My clothing began to feel too heavy, too binding, too much. We stripped down in a mad rush, shirts and pants chucked to the bed, followed by undergarments. We parted only long enough to bare ourselves and then came back together as if the wind painted on the walls had blown us back into each other’s arms.

  “I want to worship you the way you deserve,” he said before capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. We tangoed in reverse, the bed coming up behind my knees. With a sigh, I let myself fall backward, my fingers leaving his strong shoulders. I flopped onto the mattress like a child, smiling widely, my cock bouncing.

  “Then come to worship,” I said, splaying my arms out to the side.

  He moved like a hungry predator, catching a leg under his arm and pushing me up on the bed, his cock resting between my ass cheeks as we wiggled and grunted. When he had me where he wanted me, he lowered his head to my chest. His hot tongue found a nipple. I arched up wantonly, spreading my legs as wide as I could to offer myself to him wantonly.

  “Mm, I love that.” I sighed, twitching when he took the ruddy nub between his teeth. “Ah, oh, that’s hot.”

  “I plan to taste every inch of you and then sink so far into your sweet, freckled ass that there is no me and no you, just us.”

  My cock began to leak at his beautiful words. My soul, my heart, had been starved for affection for so long, and now this man, a man you’d not think would be capable of such poetic tenderness, was giving me what I yearned for, possibly for years. No, not possibly. Chris had never been one to be overly sentimental.

  Also, he knew I had freckles on my ass. That turned me on in ways I could not explain. I gave myself to him wholly. Ollie touched me in ways and in places that had never been explored before. He kissed my ribs, adored my navel, and paid lavish praise to my arches. He feathered light touches along my belly, laved a wet path over my shoulder, and caressed the back of my thighs. Then, when I was at a point where I was this close to either coming or passing out from want, he took me apart with his mouth. Short, hot kisses along my scrotum, a suck on the leaking head of my cock, accompanied by a long, sinful lick from cockhead to ass where he spread me open to feast.

  “Delicious, beautiful, divine, sinful, perfect.” Soft, sweet, sultry words of praise fell from him as he used that skilled tongue to slowly prepare me for his cock. I was soaked with sweat despite the AC running hard. My knees rested on my chest, my hands were balled in the bedding, and my senses were fried. Every thought rested on what he was doing to my needy hole with his mouth and fingers. He toyed with the edges of my furl and pushed two fat fingers inside me. Some sort of language burbled out of me. It may have been English. It may have been ancient Uto-Aztecan.

  Expert fingers delved inside me as he sucked on my balls. With a stroke, he pushed me to the very edge and then he eased back. Pulled out and off and moved over me, his cock slick and wet, rigid, and leaking a path over mine.

  Mindless with lust, I flung my arms around his shoulders, tugging his mouth to mine. I shoved my tongue between his lips as he ground against me, our pricks pinned between us, rubbing…always rubbing.

  “I’m going to get us some lube.” He broke the kiss to reach around to fumble in his pants. I clawed at him like a randy cat, not happy until he returned to my arms, a packet of lube between his teeth. Those dark eyes of his simmered. I grasped my knees and watched, panting like a workhorse as he tore the packet open and slathered lube over his fat dick. “Easy now,” he whispered when he pushed two slippery fingers back inside. “Don’t come yet. I want you to come when my cock is inside you. I need to feel that.”

  So did I. Desperately. “Now…I want you in me now.”

  “So bossy.” He chuckled gruffly, easing his fingers out with a soft stroke of my prostate before they slipped free. Then his cockhead was there, resting on my slick hole, and his hand captured my balls. “I love you like this. Open and sloppy for me. This is not the tidy dentist the rest of the world sees. This Dodge is mine alone, and I do not want to share him with any other men.”

  “I’m not…the sharing type.” I looked right into his eyes when I said that, so he knew if I was his, I was his, and he was mine. “Now fuck me before I pass out from want.”

  “So damn bossy,” he purred and sank in slowly. The first breach made me wince, even though he’d taken time to ready me. I’d not been with a man like this for a long, long time. Once he eased past that resistance, it was glorious. The stretch, the feeling of being filled, the slight burn. “Fuck you’re tight.”

  I purred, like literally purred, when he bottomed out. Then there was little to no talking afterward. Ollie Ahoka was a wild fuck. The bed bounced madly. The headboard slapped the wall, and the lamps on the end tables wobbled. I held on for dear life, my cock spewing thick ropes of cum over and over as he fucked me. I think I may have cried out. I couldn’t be sure. His cock rammed my prostate time and again. Cum dribbled out of me. He grunted and groaned, rolling his hips to get even deeper. I felt his cock thicken slightly then a splash of spunk filled me. I shuddered as yet more cum leaked from me. My balls had to be withered prunes by now with the amount of cum I’d shot all over myself. Ollie fell over me, held up only by his locked arms. My legs slithered down his arms and to the bed, my thighs quivering, my calves on the verge of cramping from being so tightly held for so long.

  “Oh God,” he mumbled, his brow dotted with sweat as his gaze found mine.

  “Mmhmm,” I managed to reply, my limbs and brain reduced to goo.

  He dropped down in a push-up of sorts to steal a few tender kisses before sliding off me. My ass felt the loss. With a sound of pure male satisfaction, he kneeled between my legs to watch his cum leak out of me and quickly shoved his underwear between my thighs before pushing my legs closed.

  “Let me get us some washcloths,” he said, dropping a kiss to each knee before leaving the bed. The mattress shifted slightly when he left. My eyes closed as my breathing came back to normal. The twinge in my ass and legs was not unpleasant. No, it was not unpleasant at all. Now that had been a marvelous dicking. Ten stars on a range of one through five. I was still lying there like a soggy lasagna noodle when he returned. “You’ve made a mess of yourself,” he said as he sat beside me. A warm cloth landed on my belly and began to move in slow circles. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? You’re very quiet.”

  “Not an ounce of hurt.” Okay, that was a small fib. There had been a little pain, yes, but that had fled quickly. “Just letting my brain reboot.”

  “Ah, okay, that feeds my ego nicely.” He dabbed at some cum droplets on my shoulder and then, with infinite care, replaced his briefs with that soft, warm cloth. I sighed at the contact and opened my eyes. Looking from the ceiling to the right, I found Ollie studying me, his lips twisting up into a gentle smile. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  “No, you are.”

  “No, you are.”

  “No, you are.”

  We fell into a little back and forth before we both began laughing. Ollie rolled me up and to my side, curling up beside me and easing the dark red coverlet over us. I moved closer to him, my belly to his side, and nudged him to raise his arm over his head. Once he did that, I cuddled in tight, my cheek on his shoulder, with the long black hair of his armpit tickling my cheek. It was total perfection.

  “I never want to move. Ever.” The confession was heartfelt.

  “Not even for some bubbly?”

  Shit. I was thirsty. “Okay, just for the bubbly.” He lay there smiling at the ceiling. “I mean, like now I could use something to drink. Hop to it, Sheriff!” I gave his dark brown nipple a tweak. He yelped before leaving the bed with a hearty sigh. A moment later, he was back, bottle of champagne popped, with two flutes of fizzy in his hands. He placed them on the nightstand, and we got resituated so we could rehydrate.

  “This is good,” I said as the bubbles trickled down my dry throat. “But what if you get called out?”

  He sat on the bed, his back bolstered by a dozen or so pillows, holding his flute in one hand and me in the other. I lay on my side, head resting in my hand, pillows under my arm, sipping my drink while enjoying the cocoon of bedding we were sharing.

  “It’s non-alcoholic,” he answered with that calm assurance of his.

  “You do think of everything, don’t you?” I rested the base of my flute on his stomach.

  “It’s my job. And before you think I equate you with work, it’s also part of what makes a good lover a good lover. Being attentive, caring, and always knowing that one of you has to drive home.”

  I gasped in mock outrage. “I only had a few Tom Collins.” Then I paused to think. “Okay, I had four. I don’t tend to drink much, but it’s been such a great night that I kind of let loose. But I’m not drunk. I was fully cognizant of what just took place and entered into that with great joy.”

  “I knew that. The amount of rice and crab you ate would have soaked up a vat of Tom Collins,” he teased, giving me a wink.

  “Very funny. I only had…well, the rice was good, what can I say? My mother makes the best Italian rice and peas. I used to eat so much of it when I was a kid, I would get sick. Did I tell you she’s coming out to watch Dahn show his goat?”

  “Mm, yeah, you did.”

  “Oh right.” I emptied my flute and passed it to him to place on the nightstand. My cheek was lonely for his pectoral, so I let my head drop to where it felt right to land. “When I told Granny they were coming, I said I probably overstepped my bounds. She waved that off as always and suggested that Dahn and I come stay with you while my mom and aunt are here. Which is ludicrous.”

  “Why?”

  That brought my head back up. He looked from the ceiling to me. “Why not come stay with me while they’re visiting? I have the room. No sense in them staying in a hotel in the next county over.”

  “Oh. I…well…Dahn is a lot at times. He’s left childhood behind to drive full fast and furious into teenagerhood.”

  “He’s just a kid. Come over and stay. We’ll take a day and go to the reservation to visit my family. My father has chickens.”

  “Oh, and are they different than the chickens we have at the ranch?”

  “They’re white and have feathers on their feet. He’ll get a kick out of them. We’ll hang out, maybe play some baseball at the tribal community center or go fishing.”

  I could only stare at him. Huge feelings were welling up inside me. I tamped them down since big feelings were what had led me into the arms of my ex, and look how that had ended up. Not that I felt Ollie was anything like Chris, far from it. Take his invitation not only to house my son but to spend a day with the boy.

  “Okay, sure, I’m sold.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as I could about it. His smile made being pretend blasé incredibly hard.

  “It was the feathered feet that reeled you in, wasn’t it?”

  His eyes were alight with gentle humor. My heart. I was so close to losing it to this man. He made me feel so much. I couldn’t hold back the candid reply even though fear was sitting on my chest right next to that big emotion. The one that wanted to be spoken, even if the speaker was terrified.

  “Actually, it was you being willing to spend time with my son when his own father isn’t that did it. I find that incredibly sexy and so fucking appealing.”

  “I find you incredibly sexy.” He moved to his side, over me, his arm and leg sliding onto me to pin me to the bed. “You and I have a special thing, Dodge. Do you feel it?”

  I nodded, unable to verbalize as I gazed into his eyes. “I think I’m falling for you. Does that scare you?” I nodded yet again to his confession. “Yeah, I know after a bad divorce that’s to be expected.”

  The AC clicked on yet again. “I’m scared but also…feeling some pretty large feelings too. Give me time to come to grips with those feelings, okay?”

  “You take as long as you need to grip whatever you need.” He stole a kiss and winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I knew that, and that only added to the ebullient slash scared brew bubbling in my gut.

  “Right now I want to grip this,” I whispered, wiggling my hand down under the tangle of covers to grab his semi-hard cock.

  “I’m fully behind your gripping that as often as you wish.” He moved over me, kissed me for hours, and made love to me yet again. I drifted off in his arms, coming awake with a start when his alarm went off at five a.m.

  The drive back to the ranch was a sentimental one filled with touches, whispers, and soft glances as the sun began to paint the new day with peachy perfection. We didn’t quite know what to say to each other as we sat there in his Jeep, staring at each other as if this were a long goodbye to a sailor leaving for the sea.

  “I’d like to have a second date,” I said, coughed it out really, and got a tender smile.

  “I’d like that as well. Think about coming to my place while your mom is visiting. I think it would do the three of us good to get to know each other in a day-in, day-out situation.”

  “I’ll think on it, I promise.” With that vow, I kissed him one final time, eased the car door open, closed it tenderly, and gave him a wave. He blew me a kiss before pulling out to trundle down the driveway past the quiet boutique and several sleepy cows in their pasture. Sighing like a prom queen after being kissed by her king, I turned and there stood Baker on the front step, sipping coffee with a smirk that meant untold ribbing for the near future.

  “Coming in mighty late there, young man,” he commented as I climbed onto the porch, my face warm but my back straight. “Have a good night?”

  “It was enjoyable,” I countered stiffly. I was not going to give him an inch.

  “Good, good. Grab an hour or so of rest and then meet me at the horse barn. We’re going to play old-time cowboys today to give the horses some exercise while we turn the beefers back out onto pasture. You up for a good ride?”

  Fucker. The dirty fucker. He was doing that on purpose. Taking the horses instead of the ATVs just to watch me suffer. “I’m up for a ride.”

  “Okay then. See you in an hour. Oh, and if you need it, there’s some tender tushy cream in the medicine cabinet behind the box of styptic pencils and Granny’s Metamucil.”

  I did not reply. The fucker sure did titter though. Asshole.

  11

  Chapter Eleven

  Granny has a saying.

  It goes, and I quote, “Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up the fastest.”

  My wish after my amazing first date with Ollie had been twofold. One aspect had been that my eldest brother did not say anything to the rest of the household that I’d staggered in, thoroughly debauched, at sunrise. The second aspect was that my son would not be a little turd when I approached him about staying at Ollie’s while his grandma and great-aunt were visiting.

  One had filled up rather quickly, and it wasn’t the requested wishes one.

  By lunch on the day after that memorable casino date, everyone on the ranch, and that included Prissy, Pumpernickel, and Persimmon the horses, knew I’d been out past curfew. Not that a man of thirty-three years had a curfew, but you know, siblings like to be dickheads. Also, my son got wind of it, and that set off a long four-day sulk spent ignoring me while working his ass off with his goat. Fair week was fast approaching, so I understood the last-minute prep, clipping, bathing, and push to get the little doeling to stand as the judge would wish. I also knew this couldn’t drag on much longer as I was due to pick up my mother and aunt in two days. So, the Thursday before the fair opened, my son and I took a walk to the horse barn. Not the goat barn because he would just work with his fair goat and not give me the time of day.

  “We’re going to take Pumpernickel and Persimmon out for a ride,” I informed him.

  “Okay.” One word, but hey, I’d take that one over the steady whatever I’d been slapped with for days on end. Lord help us all when that hardcore puberty sets in.

  He had learned how to saddle a horse well, and without any help from me—Baker was in the barn supervising from a distance because he still didn’t fully trust us city folk with his horses—Dahn was soon on the back of one patient gelding and I on the other.

  “Watch the time. Don’t be out after dark,” Baker called while scrubbing out a water trough. The work on a ranch never stopped.

  I gave him a wave and led the way past the now-empty cattle lots. The beefers were back on pasture after a godawful yippee-ki-yay drive on horseback at the beginning of the week. My ass was just now starting to feel like a normal butthole again. My brothers had found my discomfort amusing to the extreme, but I rode it out like a fucking trooper.

  The first week of September had brought a slight respite in the crushing heat so the ride was comfortable. Dahn seemed less uptight this evening, even asking me a few timid questions about the birds we spotted here and there. We rode up on a gentle hill and stopped, the horses lowering their heads to graze, as the two of us looked down on land that had once belonged to our family but now was the property of Hillman Banks Agriscience. Perhaps one day we might be able to buy it back from the big ag company. Knowing what the books looked like, that day would be in the far, far distant future, if ever. A creeping sadness settled over me. Farmers having to sell off parcels of land to survive was all too common in this country.

  “Are you and the sheriff boyfriends?” Dahn asked out of the blue.

  The question tugged me from my mulling over the future of the American farmer slash rancher.

  “We’re dating. Nothing official has been said, but I think I’d very much like to be his boyfriend.” Dahn wrinkled his nose. His horse shifted slightly under him as the song of a male cardinal wafted by us. “I’m not sure why you dislike him so much that you make that face. You barely know him.”

  “He’s a cop,” he mumbled, his reins resting gently in his dirty fingers. The boy was always grimy, even more so now that we lived here. Granny liked to tell me, when I would bemoan about the boy’s griminess, that he was a child and children were meant to be dirty. Also, and this was not scientifically backed by any research, she claimed that Oklahoma dirt was good for the system of a growing boy. I highly doubted that but Baker seemed robust enough. Still, I preferred things tidy. Guess that was down to years of medical training.