Page 3 of Deck the Halls with Cowboys
Those green eyes rolled as her hands slid up my chest. “You didn’t seem to mind your birthday gift last month.”
My jaw jumped. “Because it was you naked and bent over my desk in the barn loft, wearing my hat. Why in the hell would I mind that?”
“Denver!” she hissed, looking toward our bedroom door. She swatted at me. “That was too loud.”
I opened my mouth, but my cell vibrated in my pocket. Stepping away from her, I pulled out the device and grumbled, “That’s Mags, I bet.”
“Oh, probably,” Valerie laughed before disappearing into the closet.
“I’m on my way down there,” I answered, rolling my neck.
“If you’re up there still in bed with your wife while I left Diana in mine, I’m beating your ass until the new year,” my friend growled. “It’s cold as shit and the twins are one fuckup away from meeting God on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s Thursday,” I clipped, going to Valerie and kissing her forehead. “Love you, beautiful.”
She smiled at me, the sight nearly bringing me to my knees. “Love you, honey.”
As I walked down the stairs, Mags began telling me all the ways the ranch would benefit without the twins.
“We can’t lose them, Mags,” I said, shaking my head as I poured my coffee into my thermos. “I can’t believe the ranch is finally in a good place, and you want to kill our extra hands.”
“I’ll find you better ones,” he shot back. “Get down here and get them sorted. Or I burn them.”
The line went dead, and as I threw on my coat and hat, I looked into the living room, feeling a chill sweep down my neck. My mother’s rocking chair was still illuminated by the firelight, tugging at memories of my childhood. Suddenly, as the past enveloped me, I could practically hear Mason and a younger me running down the hall, our new boots on our feet as Momma knitted a sweater in that chair. A lump formed in my throat as my eyes cut to the opposite corner, where a large Christmas tree stood, red and golden balls hanging from its branches. On top, there was an angel, one that Caleb had painted when he was in elementary school. Valerie told me it tied all the decor together in a comforting bow.
I thought it was all bullshit.
The gifts.
The decorations.
The show of it all.
My eyes dropped down to the presents, neatly wrapped and placed on top of the wool tree skirt Nancy had given Valerie. Pain splintered in my throat as the lump morphed into a shard of glass, hearing the voice of my father now.
Christmas was only important to your mother. Not to me. She’s gone now and so is that fuckin’ holiday.
With a painful inhale, I turned away from the living room, yanked open the front door, and disappeared into the bitter cold.
Chapter Two
Mason
“Yeah, Harm,” I grunted, feeling pleasure swell at the base of my spine. “That’s it, beautiful.”
“Mase,” my wife breathed out as her head fell back, her wild auburn curls going with her, cascading around her bare shoulders as her tits moved in time with her bounces. She leaned back, putting her hands on my bare thighs, her hips slamming down onto mine, my cock stretching her over and over. “God, yes.” The permanent rasp in her voice laced with pleasure was the most beautiful song I’d ever heard.
I bit down until the point of pain, focusing on that instead of how good her pussy felt wrapped around me. “My good little whore,” I praised, moving my hand up from her waist to cup her breast. I would never get used to how perfectly they fit in the palm of my hand. “Bouncing on mycock before I have to go to work.”
She leaned forward again, her blue eyes holding mine as her jaw dropped in a silent scream. Her hips were against mine now, and then—fuck—she started grinding. In. Slow. Agonizing. Circles.
My eyes fell from her face, noting how her sweaty skin glistened in the pale morning light. My gaze trailed down her long torso, stopping where our bodies were joined. Her pretty pink clit was brushing against the hair covering my lower abdomen. She was chasing her own pleasure now, my selfish little song. I found her face again, smiling up at her as her eyelids fluttered, her eyes rolling back, thighs shaking at my sides. “I—I—I—” she stammered, breathless and begging for release.
She needed my filthy mouth to push her over the edge. “Waking me up to milk my cock,” I cooed. “My filthy wife. You just can’t get enough, can you?”
“Mase!”
“I can feel your greedy pussy fluttering around me, baby.”
