Page 8 of Claimed By A Cowboy
Sliding beneath my arm, she rushes back to the bathroom, holding the towel to her body. Talk about bad timing. I turn to glare at the other women, watching as they both fall back on one of the narrow beds, their pristine cowboy boots kicking in the air.
“All these cowboys are lookers, huh?” One calls as she leers at me.
“Donotcome to the main house drunk, ladies,” I warn them harshly.
Storming from the bunkhouse with a curse, I head for my own quarters. When I get inside, I tear at the button on my jeans, yanking my zipper down. My cock is thick and heavy as it springs out. Jesus. I do not remember the last time a woman got me hard.
Kicking off my jeans, I fall back on my unmade bed with a groan. I close my eyes, stroking my aching cock as I think of what could have just happened. I could have ripped that towel off her body. Could have pinned her soft, sexy curves to the wall and thrust deep inside her.
“Ah, hell,” I groan as I think about her soft, wet tits pressed to my chest. Her little moans as I pump inside of her. Those long, thick legs tight around me as she begs me to fuck her harder. To make her come on my cock. How her pussy chokes my cock as I do just that, spilling inside her.
“Jesus, Wynn,” I whimper as I do come, shooting all over my stomach and soiling my jeans.
Catching my breath, I think about her taking off that towel. Reaching a hand between her legs, finding herself wet. Not from her shower, but from the press of my big, hard body against hers. Her fingers moving over her little clit as she chased an orgasm she deserved.
“What has this woman done to me?” I mutter to myself.
Tearing my clothes off hastily, I rush to take a show. A very cold one. I laugh at myself when I finish dressing. I put on my best jeans, my favorite boots, and a nice button up. Who the hell am I showing off for?
“For her. Afraid I might do just about anything to impress this woman,” I answer myself, running a hand down the scar.
I was going to tell her. And not the embellished story I tell people to sound like some tough guy. I was going to tell her the real story behind the scar. And that should tell me enough about how dangerous this woman is.
Unfettered, I head to the main house, anxious to see her again. When I step inside, I almost turn back round to leave. Besides the handful of the men who work the ranch, the place is teeming with strangers. Almost all women.
Just as I consider skipping this dinner, she spots me. Once those light eyes lock on me, there is no escape for me. And I am glad for it. I would have been crazy to leave her here, looking the way she does, with all these other roughnecks.
“There’s my cowboy,” her sweet voice calls when I am a few feet away.
My eyes cannot get their fill of her. With her golden hair tumbling just past her shoulders in loose curls, she looks like an angel. Wearing an eyelet cotton dress, she is a vision. The dress would be demure on anyone else. On her…it might as well be sexy lace cut just to fit her ample curves.
“Here I am,” I murmur back, eyes still eating her up. “You look…well, hell, honey, you look like a pretty cowgirl.”
Tilting her head back, Wynn grins up at me, lifting a shoulder. Glancing around at the others watching us, I feel a knot in my chest. I do not like all these pricks’ eyes on her. I have no right to feel the jealousy I do, but it’s there, nonetheless.
“Thank you, handsome,” she whispers back.
We stand there together, away from the crowd, just watching one another. I notice a birthmark at her neck, shaped a bit like a crescent moon. A vision of me licking that as I slide in and out of her, telling her how she is prettier than the night skies, hits me.
“Dinner is served folks! Come on, dig in!”
Blinking away from the magical moment I was just lost in, I frown. Turning to watch the crowd head for the dining room, I hesitate. I want just one more moment alone with her. I put my hand on the small of her back, drawing her to my side.
When I first touched her earlier, I saw she felt the same volt of energy that I had. It was no fluke. As I feel the warmth of her beneath my palm, flares of heat spread up my arm. I am a slow burning ember, just waiting for the right moment to ignite and burn hot.
“Come on, honey. These boys get a bit greedy round a dinner table.”
Grinning at me, she laughs. It is just a soft, breathy little sound. It shoots right to my dick. I would never tire of that sweet sound. Her smile reaches her eyes, lighting them up and making my heart thud as she aims them at me.
“Does that go for you too, cowboy? Do you get greedy?”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as we stand there. Jesus. This stunning woman is flirting with me. I thought maybe she was before. I brushed it off because who would flirt with someone like me? But now…I mean, I don’t know a lot about flirting, but this sure feels like it.
“Oh, yes,” I answer at last, eyes dropping to her mouth. “I have quite the appetite, honey.”
Wynn gives me a laugh, different than the last, and my cock jerks in my jeans. Fuck, that laugh is all mine. It’s deep, sexy, and the way her eyes darken makes me think she means it just for me. We linger a moment longer, just watching each other in the last rays of sunshine as the sun sets.
Thinking we better get to dinner, I give the slightest push at her back. When she sighs and starts to move, I bite back a groan. Her ass in this dress is sinful. I glance behind me, making sure no one else is getting this view. We reach the long, wide dining table—a huge piece of oak one of the hands carved to make a table—my spirits sinking.
