Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Wyatt
I’ve spent the last six hours trying to outrun my own head.
I’ve hauled enough hay to feed the county, greased every axle in the barn, and barked at Wes for a fence line that was barely an inch out of line. Nothing worked.
I couldn’t sweat out the itch under my skin after I watched the girls drive away this morning. I’m twitching, I’ve been on edge all day, and for the past hour I’ve constantly kept a lookout for the sound of her tires on the gravel.
It’s a hell of a thing, realizing you’ve sent the woman you love back into the line of fire. I’d spent the morning picturing that smug bastard’s face, and every time I did, a dark, possessive urge boiled up in my gut.
I wanted to be there. I wanted to stand behind her and let that coward see exactly what a storm looks like in human form. I want to show him what she’s worth because she means fucking everything to me. But I knew I couldn't. This was her fight. Her moment to lay to rest.
I’m suddenly pulled back to earth by the sound of heels clipping against the dry dirt. I look up as she rounds the corner into the stable aisle.
She looks drop-dead gorgeous, even in the twilight and the dimness of the stable lights.
She’s dressed in an expensive-looking trench coat, belted tight at her tiny waist, and a pair of patent leather pointed heels that make her legs look like they go on for miles.
She’s let her silken hair loose since this morning, and it falls effortlessly around her shoulders.
That coy little smirk on her face tells me she’s got a secret.
I toss down the hay bale I’m carrying as she makes her way toward me, the click of her heels echoing against the concrete.
“So…?” I ask tentatively, though my pulse has kicked up like it always does around her.
“Oh, it went very well,” she says, her voice a purr. She reaches behind her back and produces a bottle of chilled champagne like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “They withdrew the plans.”
Relief crashes over me as I start walking toward her. I don’t hesitate, I pick her up and spin her, pressing a hard kiss to her rose-tinted lips. She squeals and giggles, and I swear, the sound is music to my ears.
“Didn’t expect anything less from you, baby. I’m so damn proud of you.”
She has a mischievous glint in her eyes as I set her back down. The one I’ve learned means I’m in trouble. As she gets closer, she reaches for the belt of her trench coat. With one fluid motion, she undoes the tie.
The coat falls open, and the world suddenly stops spinning.
I freeze in my tracks. My brain goes offline as the coat hangs off her shoulders, revealing that she’s standing in front of me wearing nothing but a black lace thong and a smile.
Her breasts are standing to attention in the cool night air, and the sight of all that pale, soft skin against the rugged backdrop of the barn is enough to make my vision blur.
“Emily,” I rasp, my voice suddenly sounding like I’ve choked on a hay bale.
She pops the cork on the champagne, the sound echoing like a starting pistol in the quiet stable, and takes a slow, seductive sip while watching me over the rim of the bottle. Fuck, those lips.
I’m pretty sure the horses aren’t the only ones about to lose their damn minds in here.
Why is it suddenly so hot in here?
Seeing her like this, all high-end city glamour on the outside and pure, unadulterated fire on the inside, is enough to make a man forget every rule he ever made for himself.
I bite down on my inner lip, my gaze traveling slow and heavy over every inch of her.
By the time I reach her, my hands are shaking.
My fingers find the smooth skin of her hips, and I drag them languidly upward.
I don’t stop until my knuckles brush against those peaked, rose-colored tips and I hear her breath hitch in the silence.
“Is this your version of a celebration, Miss Callahan?” I rasp with a growl I usually reserve for the bedroom.
Emily takes another slow sip from the champagne bottle, her eyes locked onto mine with a challenge that’s been brewing since the day she stepped onto this ranch. All I can think of is how good those pretty pink, pillowy lips would look wrapped around my cock right now.
“I think champagne and being fucked by my gorgeous cowboy boyfriend in the stable is a pretty decent celebration, don’t you?”
The bluntness of it hits me.
Fuck. Me. I think that’s a phenomenal idea.
I growl and tighten my grip on her waist as I pull her flush against my work clothes. The contrast of our two worlds is almost too much to take.
“Oh, you are fucking trouble, woman,” I mutter against her lips.
I reach out, taking the champagne bottle from her hand and setting it blindly on a nearby hay bale.
My other arm hooks around her thighs, hoisting her up until she’s forced to wrap those long, smooth legs around my waist. I run my fingers up her spine, which makes her shiver and press her perfect tits further into my face.
The stall is hotter than the midday sun, and I’m intoxicated by the cocktail of hay and summer skin. Every breath feels like a struggle as I look down at her. This high-powered city woman, still wearing those lethal heels, is about to fall to her knees in the hay.
“Show me, Wyatt,” she pants, her voice hitching as I trail my tongue along the sensitive nape of her neck. “Show me how much trouble I’m in.”
The sound of her needy and desperate voice lights a fuse in me. I growl into her skin, my hands gripping her shoulders.
“So much fucking trouble. You know anyone could walk in here right now?” I move my mouth lower until I can take one of those firm, pebbled nipples between my lips. Her skin tastes sweet on my tongue.
A soft moan escapes her, vibrating against my chest.
“Wyatt,” she gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair. “I highly doubt we’re the only people who’ve ever fucked in this stable.” She gives a breathy laugh.
“Noted,” I rasp, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. My control is hanging by a single, frayed thread. “But I’ve never had anyone suck my cock in here. If you want trouble, I’m going to need you on your knees, baby.”
The challenge hangs in the air for a heartbeat. I see the flash of heat in her eyes, but the spark of thrill tells me I’ve hit exactly the right note. She bites the corner of her lip, her coy smirk returning before she moves.
I lead her into the nearest empty stall as she drops to her knees in front of me. The straw rustles under her, but she doesn’t seem to care about the mess. Her focus is entirely on me as I see her tongue dart over her lips. She must feel as desperate as I do
Her hands are steady as she expertly undoes the buckle of my belt. The metallic click rings lightly through the stable. In seconds, she’s freed my arousal, her touch sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to my gut.
She brings her lips to my length, sucks as if her life depends on it, her tongue and the heat of her mouth working me with a desperate intensity that has my vision swimming.
My fingers thread into her hair, gripping tightly as I try to keep my knees from buckling.
I watch as her thick, dark lashes rest against her cheeks before she lifts them in my direction.
The way she’s looking up at me right now with those doe eyes, my cock in her mouth, kneeling in the dirt in a pair of expensive heels—she looks nothing short of a goddess.
As she continues to work, I'm thrusting into her mouth, a second away from releasing down her throat, the pressure building until I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop it much longer.
She moans around me, clearly enjoying the way I’m watching her right now.
“Baby…keep sucking me like that and only one of us will get to enjoy this,” I grunt, the words barely making it past my lips as I fight for every ounce of self-control I have left.
I reach down, my hands hooking under her armpits to haul her back up to her feet.
She’s breathless, her lips swollen and glistening in the dim light, that defiant spark still burning in her eyes.
I don’t give her a second to recover before I’m spinning her around, pressing her front against the sturdy wooden partition of the stall.
“If you want your pussy filled, imma need you to ride me,” I rasp against her ear, my hands slide up the soft skin of her thigh, the fabric of her trench coat bunches with me until I find the thin strap of that thong.
I hook her underwear in my fingers and pull them down quickly, the lace snagging slightly on her skin before falling to her ankles. Studying her form for a second, I bite down hard on my lip. The view of her bent over, pussy glistening for me, is too much to resist. I can’t.
“Fuck, baby…you been this wet all day?” I grunt.
“Not until I set foot in this barn,” she pants, her head hanging low, as she grips the door tightly.
I press my hard length up against her wetness, so that she can see exactly what she does to me.
“Wyatt…you better fuck me hard.”
A dark, possessive heat flares in my gut. “Oh, she’s a needy little thing. You’ll get my big cock in just a second. I just can’t resist one taste.”
I slide the trench coat down her arms until it’s completely pooled on the hay. I almost feel guilty as the designer tag sits in the dirt, but the feeling quickly subsides as I take in the view in front of me.
It makes my head light as I step closer and tilt my head, taking in the roundness of her firm ass as she leans over the partition door. I drop to my knees in the straw, using my fingers to spread her wet lips apart.
It’s nothing short of a religious experience seeing her like this. My tongue quickly finds her hot entrance, while my finger finds her clit, circling with a pressure that has her back arching like a bow.
The taste of her is a sensationally sweet, druglike hit that erases every bit of my remaining sanity.
“Holy mother of fuck!” she yelps out, her fingers digging desperately into the wood as she tries to stay upright.
I’m completely aware that anyone could walk in and see us right now. It’s late, and most of the guys have left for the night, but if I’m being honest, the thrill of potentially being caught, of someone finding me with my face between the thighs of this sexy as fuck woman, is only fueling me.
I want her completely undone before I even think about taking what I need. I want her to remember the taste of this barn and the feel of my mouth long after she’s back in some boardroom.
I swirl my tongue deeper, catching her moans and drinking them in. She’s vibrating against me, her legs shake in those lethal heels, and I know she’s right on the edge.
“That’s it, baby, I can feel you twitching. Come on my tongue.”
She lets out one final “ahhh” as I feel her contract.
I pull back and watch as her pussy convulses, never releasing the rhythm my fingers have on her. It’s fucking exquisite.
The straw crunches under my boots as I stand. I don’t give her a second to recover. My hands slide up her thighs to pull her flush against me.
She’s shaking, her breath coming in short, uneven hitches that tell me exactly how undone she is.
“Jesus Christ…that was a big one,” she pants, her forehead tipped back against my shoulder as she tries to find her footing in those heels.
I let out a dark chuckle against her neck before reaching around and brushing my thumb on the moisture I left behind. Her entire body jolts.
“Oh baby,” I rasp, leaning down to bite softly at the sensitive nape of her neck. “You ain’t felt nothing yet. You liked that, didn’t you? You liked the idea of someone catching us? ”
I pull her to sit on my lap on a hay bale, and I reach for my hard cock, I’m burning up from the inside out. Hiking her hips up, I guide her until she’s positioned exactly where I need her.
“Look at me, Emily.”
She looks at me with eyes blown wide, reflecting the dim light of the stable. She looks ruined and completely mine.
“You wanted trouble?” I murmur, my hand sliding around to cup her jaw, forcing her to hold my gaze. “You found it.”
She sinks herself down slowly over my throbbing cock with what can only be described as a shameless little moan.
“You’re so fucking pretty taking my cock, baby.”
Her head tips back in a blur of euphoria, her throat exposed and beautiful. She’s biting her bottom lip, fighting to stop herself from screaming, and I fucking love the way she does it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard for her, this consumed by the need to just claim her.
“Yes,” she hisses, the sound broken as I slam back into her again and again. I keep a pace I know hits her spot every single time, driven by a desperate, mounting friction.
“So fucking tight,” I grit out, impaling her over and over.
I can feel the heat and the slickness of her rushing against me. There’s nothing gentle about us right now. There’s no room for slow or sweet. Only raw need and sheer urgency.
The hay bale crunches under me as I sink into her one last time, my hands tighten around her as I pin her hips down. When I finally break, I groan hard as I feel my cock pump my release deep inside her.
She looks down, with unfocused eyes, where we’re still joined. She’s completely naked in my arms, a vision of city elegance brought to a standstill by the grit and dirt of my ranch. We’re both completely wrecked.
“You were fucking made for this,” I groan against her cheek.
She clings to me, her fingers digging into the muscle of my back as she tries to find her lungs again.
She’s stunned. I knew what she was doing.
She came down to this barn tonight to bring me to my knees, to show me exactly how today had thrilled her.
She succeeded, but I don’t think she expected me to obliterate her in the process.
“That was….” she starts, but the words die in her throat.
“That’ll teach you to be careful what you start,” I say with a wink, easing out of her slowly.
The loss of her heat is an immediate sting, but the smirk on my face is worth it.
I reach down, grab her discarded trench coat from the straw, tossing it at her. “Clean yourself up, woman. You're a professional, for goodness’ sake.”
Her mouth drops open, an exasperated, beautiful laugh breaking out of her as she catches the coat. I fucking love driving this woman wild. I love seeing that polished, composed exterior crack enough to let the fire out.
I offer her a hand to help her up, but as I look at her, draped in a well-cut coat and straw, I realize I’m in more trouble than she is.