Page 35 of That Fateful Ride

“Oh.”

He yanked his gaze open and pinned it on the one who owned his dreams. Rebecca stood there, eyes wide and locked on where his hand fisted himself, the swollen head poking out through the closed fist he had only to disappear again when he went the other way.

Cy licked his lips. “Look at me.”

She tore her gaze from his dick and held his stare. He wasn’t stopping, she would watch this as she stayed.

There was hunger in her gaze and that only mollified his need slightly to know she needed him as he did her.

Her tongue dipped out to swipe along her lower lip and he groaned. Seeing it was like having it glide along his shaft. Goosebumps burst out on his skin as he shuddered at the memory.

“Cy.” Low and breathy, her calling his name pushed him over the edge.

She didn’t move as his cock jerked, sending his seed all over the dirt floor and hay before him. “Rebecca.”

A whimper escaped before she did, leaving him alone with his cock in hand, still hard, and a mess on the floor in front of him.

As the daysturned into weeks, Cy knew something must seriously be wrong for Robert to not have returned yet and Rebecca was worried. She continued to assist with meals occasionally and the men definitely preferred it when she had a hand in them, but otherwise, there was definite distance between them.

Winter had since changed to spring and the days began again to get warmer, although the nights were still cool. And this would be the case until summer arrived and turned everything hot as hades.

Which is why I’m always cutting more wood. For the stove to cook, for the stove to stay warm.

Stacking the wood he’d cut, he looked up and his heart leapt to his throat. Five Indians on horses watched him. He dropped the wood and grabbed his rifle.

He showed no fear. There was no one at the station other than him and he was glad. He didn’t want Rebecca in this danger. Therewerefriendly Indians, he just wasn’t sure if these were able to be lumped in that category, or if they were in the “hostile” category.

“What do you want?” The man in the middle gestured to the horses. Cy shook his head. “Those are my horses, move along.”

More chattering and gesturing. He shook his head again and moved himself between the men and his stock.

“You steal.”

“What?” Not only the accusation but also that the language it came in had been English shocked him.

“You steal horse.”

“I’ve stolen nothing. They’re all mine.”

“No. Polaris not yours.”

He’d forgotten Polaris was here. He’d been too exhausted to carry on so Rebecca had left him behind. Cy looked to the corral where the horse in question watched them.

“That’s not yours either. I’m not giving you her horse.” He wasn’t sure he liked this man knowing Rebecca’s horse. It could all be a lie. Polaris was by far the best piece of horseflesh here. He did call him by name though.

“Rebecca’s. Where Rebecca?”

“You know her?”

“Where!”

He flexed his fingers on the rifle. “Not here right now.”

They spoke amongst themselves. “She hurt?”

“No.”

Hoof beats entered the terse silence. He turned to see who rode up and when he looked back, they were gone. He blew out a breath and hurried to meet the rider. It was Rebecca. She sawed hard on the reins of her lathered horse.

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