Not My 1st Rodeo (14 page)

Plus, if he woke up with her—and he wasn't too sore—they'd get another shot at sex again. And he'd like another shot.

“What time is checkout?”

The smile she wore was huge and made him feel good. He'd put that smile there. He wasn't too old or too out of practice. He could still take care of a woman.

He was still alive. It was a hell of a feeling.

“Eleven.” Finally, she pulled herself off him and stood beside the bed. “Wow,” she murmured, getting her balance. “Just…wow, Mack.”

“Glad to hear it.” Wow. Yeah, that about summed it up.

She went into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Mack took care of the condom and tried to arrange the pillows. He might have been nervous about sleeping with a woman after so long, but the post-sex exhaustion was pretty severe.

Tonight, he'd sleep and he wouldn't even mind the silence because Karen was next to him. And in the morning, he'd wake up, make love to her again and then…

And then he'd go home. They both would. He'd go back to his ranch, to his quiet house and his cows and horses and the infrequent emails from his sons. And Karen would go back to her florist shop.

And that would be that.

Maybe it wouldn't be. They were only three hours apart. Maybe…

The bathroom door opened and he shook all the
maybes
out of his head. Sleep first, then morning sex.

Everything else could wait.

Chapter Seven

After all those years of sleeping alone in bed—because the sleeping-alone thing had started well before her marriage had officially ended—seemed to disappear as Karen curled up in Mack's arms. She wanted to keep the light on, to keep touching him. He was solidly built, a bunch of muscles that didn't come from a slavish gym routine, but from an honest day's work. She wanted to run her fingers through his dark chest hairs.

But she didn't. If he'd been up since five something that morning and she'd kept him up until past ten having the kind of wild, crazy sex that she'd been dreaming of having for years and years—well, she wasn't surprised when he started breathing evenly a few minutes after she shut the light out.

So she just lay there for a while, savoring the feel of his strong body moving into deeper sleep.

She was going to be sore, that much she knew. Mack was built like, well, a Mack truck. And he knew how to bite her just right. She could still feel the way his calloused fingers had dug into her backside. God, what a ride.

It'd been the kind of sex that a woman would have trouble walking away from. She hadn't been lying—she wasn't looking for a marriage, especially now that she knew more about Mack's wife. She didn't want to try and replace a woman he still obviously loved and always would.

But to have Mack in her bed, in her arms?

She wasn't sure she wanted to kiss him goodbye and be done with it either. Mack had exceeded every single one of her fantasies about a strong, silent cowboy. He'd put her first and made her feel beautiful and special—and that didn't even take the orgasms into consideration.

The feeling of Mack inside of her, Mack grabbing her, Mack biting her—it'd made all those little pops of orgasms she had with her vibrator look like child's play. There was no way she could replicate all of those sensations on her own.

She thought back to her last date, with the Toe-Picker, and the ones before that with the colorless, hopeless boys trapped in men's bodies. She couldn't recreate the orgasm Mack gave her on her own. Hell, she didn't know if there was another man in the greater Montana area that could do that for her.

She'd gone looking for her fantasy cowboy and—as unbelievable as it still was—she just might have found him.

Now what was she going to do?

Morning came early. Or, at least, it felt early to Karen. The bed shifted and she became aware of the dim light filtering into the room around the edges of the curtain.

Then she was alone in the bed. She heard the bathroom door click, and for a moment, she couldn't quite remember—oh.
Mack
.

Just thinking of what he'd done to her body last night made her muscles clench—which made her realize how danged sore she was. Which was a good sign. She hadn't dreamed the night of wild sex.

She'd really and truly managed to find herself an honest-to-goodness cowboy, and he was everything she'd ever dreamed of—only better.

Smiling to herself, she managed to roll over, pull the covers up to her chin and check the clock.

6:08. In the morning.

Lord. She normally slept until about seven thirty. The shop didn't open until ten, which left her plenty of time to sleep in, work out and shower before she surrounded herself with the beauty of every flower she could have delivered to this part of Montana.

What time had Mack said he got up? Five? Yeah, five. He'd slept in until 5:15 the day before, she remembered him saying. And…he got up at four in the summer?

Lord
.

The bathroom door opened again, and she managed to get her eyelids open to about half-mast—which was enough to see the naked form of Mack Tucker emerge into the dim light.

If she'd been able to, she would have whistled. The man was masculinity personified. Those muscles. That chest hair, that beard. He wasn't cut like a man who lived in a gym, but there was no missing the fact that this was a man who used his body every single day.

Languid heat began to build between her legs, erasing the temporary soreness.
Hers
. He was hers for at least the next few hours. “'Morning,” she murmured sleepily.

“'Morning,” he said as he climbed back into the warmth of the bed. Her arm went around his waist and she curled her body around his. He pulled her in tight and kissed her on the top of her head.

She sighed into him. “I suppose you're going to tell me that you haven't slept in this late in…years, right?”

He chuckled. “Nope.” He moved his hands over her back, rubbing in slow circles. “I'd even go so far as to say decades.”

She let her fingers trail through the hair on his chest. “Do you think you can stay in bed for a few more minutes?”

He tilted her face up. “I was counting on it.” Then he rolled her onto her back, his broad chest covering hers, and kissed her.

She let her hands explore his back because she had not gotten enough of touching him last night. His muscles twitched under her hands, heightening her awareness. His body reacted to hers—he was aware of her on a fundamental level. That was something she'd been missing for years and years—the feeling that she was important to a man because she was
Karen
, not because she was an available female.

She shifted her legs and looped them around the back of Mack's—and was rewarded with a deep moan of pleasure when his already-hard dick brushed against her clit. He leaned up on his forearms and thrust against her, his dick sliding over her clit, teasing her. “You feel so good,” he groaned as he leaned back down and kissed her again.

Then he captured her lower lip in his teeth and bit down, just a little. Just right.

She moaned into his mouth as the tension seemed to pull at her body and push it back all at the same time. “You like it like that, don't you?” he whispered as he kissed her cheek, her neck—and he bit down again.

“Yes. Oh, Mack,” she gasped as he shifted and thrust against her and put his teeth to her skin. She shuddered as he slid over her again and again. The pressure was building, pushing back against her clit. How could she need him this badly already? She'd gone years without sex, and years before that only having sex once a week.

But now? He'd given her three explosive orgasms last night and she was well on her way to another one this morning. She needed more. She needed more of
him
. “You drive me crazy,” she whispered, shifting her hips against him.

“How crazy?” he asked, leaning back to look at where the two of them met but weren't joined—not yet. She looked with him, looked at how his body looked hard and was covered in her wetness because she was already so ready for him. “God, look at you, Karen—look at how much you want me. Look at how much I want you.”

She tried to open her mouth, tried to tell him she was watching, that she was seeing everything about him and everything he did to her—but nothing came out but a high whimper that got stuck in the back of her throat. She clung to his shoulders, trying to pull him in, trying to get that pressure on her clit to release so she could think again.

Because when he said things to her, things like, “Jesus, you're so damn sexy, babe,” she couldn't think, couldn't speak—couldn't do anything but cling to him and watch his beautiful body torment hers with raw lust.

He flexed again, the tip of his dick sliding up and back over the folds of her flesh, and she wanted more. More than this teasing touch. More than a little pressure on her clit. She wanted all of him, right now, hard and fast and wild.

“You want that?” he asked, his voice hoarse as he flexed and drew back.

She nodded.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

“Mack,” she got out. “
God
.”

He pulled back, farther this time, and slammed his hips down, grinding his dick against her. “
Say it
.”

“Fuck—me. Oh—fuck me. Fuck me
hard
,” she begged.

He growled, a sound of satisfaction and lust. “Such dirty words out of your pretty little mouth. Is that what I do to you?”

“Yes, oh—yes,” she gasped as he slammed his dick against her clit again. “Oh God,
please
fuck me.”

“You want it hard?” His voice was raw, like she was pushing him past his point of reason just as he'd done to her. “You want me to fuck you
hard
?”

“Please,” she almost wept. To hear him say it—to know he was going to do it, going to do it to
her
because he was a man who kept his promises. “Please, I need to come.
Please
.”

Then she felt him press against her, felt her body widen to take him in. She gasped. He was right there, hot and hard and ready to give her what she so desperately needed. He was going to fuck her so hard that she wouldn't be able to sit for a week without feeling how he'd pushed her to that place where pleasure and pain were one and the same.

And then, right on the brink of giving her everything she'd ever needed, he pulled back. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself as he snagged another condom from the table. “Sorry. Got carried away there.”

“It's okay. I did too.” She lay there, watching him roll the condom on, mentally smacking herself. She wasn't some naïve girl anymore. She knew damned good and well that at this stage condoms were non-negotiable. And yet, there'd been a moment where she'd been so blinded by need that she'd wanted him to hold her down and take her.

Oh, hell, she still wanted that.

When he had the condom on, she grabbed him by the hair and jerked him down to her.

“Where were we?” he asked, and he actually managed to pull off an innocent look.

She laughed in spite of herself and then he kissed her, rough and demanding. “Oh, yeah,” he said as he leaned down far enough that he could capture one of her nipples in his mouth. “I was just about to fuck you.
Hard
.”

“Yes, yes, that,” she whispered. “Rough and hard and dirty. Oh!” she cried out as his hot mouth tugged on her nipple, pulling it out. The spike of pain made her shudder in delight. “Oh, please, oh…”

She dug her nails into his back, trying to spur him on, but he grunted. “Oh, no you don't,” he said, leaning back to grab her hands. “None of that.”

Then he pinned her hands over her head with one of his and—finally—he positioned himself against her and began to thrust.

Last night had been a little slower, them getting to know each other's bodies, what the other wanted and liked. But not this morning.

Mack held her down and drove into her with an almost savage fury, and she liked it. Liked how she was completely at his mercy and he was still doing exactly what she wanted, exactly how she wanted it.

“Like that?” he grunted, slamming into her again.

“Yeah,” was all she was able to say. “Yeah.”

And then, just when she thought she couldn't take much more, he started to nip at her with his teeth, all up and down her neck, her shoulders—as far as he could reach without pulling out of her. “Scream for me, babe,” he whispered in her ear, right before he bit her lobe.

So she did, because he gave her no choice. He pushed her until the orgasm took control of her body, tightening down in a moment of utter, perfect clarity that drove her voice out of her. “
Mack
!” she cried, arching her back into him. Then everything about her went limp and soft.

He growled against her skin, thrusting harder and harder until he froze, his body deep inside hers. Then he collapsed onto her, panting hard.

Karen got her hands free and wrapped them around him. “God,” she whispered. “God.”

“Good?” He actually sounded worried about it as he leaned back enough to trace a fingertip down the side of her neck. “Not too rough?”

“God, no. Just right.” She pulled him back down into her arms. “I didn't…I mean, I've had orgasms before, but, Jesus. I think that's the first time sex has been better than my fantasies.”

He rolled off of her but didn't let go. He pulled her with him, keeping the skin-to-skin contact between his chest and her breasts. His strong arms encircled her and he stroked her hair, and she felt warm and cared for and
safe
. It was a wonderful feeling. “That's…well, that's good.”

“It's
great
. And you?” She giggled. The euphoria from her climax was actually making her lightheaded. “I made you say those things… I can't believe you
actually
said them.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” He exhaled heavily. “But it was—
whew
.” He leaned his head up and grinned at her, and in that moment, he looked
so
much younger—like the weight of the last few years had finally lifted off his shoulders. She could see the reckless man who'd have sex in cornfields and pickup trucks, wild and young and, yeah, maybe a little careless sometimes.

“Did you ever used to talk like that before? With your wife?”

“I don't—” He paused—and the pause just went on. He stopped stroking her hair. “I don't know,” he finally admitted, sounding like she'd punched him instead of asking a question about his sexual past.

She didn't like how he suddenly sounded shell-shocked. So she kissed him, kissed the boy he'd once been and the man he'd become.

And she kissed him so he wouldn't have to fumble around for words because she got the feeling he was too shocked by having said
fuck
in front of her that he simply did not know what to say next.

“Breakfast after this?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And after that…”

The words hung in the air, casting a pall over the afterglow. Because after that…

She didn't want this fantasy to end.

But it might have to anyway.