Whatcha Gonna Do With a Cowboy (9 page)

I sucked in some air and touched myself, and from Gunner’s groan, I knew the feeling was mutual. We were both tied up in knots.

“Now your shirt and bra.” He sounded less controlled with each passing second.

I turned around, shrugged my shirt over my head, unhooked my bra, and pulled my hair back over my shoulder before I sat on the end of the bed and sprawled my legs. Feet shuffled across the wood floor. Then a pair of rough, callused hands caressed my face.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said and did, just below my chin. “Right there.” Eyes locked on my tit, and with a mouthwatering grin that would be my undoing in the long run, he bent his head and circled his tongue around the needy flesh.

I leaned back on my elbows and allowed myself to indulge in my dangerously clever cowboy’s hands and mouth. I could’ve slipped into oblivion right then and there. But damn the man. He was playing hardball. And from that dark, seductive look, he clued in that I knew the ball was in his court. He pulled my hard, perked nipple between his lips, sucking and biting until I gasped and went slack against the mattress. He licked a trail from my swollen tit up my collarbone to nip at my chin, and all the while his thumb rolled, stroked, pulled, and twisted one tender bud. Damn, did I want the bullheaded man buried deep inside me.

“How much do you trust me, sweetheart?” he asked. When he tongued my tender flesh I could’ve fallen to my knees and given up my ass as an offering to this sinful cowboy.

Maybe I was ready.

And maybe I could trust him…in life, in my heart, and in the bedroom. Completely.

I nodded and leaned forward and rubbed my mouth along the stubble cloaking his square jaw.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked, flicking the tip of my tongue at his moist, full lips. “I’m pretty much game for anything, cowboy. The only thing that puts this cowgirl in a piss-poor mood is a long wait.”

Before I could say anything else, Gunner had scooped me up and tossed me over a shoulder.

“Hey, now!” I slapped him on the back playfully. “The last time you manhandled me, things went south pretty fast.”

Gunner’s deep, throaty “I’ll rock your world” laugh caused my already charged-up pussy to hum. “And you think that was a bad thing, sweetie?” With a hard and quick smack to my ass, he sauntered through the bathroom door.

Water rushed along the cold tile walls and spilled down my back, leaving a puddle beneath my bare feet. With eyes shut tight, I arched my back against the slippery tile and allowed myself a moment of relaxation. A pair of rough, slick hands danced between my carelessly spread-eagled thighs, drawing me back into the moment. On instinct alone I moved my feet wider apart and allowed him an open-door invitation. A finger casually roamed across my skin and down my backside and stopped just above my ass crack.

His thumb pressed into the butt dimple. “Are you sure?” he asked, letting his thumb slip further between my cheeks.

I cocked my head over my shoulder and breathed, “Yes. I’d like to try again.” I eyed my mischievous Texas Ranger down.

His thumb slipped away, and he replaced the soft touch with the pressure of his hand at the small of my back. He leaned in a smidgen, brushing and nipping at the nape of my neck. I could feel his hot breath on my damp skin. It sent my pulse into overdrive. “Okay, sweetheart”—his teeth grazed just below my earlobe—“we’ll play by your rules this time.” He angled himself up behind me and nudged my lower back with his cock.

My cheek slipped on the tile and my heart galloped into my throat as I stood pinned against the shower wall, getting wound up like a jack-in-the-box. With a breathless plea, I asked, “You’re toying with me again, cowboy?”

A muscular arm reached between me and the tile wall, snaking around my waist. Then suddenly I spun around, ass smacking the cold tile, water dripping from my nose and pooling between my neglected tits, and my eyes locked in on the horniest cowboy this side of El Paso.

I stared at his tempting cock, the chiseled lines of his damp six-pack, working my way up toward the rattlesnake tattoo that rippled along his muscular right forearm. The need to feel him inside me escalated.

Gunner swallowed hard, drinking me in with hungry eyes. “Sweetheart,” he said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder, “it’s time for you to get down on your knees.”

Looking at him engulfed in lust and passion, I stroked my thumb down to the trail leading toward the dark curls surrounding that scrumptious dick. With each touch I could feel his deep intake of breath. Damn, was he a glorious sight. I wanted to taste him, let him fill my mouth. I reached out to cup his balls, only to have him slap my hand out of the way and pull me back up onto my feet in one fell swoop. We stared at each other for a moment, debating the next move. Then he roughly grabbed me by the neck and pulled me flush against him. My heart stalled when he nuzzled my shoulder.

“Fuck, Laney,” he said, drawing his lips across mine. “I just can’t get enough of you.” And then he crushed his mouth against mine.

My lips parted at the first thrust of his tongue, and I allowed him to devour my mouth. With each nip of his teeth I was slowly sinking and knew I couldn’t ever outrun my reckless heart. This cowboy had roped me in ages ago, and there was no turning back. I looked up, and our eyes locked into that old high-school crush stareoff. We gazed at each other in a sexual haze. Then Gunner fisted a lock of my hair. Gently, he tugged my head back and, on a harsh swallow, he lowered me back down to my knees.

Slowly, I wet my lips and opened my mouth. A quick flick across the slit on his throbbing cock left behind a taste of pre-cum like warm honey on my lips. Gunner groaned and his abs flexed.

“Goddamn, that feels good,” he said, his voice coarse and deep. Then he pulled roughly at my hair and brought my mouth down on his dick, and its head was sinking deep into the back of my throat. And as my lips, my tongue, consumed him, he possessed all of me.

Head tipped sideways, I watched as his face tightened and his eyes glazed over as I took in more of his thick length. The back of his head hit the tile shower wall, and his grip tightened on my hair. I’d won this battle, even though at the moment I couldn’t remember what we were fighting over. Maybe love…maybe control…or maybe a little bit of both. I sucked harder, pulling back and drawing my tongue across the tip of his cock. A guttural groan tore from his chest as he slipped further down the shower wall and pulled my mouth off his wet shaft.

“Tell me what you want,” he ground out.

Smiling, I elongated my neck and lifted my breasts to him. “I want you, cowboy, only you.”

He gulped, caught off guard at the sight of me surrendering myself for the taking. And then he was on me like lightning. His mouth took mine. I hooked my arms around his waist and dug my nails into his ass, drawing him toward me. Our teeth clashed as we clambered for each other in a frenzied panic. Then he yanked my head back and left my lips sore and lingering with the taste of him. I didn’t even have time to catch a breath before he rocked forward and fitted his cock down my throat.

“Fuck.” He pulled back and then drilled my mouth again. “Fucking shit, sweetheart.” He groaned as his control slowly slipped away. “Be a good girl and suck all of me down again.”

I hollowed my cheeks and drew him to the back of my throat.

He looked down at me. “God, you should see yourself. All wet and reckless on your knees, letting me fuck your pretty mouth.”

I opened wider and took him deeper. His grin widened, and his hand slipped from my hair to wrap around my neck. He pulled out, and his eyes narrowed, all dark and sensual. “Turn around, Laney,” he ordered in his whiskey-smooth voice. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Hands flattened against the shower wall and a leg hitched up on the side of the tub, I had my eyes closed in anticipation at getting drilled by my cowboy.

Gunner placed a hand on the small of my back. “Don’t move a muscle,” he murmured. “You are going to be good and take me however I want you to take me.” He nudged the head of his penis into the small of my back. “Understand, sweetheart?” he asked, even though it was more of a command.

I was ready to hand over the reins. I nodded, and my cheek pressed the tile.

And then he slammed inside me all the way up to the hilt.

“Goddamn,” I screamed. Shit, he felt way too good. He slowly pulled out and rotated his hips, teasing my wet cunt with the need to have him fill me.

His hand tightened around my neck, and his mouth brushed against my ear. “Harder?” He slammed inside me again before I could answer.

My hands slipped. Gunner yanked them back up above my head. “I told you to stay still,” he growled and enclosed both my wrists in his hand. “Stop fighting, sweetheart,” he said, sliding in and out of me in a slow torturous pace. I was breathless, and my pulse was racing. And hell, I was loving every damn minute of it. “I promise I’ll make it feel good if you’ll just give me control.”

Nodding in agreement, I gasped. “I’m waving the white flag.”

He leaned in and kissed my bare shoulder. “Yes, you are.” His mouth brushed the nape of my neck as he pulled his cock out of my aching pussy. “You sure you are okay with
anything
I want?” he whispered in my ear.

I knew exactly what he was asking me. He’d been bringing up the topic for a while, and even though our first expedition had been a botch, I was willing to give it a go again.

Relaxing, I complied. “Whatever your heart desires.”

He sighed, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice when he spoke. “You won’t regret this, Laney.” He swept a piece of wet hair off my neck. “I intend on giving you pleasure as much as I intend on taking it.”

And I believed him. And I trusted him.

And I was ready to surrender.

I braced myself when his hand possessively pinned my back. Then something cool dripped between my butt cheeks. I tried to move, but Gunner held me in place. And when I felt his thumb circling the dimple above my ass, I knew I wanted this as bad as he did.

“Please take it slow.” His thumb touched my anus, soothing the untouched part of me, and I gasped as he gently started to push inside, stretching the tight ring. “Just be careful.”

He pushed a little more while dribbling lube between my butt cheeks. I’d never felt anything so consuming. I went slack against the tile and let out a soft cry.

“You okay?” His thumb vanished, and I ached for the touch again. His mouth brushed my ear. “You tell me if something doesn’t feel right. Do you understand, Laney?” he demanded, replacing his thumb against the outer ring of the tender hole. Then he swirled the lube and pushed back inside me.

“Aw, hell,” I moaned, wiggling against the intrusion.

“Relax, sweetheart,” his deep midnight voice hushed in my ear. “Trust me, Laney, I plan on making this good for all involved.”

And then his thumb was gone and the tip of his cock pressed against my puckered entrance. I fisted my hands waiting, anticipating…allowing him to take me as he slid slowly and steadily into me. Warmth flowed to my belly. I rested my forehead on the tile and closed my eyes. He pushed in another inch, making my sex throb and my ass ache with pleasure and pain. The immense pressure was overpowering, rushing over me like a tidal wave. This was what
we
needed. He needed. Raw, no-holds-barred desire, passion…lust.

When his big, rough hands reached around to cup my breasts and he twisted and rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, my mouth fell open and my legs spread further apart as the need to have him deeper inside me grew with each long, steady, gentle thrust.

“Fuck, darling. God, it’s tight.” He moved again, sinking deeper between my cheeks. “God damn, you feel so good.” His voice sounded strained as he thrust further inside. I’d never felt so full…so complete. And I knew right then that nothing would ever be the same between us.

I looked over my shoulder. “You don’t have to be so gentle.” His eyes told a story of need. “I’m a big girl, I can take whatever a big, bad Texas Ranger throws my way.”

“Damn it, Laney,” he ground out. “You can’t say things like that to me. I’m fixing to lose it as it is.” He withdrew and pushed into me harder this time, causing me to burn with desire. “Like that?” he growled, his voice ragged and panting.

“Yes,” I whispered as the water cascaded around us. “Exactly like that.” My cheek pressed the shower wall when his balls slapped my quivering pussy.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart. Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you.” He sank another inch of his cock into me. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he murmured, on the edge of his release.

I reached between my legs and found the burning heat sending me into a tailspin. With two fingers I rubbed my clit and felt the feverish desire wash over me as my orgasm hit, and
my
cowboy finally claimed the last remaining part of me.

Chapter Four

I dragged myself out of bed around the same time the moon was exchanging places with the sun. After splashing my face with cold water, I brushed the bedhead out of my shoulder-length hair and clipped it all back in a knot with a red butterfly clamp. I slapped my cheeks to get some color in them, although I still looked like the walking dead. I brushed my teeth and did a quick morning-breath test into my cupped palm, then ambled downstairs. I wasn’t exactly walking bowlegged, but I certainly wasn’t going to take up any offers for a leisurely Sunday morning bike ride.

Gunner was hunched over the kitchen sink with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, watching the sunrise through the window. He was in his usual attire—black boxers and a black T-shirt—and he looked so unbelievably good, it was like I was watching an underwear commercial. I went into the kitchen and laid a hand on his back.

“You’re up early,” I stated, eyeing the coffee pot.

He turned around, both hands braced on the countertop, wearing a mischievous smile and looking satisfied. “Well, good morning.” He tapped a finger on my bottom lip. “I figured you’d be laid up in bed all day.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“You know me,” he said. He dumped his coffee in the sink and left the mug on the countertop.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” I said. “It’s Sunday.”

“I’m sorry, babe. Marty texted that he has a lead on our case, and he thinks this might be the one that blows the thing wide open. I’ve gotta go check it out.”

“All right.” I sighed. “So I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course. It might be late, but I’ll be home. And just so you know”—he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear again—“last night was amazing.”

I smiled. “You’re not hearing any complaining on my end of things.”

“I’m meeting Marty at the office, so I’ll see what I can dig up on the Perez gang while I’m there.” He pecked me on the cheek and headed upstairs to get ready.

By the time I’d finished a cup of coffee, he was ready to go. After a smooch good-bye, I sat down at the kitchen table and listened to the storm door banging against the house, the Yukon firing up, and the roar of the engine as he vanished down FM 167. With nothing else to do, I settled for another cup of his godawful coffee.

It was a blissful illusion. The phone had started ringing before I even made it back to the table. I picked up on the second ring.

“Laney?” a male voice asked.

I had a sudden urge to bang my head upside the wall. I clutched the phone, all the while daydreaming about a morning outside under the fall sunshine and no nettlesome cowboys.

“Yes, Colt,” I replied.

“If you want in on trying to bring down Kenny Perkins, you need to meet me at Bristol Mills right away,” he said and let the line go dead. I poured my coffee in the sink and hurried upstairs.

Wasn’t Sunday supposed to be a day of rest?

It burned me up that our federal marshal thought himself important enough to go knocking on Kenny Perkins’s door at odd hours of the day without a damn good reason. We were working this case together, or so I’d thought. If we weren’t, the only person who was going to bring down the dodgy Mr. Perkins would be me and not some goddamn U.S. marshal.

But first things first. He and I had some unfinished business to attend to and a missing-person case to wrap up. It would take more than suspicion and Luke Wagner’s assertion that someone with enough money could get all the papers it took to freshen up her identity from Kenny Perkins. I hoped to hell the pesky marshal’s presence at Bristol Mills meant he had something we could both use.

It was common knowledge out here in the sticks that if a man had gotten tired of his usual pussy, all he had to do was hit up Kenny Perkins, all-around sleazebag and redneck pimp. He’d inherited the whorehouse at seventeen when his late father bit the dirt during a three-way. Personally, I wasn’t entirely certain Kate Matthews had even propositioned Kenny for a set of passports. But since Colt had taken it upon himself to stir up trouble in my town on this fine Sunday morning, I needed to check out the situation.

I drove my cruiser toward the pitifully small patch of land on the southeast end of town, populated by more than its fair share of cactus. The big red barn that was the focal point had been converted into a dozen small cubicle rooms for Kenny’s clients’ various appointments and walk-ins. I circled around the building and parked between an unfamiliar four-door with rental plates and a dead oak tree. The four-door had to be what Colt was driving since yesterday’s shootout. I kicked open my door, taking a moment to scope out the place before cautiously making my way toward the barn. Empty whiskey and beer bottles littered the ground around the wooden wire spools serving as makeshift tables with overturned five-gallon buckets for chairs. It appeared all the creature comforts were reserved for inside the barn. Some malnourished cows watched me from the other side of the barbed-wire fence, chomping away at the parched grass while doing so. Aside from the barn and tables, all that occupied the one-acre plot were an old, rusted tractor and a clothesline showcasing an array of thongs.

I stopped outside the big wooden doors when I heard a high-pitched squeal coming from inside. I nearly lost it when the woman started talking about some cowboy being a bad boy. That bastard had tricked me. Madder than a wet hen, I kicked open the barn door and stormed inside.

“
YES
! Yes! Yessss!” From behind one of the closed shower curtains used as doors, a whore squealed with pleasure.

I blew through that shithole of a place, jerking open each and every one of the drapes, only to find a different whore smoking a cigarette or shooting tequila and staring at me indignantly. I finally zeroed in on the space all the noise was coming from. I thought twice about yanking open the curtain and charging in and instead first took a peek underneath. To my disbelief, I saw a pair of long, veiny legs pointed sky high and opened for business like a twenty-four-hour truck stop. With my blood boiling, I cleared my throat and holstered my gun, then flung back the rubber ducky shower curtain and kicked the whore-banging son of a bitch, knocking him clean off the slut and face first to the floor with his britches around his knees.

“Colt Larsen, you’re a fucking bastard!” I shouted.

The girl reached for a pack of menthols on the nightstand. “Sweetheart,” she said and lit a cigarette. “I believe you got the wrong room.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked slightly pitchy.

“What she means, Laney, is that I ain’t Colt Larsen.”

I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Damn it all to hell. I’d just stumbled in on my birdbrain cousin, Wyatt Bennett, drilling his balls deep in this prostitute. I looked at him, then at the whore sitting butt naked on the edge of the bed. She smiled and crossed her legs, although by now I didn’t see the point. Wyatt got to his feet, trying to pull his pants up over his dick. I shook my head, trying not to look at his spindly pecker.

“I’m sorry,” I stated, slowly backing out of the room.

“You need me for somethin’, Laney?” Wyatt asked, smiling his wide bucktoothed grin.

“No. And I better be on my way.”

Wyatt stepped toward me, still trying to pull up his pants. “Laney,” he said desperately, “please don’t tell your mother you saw me out here. I don’t do this all the time. I just needed to blow off some steam.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. “You have nothing to worry about,” I said, hiding my eyes behind my hand. “I am going to do everything I can to scour this from my memory and never think of it again. Is that good enough for you?”

“Yep.” His mullet flopped about as he nodded, then added, “I’ll be done here in a few minutes if you wanna go grab some breakfast.” He cocked his chin at his lady friend. “I’ve worked up a hell of an appetite.”

I looked down at my boots. “I’ll take a rain check, Wyatt,” I told him, backing out of the room.

“Come on, Laney,” Wyatt called after me. “I need to talk to you about some things. I’ll even buy.”

“Not now, Wyatt,” I said, walking down the hallway, adding, “And next time you’re here, wear a raincoat.”

I ripped open the barn door and was blindsided by a plaid pearl snap. “Where have you been?” I asked, annoyed.

“Scoping the place out. Why?” he answered.

“I was looking for you.”

“Well, hotcakes, here I am.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, pretty sure this was all a wild-goose chase, and I was about to start handing this jerkwad cowboy his head.

“We need to talk to Kenny,” he said. “See if he knows anything about Kate and a new passport or about that son of a bitch shooting at us yesterday. And I called you to lend a hand, seeing that these are your people.”

The man was dumber than a doorknob.

“Really?” I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re just gonna walk up to his door and ask to talk?”

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s part of the job, and he’s the only lead we’ve got right now, so let’s go, Deputy.”

We made our way across the property and up to Kenny’s little piece of paradise tucked away in some mesquite trees behind the barn. It was really nothing more than a run-down shack with a cracked cement porch sinking into the red dirt. All the windows were covered with Lone Ranger sheets, and the two orange lawn chairs on the porch were worn down to mere shreds.

Colt’s boots abruptly stopped at a pile of Icehouse beer cans. He kicked them aside and looked sideways at me. “I was able to get some of the girls talking earlier,” he said, “and it appears Abby told us the truth and Luke was right about Kenny supplying fresh paper for a fee. Kate’s been out here.”

I slung a hand on a hip and studied him hard.

He tipped his hat up. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” I asked him. “You went behind my back. I thought we said we’d hit this place up together.”

“We are hitting it up together,” he shot back. “I just got here early.”

I pushed him aside. “This is so not over, Marshal. I still think you’re holding back on me, and one way or another you’re going to cough it up.” I pounded on the door. When no one answered, I rapped again.

Colt slid up next to me, placing his mouth too close for comfort. “I didn’t mean any disrespect by getting out here early,” he said. “I’m just antsy to get this case solved, what with getting shot at yesterday and not knowing for sure who did it.”

I couldn’t fault him there, since I had a little of that shooting left on my mind as well. “Well, let’s get on with this,” I snapped and reached for the screen door. “Kenny, it’s Laney Briggs. Open up,” I shouted.

The deadbolt jimmied, and then a hand wrapped around the doorframe. “I don’t want any trouble,” Kenny told us, poking his head out from behind the door. He wiggled a finger in Colt’s face, giving me a partial view of the sleeveless undershirt no one in his physical condition should wear. “I saw this guy snooping around my place. Neither one of you have any right coming round here.”

That was true. Prior to Luke telling me Kenny was the go-to guy for fake IDs, us local cops had never been able to stick him with any real charges. But it was also true that the mayor frequently made appointments with Kenny’s “associates,” as he called them.

I stuck a boot inside the doorway. “We just want to talk, that’s all.”

Kenny pointed at Colt. “Who’s the one been snooping around my place?”

I cut a look at Colt. “Sorry about that, Kenny,” I reassured him, “that’s Mr. Larsen. It won’t happen again.”

Kenny tried to shut the door on us, but my boot stopped him. He looked down at it, then back up at Colt. “Why don’t you tell me who you really are,” he said, not buying any of our bullshit.

Colt stepped forward. “I’m Federal Marshal Colt Larsen. I’m looking for a lady friend of mine. She’s about five foot seven, a blue-eyed blonde, and she’s extremely easy on the eyes. Might go by the name Missy Granger or Kate Matthews. Can you tell us where she might be?”

Kenny’s face brightened. “Oh, I get it.” He grinned maliciously. “You’re looking for that little peach who camped out at my humble abode the other night.”

Next thing I knew, Colt had laid Kenny on the floor with one swift jab to the nose.

Kenny Perkins moaned and groaned, cupping his rearranged nose. Blood seeped through his hand, rushing down his chin and tinting his pit-stained wife beater red. I stood back and watched. He tried to scurry across the dingy Berber carpet, but Colt charged after him, fists drawn and nostrils flaring. This was going to be a bloody mess. Desperately, Kenny dashed into the bedroom and tried to wedge the door shut by leaning against it. His effort was pointless since Colt simply charged through, taking the door off its hinges and landing it and himself on top of Kenny. I was impressed.

“You slimy bastard,” Colt growled, climbing off the fallen door. “If you so much as laid a finger on Kate, you’ll be known forever as the dickless pimp.”

Sweat glistened on Kenny’s forehead. He mumbled something.

“Come again?” Colt asked, stamping on his hand. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Come on!” Kenny wailed. His eyes jolted around the room, finally locking in on me, leaning a hip on the wall. “Laney,” he choked out, slobber dribbling down his cleft chin. “Make him stop. I swear I did nothing wrong.”

Before I jumped in, Colt dragged Kenny off the floor by an ear and slammed his back into the wall. “I’m going to ask you this once and only once,” Colt snarled. “Did you screw Kate?”

Kenny trembled. “No. I’m not that much of a bastard.” He peered down at his junk. “I mean, look at me. You really think that looker would screw this?”

Colt adjusted his stance, tightly gripping Kenny’s shirt. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess not.”

I walked over and patted Colt on the shoulder. “Why don’t we get on with the questioning, and if he still doesn’t give us what we need, then you can knock him upside the head again.”

That seemed to appease the hotheaded cowboy. He released his hold on Kenny and took one step back. “Start talking, Perkins,” he barked. “And what you say better make me damn satisfied.”