Page 27 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

Mac

WILD MUSTANG SECURITY FIRM

DELTA JAMES

Chapter

One

Lying on his back, Mac smiled as he felt Willa snuggled up against him. She was very much like the mustangs she loved—tempestuous, passionate, and untamed. Oh, he liked to think he had a handle on her, but in his heart of hearts, he knew different. He only had the control she trusted him to have, and there were times he felt she still withheld an integral part of herself. He could feel his cock hardening, engorging, knowing she was near. She stirred, instinctively seeking his strength. Inhaling deeply, he could scent her arousal as well as his own aroma from their earlier bout of lovemaking. She was so beautiful. He gently took the hand resting on his chest and nudged her onto her back.

Willa sighed, not really awake but sensual and willing. Most of the time, Willa craved his dominance, even though she had yet to admit she wanted or needed it, but there were times like this when she was as soft as a kitten—although one that could easily develop teeth and claws.

Mac stretched her out on her back, running his hand from where he teased and caressed her areolas and nipples down the planes of her abdomen, slipping between her legs. Parting thepetals of her sex, he encouraged the hidden hard little nub to come out to play.

“Mac,” she moaned.

Trailing his fingers to the opening of her core, she was already wet and ready. He penetrated her sheath with two fingers, gently thrusting them in and out. As he felt her ascending from her sleep, he used his thumb in a circular motion to increase her arousal. Bending his head over her breast, he took one of her nipples deep into his mouth as he increased the vigor of his plunging fingers and pressed down on her clit.

Willa’s eyes fluttered open as her body built toward a climax. Rolling on top of her, Willa’s legs parted easily, allowing Mac to settle himself between them. Wrapping his hands around her hips, grasping her ass to steady her, Mac fucked into her, delighting in the way her pussy clamped down on him in orgasm.

Before she could speak, Mac covered her mouth with his own, his tongue sweeping past her teeth before plundering the recesses of her mouth. He planned to fuck that mouth tonight, but for now, he reveled in her response as she writhed beneath him.

“Jesus, Mac,” she cried.

As he thrust, her inner walls shook and quivered, and he gloried in the intensity of the pleasure they shared. Her breath sped up, and the noises she made became whimpers of need and surrender. Her body stiffened in anticipation, and her breath became shallow and thready. His ability to elicit such a primal response from her was difficult and sometimes embarrassing for her. Mac had no need to play with Willa in front of others. Her capitulation to him each time they fucked was emotional for them both. For Willa, it represented a submission she didn’t want to give and made him feel like a conquering barbarian when she yielded and allowed him to command every part of her.

She flushed with desire as she panted, trying to fight off her body’s need to find release and her soul’s need to surrender. He knew she was terrified at the intensity of pleasure she was feeling and embarrassed he could undo her to this extent. As she approached the edge, he increased the ferocity of his stroking, giving one last brutal thrust deep inside her. Willa screamed in ecstasy, her pussy spasming hard all along his length. As her legs trembled, she writhed in his hold, her cunt greedily milking his cock, savoring every bit of pleasure as he held her in his arms.

Her orgasm went on and on as little tremors raced through her body, making her whimper as he moved, drawing little mini-orgasms from her before his cock deposited the last of his seed. He rolled to his back, bringing her with him.

Willa woke in that soft darkness that comes before true dawn—the time between moonset and the beginning of sunrise. Smiling softly, she opened her eyes and felt Mac spooned against her back—the weight of his muscular arm draped around her waist, his hand resting possessively over her mons, and his cock nestled in the crack of her ass. Gently, she removed his hand and disengaged from his embrace. Grabbing her clothes, she crept down the stairs. The last thing she needed was for Mac to wake up. If luck was with her, she’d be back in their bed before he discovered her gone.

The morning sun peeked out over the horizon, the sky losing its inky blackness as pale rays of pink, umber, and burnt orange illuminated and banished the darkness. Willa Reynoldssat atop Gator, her enormous gray warmblood, high on a butte, surveying the landscape and the mustangs below. This was Willa’s favorite kind of morning—soft, seductive, and full of promise, the crushing heat of summer giving way to the cooler mountain temperatures of fall.

Looking through binoculars at the sleeping men who had rounded up the wild horses to transport to slaughterhouses in Canada or Mexico, Willa grinned. Their peaceful morning was about to come to an abrupt end. She wished Mac understood her need to outwit the rustlers who plagued the federal lands and the surrounding unclaimed wilderness. This had become her favorite mode of attack, stalking them, then lying in wait. It was easier to do when Mac was out on assignment for the US Marshal Service.

As the sun crept over the vista, she maneuvered Gator down the side of the hill, making note of where the men had set up camp and how they had used the natural terrain to corral the horses. She counted ten mares and a young stallion, a relatively new herd, with only a few foals running at their mothers’ sides. The stallion was a good-sized palomino, but Gator probably had six inches of height and five hundred pounds of pure muscle on him.

The mares were not the standard sorrel or bay but buckskins, pintos, and roans. If she could drive them to federal land, they might be taken for one of the annual roundups to be auctioned off to people who would either allow them to remain wild on their own private land or train them to be riding horses. As much as she loved seeing mustangs run free on the open range, she was enough of a realist to know, with humans encroaching more and more on their grazing grounds, it was safer for them if they were purchased by caring owners.

Willa nudged Gator with her spur as he reached the bottom of the hill. The big gray responded, picking up speed as theterrain flattened out. This was not the first time he’d carried his mistress on a mission to save the mustangs. Gator increased his gait to a free-floating and smooth-as-glass gallop as she drew her rifle from its scabbard and fired. The shot cracked through the quiet morning like a bullwhip wielded by an expert, startling both herd and rustlers alike. She charged into their makeshift camp and took aim at the prohibited motorized vehicles, shooting out at least one tire. Lassoing the temporary gate, she pulled it down and stampeded the mustangs out of the enclosure, guiding them toward their temporary home.

She always experienced a sense of euphoria when she made one of her raids and bested the men, she considered the personification of evil. Truth be told, she was a bit of an adrenaline junkie—something which was becoming more of an issue between her and Mac. Thinking of Mac’s displeasure made her squirm in the saddle, not from dread but from anticipation. The man had a wicked hand, which he applied liberally to her backside. She disliked the pain that would blossom across her bottom, but his spankings always ignited fierce arousal.

Her destination was a small canyon not located on any of the maps of the area. She would block the entrance to keep the herd from escaping or wandering off, keeping them there for a few days until she deemed it safe to move them to a more permanent location.

With the horses settled in the canyon, Willa headed home, where Gus, her ranch foreman and long-time friend, greeted her.

“The marshal know you’ve been out stealing horses again?” he asked, nodding toward the house.

“I’m not stealing them, Gus. I’m helping them find their way to safety, and, no, I didn’t want to wake him.”

The grizzled cowboy shook his head. “In other words, you snuck out before dawn and are hoping you can slip back into his bed before he even knows you were gone.”

“That’s not it at all,” she said, handing him Gator’s lead rope. “Would you mind taking care of him?” She headed toward the cabin. “And it’s my bed he’s sleeping in.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, missy. At some point, that marshal of yours is going to put the hammer down on you and your nonsense.”

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