Chapter 8
“Is there a little extra hitch in your git-along today?” fellow park ranger Cecily Thompson said. The tall blonde raised her eyebrows.
Milly smiled but didn’t take the bait. If Cecily got a whiff of Milly’s date with the bounty hunter, word would spread throughout the station. There had already been enough talk about her adventure with the bear and the time spent with the handsome hunters. Cecily had been making sly comments ever since. She was in her mid-thirties and newly divorced from her second husband. She was constantly on the hunt for husband number three and had looked at Milly like she was somehow defective because she hadn’t been looking for hubby number one.
Not that she was now.
“There’s no extra hitch ,” Milly murmured. “It’s just a really nice day, don’t you think?” she said, gazing up at the clear blue sky.
“It’s hotter than shit, and we’re parked here on the asphalt ticketing speeders. But I’m standing here wilting, and you’re wearing a really smug smile. It’s that bounty hunter, isn’t it?”
Milly was admitting nothing, but she must have taken too much time to come up with a response to divert the other woman’s attention.
“I knew it!” she said with a smirk. “I saw you two at Wylie’s Canteen. His eyes were eating you up.”
Milly rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t even make any anatomical sense, Cess.” She finished writing the speeding ticket and moved to the driver’s window. “Keep your speed under forty-five and enjoy the rest of your visit, ma’am,” she said to the woman with four kids, who were all yelling from their seats.
“Mama’s goin’ to jail,” a little girl said cheerfully.
“No, she’s not,” her brother said. “That’s not a real cop. Girls can’t be cops.”
Milly gave the little boy a sharp glance, which caused him to snap his mouth shut.
“Good luck to you,” she said to the mother, who huffed a breath and rolled up her window.
Cecily chuckled. “Guess I’ll move on. I saw you pulled over and wondered why it was taking you so long.”
“I think she was speeding so she could get the hell out of the park and get those kids home. It was hard to talk over their chatter.”
Cecily shuddered. “Better you than me. So, tell the truth. Are you seeing him again? The bounty hunter?”
Milly glanced at her watch, then waggled her eyebrows. “In about two hours.”
The other woman grinned. “Good for you, you lucky thing. Ask him if he knows any single, older hunters.”
Milly laughed and headed back to her Tahoe. If she was truly lucky, she’d have an hour and a half to run the vacuum cleaner, spray some Febreze, and then quickly shower and dress before he arrived. Maybe she’d even wear some makeup tonight. However, she’d use a light application because he’d only seen her bare-faced before, and she didn’t want to scare him off by making him think she’d gone to a bunch of extra effort on his behalf. The man was too skittish by far.
Dinner and a movie was all she’d promised, although she wondered if he’d gotten the hint she might be open to more. Flirting was not in her arsenal of feminine tricks—like she really had any. Dang, maybe she should have asked Cecily for some pointers…
At seven sharp, Cyrus cleared his throat, combed his hair one last time with his fingers, and reached for the doorbell.
Before he could press the button, the door swung open, and there she stood. Although, there was something different about her. A lot of somethings, actually.
Her hair was down around her shoulders—a pretty silver-brown fall of wavy curls. Her skin was dewy and looked as though she’d spent a little extra time in the sun because her forehead was lightly tanned and her cheeks were pink. That was lipstick on her mouth, and it looked wet and a deeper pink than her natural color, and now he was thinking about how that color would look smeared on a part of his anatomy that was quickly filling. Plus, her eyes sparkled, not the irises, but her lids with a dusting of a dark silver shadow that made her look more mysterious…like she was hiding secrets.
He wasn’t sure he liked the changes, but he figured it would be rude to tell her to wash it off now. He’d get used to it. “You look…pretty,” he said, his voice thickening.
“Well, thank you. You look handsome yourself,” she said, her mouth quirking at one corner in a familiar smile that invited him to return it.
He glanced down at the sage-green button-up shirt he’d worn with many-times-washed blue jeans. “I forgot I had one of these…” Then he grimaced because he’d said it out loud and knew it sounded stupid.
She chuckled. “I forgot I had this old thing,” she said, smoothing a hand over the soft pale blue sweater that hugged her meager curves. “I have an entire wardrobe of sweatpants and tees.”
The sweater was a thin knit and topped a pair of cutoff blue jeans shorts that left her lean, muscled legs bare. The sweater was so thin the tips of her breasts were discernible, poking against the fabric.
Not that she’d dressed purposely for his enjoyment, but he was appreciative. He quickly held up the grocery bag he’d brought with him to keep from saying something else dumb.
“The steaks?” she said, reaching for the bag.
“And a bottle of wine. Hope it’s okay. Had to ask someone in the store. I don’t drink the stuff.”
“Thank you,” she said, a grin stretching.
“If you point me to the grill…”
She took the grocery bag into the kitchen, and he trailed behind her. Then she unbagged the wine and the steaks. After removing the cellophane wrapper from the ribeyes, she took a dish on the counter filled with what smelled like garlic and herbs, dropped the steaks into the mixture, and sealed it with a lid before giving it a good shake and setting everything in the refrigerator.
He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what they were going to do while she marinated the steaks. He’d thought salt and pepper and a little garlic powder would be applied at the grill, and he’d be in business, but now…?
Milly stepped in front of him, close enough that if he drew a deep breath his chest would touch her. She tilted back her head and reached up to place her palms on his cheeks. “Why don’t we get this out of the way,” she said softly, then rose on her tiptoes, her silver-flecked eyelids drifting closed.
He didn’t need a diagram or instructions. He gripped the notches of her hips and bent his head, his lips landing on hers.
The lipstick was a little oily but perfect for gliding his mouth against hers. Her lips parted, and he eagerly thrust inside to taste her.
Her mouth tasted of mint and chocolate, and he groaned, fighting the urge to let go of her hips and roam his hand over her curves, but he didn’t want to spook her, and this was good. If all she wanted was a kiss, he was her guy.
But apparently, she wanted more because her hands dropped from his face to his hands still clutching her hips, and she slid them upward, over her sides, then between them to cup her breasts.
He was now a hundred percent certain she wasn’t wearing a bra because he felt the tips of her breasts through her thin sweater, and they were fully erect. He gently pinched them, hardly believing he was touching them, and then it just wasn’t enough. He slipped his hands under her sweater and cupped them with his bare hands, groaning because they barely filled the centers of his palms, and they were perfect.
He broke the kiss to draw a deep breath and frowned down at her. “I want to feel you,” he said. “All of you.”
Her smile was a little shy, but she stepped back, grasped his hand, and then turned to pull him behind her.
Milly led him from the kitchen back into the living room and then down a hallway. At the last door, she glanced over her shoulder, then pushed open the door. He’d imagined her bedroom when he’d been alone at night, and he figured he might actually be a little clairvoyant because the room was just as he’d imagined it—a pale blue, floral coverlet, stacks of blue and cream pillows. He didn’t notice much more about the room, because… bed .
And she was moving toward it. When she reached the side, she let go of his hand and pulled her sweater over her head, then pushed down her shorts. She was nude beneath both, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from her slim, lithe figure or her breasts with their pretty, pale pink areolas.
His mouth watered.
“Your turn,” she said softly.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He toed off his boots, unbuttoned only the top buttons of his shirt, and drew it over his head. Then he unbuckled, unbuttoned, and shoved down his jeans and boxers. When he straightened, he heard a soft gasp, and somehow, magically, the tension in his body was suspended as though frozen.
Her shock at the sight of him was both…flattering and concerning. He bent quickly to retrieve a condom from his wallet in his back pocket, then tore it open and rolled the condom down his shaft. Her gaze stayed glued to every motion of his hands as he cloaked himself.
He reached out and tipped up her chin. “You sure about this?”
Her eyes were wider, but she nodded.
Because she didn’t say anything and he worried that she was a bit overwhelmed, he decided to remind her where they’d been. He cupped her jaw and bent to kiss her more tenderly this time. When he lifted his head, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her down to sit at the edge of her mattress. Her head tilted upward, and he thought he saw trust, and yet a little trepidation flitted across her face.
So, he determined he’d take this slow and knelt at her feet. He raised his hands and cupped her knees, then pressed apart her legs. His gaze fell to her mound with its light tuft of hair and her pussy, which glistened with arousal. As much as he wanted to start his exploration there, first things first.
He leaned toward her chest and lapped at a nipple. The tip was tight, and he toggled it with his tongue for only a moment because he couldn’t resist the urge to suck her entire breast into his mouth.
Her breath hissed between her teeth, and her head fell back. One hand flattened on the mattress, while the other clutched his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin while he sucked and nibbled until she began to tremble.
He moved across her chest and drew the other nipple between his teeth, gently biting the tip and fluttering his tongue against it. Her hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, and she pulled.
When he released her breast, he glanced up. Her eyes were glazed. “More,” she whispered.
He placed his hand in the center of her chest and pushed until her torso fell back against the mattress. Then he lifted her thighs, one at a time, and placed them on his shoulders. When he bent toward her pussy, her hand slid downward to cover herself. So, she was shy. His chest tightened at the thought that she might not have a lot of experience with a man going down on her. That was more than fine by him, but it also increased his sense of responsibility for making sure this experience went well.
His tongue trailed along her fingers, pushing between them until she made a space. Then he lapped, giving as much attention to her digits as he did to the soft, moist flesh beneath until she slowly pulled her hand away to rest on her belly while he continued to lap at her folds, first, flattening against her outer lips, then using the point to trace her thin inner lips, fluttering against the furled edges, then thrusting in the center, only to realize there was something at the opening of her vagina he’d never encountered before.
He pulled back and spread her lips.
Again, her hand slipped downward, shielding herself from view.
“Milly?” he said softly and glanced up at her face. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been with a lot of women, but…I’ve never seen a… a hymen …still intact.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Can you just not look at it and maybe ignore that it’s there?”
“I don’t think I should, baby girl. Why…?”
“Why what? Why am I still a virgin?” she shrugged. “I was a late bloomer…?”
He frowned.
“I didn’t like it when boys in school just…expected sex. Like it was a thing a girl had to give up to get a boyfriend. I didn’t want to give up a damn thing. I wanted to be in charge.”
He nodded. “I get that. But…why me? Why tonight?”
Her gaze went to the ceiling, and he could see a sheen of tears in her eyes, and he didn’t like that one bit.
“Can you just…take care of it? Then we can get on to the fun part?”
He sighed and bent to press a kiss atop her mound. “I’m not just going to ‘take care of it.’ This should be…special.”
“Does that mean you aren’t going to have sex with me?”
He realized his answer was important. That she might take it as rejection, as though she was undesirable. Which, fucking hell, was so far from the truth.
He stood and bent to grip her by the waist, then slid her fully onto the mattress and climbed over her, resting his body fully atop hers. He tilted his torso to the side, reached for her hand, and placed it on his cock. “I could do some damage. I’m not sure how thick that membrane is leading into your vagina.”
Her eyes rolled. “Every woman who has ever had sex has her first dick. Do you want to be my first dick, Cyrus? Or do I have to take care of it myself or find another dude?”
His eyebrows lowered. Just the thought of another man, someone who wouldn’t take care of her the way she deserved, had his body tightening in rejection. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice roughening.
“Just do it,” she said. “Don’t make such a big fucking deal out of it. Be my first.”
Cyrus read the determination in her eyes. “It might be easier if you come down on me.”
She shook her head. “I like this view…from here. Just come inside me, Cyrus Walsh.” She slid her hand between their bodies and traced her folds with her fingertips. “I’m still wet. I want this.”
Cyrus licked his forefinger and slid it over her clit and through her inner folds, entering just the top of a finger through the small opening. There was indeed moisture, and her inner muscles contracted so that her sex clutched at his finger, inviting him.
“I don’t want your finger,” she whispered, holding his gaze.
He kissed her and then rose on his hands. Glancing down between their bodies, he used his knees to separate her legs. “Bend your knees, Milly. Tilt your hips toward me.” When she was in place, he lowered his hips, using his cock to press against her sex. “Open yourself, let me in.”
Her breaths shortened, and he noted how her belly and thighs trembled. When she spread her folds, he pushed his tip against her opening, against that fragile membrane. His gaze shot to hers.
“Do it,” she said. “Quickly.”
He thrust, closing his eyes as he felt it give, and then he was inside. Just the head of his cock, but fuck, he’d never felt anything so good, so hot and wet and tight. His balls drew up, and he had to pause, grimacing, to will his dick not to explode. When he opened his eyes, he found her head tilted downward, looking at his cock. “I want it all,” she whispered.
He pulled out and noted the slick moisture of her arousal and virgin blood on his cockhead. “You sure you can take more? There are other things we can do until you heal.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I did not wait until I was twenty-five to chicken out now.”
“Just making sure,” he said. “You can stop me if it gets to be too much.”
She gave a soft, gusting snort. “You’re already too much, Cyrus. Just get on with it. Show me what I’ve been missing.”