72. I am No Cavewoman
I AM NO CAVEWOMAN
ELIAS
“I need to tell Brax.” I twist my tie around my fingers at my neck, making knots and loops so familiar to me, I could do this in my sleep.
I’m standing in my bathroom, watching Bright strut around in an incredibly sheer, pale pink bathrobe that shows every curve and swell of her body, and displays her toned legs.
“Down boy,” I say to my cock.
In the almost three months we’ve been together, I’ve never once looked at her and not wanted to be balls deep in her perfect pussy, not once thought I’d be okay to get around to fucking her later. It’s always a fight not to want to be inside her.
“What’d you say?”
“About Brax or about my dick?”
She whirls and scrunches up her face. “Add that to my list of things I never want to think about in the same sentence.”
“I need to go see Jon today. The developers have gone quiet, and I don’t think it’s because they’ve given up.” I’m missing something. I’ve thought that all along. “So I’ll be out of pocket more than I’d like.”
“You’ll be shocked to hear I’m spending my day at the stables.” She rolls her eyes wildly as if her sarcasm wasn’t evident in her words.
I finish knotting my tie and slide it to the notch below my collar before reaching over to cup her ass cheek.
“There’s something to be said for consistency.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘rut.’” She pulls the mascara wand from the tube and begins inking her lashes.
“You’re not in a rut, darlin’. You’re doing what you love, and there’s something beautiful about that.”
I slide flush to her back, sliding my hand into that skimpy robe, letting my palm splay on her belly to hold her tight to me.
“Speaking of doing something you love…” She trails off, meeting my eyes in the mirror, pushing her ass back into my growing cock.
“Fuck, baby.” I slide my hand down to her pussy. “You wet already?” My lips hit the back of her neck as she spreads her legs. I let my fingers play, entering her, stroking her and stretching her.
She holds my eyes in the mirror, dropping her mascara to the counter, and sliding an arm back around my neck, arching her perfect tits toward our reflection. With her other hand, she tugs open the robe.
When she reaches inside to pinch a nipple, I growl. “Darlin’, you know you tempt me. I don’t need a seduction act.”
“Not trying to seduce you, Eli. Just letting you do something you love today.” She rides my hand, holding my gaze in the mirror, pushing back into my rock-hard erection.
“Well, if you insist.” I undo my belt, drop my pants, and guide myself to her center. I slide through her wetness, teasing us both. “Tip your ass, Bright, and hold on to the counter.”
She does, and I slam home.
“Fuck, darlin’. How did I get so lucky?”
I’m not interested in sweet or slow, and by the way Bright is moving against me, she’s not either. She rears back on my cock. The only sound I hear is the sound of our breathing and our bodies slapping echoing off the tiles in the bathroom.
“You’re fucking perfect.”
Her head drops as her eyes close.
“Brighton.”
Her head snaps up. “Don’t close your eyes, baby.”
“I need to come, Eli.”
“You can come while I watch. But I want to look into your eyes when you come.”
“But—” Her head drops again, and I move my hand to lift her chin, holding it up. It is without a doubt the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life—her ass tipped up, her cunt swallowing my dick, her tits jutted to the mirror, me behind her, holding her to me.
“Look at me, Bright.”
“I’m trying.” It comes out on a whimper.
“You’re going to have to touch yourself, baby. Make yourself come on my cock.”
She reaches between her legs, and her fingertips flit across my dick as she strokes herself. It’s almost my undoing. “Fight for it, darlin’. Need you to come before I do.”
Four more strokes and her legs try to buckle. Her pussy sucks my cock, rippling around me, and she screams my name. Her chest hits the vanity, and I pound into her a few more strokes before finding my release and folding over her, my face resting on her shoulder blades.
“I love my mornings with you, Eli.”
I stroke deeply and slowly, my hand reaching around to find hers. I lace our fingers.
“I love you, Brighton.”
She stiffens—absolutely freezes in place, her thighs rigid.
I kiss her back where my face rests, and slide my other hand under her belly, pulling her back into me.
“You what?”
What’s left of us begins to seep from her. Twenty years ago, that would be panic-inducing. Ten years ago, maybe even worse.
Hell, with anyone but Brighton Ranger, it would be one of the worst things I could imagine. But with her… I growl, almost feral.
“Are you mad?” Brighton asks.
“What?” I pause, trying to remember the thread. “No, darlin’. Mad isn’t a word I’d use to describe this moment.” I move my mouth to our joined fingers and kiss the back of her knuckles. “Just wishing you didn’t have to clean up and could have me with you and in you and on you all day.”
Her face is comical. I can tell she doesn’t share my possessive thoughts right now. I step back, pulling out of her, and am satisfied to hear her little mewl of protest.
“I—” She turns, negotiating the space between the bathroom vanity and my body since I don’t give her much room, and looks up into my face. Her eyes are searching. “You love me?”
“Darlin’…” I break off, searching her face for clues.
“Please, Eli. Answer me.” Her voice is serious. Her eyes seek mine while her face displays fear warring with hope
“Yes, Brighton. I love you. I’m in love with you.”
Her mouth drops, but no words form. She stares at me as if she’s trying to read my intentions or unseen tea leaves.
When she says nothing, I continue, “I’ve liked you a long time. Wanted you even longer. You’re a hell of a woman, Brighton Ranger—easy to love. But it’s more than that. Did you not know?”
Her bottom lip dances for a moment, and if I hadn’t been watching her, I’d have missed it. But it’s her eyes misting that do me in. Bright isn’t a crier.
I reach up with my thumb and brush away the tear that wants to form.
“Darlin’?”
Brighton
I jerk my head in a quick nod.
His head dips to mine, his lips warm and tender, possessive and owning. “I love my mornings with you too.” He winks with his words and drops a peck on my neck, just above my collarbone.
The crisp starch of his shirt is rough as it slides against me. His cologne and the smell of sex fill my nostrils. Everything he’s said has shaken me. It’s as if the world tilted on its axis, and instead of throwing me off kilter, it’s provided me solid footing.
I reach an arm up around his neck. “You love me.” He may hear me; he may not. I drop my head to his shirt, and feel hope and joy swirl inside me like helium trying to burst through my chest. The laugh that explodes through is pure bliss. I’m too happy to contain this too.
Warm hands rub my back, and lips land on my head. “Yes, darlin’, I do.”
I look up, tentative. “I love you too.”
“Well, then, life is perfect.” He kisses me quickly. “Are you going to keep me on you today?”
“That’s a negative, ghost rider. You may be a caveman like that, but I am no cavewoman. I’ll clean up and be gone ten minutes after you. Tell Jon I said hi.”
He growls again, and I laugh.
When I arrive at the barn, I cue up the computer and set the music this morning to early eighties country. I need the old stuff.
When Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts” oozes through the speakers, I head to check on Marron, and her new foal, Windrunner. Both are doing well.
Windrunner is nursing well and is playful and so much fun to be around. She’s inquisitive, awkward, and affectionate. She isn’t cautious and ambles over to greet me, pushing her nose under my chin and wiggling her mouth against my neck. It fits my light mood.
“Did you just giggle?” my brother asks from over the stable doors. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister? No Ranger I know giggles.”
“Shut up, Braxton.”
“What’s got you so happy?”
I look into his face and see contentment written there.
“Are you the pot or the kettle in this situation?”
“Nice deflection. Are you going to answer or not?”
“Windrunner is doing really well. Very healthy. Funny, curious, and so sweet. She’s perfect for Colt. How is my nephew, by the way?”
“Well played. I see what you did there, but I’ll let it slide.” He winks. “Colt is perfect, obviously.” He stretches out the last word as he points to himself. “I mean he’s mine, so perfection is to be expected.”
I cough into my hand. “Bullshit.” But I smile as I do. It’s been a long time since we’ve laughed.
“Are you saying that my son isn’t perfect?”
“No. He is. He totally is. You, on the other hand…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He looks at Marron before turning back to me. “How is she?”
“She’s good. Bloodwork shows hormones are where we want them to be. She probably needs a good run, though, so I was going to put them in the bigger paddock and let her stretch her legs. I’ll bring them back before the heat of the day, so Windrunner can acclimate.”
“Want some help?”
“Sure.”
We guide Marron outside with a hand to her flank.
She’s home here and knows the drill. Besides, she won’t leave Windrunner, so there’s no need.
I slide a soft halter around Windrunner’s neck to get her accustomed to the feel.
She doesn’t need to be steered; she follows her mother everywhere, but it’s good training, and four days old isn’t too early to begin.
Brax pets her and talks to her as we walk. She’s uncoordinated and clumsy, and it’s adorable. The majesty and grace of who she will be is nowhere in sight.
“I’m still in shock that Pop decided to give her to Colt. She may not show it now”—he gestures to her exploring with gangly limbs and smiles—“but she’s one hell of a horse. Or will be when she stops tripping over grass.”
“With her parents, she certainly will be.”
“I haven’t seen him make that kind of decision in a long time. She’s a hell of a gift.” He rubs a hand down the filly. “And one that we’ll treasure. Colt won’t understand it for a long time, but I sure do.”
“He knows that, Brax. He’s fighting for our legacy.” I pause, realizing Pop knew about the development threat next door long before Windrunner arrived and still planned two decades out—no, two generations out—for the ranch.
“What’s with the face?”
“Oh, nothing. Just picturing Colt on Windrunner in several years,” I lie. “If he’s anything like you, we need better insurance.”
I open the paddock, and Marron walks right in. Windrunner follows at her haunches.
Brax closes the gate and leans on top. “If he’s anything like you, we’ll need more than insurance.” He wraps an arm loosely over my shoulder. “These last couple of months have been a hell of an adventure,” he says over my head before letting me go, hitching a boot up onto the split rail.
“You can say that again.”