Page 29 of Wrangled Up

Christian grabbed her wrist roughly and pinned it to the blanket. “Enough.” He leaned in and placed nipping bites on her lips, her breasts, belly. When she could breathe again, she found he’d wriggled out of his boxer briefs.

His shaft rose high and proud from a nest of curls. She wet her lips.

“Tell me what you want.” He reached into the pocket of his discarded jeans for his wallet. He flipped it open and located that circle she’d noticed earlier.

She curled her fingers around the base of his shaft, angling the head toward her mouth. “This. I loved sucking you.”

“Jeezus,” he breathed. He fell still, every chiseled ridge of his abdomen standing out as she took him into her mouth.

She sucked him in and kept going until the spongy tip met the back of her throat.

He bucked once, head thrown back, cords on his neck straining. Then just as swiftly, he pulled out. In a jerky movement, he had a condom in place and was poised at the quick of her.

Gazing up at his outline silhouetted against the big sky, she wondered what Tucker would think of this.

But then Christian hitched her leg around him and filled her in one solid thrust. They rocked together, arms tight around each other, squeezing, bringing the other closer and closer. Her inner walls contracted around his cock.

“God, it’s going to be…over…too soon,” he ground out.

She stroked his chest, ran a finger around the dark circle of his nipple. “Be nice to watch the sunrise here with you.”

His white teeth flashed as he grinned. Drove deep. Ground his cock against her g-spot. She cried out as spasms started in her core.

Heat spread rapidly, claiming her control. She grabbed onto him and jerked her hips. A guttural growl erupted from his chest. He stared down at her unblinkingly as he plunged once…twice.

Tremors rushed her. Her pussy clamped down on his shaft just as he began to spurt. The warmth of his release sent her higher.

As the final shudders racked her body, she buried her face against his neck and stared at the stars glittering on the velvet backdrop of the sky. Where was Tucker at this moment? A big part of her was out there with him.

But a part she hadn’t thought she had to give now lay warm and safe in the ring of Christian’s arms.

* * * * *

Tucker knuckled the grit out of his eyes and turned toward the truck stop. After driving for two solid days and nights, his backmuscles were screaming. This rest stop boasted a hotel as well as the area’s “meanest ham steak”.

When he climbed out of his truck, pain sliced up his leg from his knee. As a kid, he’d taken a bad fall from a horse and cracked the patella. It had healed on its own, but when he wasn’t as active, he felt a twinge or two.

Or three, in this case.

Not to mention the twinges in his heart. For Heather, Claire, even Christian. Hell, right now, he was so homesick that if he laid eyes on Boomerang, he’d plant a big fat kiss right on the alpaca’s crooked mouth.

As he approached the restaurant, he caught sight of his reflection. Disheveled. Wrinkled shirt, crumpled hat brim. And he could smell himself. Not good.

Veering from the restaurant, he headed for the hotel. A nice shower, a meal, then sleep. Right now, he didn’t want anything more than the basics in life.

Except Heather.

While he signed in to his room, he played and replayed the last moments with her family. When they’d rejected him, he’d lost a bit of hissoul. His identity had taken a hit. If he was no longer part of the Lander crew, who was he? Where did he fucking belong?

His Uncle Leon and Dale and Darcy were far from a supportive family. In the past couple of years since Heather’s passing, Tucker had only one consistent person in his life besides the Landers—Christian.

And he’d probably fucked up that relationship forever. Leaving him to run Tucker’s ranch, when he knew nothing of animals? Hell, it was drawing near the harvest season too.

Tucker couldn’t stay away indefinitely, yet that was exactly what he wanted to do. Going back meant he’d have to face a life without Heather, her family…damn, even knowing her wedding gown still hung on the peg in her bedroom had given him comfort.

He tossed the few belongings he always kept in the truck—a change of clothes—onto the king-sized coverlet, too aware of the last time he’d been in bed.

With Christian and Claire.

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