Page 35 of Running to the Cowboy

Nevyn was hauled off for trespassing, illegal possession of a firearm, and making threats.

To my disgust, when we fill out the sheriff’s report, they tell us they can’t go in and pick up any of the elders from the compound without a full investigation first.

They need evidence of abuse. They need warrants. Turns out it’s Olivia’s word against not just the elders but dozens of brainwashed women who, when interviewed, claim that nothing illegal is going on.

And Orlyn Moffat, the one who shot at Wylie, is nowhere to be found. It’s as if he’s vanished into thin air.

I feel pretty down in the dumps about it as Olivia helps me peel off my shirt. She examines my bruises as I step into the shower.

“I still don’t understand what happened. Why he didn’t kill me,” I say.

Olivia is determined to distract me and follows me into the shower stall. “Because he was creating a diversion. Nevyn was just supposed to kidnap me, but the whole thing went sideways for them. It’s a good thing.”

“I could kill him for threatening you,” I grit out. The warm spray hits my back and takes my temper down a notch.

Olivia, meanwhile, has a certain gleam in her eye.

“What’s on your mind? You okay?”

She nods.

“I need to do something.”

She bites her pouty bottom lip, which I have to admit is a pretty good way to pull me out of my dark thoughts.

“What are you scheming in that head of yours, baby?”

Olivia licks her lips, her pretty mouth putting filthy thoughts into my head.

“Olivia,” I say with a warning. “What are you up to?”

She doesn’t answer me with words.

My runaway bride drops to her knees, her hands clutching my thighs.

I rumble a string of unintelligible curses as she takes my cock head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip.

“Olivia,” I repeat, but she’s determined to make me forget this horrible day.

And she’s doing a damn good job of it.

I watch in erotic fascination as she takes me in deeper, her lips, hands, and tongue gorging on my aching cock.

She looks up at me as she works me over, her lashes fluttering innocently.

“Enough.”

I thread my fingers through her hair and pull her off my dick.

“On the bed, Olivia.”

“But…we’re all wet…”

“Sit. On. The bed. Now.”

She shivers at my intensity and does exactly as I say.

My Olivia sits on the edge of the bed, her glistening, wet body dripping all over the blankets. I kneel in front of her, nestled between her thighs. I hike one thick, damp leg over my shoulder and ease her all the way forward.

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