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One night rodeo, p.13
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       One Night Rodeo, p.13

         Part #4 of Blacktop Cowboys series by Lorelei James

  Her body slid against his, belly to belly, her nipples brushing the hair on his chest, her mane teasing his ribs with every sinuous upward glide. His cock never left her snug channel. Her eyes were closed, her teeth digging into her lower lip.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Keeping his hands on her hips, he urged her to grind down harder, as she created friction against her clit to send her into orbit. “That’s it. Show me. Take me with you.”

  Celia looked at him. “So this is okay for you?”

  Kyle touched her face. “Better than okay. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

  She sucked at his mouth in a bruising kiss as she ramped up the pace.

  Christ, the sexy way she undulated her hips might be the death of him. His balls were ready to burst. His skin was so damn tight he thought he’d explode if she ran her hands down his forearms one more time.

  Breaking the kiss on a gasp, she adjusted her knees and started to ride him faster.

  He pumped his pelvis up to meet her downward motion, sending his cock in deeper. But he sensed her frustration because she was close. He placed her hand over those pale gold curls. “Touch yourself,” he softly commanded.

  And she obeyed without question, stroking her clit, which almost made him come right then.

  He thrust up faster, greedily watching her for that moment when she went sailing headlong into bliss.

  “Yes.” Celia moaned and arched her back, sending the ends of her hair swishing over his thighs and knees as she rode out the orgasm.

  Kyle was beyond desperate to come—his ass cheeks hurt from clenching, trying to stave off his orgasm—but he couldn’t tear his hungry gaze away from her. His beautiful, passionate wife.

  All at once she seemed to remember where she was. She blinked those pewter eyes at him and a sinful smile curled her lips. “Your turn.” With her hands flat on his chest, her hair curtained him as she rode him, bouncing faster but not harder.

  “That’s perfect. Don’t stop.” Every hair on his body stood on end as he started to come. Her cunt clamped down, pulling every pulse of semen that shot out of his cock. Every throb made his body shudder. His eyes rolled back in his head and his brain short-circuited.

  Celia kissed his neck. Nuzzled his jaw, murmuring unintelligible words as she roused him from the aftermath of his climax.

  Gathering that mass of hair in his hands, he brought their mouths together.

  She rested her forehead on his. “I may rethink the annulment. That was fantastic.”

  Kyle laughed. “Yes, sexy wife, it was. I take it your ribs feel okay?”

  “Yes.” Celia canted her pelvis. “I can’t wait to do that again. Although maybe we could skip missionary for another day.” She pushed upright. “Let’s take a break and eat something. Now that we actually have food to choose from.”

  “Sounds good.” He wrapped one section of her hair around his hand and forearm, stopping her retreat. “But I have one request.”

  Celia frowned. “I hope it’s something I know how to make.”

  “It has nothin’ to do with food. It involves what you’re wearing when you’re cookin’.”

  “I’m guessing…just my skin?”

  “Nope. I want you to wear my shirt. See, I had this fantasy that when we woke up the morning after our wedding? That I’d see you walking around in nothin’ but my shirt.” After he admitted that he hoped she wouldn’t laugh at him and the odd sentimentality.

  She pecked him on the mouth and disconnected their bodies. “I am so loving this romantic side of you, Kyle Gilchrist. I’ve known you for so long…but it’s like I’m finally seeing the real you.”


  “Meaning…I always thought your overabundance of charm was a deadly weapon, but man, it’s nothing compared to this sweet and sexy side of you.” She touched his face almost reverently. “You are something else. Right now I feel very, very lucky.”

  He had a chest-thumping moment, hearing her sweet words. Probably made him a Neanderthal, but seeing his seed running down the inside of her thigh gave him another surge of satisfaction.

  The front fabric of his flannel shirt hit her at midthigh and the back barely covered her perfect rear, which was perfectly fine with him.

  He whistled. “Now that’s the way that shirt is supposed to look. Oh, and leave your hair unbound too.”

  Celia lifted her eyebrows. “Fair is fair.”

  “I ain’t wearing your bra, Cele.”

  She whipped it at him. “You’d probably fill it out better than I do and wouldn’t that be mortifying? Anyway, if I’m minus an article of clothing, you should be too. So, bull rider…” Her admiring gaze flicked over his chest. “No shirt. You just get to wear all them muscles.”

  “Wanna make bets on whether we finish the meal before we’re goin’ at it again?”

  “Nope. Sucker bet. Because neither of us would mind losing.”

  Chapter Seven

  Another first: cooking without wearing pants.

  And Kyle was in a great mood about Celia’s state of undress. But he should be in a great mood because they’d rocked the new mattress. Boy howdy, had they ever rocked the mattress.

  Being with him…Wow. Her husband was amazing in bed.

  He’d been so exuberant in his praise that she knew she would do anything to become the lover he saw when he looked at her so hotly, the uninhibited lover she’d always wanted to be.

  One thing they hadn’t discussed was her previous sexual experiences, which weren’t extensive. She hadn’t lost her virginity until age twenty-one, and the guy hadn’t known she was a virgin, so she’d come away from that experience feeling jaded. During her first year on the circuit she’d witnessed some wild and kinky scenes, but she hadn’t actively participated. She’d let Breck sweet-talk her into his bed. She figured he had enough sexpertise to make up for the lack of hers. Which had proven true.

  The fuck-and-run encounters with Breck suited her fine. Trying to find her footing on the circuit discouraged a serious relationship. She’d watched many relationships fail in the rodeo world, and oftentimes that was followed by career failure.

  Like Kyle, she’d verified her suspicions about Breck’s bisexuality by accident. Walked in on Breck bending his new traveling partner over the vanity and fucking him.

  They’d had a rational discussion, but the bottom line hadn’t changed—she liked being with Breck on her terms. She knew he’d liked spending time with her, occasionally between the sheets or more often at a honky-tonk. And she’d demanded that he show her a clean bill of health before she slept with him again.

  Then came Michael. Michael inserted himself into Breck’s life, which oddly enough, made Breck cling to Celia even tighter. At least in public. He started talking about making commitments, yet she knew in private he preferred Michael’s bed to hers. Breck promised her a tropical Christmas vacation, but Michael demanded an invite, so Celia had spent two weeks sunning herself, drinking cocktails, indulging in every spa treatment the resort offered on Breck’s dime, while Breck and Michael fucked like animals and fought like cats in the adjoining room.

  That’d been the beginning of the end.

  Around that time, Kyle had noticed her distraction and he’d cornered her. Urging her to quit living Breck’s lie. She knew she hadn’t been in love with Breck because it’d been far too easy to break it off with him.

  Celia doubted anything with Kyle would ever be easy. He challenged her at every turn.

  His arms came around her and he nuzzled the back of her head. “Whatcha thinking about so hard?”

  She thought about putting some distance between them, physically and mentally, by giving him a flip answer like how she would miss their sexual compatibility in six months when this union ended. But she refrained. “What to do with these pancakes if I burn ’em.”

  “You mixed up the batter. I’m not too bad at flipping pancakes. I used to make them for my mom on Mother’s Day.”

  “What a
sweet boy.” She patted his face. “My, what smooth cheeks you have.”

  “All for you. I don’t wanna leave beard burn all over your skin.”

  Celia shivered at the words all over your skin.

  Kyle piled his plate with five cakes, used half a stick of butter and half a bottle of syrup.

  She took two pancakes, slathered butter on and sprinkled sugar on top, along with sliced strawberries.

  “You don’t put on syrup?”


  “Ain’t they kinda dry?”

  “Sugar and fruit makes them perfect. You should try a bite.” She held out her fork.

  Kyle actually wrinkled his nose. “I told you I ain’t big on fruit.” He polished off seven pancakes. The man had a big appetite and he’d burn off every calorie tomorrow, probably before noon.

  They must’ve both been ravenous—the food was gone in ten minutes.

  She washed the dishes and Kyle dried. When he bumped into her, she jumped. Why was she acting so skittish now?

  “Cele? You all right?”

  “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

  “You’ve scrubbed that plate three times. I’m pretty sure it’s clean.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. It’s just kinda weird, don’tcha think?”

  “What? Us having wild monkey sex? Or the fact I’m a man who doesn’t mind doin’ dishes?”

  “Smart-ass. I hate to break it to you, Kyle, but bein’ a man who does dishes isn’t really all that unusual.”

  “Oh yeah? You’ve dated lots of guys with dishpan hands?”

  No way did she want to confess her less-than-impressive dating record. “Hank and Abe both did dishes.”

  Kyle grabbed the plate and rinsed it before he dried it. “They didn’t wash dishes until after your folks died. And when Abe was married to Janie the first time, I’ll bet you and Janie did all the dishes.”

  “We did have a dishwasher, so it wasn’t a big deal.” She plopped the skillet in the water. “But know what’s weird? When I was growing up I never saw my dad even rinse out his own coffee cup in the morning, to say nothing of tackling a pile of dirty pots and pans.”

  “Really? But your mom helped him do stuff around the ranch, right?”

  “Yep. Not cleaning machinery or fixin’ fence, but she fed cattle and stuff like that. Why?”

  He shrugged. “With it bein’ just me’n my mom, I learned to do everything. Hated doin’ some things, didn’t mind doin’ others.”

  Celia took her time using the abrasive side of the sponge on the skillet. She wasn’t in a hurry to finish the chore because she found she really liked talking to Kyle. Hearing his stories. Finding out the events in his life that’d shaped him into the man he’d become. She’d watched some of that transformation over the years, but from a different angle.

  “Since my mom worked most nights, on the nights she had off, she and I always did the dishes together. From the time I was about seven on. Some of my fondest memories are standing at the sink with her.”

  Such a sweet boy. Celia was beginning to suspect that sweet, helpful, loving boy still lurked under Kyle’s miles of muscles.

  She rinsed the pan and handed it over to him. She wiped down her side of the counter, lost in thought about a blond-haired boy helping his mom.

  “Got a pretty preoccupied look on your face, wife.”

  “Only because you missed a spot over there and I’m figuring out the best way to point it out, bein’ as we’re getting along so well.”

  A towel snapped close enough to her butt that she felt the whoosh of air.

  “Hey. Watch it.”

  “I am. You have the most bitable ass I’ve ever seen.”

  Celia ignored him and the renewed quickening in her pulse. As she went to wipe off the table, Kyle picked her up and sat her on it. “What are you doin’?”

  “Having an after-dinner treat.” He hooked his foot around his chair, dragging it to the end of the table. Then he settled himself between her knees. “Unbutton this shirt that you’re wearing,” he said in that deep, sexy rasp. “It’s in my way.”

  Celia watched Kyle’s eyes as she unfastened every button. He licked his lips when her breasts were exposed and his grip on her knees increased when she was completely bared.

  He tugged a lock of her hair free, letting it fall over her breast so just the tip of her nipple peeked out. He did it to the other side and murmured, “So pretty.”

  Would she ever get used to his offhand compliments? Every once in a while she had to remind herself that this was Kyle, the man who had constantly questioned her femininity over the years, now lavishing praise on those feminine bits.

  “Why’d you give me that look?”

  She glanced at him and lied because she didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Because I bet I look weird perched on this table naked.”

  “You look mighty tasty to me.” His big hands pushed her thighs farther apart. “Scoot down.”

  “Why here? Why not the bedroom?”

  “Because I can finally touch you whenever the hell I want.” He rubbed his smoothly shaven cheek between her hipbones. “And I want now.”

  Even his silver tongue was coated in honey today.

  After placing hot, openmouthed kisses on her ribs, he said, “Bring your nipples to my mouth.”

  Celia straightened, using his broad shoulders to steady herself as she did his bidding, loving that command in his voice, loving the heat in his eyes.

  Her hair brushed his face. Kyle didn’t bat the strands away; he crushed a handful in each fist. His tongue snaked out to flick the tip of her left nipple. Swirling bigger circles until the top of her breast was damp. Hot. Achy. Then he zeroed in, sucking on that hard crest. When she attempted to pull away because the intensity was too much to bear, his grip on her hair kept her in place.

  That tiny bit of pain and his show of control over her turned her inside out. Turned her on in a way she couldn’t fathom.

  Each lick, each suck, each nip of his teeth made her squirm. She’d never considered her breasts sensitive. Breck spent little time on them and she’d assumed it’d been because they were small. But Kyle’s attention was damn close to worship. And she loved every torturous second of it.

  Her skin beaded. Her pussy heated. She wanted his fingers there. She wanted his mouth there. She wanted his cock there.

  Kyle murmured, “Problem?”

  “You’re making me crazy.”

  “It’s good for you to be a little crazy for me.” He stood and kissed her. Curling his hands around her face, covering her ears so all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the staccato rhythm of her heart.

  These consuming kisses were on another level of passion. One where her mind was blessedly blank to everything but the next thrust of his tongue, the next glide of his lips as he changed the angle of his head to kiss her deeper.

  Kyle backed off, leaving her head buzzing and her mouth tingling. He brushed her hair over her shoulders, running his hands down the length, from her scalp to where it pooled on the table. It seemed to ground him, to soothe him, as he simply stroked her hair. While everything about this man revved her up.

  Celia took a deep, quiet breath when he returned to his chair. His taste lingered on her tongue. His scent on her skin. Another, sweeter scent teased her nose, mingling with his male musk.


  His rough-tipped finger traced her slit. “You’re wet. I like it that you’re wet.”

  A wicked idea popped into her head and she went with it.

  She plucked a whole strawberry from the bowl.

  “You takin’ a snack break?” he intoned dryly.

  “No.” Celia ran her tongue around the plump red berry like she was licking the head of his cock. “I know you said you don’t like fruit.” She pressed the pointed end of the strawberry into her pussy. Then she offered the berry to him. “See if that improves the taste for you.”

  Kyle’s eyes flashed fire and his hand circled her
wrist. But instead of pulling it to his mouth, he directed it to hers in a dare. “You first.”

  Using the tip of her tongue, she delicately licked her juices from the fruit, adding a throaty little, “Mmm,” just to see if it had any effect on him.

  “More,” he said in that guttural rasp.

  Yep. It definitely affected him. Celia rubbed the strawberry against the mouth of her sex. She held it to his lips.

  He bit into the ripe fruit and juice spurted everywhere.

  Her belly cartwheeled when Kyle noisily sucked the juices—hers and the strawberry’s—from her fingers. Her stomach bottomed out entirely when he tossed the strawberry hull aside and slid his hands under her butt cheeks.

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