Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3 (4 page)

Clark flashed her a smile as he reached down and slid her panties down her legs. He threw them onto the sofa by her head, put his hands on her knees and drew her legs slowly apart, spreading her wide.

“Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about this?” He touched her again, drawing his fingertips slowly from the bottom of her pussy up to the tip of her clit. “When you left for college, I thought I’d lost you forever. And then you came back.”

Melody could barely register the words. “What?”

Without saying anything else, Clark lowered his lips to her and with his hot tongue, followed the same trail that his fingers had just taken. Melody gasped and grabbed on to the sofa pillows. This was unreal.

Barely breathing, she watched as Clark pressed his rough cheek against her inner thigh and looked at her. His warm, gentle breath on the most intimate part of her body. His eyes rested on her, scorching her like fire. With his fingertips, Clark stroked her tender pussy, parting the petals of her sex with his thumb and forefinger, exposing her clit. His lips were an inch away. Anticipation intensified the ache inside her, a longing so strong her skin grew feverish.

“I need you, Mel,” he whispered, lowering his lips.

The first licks were like wildfire, so pleasurable they were almost painful. Clark closed his eyes and Melody could see the shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks. With each hot caress of his tongue, she could sense him feeling out her reaction, learning what she responded to, memorizing what she liked. It didn’t take him long to find his rhythm. Melody shut her eyes and began to breathe harder as all the blood in her body rushed to meet him, her heart pumping furiously in her chest.

Her ex-boyfriend had stopped going down on her years ago. For as long as she could remember, her only real orgasms were the ones she gave herself alone in bed or in the shower, furtive, shameful ones that were her only relief against the intense loneliness to which she’d resigned her life.

She thought she was the only one who could make herself feel good.

She was wrong.

For a long time, Clark licked, caressed and sucked her. From the way he moaned and stroked her thighs and looked up at her reactions, he was enjoying himself. His wicked tongue never left her body. Her body drew so tight she could barely breathe. He had taken her to the edge of climax and back twice before she realized that her hands were cramping up from holding on to the sofa so tightly.

With a smile as naughty as it was beautiful, Clark lifted his head and looked up at her.

“Amazing,” he said.

He stroked the drenched folds of her pussy, then slowly slid a finger into her. He drew it in and out, massaging her and stretching her gently. When he slid in a second finger, she gasped and clenched at him, hard, a monster of an orgasm threatening to break free.

“Ready?” he whispered.

She nodded, unable to speak.

Clark closed his eyes and dove in. With the tip of his tongue, he swirled her clit with perfect pressure and perfect heat. He did it again and again and again, relentlessly, as his fingers thrust into her, stretching her tight. The mixture of pleasure and pain destroyed her resistance.

“I’m going to come,” she whimpered. “Oh God.”

She arched her back hard and the climax tore out of her, rushing through her nervous system and lighting up her spine like a roman candle. Goose bumps broke out all over her body, and her nipples hardened to tiny, erect points. The convulsions in her pussy were so strong, so endless, she wasn’t sure if she was having one orgasm or twenty. All she knew was that Clark had done this to her. Clark her buddy, Clark the player, Clark who was kneeling between her thighs wearing a smug grin, his dark eyes shining with nothing short of pure delight.

When the climax finally receded and Clark removed his cowboy Casanova fingers from her person, Melody lay back on the sofa, a hot and panting mess. The needle on the record player chuffled rhythmically against the label, the music long done. It was the first time she’d noticed the sound. Her body was on fire, scorched from the inside out by the biggest orgasm she’d ever had in her life.

“What the fuck, MacKinnon?” she said, staring up at the ceiling.

Clark laughed softly as he kissed her forehead. “You ready to have that conversation with my dick now?”

Chapter Two

The Player

“Strange what desire will make foolish people do.”

—Chris Isaak

Hell yeah.

She came. He’d made her come.

“What the fuck, MacKinnon?” she said, staring up at the ceiling.

Clark laughed softly as he kissed her forehead. “You ready to have that conversation with my dick now?”

The joke hid the rawness in his chest. She was more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Golden-brown skin, smooth as a dream, covered her tight, compact body. Her sexy hips and full breasts enticed his eyes and hands, and even now, after feasting on her, his mouth watered for more of the sweet sexiness between her legs. The way she moved, the way she moaned his name, the way she came—she was everything he desired in women wrapped up in one woman. Melody.

“Come on.” He helped her to her feet.

“God, I hope Harmony didn’t hear anything,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed her clothes and turned off the record player. As he followed her down the dark hallway, Clark rubbed the aching erection in his jeans and tried not to feel a pang of annoyance. Who cared if Harmony heard? Who cared if anyone heard? He was tired of keeping his feelings a secret.

The truth?

He’d been in some form of love with Melody Santos ever since his little-boy heart could wrap itself around the concept of love.

Years and years ago, when his dad’s best friend and ranch foreman died of a heart attack, Dale MacKinnon had promised to keep an eye on Nicasio Santos’s widow and two daughters. Which meant that at every birthday party, every First Communion, every Christmas and Easter for as long as he could remember, Clark ran around the ranch not just with his brothers, but with Harmony and Melody too.

Harmony was always too young to do much of anything but get in the way, fall down and be the reason everyone else got in trouble. But Melody was a different story. She and Clark were the same age, and she was a tough cookie. She roped and rode and wrestled. She wasn’t afraid to get dirt on her church clothes or mud on her fancy shoes. Clark loved to play pranks on his brothers, and Melody was always his willing assistant, a source of misdirection and distraction for his victims. When the pranks were done, he made sure she never got in trouble. She never did.

In school, they were always the brainiest kids in the room, but Melody always got the answers a split-second before him. Then, sophomore year, something changed. He started growing taller. And he didn’t stop. His older brothers, heartbreakers and jocks, had generously prepared a reputation for him to inherit. Girls—lots of them—started to show interest in him. When they started showing interest in what was in his pants, he obliged them.

These girls came and went. But Melody was his best friend. She bullied him into Academic Decathlon. She enrolled him in advanced placement classes without asking him first.

And senior year he realized something—he was in love with her, and not just in the way a magician loves his assistant for making his illusions look good. He wanted her. Alone, in the shower particularly, he often liked to fantasize about the moment when—if she ever became interested in such things—he could show her what was in his pants.

Clark never asked her out, a chickenshit move that he regretted to this day. They graduated before he worked up the nerve. He got into the local state college to study farm management and business. She got a scholarship to a fancy university in San Diego to study education and English literature. And just like that, his one constant was gone.

He’d lost her.

Until now.

She didn’t want a relationship—fine. He was never any good at boyfriend-girlfriend stuff anyway.

But hell if he was going to let her go tonight.

Melody led him into a small bedroom, closed the door and turned on a bedside lamp. As she stashed her clothes in the closet, Clark noticed that the room was nearly empty. The outlines of paintings and picture frames marked the walls. The only furniture was a big bed, a nightstand stacked with books and two cardboard boxes marked
Goodwill
.

“Tell me if you’re cold. I can switch the heater on,” she said softly.

As Melody turned down the covers, a quiet realization settled over him. She’d moved into her mother’s old room. How much grief could one woman process at one time? The loss of a long-term relationship. The loss of her mother. Melody had taken on the task of looking after her sister with such grace and strength, it was easy to forget the burdens she was carrying.

Clark went to the bed and stood behind her. She was still gloriously naked. As he ran his hands slowly over her bare arms, her smooth skin puckered under his touch. When he began to massage the tension out of her shoulders, her head fell forward and she let out a soft sigh.

He leaned down and whispered, “I’m not cold. Are you?”

“No,” she said, turning around.

When she got up on her tiptoes to kiss him, Clark closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her soft, full lips on his. She tasted cool and sweet, like the limes she’d put in their cocktails. As she kissed him, her hands roamed his body, stroking his neck, his shoulders, his back and his arms. She pressed her breasts against his chest, and he swore he could feel the sizzle between them like drops of water on a hot griddle. He pulled her close, and she jumped in surprise, recoiling a little.

“What?” he asked.

“Your belt buckle. It’s cold.”

Before he could say anything, she dropped to her knees and undid his belt and the buttons on his fly. Together, they pulled down his jeans and his drawers at once. He danced out of his socks and kicked everything out of the way. Eyes wide, Melody slid her hands down his sides, resting her cool palms on his hipbones.

Finally free, his cock rose up toward her, aching and wet at the tip.

Oh God. Yes.

“So this is what all the girls talked about when we were back in high school,” she said, looking up at him with a sly smile.

He grasped the base of his cock and stroked himself slowly. “I didn’t know they talked.”

Melody raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “They did. And I heard.”

“Once you heard, did you ever wonder?” He was finding it hard to keep his cool. He was hard as fuck, and the head of his cock was a half-inch from her lips.

She gave him a half shrug. “I didn’t think it was right, wondering about my best friend’s dick.”

He slid a hand over his aching balls. “Is it right to wonder about your best friend’s pussy? Because that’s what I was doing.”

“Liar.”

“God’s honest truth, Mel. I had the biggest crush on you.”
I still do.

She rolled her eyes. “When did you ever have time to have a crush on me? During five-minute breaks between banging everything with a smile and a snatch?”

“Hey now,” he said, stroking her hair. “Why don’t you put that sassy mouth to use?”

With one sideways glance at him, she took his wrists and moved his hands away. When her soft fingers encircled his shaft, he almost collapsed forward with pleasure. When her pillowy lips closed over the head of his cock, a strangled groan jumped out of his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

Like everything she did, Melody gave him her all. At once, she slid her mouth down as far as she could go, pushing the head of his cock into the deepest part of her throat before drawing him slowly back out. Massaging his exposed shaft with both hands, she did this again and again, pausing only to lash the underside of his cock with dozens of hot, sweet licks that set off fireworks of pleasure all throughout his body, from the bottoms of his feet to the tips of his fingers.

“Look at me,” he said, stroking her cheeks.

Full of silent laughter, she looked up at him with her enormous dark eyes. She blinked once, twice, then slid off his cock and went to town licking and sucking his balls, which had tightened up against his body, threatening to blow and embarrass him in front of the woman he’d been in love with for almost all of his life.

“Stop, stop,” he hissed. “Ah, fuck.”

He grimaced, all of his energy going to denying himself an orgasm. Hot, translucent drops of precome fell on her chest, sliding down between her breasts. He stared at the sight, transfixed, as she smirked at him like some kind of wicked wet dream.

“You okay, MacKinnon?” she said, teasing him.

He closed his eyes and regained control. When he opened them again, a deeper hunger took over than the one that had brought him to her bedroom in the first place. He wasn’t just in love with Melody. He was in love with who he was when he was with her—strong and potent, just like her.

He reached forward, grasped a handful of her silky black hair, and gently but firmly pulled her head back.

“
You
okay, Santos?”

Something shifted in her eyes. Her playfulness disappeared at once, replaced by something else. Something he knew well. Lust. Hunger.

“Open,” he whispered.

They stared at each other, both knowing that something had forever changed between them. When she opened her mouth, he took a moment to look at her. This woman had haunted him for so long he’d come to accept that she’d always be a ghost in his life. But here she was. So real, so beautiful and so vulnerable that touching her almost hurt.

Still holding her hair in one hand, he grabbed the base of his cock and slid himself into her open mouth. She looked up at him, hypnotized. He drew back and slid forward, thrusting against her tongue until he was deep enough that his balls grazed her chin. The supplication in her eyes set his blood on fire, as did the eventual realization that while he fucked her mouth, Melody was stroking herself, her fingers working between her legs until he could hear the wetness of her arousal.

His body ignited. He began to sweat. This was the fucking sexiest thing he’d seen. Ever.

Carefully, he put his hand under her chin and pulled himself out of her mouth. He let go of her hair, bent down and kissed her, a long, hungry kiss that reflected the scorching knowledge that had just risen between them.

She likes it dirty. Just like me. Hallelujah.

Clark picked her up and laid her on the bed. He grabbed the condom in his jeans, ripped it open and slid it on. In a second, he was kneeling on the bed between her open legs, staring down at her, his heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?” he said softly.

“I think so,” she whispered. Worry shadowed her expression. “You’re really big.”

He nodded. “We’ll go slow.”

Clark took himself in his hand again and leaned forward. Slowly, he dipped his tip between the drenched folds of her pussy, then pulled out and circled the wet head of his cock around her swollen clit. Pleasure dripped like hot morphine through his veins. He repeated the motion once, twice. Each time he did it, Melody’s nipples hardened and her chest rose and fell with deep, frantic breaths. So he did it again. And again. When he did it the sixth time, he leaned forward and gave each of her tender nipples a long, hard suckle. She moaned his name, and he almost came again.

Get it together, Clark.

He braced himself above her and moved his hips until the head of his cock was lodged inside her. She squeezed him and he swore his balls kicked themselves. Clark’s nerves were shredded. This would be over too soon if he didn’t concentrate. He clenched his jaw. This shouldn’t be happening to him—he never lost control in bed.

“I feel like I’m gonna die if I don’t feel you all the way inside me.” Her voice was the faintest whisper above his ragged breathing.

“Now?”

“Now.”

He locked his eyes on hers as he pushed himself forward into her in one slow, agonizing thrust. The resistance of her body combined with her hot slickness lit up the highway between his cock and his brain. He’d just dipped his cock in nirvana.

When he was halfway inside her, she clenched up and whimpered. He froze, responding to her pain.

“Ease up. Breathe, Mel.” He balanced on one forearm and licked his thumb. “Shh.”

He reached down and slid the pad of his thumb up one side of her pussy where it was stretched taut around his cock. Gliding upwards, he found her tender clit and with the gentlest pressure, began to stroke her.

Melody closed her eyes and dropped her head back on the mattress. “Oh God.”

Clark pulled back and pressed forward, a little at a time, while she grew wetter and wetter around him. He kissed her neck, assaulting her sweet spots with his tongue and lips, even grazing her skin with his teeth. The moment she stopped bearing down, he lifted himself up on his arms, swung his hips forward and drove the length of his cock into her. She stifled a moan and dug her nails into his back. It was the best kind of hurt.

“Clark,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He got control of his breath. “I know.”

She was drenched. Her clit was slick and stiff against his thumb. He dragged his shaft out and thrust again, watching her face to gauge her reaction. Her lips parted. Her neck went slack. Only her eyes were shut tight, crinkled up with tension.

“Look at me, Mel.”

She opened her eyes. Up close in the soft lamplight, he saw the galaxies swirling in her dark brown irises, that familiar filament of copper like a lightning bolt straight to his heart. He could close his eyes and picture hers as clear as a photograph. He’d memorized them when he was seventeen years old.

He began to make love to her, slow, deliberate thrusts that knocked the words out of his brain. She arched against him and spread her legs wider, rising to meet him. He was hot—so hot. Their bodies began to glisten with sweat in the cold bedroom and the sound—God help him—the sound of him fucking her filled his ears. He replaced his thumb with his forefinger, pressed down gently on her clit and began to rub her just as he’d done with his tongue. Her pussy grew even wetter. She grabbed the bedsheets.

“Oh God.”

She came in a furious, sudden shudder, the convulsions massaging the length of his cock from tip to root and back. A whispered torrent of swear words and gibberish poured out of her mouth. She drenched his hand and the front of his abs in a filthy, sexy baptism. Clark had never seen anything like it.