to tell me yet?”

  She shook her head.

  He took her back to the bar after the next song. Two more shots for him and one sipped shot for her later, the band took on what was to them a slow song. Couples appeared on the floor faster than rabbits. He put her empty beer on a barrel and took her back out.

  With one hand on her nape and the other holding hers up to his shoulder, he rocked with her, his hat sheltering them from the soft light of the bare bulbs strung across the barn ceiling. They danced, perfectly chaste. His erection was so hard his fly kept catching on her sequins.

  She chuckled, stroking his spine with her free hand. “You’re like a one-trick pony, Luke.”

  Pulling away from her head to look down at her, he narrowed his eyes. “It’s a good trick.”

  That made her laugh again.

  “Lauren?”

  Lauren looked over, and there was Sorrel. She was dressed in a tight, midriff-baring red top and a short pleated skirt with great boots. Lauren’s breath caught. She pulled against Luke’s hold.

  He let her go reluctantly, hanging his arm around her shoulders and tucking her in against him. “Hello, we’re busy.”

  Lauren poked him in the ribs. Her heart raced in circles, and her mind wasn’t far behind. She leaned heavily on Luke. “Hey, Sorrel. Great party.” Everything was semi-shouted with this band playing.<
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  Sorrel looked from Lauren to Luke. Her gaze swept Lauren’s disco-ball dress and she seemed dazzled. So, it was a little over-the-top for a barn in Montana, but Luke was an over-the-top kind of guy.

  Sorrel motioned over her shoulder. “Come outside.”

  Luke moved his arm from Lauren’s shoulders to her waist. “We’re dancing. Later.”

  Sorrel snapped him a stay-out-of-this look. Lauren couldn’t believe she’d grown her hair so long. It was so strange to see her again. This was the confident, gorgeous woman who’d swept her along in college. And this was the cruel traitor who’d seduced Lauren’s first love and left her heart in the dust. Lauren shoved her hand into Luke’s back pocket, fingers curving hard along his muscular cheek.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Sorrel said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “The ranch is beautiful,” Lauren semi-shouted back. Her mental coffin rattled mightily, but she thought she was keeping it together nicely.

  Luke’s hand slipped down onto her ass and squeezed. She squeezed him back, beaming.

  “I’m having a great time,” she added, winking. Sorrel had always appreciated acting fast with guys. Look how fast she’d gotten Tommy. Lauren had only been gone for half an hour.

  Sorrel huffed, frowning at her. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Then I guess you should have met me when I got here,” Lauren called out. “You know, since you don’t seem surprised I’m here.”

  Luke’s fingers drifted along the back of her thigh, feeling the hem of her dress. Elation boiled through her as the drummer changed into a harder song. People buffeted all three of them a little closer as the dance floor surged with fresh energy. God, this was perfect, meeting Sorrel with a sexy guy draped around her, showing her that Lauren was doing just fine, thank you. Luke’s fingers found the crease of one cheek, dragging across from hip to inner fold with purpose.

  She laughed, delighted. “We’ll talk later. I’m here all week, right?”

  Sorrel folded her arms. “I understand.” She cut Luke a cold look, which made the softening of her stare very clear when she switched back to Lauren. “You look beautiful.”