12. War
CHAPTER TWELVE
war
My knee bounces as I wait for the barrel racing event to begin. Right now, a dozen adorable kids in mini Western wear ride sheep all around the arena.
“Mutton bustin’,” Kit says to my unasked question.
“Did Laramie do that when she was young?”
“Sure did.” Pride seeps from him. “Until it got too boring for her, then she was off on the back of a horse.”
It’s easy to picture a little Laramie demanding to ride a horse over a lamb. “She’s not scared of much, is she?”
Kit mulls over my words. “She puts on a brave face. Now, don’t get me wrong, my daughter would chase lightning in a tin suit if the mood struck her, but there’s plenty that scares her.”
I wait for him to go on, watching as he presses his lips into a thin line. “Mimi lost her mom when she was sixteen. That’s a hard time for a girl, hell, any kid, to lose a parent. I did my best, but her past relationships haven’t been worth writing home about.” He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “I’m not gonna say anything else because that’s between you and her, but don’t let her daring keep you from seeing the rest of her.”
With a grunt, Kit stands. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You want one?”
At my nod, he leaves me alone, pondering his words. I still have so much to learn about Laramie, and I hope she gives me the time and opportunity to do it. The connection between us, the feelings I have for her are fast and maybe irresponsible, but it’s more than lust. The puzzle that is Laramie Larson somehow grows clearer and murkier.
While I wait, the cute kids finish riding—and falling off—their sheep. The announcer blares over the speakers, sharing the next event’s lineup.
“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready to be on the edge of your seats! Our talented round-two barrel racers and their horses will compete against the clock and each other to secure a spot in tomorrow’s finals! Let’s hear a round of applause for our first competitor, Cheyenne Baker.”
“There won’t be as many riders tonight,” Kit says as he hands me a beer.
“Why’s that?”
“First night, there’s anywhere from thirty to fifty, but only the top fifteen move on. And after tonight, the top eight will compete tomorrow.”
“Damn, that’s a lot of pressure. This is her first race since her injury, right?”
“Yeah.” There’s a thread of worry in his one-word answer, and the way he downs his beer tells me enough.
We fall silent as the first racer comes and goes. Kit takes notes on each rider. A peek shows me it’s everything from their time to the angle of approach and body position.
“She’s next. ”
My body tenses when Laramie and Xpresso burst through the open gate. I don’t know anything about barrel racing outside what I gleaned last night and today, but something seems off. They’re moving quickly but are far from the barrel on the first turn. Laramie shifts on X’s back as dirt flies around her thundering hooves.
Next to me, Kit swears, then mutters, “She’s in her head.” He exhales when she goes around the second barrel, but when they bump the third, he’s on his feet. “Shit.”
The barrel tips and lands with an inaudible thud, but from the crowd’s silence, you’d think it was a sonic boom.
“What happened?” I ask.
Kit’s face twists into a grimace. “She just knocked herself out of the running for the purse.”
When Kit and I get to the cool-down area, Laramie is already off Xpresso, her brown hair mixing with the horse’s mane as she buries her face into X’s neck. She stiffens when Kit puts a hand on hers. The one cradling her shoulder.
“Need help?” he asks.
She shrugs but doesn’t meet either of our eyes. We silently follow her to X’s stall, Laramie holding her shoulder the entire time.
I linger outside the stall door when we arrive, giving her some time with X and her dad. Kit hugs her, holding her like she’s something fragile. Like she’s his world.
My fingers curl against my thigh as I think of Tuesday and my dad. Have I ever once seen him comfort her? Hug her? Shit, I honestly can’t think of a single time aside from a perfunctory arm around the shoulder for a photo op. What might our lives have been like if we’d been so lucky to be raised by a man like Kit Larson?
Kit plucks the hat off her head, hangs it on a nearby hook, and then kisses her hair. “I’m heading home tomorrow.” His eyes lock on mine. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to make Pueblo.”
Pueblo?
“S’okay,” she mumbles. “Colorado is outside the drive zone.” The smile tugging at her lips loosens the knot in the pit of my stomach. Seeing her bump her dad’s hip with her own does even more, and the breath that weighed in my lungs finally escapes.
He whispers something in Laramie’s ear then meets my gaze. A wordless conversation passes between us, the older man telling me to take care of his daughter. I nod, the movement solid and sure, and a plan forms in my mind.
Kit waves his goodbyes, and then it’s just Laramie and me. And Xpresso, of course. “Tell me what to do.” I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the stall door.
The slight smile from earlier grows. “Well, you can start by actually coming into the stall.”
“Ah, yes. I see.” In two quick strides, I’m right next to her, gripping her hips, anchoring her to me.
There’s the barest hint of a sniffle when she says, “I think a hug first, then we can move on to getting X brushed, watered, and fed.”
I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her hair. She smells faintly of sweat, along with the usual sunshine, hay, and wildflowers: things I never knew I’d love mixed into a perfect bouquet that is uniquely her.
With a sigh, she breaks the hug. Her eyes dart between a shovel and a large bucket, but a glance at my tennis shoes has her laughing. Jerking her thumb at a bucket on the wall, she gives me instructions. “Fill that bucket with water; there’s a spigot in the center of the walkway.” She removes all the gear X wears, not even looking at me as she talks. “Xpresso isn’t a fan of the Lubbock water, so I sweeten it a little to encourage her to drink. When you get back with the water, you can add that half bottle of apple juice in the corner to it.”
Stepping up behind her, I brush her hair to the side and give her nape a kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shivers. “Such a good boy.” My lips trace down the length of her neck until X snorts.
“I hear you, I hear you,” I say to the horse, raising my hands. I snag the bucket and go to find the water. It’s easy enough. There’s a line of people waiting with buckets that look like mine. Everyone is friendly, chatting while they wait, and I soak in the atmosphere and opportunity to people-watch.
Finally, it’s my turn, and I fill the bucket as instructed. I’m almost to the stall when a deep voice catches my attention. “Well, well, well, Lucky. Today just wasn’t your day, was it?” There’s an unmistakable sneer in his words.
“Why are you here, Cyrus?”
Quickening my steps, all my goodwill toward the rodeo community evaporates when the man—Cyrus—says, “Came to offer you another chance to ride something and actually get a prize.”
I step into the stall as he grabs his cock through his jeans. What the hell?
My mouth opens, ready to tell this asshole to fuck off, but Laramie beats me to it.
“I told you the last time you made that disgusting offer, I don’t ride Mini Shetlands. And even if I did, you couldn’t pay me to touch you. Hell, the head of the NFR could walk up right now and promise me the title just to look at your nasty cock, and it’d be the easiest no ever. ”
My hands ball into fists when the cowboy rears back as if he’s going to come after her, but then he spots my furious glare and shrugs. “Whatever. All you barrel bunnies are the same. Enjoy faking it for the prick, Lucky.”
Laramie huffs out a brittle laugh. “Trust me, there’s no faking where he’s involved.” Then her brown eyes harden. “Now, get out of my stall.”
Every muscle in my body is taut, ready to forcibly remove this creep if he doesn’t leave on his own, but he slinks away, muttering a few more insults over his shoulder.
“Who was that?” I ask, setting the bucket down and mixing in the apple juice.
“That was Cyrus McClain. The asshole X bit and part of the reason I ended up in PT.” At my raised eyebrows, she waves. “Ninety percent my fault, but I’m putting the other ten on him. He baited me, and like a dummy, I fell for it, needing to prove myself.”
“Does he always talk to you like that?” I can’t stop the frown that pulls at my mouth.
“Yeah, but I can handle it.”
Echoes of Tuesday and the creep at work who preyed on her and then tried to blackmail her flicker through my mind. “I’m sure you can, but what about someone who can’t?”
She stops brushing X. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, not everyone is as brave as you. Sometimes men like that… they take advantage of others, and the ones they hurt find themselves with no one on their side.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Is there a governing board or someone you can report him to? That way, if anything else ever happens, there’ll be a record of his behavior on file.”
Laramie worries her lip between her teeth, deep in thought. “I never thought of that, to be honest. I always told him off, and he’d leave me alone for half a dozen events.” She absently rubs her shoulder. “Shit, what if something happened because I didn’t report him?”
“Hey.” I move her hand away and lightly massage the area the way Dr. Panter did on my injury. “You aren’t responsible for his actions.” I swallow, the realization that what I said also applies to my father, Tuesday, and me. “And I’m not trying to mansplain or pressure you into doing anything.”
Her chuckle is a balm. “Let me finish up with X, and then I’ll go see the officials.”
Before moving away from her, I ask, “Besides what just happened, how are you? I know your ride didn’t go the way you planned.”
“I’m okay.” When I make a humming sound, she pauses and tilts her head as if reconsidering what she said. Slowly, she says, “I’m disappointed and embarrassed. I’m a better rider than what I showed today.” Turning her beautiful face to mine, she whispers, “Knowing you were here, watching me, I got a little in my head.”
Why would my being here make her nervous? Shit. Did I fuck up things for her?
“Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
She stops me with her lips. I savor the pillowy softness of them, her lashes fluttering as she closes her eyes, her arms gliding around my neck. It doesn’t matter that our mouths are locked together; I want her closer. Need her closer.
Hands roam, each of us clinging to the other, a thread of desperation mixing into the heat between us. Mine from the fear I cost her her comeback. Hers, from what I assume is the need to put her ride behind her.
It isn’t until we hear an impatient stamp that we break apart. Laramie’s lips are pink and swollen, and her cheeks are flushed. God, what I’d give to sink into her right now.
“Sorry, X. I’m not being a very good friend to you right now, am I?” She soothes the horse, petting up and down her muzzle, slipping her a peppermint.
We manage to keep our hands off each other until Xpresso is settled. Our eyes meet, the tension between us growing thicker.
“Come to my trailer?—”
“Come to my motel?—”
We end up in my motel. Laramie ran by her trailer to clean up and pack a few items. While she was showering, I may have snooped, uncovering a velvet bag in one of the built-in drawers.
Do I regret rummaging through the stash of toys? Absolutely not. Did I pilfer a couple of items hoping to use them tonight? Hell yes.
Laramie drops into my lap, her lips brushing mine. “Told you those cheese sticks were Twinkie-sized.”
The bed squeaks beneath us. “Always opening my eyes to the finer things in life, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying to make up for your sadly deprived childhood.”
She has no idea how accurate her words are. She’s teasing me about food, but damn if that’s not hitting the nail on the head.
Laramie reads the shift in my mood and cups my face. “Where’d you go?”
“Doesn’t matter because I’m back now and exactly where I want to be.”
Her eyes scan my face. “War, we can spend the night talking. You know that, right? I can be that person for you.” She sucks in a deep breath then exhales. “The one you come to when you’re hurting. When you need someone to take care of you.”
My throat tightens, and in a flash, I flip us so Laramie lies on the bed beneath me. “What I need from you right now is this.” I kiss her, deep and so hungry for more.
With gentle hands, I slip off her t-shirt. She’s not wearing a bra, and I soak in the sight of her gorgeous tits. She fists my shirt, tugging on the hem.
Obliging her, I reach back and pull it over my head. The way her pupils dilate gives my ego a heady stroke.
“Lift those hips for me, sweetheart.” I shimmy her leggings off, again treated to her lack of underwear. “Shit. No bra, no panties. It’s like you’re begging to get fucked.”
She smirks. “Maybe I am, Pretty Boy. Are you going to make me wait?”
Shucking my jeans and boxer briefs, I stroke my cock, enraptured by the sight of Laramie naked and wanting. I toss a condom on the bed then drape myself over her; the press of warm skin on skin has my eyes rolling back in my head. Laramie rises as much as she can, capturing me in a kiss, but I gently guide her shoulders into the mattress.
“I see you, Trouble. You want to buck me off and take the reins. The last time we did this, you were in charge, and I was your good boy. But that didn’t work out for me the morning after.”
She parts her mouth, but I settle my thumb on her lower lip, silencing whatever she’s going to say.
“This time, I’m in charge.”
Laramie nods, then kisses the pad of my thumb before biting. Not hard, but the nip and the fire in her brown eyes say she’s willing to let me be in charge. For now.
I meet her gaze. “Hard limits? ”
“No degradation.”
“Anywhere I can’t touch you?”
She writhes and lets out a whimper. “No.”
“If you want me to stop for any reason?—”
“I’ll tell you. I promise.”
With a smirk, I drag her arms above her head, crossing them at the wrist. “Keep these here. Understand?”
Her nose crinkles when she huffs.
“Laramie, answer me.” I roll my hips, pressing my weight against the cradle of her pelvis. The gasp of air she sucks in tells me I’m hitting all the right spots.
“That feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart? I want to give you so much more, but I can’t. Not until you promise you can follow my directions.”
“Yes.”
“So close. Yes what?”
She smiles, though it’s more of a threat. “Yes, sir, I’ll keep my arms above my head.” Then, she adds, “For now.”
I bark out a laugh and plunder her lips with mine. “I’ll take it.”
My fingers walk her body. Anywhere I can touch, I do. Her hair, her ribs, her hips, her thighs. Meanwhile, my lips sweep along her jaw, then to the delicate pulse point in her neck. I can all but taste her heart picking up speed. My mouth travels lower, across her collarbone, before I grin into her sternum, my teeth snapping at the thin skin in the valley between her breasts. When her hands tangle in my hair, trying to guide my path, I snake a hand between our bodies and give her a quick spank right over her clit.
The resounding moan is music to my ears. “Keep those hands where I put them.”
She smiles at me, a cheeky little thing. “I need another reminder, sir. ”
Topping from the bottom. Muffling my amusement, I ignore her request. “You’ll get what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less.” I shift my weight so she’s more securely pinned beneath me. “It may be so many orgasms you beg for me to stop—your limbs shaking, your body exhausted in pleasure.” She squirms, her hips and chest pressing upward, only to meet the wall of my body. With a dark chuckle, I continue. “Or it may be hours of teasing. Until you’re so desperate, a warm breath on your pussy is enough to send you careening over the edge.”
I suck on her nipple, worrying the nub until it pebbles against my tongue. “Tell me why you left.”
She freezes beneath me.
I graze my teeth over her nipple, biting down when she stays silent. “Laramie, why did you leave?”
“I, um, I don’t know.”
Tsking, I rise from the bed. The weight of Laramie’s eyes on me as I stride across the room.
“War?”
Not answering, I pull out the vibrating butt plug and lube.
Her eyebrows shoot up when she sees what I have. “Where did you… how did… what?”
“I found your secret stash while you were showering. Thought you might need some extra persuasion to answer questions.”
“War, I’m sorry. I made a mis?—“
“Shhh, sweetheart. I’m not mad. I just want answers. Honest ones. And this seems like the best way to get them while also wringing pleasure from you. Now, turn around.”
I leave no room for argument, though I’d never make her do something she didn’t want to. If she hesitates at all, this ends. But Laramie does as I command, twisting to her hands and knees, her ass and pink pussy on display for me .
“You’re so gorgeous.” I slide my cock between her lower lips, letting the head bump against her clit. While I tease her, I place a generous drop of lube in between her cheeks.
Her cute little asshole clenches, and she pushes into my touch. I start with one finger, teasing around her pucker. When she’s taking it well, I add a second.
“You’re doing so good. Such a good girl.” I kiss up the line of her spine. Her entire body shudders and breaks out in goosebumps. I love that she’s so responsive. I whisper more praises against her skin. Telling her how beautiful she is, how hard she makes me.
Then I slip my fingers out of her, relishing the gasp when I push the lubed plug in. I pull it out, add more lube, then work it in again.
“How’s that feel?”
“So good,” she moans.
I repeat that pattern until she’s clawing at the sheets; only then do I push the plug in and leave it. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” I climb off the bed and wash my hands before picking up the remote for the toy.
“Why did you leave that night, Laramie?”
A beat of silence.
Settling my forearm on her lower back so she can’t move, I click the lowest setting and watch her try to buck.
“Answer me.”
“I w-was scared.”
I reward her by pushing a finger into her pussy. “Keep going.”
“You were, are, a distraction. God, War. More. Please.”
A second finger joins the first, and I up the vibration pattern on the plug. “Did you plan to leave from the start?”
She drops her face into the mattress, muffling her answer. “Yes. ”
There’s a heavy thread of sadness in that one word.
I shift so I can press my chest to her bare skin. “Thank you for being honest.”
“But I went back.”
“What?” My fingers still inside her.
She rocks against my hand, searching for friction and relief. “I went back. That morning. But you were already gone.”
Is it possible for your heart to lurch? Because if so, mine just did. She came back to The Rusty Spur for me. Two fingers become three, and I kick the vibrations up as high as they go. “I believe you. Now be a good girl and come for me.” My thumb works her clit until she’s clenching my fingers.
Her release drenches my hand and sends another burst of pride through me. I did that. I made this strong, confident woman fall apart. “That’s one. Next question. How did you know I sold my apartment?”
She groans. “I searched for you. Even asked Dr. Panter for your info. She wouldn’t give it to me, but I figured out what building you lived in, and your doorman told me you were gone.”
I curl my fingers, putting pressure on that spongy spot inside her as she answers. Between that, the vibrations, and the patterns I trace around her sensitive bud, she comes again.
“That’s two. Last question.” I pull my fingers from where they’re buried and help her turn over. Making sure she’s watching, I lick every bit of her honey off my hand; then I roll the condom down my length. Drawing a steadying breath, I ask the question I most need answered. “Do you want me?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t mean my cock, Laramie. I mean me. All of me. For more than tonight.”
Maybe it’s flying too close to the sun, and this woman will always burn me, but I need her to say it .
I push my cock against her, hissing at the heat of her even through the thin latex. But I won’t give her an inch, not yet. “Answer me. Tell me this is more than tonight.”
Her eyes are glassy when she cradles my cheek. “I want you. I want to date you, to know you, and to build something real with you.”
Disbelief and a giddy sort of joy bubble through me, and like a thread pulled too tight, I snap, sinking my cock deep into her glorious warmth. “Listen to me.” I grit my teeth, the addition of the plug making her so damn tight. Not to mention the rumbly vibrations pulsing through that thin barrier inside her. “I’m head over heels for you. Have been since our first PT session, and it only grew with each conversation we had, each kiss. And that night we spent together…” I groan and kiss her hard before whispering against her lips. “But I’m about to fuck you like I hate you.”
She mewls, and her pussy flutters around my cock. “Yes, god, yes.”
I get to conquer her this time, but only because she lets me. I pull out, then drive in, setting a punishing pace. “Fuck, you’re so wet and tight. So perfect.”
Laramie claws at my back, her legs locking around my hips, holding me as close as possible. There’s no finesse to my movements; it’s simply desperate need.
“Yes, be a good girl and take it all. What I wouldn’t give to be bare inside you.”
“Next. Time.” She pants between each word, lost in the rhythm between us.
“You’re going to let me take this pussy raw? Let me fill you up?”
“I’m going to demand it.” She nips my lip.
In between thrusts, I mutter against her mouth. Thrust. “So.” Thrust. “ Damn.” Thrust. “Bratty. ”
She clenches around me, squeezing my cock, guiding me to my own blackout-worthy, blissful end.
“Need you to come. Right the fuck now.”
“Yes, sir.”
It’s that snarky-sweet sir that pushes me over the edge. I grunt out my release, a tingle spreading from the base of my spine down to my balls. Laramie tumbles with me, crying out my name.
I roll us to our side, my cock still inside her. She’s beautifully flushed, the light gleam of sweat on her skin.
Another mini orgasm rolls through her, and she whimpers. “War, the plug.”
“Shit, sorry.” I gently slide my cock out of her warmth and tie off the condom before scrambling for the remote and turning it off. Her sigh of relief as I ease the plug out of her has me fighting off a chuckle. Grabbing the used toy and condom, I toss one into the sink and the other into the trash, then get the water running.
Pink stains Laramie’s cheeks as I bundle her into my arms and carry her to the bathroom. I settle her pliant form on the toilet and press a kiss to her forehead. “Do what you need, sweetheart, while the water warms up.”
For probably the first time in her life, she doesn’t argue. She’s too blissed out to be bothered by my proximity, but I give her a semblance of privacy by turning my back and fiddling with the shower.
Once it’s the perfect temperature, I guide her into the steady stream. She’s unsteady on her feet and clings to me, which is no hardship on my part. I love that she’s a quivering mess in my arms. I’m quick and efficient, washing all her overly sensitive parts. Leaving her carefully propped against the wall, I step out, tie a towel around my waist, then reach into the shower with another and wrap her up.
Like the precious cargo she is, I carry her to the bed. That she’s letting me take care of her feeds something deep inside me, and I fall even harder for Laramie Larson.
After I get her tucked in, I click off the lights and climb in next to her. Her hand settles over my heart, and she taps my wrist. “What happened to your watch?”
“I left it on a table in a dive bar about thirty minutes before I showed up at the rodeo last night.” I swallow. “I met my Dad for a drink. Some small part of me was hoping he would apologize. Realize that he’s essentially pushed both his children out of his life. But it was more of the same, and that goddamn watch…”
“It’s a symbol of the world you left behind,” Laramie whispers.
“And a gift from him. A physical cuff shackling me to him, and I wanted it gone.”
She picks up my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. “Do you feel lighter?”
I shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it, but I do.”
“Then you made the right choice.”
A quiet yawn slips from her lips, and her body softens against mine. Another minute passes before her breathing slows. I muffle a groan when she snuggles her tight ass closer.
“You asleep, Trouble?” She mumbles something and buries her cheek into the cheap cotton pillowcase but otherwise doesn’t stir.
Lowering my voice so it’s barely audible over the creaky ice machine outside the room, I whisper my secrets while playing with the strands of Laramie’s hair. “You’re amazing. You know that? A creature of instinct and wild and wind. Some sort of earth-born goddess who crashed into my life just as I shattered the only world I’ve known. Finding you here is a sign from the universe. Proof I did the right thing, for once. I don’t deserve you, but if my time with Tuesday has taught me nothing else, it’s that life and family are what you make it. And I want the chance for you to be both. My life and my family.”
Closing my eyes, I drift off to restful sleep, confident in the knowledge I’ll wake with Laramie in my arms in the morning.