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  “That’s right, baby. Think of my cock inside you, warm and thick, deep and tapping that sweep spot of yours that I know pushes you right over the edge.” He reaches beneath me again and slides his finger over my swollen clit. “Now, you can come.”

  His words do me in. I lean over and rest my chin against his shoulder as my finger plunges. He pushes right back inside that dark private spot, deeper than before, forcefully, vigorously, and my body shatters as I convulse into an orgasm so hard and intense that I bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming out.

  “I can feel your pussy spasming in your asshole. So perfect,” he murmurs. “You’re so damned beautiful.”

  Seconds pass before I can breathe again. Keith gently eases his finger out of me, and even though I’ve just climaxed, the ache to drop to my knees and beg for his cock is stronger, approaching unbearable. This hunger, this need, is uncontrollable, ravenous, almost to the point of being frightening.

  “What do you say now, baby girl?”

  I’m still so aroused, so tense with need, that I don’t respond with a thank you quickly enough. That’s when he reaches for my neck again and tosses me facedown onto the edge of his bed so hard that it takes my breath away.

  “Turn over. Sit up with your back against the headboard,” he commands. When I do, he settles beside me with his jeans unzipped, the swollen length of his cock between his palms. “You said you didn’t come here to fuck … so there will be no fucking. Finish what you started, however.” With the scent of sex drifting in the air and my pussy throbbing for more than he’s giving me, I bend over and take his firm girth between my lips and breathe hard through my nose as he wastes no time pushing in and out with an unwavering pace, his fingertips curling through the back of my hair.

  “Move down. Slowly. Between my legs. Then pull my boots off and remove my jeans.”

  I ease him from his boots, his socks, then his jeans, then slide back up and take his root between my palms and slowly guide the plush head of his cock, which is beautifully thick and deep red, almost purple, past my lips again. I take him deep, but not to the point that it feels like he’s touching my tonsils. When I flicker my tongue up the underside slowly, but firmly, he exhales harshly with a vibration flowing through his body like rolling wavelets. I fondle his heavy, tight balls while sucking and stroking his crest then take him deep while looking up into his eyes that are smoldering-hot desire.

  “My God, Jen. Jesus Christ. Your fucking mouth.”

  His words that sound almost painful, almost agonizing, send a shiver through me and give me a small but beautiful peek into his raw unyielding need for me. With my head between his palms, he shoves inside me, controlling every stroke, and fucking my throat like it’s the most important thing in his life as tears stream from my eyes and I do my best to breathe through my nose. Lips bobbing up and down, breaths becoming pants, fingers tugging desperately at my temples, I watch his eyes roll into the back of their sockets and his jaw clench tight. He’s only seconds from unraveling, falling apart, and slipping into that place where he needs to be, where I want him to be. As dictatorial and callous as every brutal thrust is, he knows, and I know, who has this strong cowboy at the very grace of her mercy, and while this endless connection continues to ripple through every inch of my body … it flickers just as heavily behind his chocolate-brown gaze.

  A deep, low moan rips from his throat, and his body stiffens. Thick warm semen erupts, almost choking me, as he comes with a raucous groan. I breathe through my nose, slowly, deeply, swallowing once, twice, and again. The grip on my temples eases up then tightens just as quickly as he thrusts one last time, deep, ungraciously, his body convulsing while a second beautiful moan of gratification has me turned on so much that I forget my own struggles and swallow every drop with nothing but pleasured ease.

  As I watch this beautiful Dominant man lose his strength and composure for just the split of a second while I offer him every bit of satisfaction and pleasure that he will allow, the world suddenly seems right. I feel satisfied. I feel content. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

  A dozen different hues glisten in his eyes that are raw with emotion, dilated, and covered in triumph and content, which fulfills me and gives me another feeling of optimism and a greater spark of hope.

  For long minutes, he strokes my hair, my cheeks, my lips, then stops abruptly. “Sit up. Back against the headboard.”

  He walks into the adjoined bathroom and returns a few minutes later dressed in nothing but thin black sweats and carrying a dampened washcloth and a round container of something in his hand. He settles onto the edge of the bed and gently caresses my face and lips with the warm, damp cloth then spreads a soft balm over my lips, his actions warm, sincere, intimate.

  “Let me grab us something cold to drink and lock up for the night. I set out a toothbrush. Feel free to use the shower if you’d like.”

  He flashes me a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes then disappears down the hall. With fatigue pulling at me, I walk into the bathroom and take a sixty-second shower, brush my teeth, then crawl back into the bed. My body feels like a ton of heavy rocks as I slip underneath the soft, cool sheets. Minutes, or maybe hours later, I awaken just enough to feel Keith behind me, naked, warm, hard, male. His arm tugs at me possessively, urging me closer, while his warm breath tickles my shoulder.

  “Sorry. I fell asleep.”

  He caresses my belly and peppers kisses along the back of my shoulder while I nestle against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world and the place I was always meant to be.

  The place where I want to be.

  “Goodnight, sugar,” is the last thing I hear before I’m sighing, relaxing, and crashing into a deep slumber.

  Chapter Nine

  Jen

  The sound of cattle mooing wakes me from the softest sheets I’ve ever been under. With my eyes still heavy with sleep, I stretch then notice the bed linens are in a state of mauled and battered dishevelment like someone tossed and turned for hours.

  Keith is no longer beside me, nowhere to be seen, and I instantly miss his touch, his body heat, his warm breath, his male scent. The loss is so intense, so deep and powerful that it’s almost physical.

  The need for a bathroom hits me, and I step down from the raised four-poster bed and slip on my tank top and panties. After I’ve brushed my teeth and hair, I do something silly, not to say juvenile. I snoop, first in his medicine cabinet—in which I find nothing out of the ordinary—then inside a drawer, only to find a hairbrush and tube of hair gel. When I realize how stupid and childish I’m acting, I turn off the light and walk back into the bedroom, where Keith’s standing, already dressed and looking like a hot cowboy god in distressed acid-washed jeans that hug his hips scrumptiously and another damn Henley shirt that’s so gloriously tight across his upper body that it should be illegal. He’s opened the French doors, where he’s standing and holding two mugs of hot steaming coffee.

  “How did you sleep?” He hands me the warm mug then fondly brushes the hair from my temples with an acute warmth flashing in his eyes that quickens my pulse.

  “Really well. I don’t think I moved all night. Not until I heard the cows. It sounded like they were right outside the door. I guess they’ve wandered off.”

  I sample the dark brew coffee while taking in these beautiful surroundings and trying to ignore the flexing of his muscles in his sinfully tight shirt. The early morning sun is soft, diffuse, peaceful and pleasant, while the sky is a luscious blue with streaks of pink, purple, and gold. Scents of freshness, pureness, and earthiness carry through the air from the gentle cool breeze. Only mere feet away are three deer drinking from the edge of the pond, while a momma duck and her ducklings swim slowly across the water. There isn’t a building in sight, no sounds of traffic, no smog clouding the sky, and only the clear blue heavens and acre after acre of rolling rich land that feels calming and welcoming.

  “This place has that effect on people.
” He stares down at me with a look in his eye that I just know means he wants me to agree with him, which I do.

  God, I do.

  “What woke you was a cow bellowing, a special sound to call her calf when it’s wandered off. Cows actually start making that sound before they’ve given birth.”

  I knew that cattle made strange noises if they were hungry, stressed, or threatened. But thoughts of them communicating with their babies even before birth makes me smile inside. “Heaven on earth,” I whisper before sipping at the steaming nutty brew that’s missing cream and sugar but strangely tastes quite delicious just as it is.

  Heat coils through my spine when he wraps an arm around me that feels passionate and protective. “The view or the coffee?”

  Springhill is one of the top towns in the state rated for having the best tasting and cleanest drinking water. Coming from ground water and wells treated with chlorine, fluoride, and phosphate, it makes a divine cup of coffee or pitcher of sweet iced tea without leaving that bitter tang that city water seems to.

  Being thoroughly intrigued by the beauty of the land, the tranquility, the sounds and motions of wildlife only feet away, and the seductive scent of Keith’s body against mine sends my mind spiraling with ideas that I need to erase from my head. “This view…” I respond in a whisper while watching one then two of the deer look our way like they’re perfectly comfortable with us being so near. “It’s so peaceful, so calm. It almost makes me feel as if there’s nothing terrible going on in the world. No war, no terrorism, no hatred, but only this little piece of heaven.” I pull in a slow sluggish breath. “If I lived out here, I’d make pets out of those deer and have them eating out of my hand. They’re so mellow. I’m thinking the smaller one that keeps looking this direction should be named Minnie Pearl. In fact, they all need names.”

  Keith grins that sexy way that makes me want to lick his mouth and suck on his tongue. “Minnie Pearl? Where in Christ did you come up with that?” Suddenly he’s howling with laughter, and I’m doing the same.

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  His smile widens, and we’re both laughing again. Way sooner than I’d like, the deer are glancing this direction but appear frightened and run off into the trees. Disappointment pulls at me, but I lift my mug for another taste of coffee while silently considering adopting a pet in the very near future.

  “The coffee is a close second, though.”

  Keith sets his cup down then takes mine and does the same. “You look beautiful when you smile.” He kisses the top of my hair with a low rumble vibrating in his chest, which instantly hardens my nipples and brings on that flutter in my lower stomach. Just as I close my eyes with warmth pushing down my spine, we both spin around at the sound of approaching boots … and Jason stepping through the door.

  “You up? Just wanted to…” His voice comes to a startling halt as he spends an endless minute staring at Keith, then me, then at Keith’s arm, which is still wound around my shoulder. With a look of shock creeping up his face and lines etching deep over his brows, his smile fades quickly. His hands dip deep into the pockets of his crisply starched jeans, and sweet Jesus, when he inadvertently curls his fingertips, the thick ridge of his penis is beautifully unmistakable, perfectly long and swollen, and I struggle to take my eyes off of him.

  The sight of him makes me tremble.

  Jason glances again at Keith, then me, somewhat unceremoniously, and then his mouth opens and he slides his tongue across his bottom lip as his eyes drop down my body that’s clad in nothing but panties and a tank top. A warm flush rises up his neck, and my nipples stiffen to a dull ache in two seconds flat, while the emptiness still churning in my sex turns hot and urgent. Completely and utterly beguiled by the burning blue of his eyes, the way his tongue moves over his lips, the way his jaw tightens, I have an instant, vivid image of both of them taking me right now, right here.

  Jason lets out a laugh that sounds forced. “Sorry for the interruption. I saw Jen’s Jeep out front but didn’t realize… Hell, you two carry on. I just stopped by to say adios before I head to Midland and then on to Lubbock and that I’ll be back well before the museum grand opening.”

  With thick awkwardness and tense silence hanging in the air, Keith’s body stiffens and his arm falls from my shoulder. Knots form in my stomach, and I suddenly feel like I’ve stepped into a very private situation between two significant others that have something they need to say, or unfinished business that needs attending to. I look down at my hand and pick at the shellac on my nails, my heart thundering in my ears.

  When I blink up, Keith is pushing his hands viciously through the sides of his hair, unnerved and agitated, while Jason’s eyes flicker with resentment, or maybe even anger. I’m not sure what I’m seeing, or what’s just happened, but I can’t stand the thought of causing any kind of friction between two life-long best friends. When I squeeze Keith’s arm for a quick second to get his attention, his eyes fall to where I’m touching him and his muscles tighten, so I remove my hand and step back.

  “Go on. Finish whatever business you have with Jason. I need to get home anyway. Safe travels, Jason.”

  Jason gives me an awkward, small nod and whirls around to leave, the air in the room so brittle it could snap.

  Keith scrubs at his jaw then sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says grimly then follows Jason out the door without another word. Neither look my direction or utter a single sound as they leave me standing like the odd one out.

  Emotions tug me in opposite directions, and I swallow hard with the sudden need to cry. I pull on my leggings and gather my purse while sinking back to adolescence and remembering that same look of yearning in Jason’s eyes, the same haunted expression in Keith’s. Seconds later, I’m slipping out the bedroom door and walking all the way around the house to return to my Jeep.

  And to avoid the two men that mean the world to me.

  Two hours and some odd minutes later, I’ve showered, spent a little time texting back and forth with Jana, messaged my mom, who doesn’t respond, and semi-organized the rest of the kitchen cabinets. After a quick break and a bottle of water, I light a nice black coconut-scented candle, turn on some music, hang a few pieces of artwork on the walls, then start arranging the bedroom drawers while doing my best to fight off this gnawing weird feeling eating at my insides. While I do my best to keep from worrying myself into a day of hell, I empty every box then sit on the floor in one of two empty bedrooms, breaking them down and stacking them against the wall. Before I realize, it’s nearly 5 PM and hunger pains hit me with vicious growls in my belly. I haven’t had a bite of anything to eat.

  Nor have I heard from Keith. The more I think about it, the more pissed off I am.

  Pushing to my feet, I amble to the kitchen and throw together a grilled cheese, open a jar of green olives and a bottle of water, and sit down at the kitchen table with something Keith said last night clawing at me.

  Everything is different. Everything has changed. Fuck … I’m no good for you.

  Strange dark feelings hit me like a threatening black cloud and I have more flashbacks of Jason squeezing Keith’s shoulder, Keith jerking away and kicking at the ground like it irritated him, angered him. Like it confused him.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Dubious feelings fill me with humiliation, anger, and frustration. Furious at letting myself fall for Keith all over again when I knew better, I carry the rest of my food to the sink and toss it. What is it about me that attracts nothing but mistakes? Entices crappy luck and bad decisions? Is this so-called fresh start going to end up another disappointment?

  Had I just caused friction between two life-long best friends?

  Had I started a lovers’ quarrel?

  Is this what the two of them are struggling to tell me? Is this the reason Keith really refrained from intercourse last night? Is this why he looked at me so strangely and avoided looking at me damn near entirely once Jason entered his bedroom?

  Is this why Keith ended
our relationship fourteen years ago? Why Jason said the two of us together was fucked up?

  Is this the reason neither has ever married?

  Sweet mother of fuck, am I hungry for two men who quite possibly feel the same … for one another?

  Dread burns like lethal acid in my chest. I feel strangely and dangerously off-kilter. Part of me is angry and hurt, while everything in my sex tightens at the ridiculous thought of them being intimate.

  Jesus, my imagination is running off the damned map. They can’t be together in that way. They just can’t. I’d know if they were. Or then again, would I?

  Nightfall comes quickly, and just as I’m done putting the finishing touches to the bedroom and linen closets, it’s nearly ten o’clock. I spend the next thirty minutes changing from the knee-length sundress into cotton pajama bottoms and a tank top, brush my teeth, clean my face, then climb into bed, restless, agitated, knowing sleep won’t come easily, if at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Jen

  Fatigued, puzzled, and somewhat shaken from weird dreams that had me up a little after 4 AM—long blonde hair, perfectly filed white fingernails, red blazing fire—I shiver as I stare up at the stars from the porch swing and blow across the top of my second cup of coffee.

  Keith’s words still linger in my mind, which have me unsettled and thinking and wanting things that I may very well never have. With my confidence level a lot lower than it was twenty-four hours ago, it sickens me to admit that my mother may have been spot-on about my returning to Springhill, and I’m trying like hell to remind myself exactly why I even made this move.

  Lower cost of living … Next to no crime … No rushing to work every day … No overcrowding, traffic jams, pollution.

  Keith Ryker. Always. Always…

  I blink back to the present and push to my feet after swallowing the last drops of steaming, hazelnut-flavored coffee, then wave at the neighbor whom I’ve yet to meet but appears friendly as she drives by, most likely on her way to work. Skeptical chaos twists inside me like two hundred red-hot, sharp pokers as I shut and lock the door behind me and start a warm bath of vanilla-scented bubbles. As I try shoving the confusion in my head away, I decide that once I’m dressed, I’ll run over to the newspaper office, which also doubles as the town’s office supply, and see about getting some brochures printed up, quickly, I hope, then head on over to the museum. Part of me aches to call Keith before I go for his input, but the other part of me feels awkward, so I ignore the urge and get on with my plans for the day.