Gentling the Cowboy(13)

There’s a chance she’s not a reporter.

Why the hell else would she be taking notes by her car?

What was it about her that made him want to prove her innocence?

He didn’t like puzzles when it came to people. In fact, it had been a long time since he’d cared enough to question anyone’s motivation for anything. Over the last five years, he’d lost interest in most everything. There’d been a time when he’d found a thrill in unlocking the potential of a horse, but even that had waned.

Slowly dying.

Until today.

He slid a hand beneath the elastic of his shorts, took his pulsing cock into his hand and closed his eyes. His callused palm was a poor substitute for the hot, wet mouth he wanted around him. Not just any mouth—the one that had pouted at him when he’d told Sarah she couldn’t leave. He imagined her opening his door and finding him jacking off.

A slow smile would spread across her face. She would slowly strip and saunter to the side of his bed, naked and aroused. Tony kept an even pump going while he pictured how she would look. He’d seen enough of her in the shower to be able to picture her all too clearly in his mind. He knew how round and firm her breasts were and how delightfully dark her nipples looked against her otherwise white skin.

She’d boldly prowl onto the bed, placing each foot on either side of his torso, giving him the perfect view of her wet and eager pussy. One of her hands would cup a breast and circle her nipple until it was standing straight with arousal. Her other hand would caress her clit with slow rhythmic precision until she could no longer contain her moans. Then she’d slip her middle finger inside herself while continuing to rub the heel of her hand against her pink folds.

He jerked in his own hand and tore his boxers off, then relaxed onto his back as he pictured her throwing her head back, her long blonde mane loose and wild down her back, begging for him to bury his hands in it. She’d nibble that lush bottom lip of hers and shudder above him as she brought herself to orgasm. Her juices would run down her hand and she’d turn her hungry mouth to him. She’d swivel, sinking to her knees so her still-swollen folds were easily within his tongue’s reach, and she’d take him deeply into her mouth.

The taste of her and the sensation of her lips around him would almost be his undoing, but he’d hold out as long as he could. He’d savor her and tease her swollen nub with licks and gentle sucks until he felt her ready to come again. Only then would he climax in her mouth while she did in his.

Tony shuddered as he came in his own hand.

Probably wouldn’t hurt to find out what’s in that notebook before I throw her out.

Just to be fair ’n all.





Chapter Four




Early in the morning, Tony’s subconscious turned on him as it had countless times before. He tensed, even in his sleep, preparing to meet an old adversary he’d never conquered.

Don’t do this to yourself. Wake up.

But he was already lost to it.

He was cantering a white mare bareback down a long dirt road. They covered the miles with no sound of hoofbeats to break up the oppressive silence. No breeze. Sweat beaded on Tony’s forehead. Torn between loving and hating the memory, all he could do was hold on. The violet-blue sky pressed down, as familiar to him as the decrepit ranch he was riding to.

As she always did, the mare headed for the crumbling farmhouse at the top of the hill. No amount of reining would turn the mare from her course. Try as he did, each time he took this ride he was incapable of leaping off. No, the horse always took him back to the one place he hated.

In a blink of an eye, he was standing in an old round pen with the mare. His father, as weathered and worn as his surroundings, leaned against the pen’s rusty outer metal railings. “You still wastin’ yer time with that nag? The meat man ain’t gonna care none if she’s muscled up.”

“You can’t sell her. She’s mine, Dad. You said I could have her.” His voice was a mixture of the child he’d been and the man he’d become.

“Don’t go gettin’ yourself attached, Tony. We need the money and that horse is goin’ at the next auction.” There was no cruel intention in his voice, just the cold sting of truth.

“You told me if I got her to stop bucking I could keep her. She’s as gentle as they come now.”

Emotion had never had much effect on the older man who had been taught several tough life lessons early. “If she is, maybe someone’ll outbid the meat man.”

The hand Tony buried in the horse’s mane belonged to the twelve-year-old he’d once been. “I won’t let you do it, Dad. Not this horse. Not to the auction. She’s mine. I love her.” A memory that should have faded with time was as sharp and painful in his dream as the day it had happened, and the desperation in his young voice as he pleaded with his father was equally real.