Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (15 page)

- o -

“If we walk up this
little knoll, you can see my apartment building,” said Cassie, leading him up a
grassy rise. “There,” she pointed, “that tall gray building, about one hand
over from the John Hancock building.”

 “How long did you
sublet your apartment?”

“Six months. Emily’s
an art history student taking classes at the Art Institute. So she doesn’t have
far to go.” Cassie sat on the grass and looked back toward the lake. “I miss
being surrounded by all my own things. Wish I could take you over and show you,
but that feels like intruding.”

“It’s okay. There
will be other times. What do you miss most about living in the city?”

Cassie sighed
deeply and peered toward a new shape emerging on the horizon. From experience
she knew it to be a freighter. His question bothered her, more than she’d like
to admit. It seemed like a simple question, yet it was anything but. In a way
it was Dirk Johnson’s question. It surprised her to realize she hadn’t missed
living in the city as much as she’d expected. But she was sure Clint’s question
was loaded with implications for the future, which meant she had to tread
carefully.

Thoughtfully, she
answered, “Mainly the ease of going down to a favorite corner restaurant. I
enjoy being close to the theater and the symphony. Being around diverse sounds
and people. The city pulsates. And I do miss the lake.” She grimaced. “I know
this should be easier than it is, but the city is simply part of my adult life.
Oddly, it’s stable. Every day people come and go in the city. Every day it
changes. But every day Chicago remains the same.”

Clint nodded. “Ironically,
you could be describing eastern Utah.” He chuckled. “Very different places,
obviously. But that flavor of changing yet remaining the same…they have that in
common. And I sense that you do like the country, too.”

“Of course. The
farm is almost idyllic. The smell of freshly cut hay. The sounds of robins and
mourning doves. The stillness of the night. And then the chorus of frogs
speaking their own incredible language. Sunsets and flowers. Sure, I love the
country too. And I appreciate the hard work needed to make the farm go and the
fact that it is so clear that we are not in control of everything. The farm
keeps me in touch with the rhythms of the seasons in ways I’d almost forgotten.”
Surprised by her own fervor, she hastened to add, “I guess I need both city and
farm.”

Very quietly, she
asked, “What about you, cowboy? Does the city offer you anything? Or is it
simply a place to be avoided?”

Nodding, Clint said,
“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t mind visiting. It has a pulse I find
exciting. The city, like the country, has its own vibrations. I like to see a
play or hear a symphony now and then. And you’re right about the restaurants. I
even enjoy watching the people scurry about. In my business, I actually spend a
fair amount of time in cities. But I expect over time any city would wear me
down. At some point, I have to see further than the next building or I’d lose touch
with reality.

He chuckled softly.
“And where would I put my horses in the city?”

She watched his
lips curl into a half smile.

“Besides,” he added
quietly, “it would be pretty hard to throw my woman across my saddle and ride
off into the sunset in Chicago.”

Cassie laughed. “Would
that be a western saddle you had in mind, cowboy? The saddle horn could be a
problem.”

“Yeah, well. For
you, I would remove the horn. You know it’s primarily handy when you’re roping
cattle. I don’t expect you’d respond well to being roped and hogtied.”

“You can count on
that, mister.” She poked him in the ribs. “I think maybe we ought to continue
our walk before we get too carried away by your cowboy ways.”

As she started to
rise, Cassie glanced down at the grass and squealed, “Look what I found.”

In her open palm,
she held a four leaf clover. She felt her cheeks flush. “This is very special,
Clint.” Her voice cracked. “This is like receiving a blessing from the
universe.”

“I can tell,” he
replied “Guess if I didn’t know you were Irish before, I would now.”

A sudden chilly
breeze picked up off the lake and Cassie, dressed in tank top and shorts,
shuddered. She closed her eyes. She felt Clint’s strong arm pull her into the
protection of his warm body. She wondered if somewhere out there someone was
trying to tell her something about her future. Certainly, her dad had spun many
a tale to her as a child about the portent of four leaf clovers.

An Irish melody
played a forlorn amorous tune in her head. How much longer could she refrain
from inviting him to her bed? That would simply add more complications to an
already uneasy relationship. He had responsibilities, and so did she.

- o -

Days sped by. Cassie
and Clint spent much of that time together preparing their horses, talking about
everything under the sun, learning more about each other, yet dancing around
their own personal issues. Clint had come to the farm to see Hope one last time
before heading back to Utah. He’d fly back the next morning, leaving his truck,
trailer, and his horses in Cassie’s care.

He watched her
galloping Hope on the dirt oval behind the barn. What a sight. Did she have any
idea what kind of picture she presented racing the chestnut filly full tilt
with waves of rich auburn hair flowing in the wind over her back?

Clint moved out to
greet her when she brought the horse to a halt and leaped off her back. “She
sure looks ready. You’ve got her right where she needs to be a week before a
race. You’re good, O’Hanlon.”

Was she flushed
from her ride, or were those reddening cheeks caused by his words?

“I’m glad you think
so,” Cassie said, dismounting, “since you’re entrusting the four horses you
brought out here into my care. I’d like to think that’s about more than
friendship. God knows I’ve got the time. You know we lost five out of eight
horses to other trainers when I was in Wyoming. Owners don’t have much
patience, particularly with a female trainer.”

“I’ve got a lot of
patience,” said Clint, huskily, “especially with one particular female trainer.”

“Yeah, I’ve
noticed,” she quipped, placing her palms on his chest, fixing her eyes on his. “Maybe
we should do something special tonight. Go to a nice restaurant. Then back to
your hotel and see what develops.” Her eyes snapped with invitation. “Abstaining
from making love was probably not a very good idea on my part.”

“Ms. Trainer, I
accept whatever you have in mind. The race is in your hands. Very capable
hands, I might add,” he whispered, pulling her to him and rubbing his face
through her hair. Damn, he loved her scent.

- o -

Later that evening,
Cassie lay nude on the bed in Clint’s room at the Palmer House, basking in the
afterglow of raw lovemaking. They’d waited so long the buildup had nearly
overwhelmed both of them. As soon as they’d entered the room, they’d attacked
each other like two animals in heat. An inner smile warmed her body. They’d
fucked...really fucked, hard and fast.

 After catching
their breath, she knew they’d be more sensuous, in some ways more intimate, and
much more scary. Now that they’d worked off the tension from waiting, from
denying themselves, he’d make love to her.

She inhaled slowly
and cast her gaze about the luxurious space. A perfect setting for lovemaking. The
decor was exquisite; she wasn’t accustomed to such luxury. She could hardly
remember their dinner. It had been laden with erotic suggestion from the leg of
lamb to the cherry tart. Both of them played the game and played it very well. Most
precious was the adoration in her lover’s eyes when he visually caressed every
inch of her, anticipating that moment when he’d strip her and make her his
again.

Lazily, she ran her
fingers through his thick black hair as he leisurely explored her body with his.
She loved the feel of his skin pressed against hers, that simple touch, so filled
with promise.

“You have the most
sensitive nipples,” Clint murmured. He caressed first one taut nipple and then
the other.

“Um,” she breathed,
thrilling at his caress, anticipating more. She arched her back, encouraging
him to continue.

Extending a finger,
he pressed one hardened nodule inward and smiled as it popped immediately back
at him.

She shivered as his
finger arched toward the other nipple.

“I love the way
they bounce back, like they’ve a mind of their own. Pink on white. One of my
favorite color combinations.” Clint covered one breast with the palm of his
hand while tenderly licking the underside of the other.

“They’re not the
largest tits,” she said, her voice shaking, “but they sure do love to be played
with.”

“And I love playing
with them. Damn, if those nips get any longer...”

Cassie flexed her
lower abs as a stirring of latent energy began deep within her loins. She didn’t
know how her breasts could be so directly connected to her pussy, but there was
no doubt about the connection. And Clint had found it.

Back and forth he
went, delicately tongue-washing first one breast and then the other. Gently, he
rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger. Cassie again scrunched upward, seeking
more attention for each breast. She watched him place a thumb on one rosy
button and a pinky on the other. Lazily, he rotated each first clockwise and
then counterclockwise. She moaned. The erotic torture sent more chills to her
loins.

She rolled away,
regaining ownership of her breasts. His tongue grazed her spine. She waited for
the thunder within her body to complete its coursing from head to foot, from tits
to loins, from eyes to fingertips. Clint’s lips against her back assured her
that he’d patiently await her return. There was no hurry. Conversely, the
strong arousal pressing against her thigh was less calm, more urgent.

“That was amazing,”
she whispered, not sure he’d hear her.

“I’ve never been
with a woman who orgasms when only playing with her breasts. You’re amazing.”

“Hmm. Like I said,
my tits may not be huge, but they are incredibly sensitive. And,” she guided
his hand to her vulva, “they are directly wired to my pussy.”

“Damn, woman, you’re
sopping wet.”

She chuckled. “What
did you expect, Einstein? First, you fuck me senseless, then you tease my
nipples, making me scale a virtual wall of sensations. I hope you don’t think
we’re done for the night.”

“That thought never
crossed my mind.”

 Turning in his
arms to face him, she felt as if her soul opened for him. She couldn’t foresee
the future, but at least in the moment, this was right. There was no doubt
about that. Cassie kissed her lover’s throat. She moved lower, flicking her
tongue at each of his nipples until they tightened, reflecting the same kind of
intensity hers had.

Straddling him, she
took her time. She teased him by playing with her hair. Long wavy strands
provided a see through veil for her nipples. Like an artist, she created a
sensual picture. His appreciation for her display was evident in his smile and
in his erection pressing against her bottom.

Neither partner
hurried. This might be their last time together for quite a while. His eyes had
a dreamy allure to them. Cassie tried to match his patience, but she was afraid
if they put off the inevitable much longer, she would come unglued.

“You,” Cassie
chided, “like a woman to lose control don’t you?”

“Of course, don’t
you like it?”

“More than I could
ever say. It’s just that I’m not sure you should take so much pleasure in my
pleasure,” she responded, pursing her lips. Her finger traced invisible lines
from each nipple thorough his navel to a path of crinkling sable hair leading
to the object of her keen interest.

Cassie rose to her
knees and with one hand guided him to her entrance. Bit by bit, she sank down
on his length. At last she had him fully encased in her heat. “You like?”

He nodded. “Oh,
yeah. You’re one hot woman. This could never become routine.”

As if astride her
favorite horse, she rode him, comfortable with her seat. She maintained a
steady pace. Clint didn’t move a muscle, letting her control their mating. She
pulled on her nipples and maintained a steady tempo.

Clint grew taut
beneath her. His groans fueled her concentration. She bore down with complete focus.

“Oh, god,” he
groaned. “Don’t stop. Whatever you do.”

“No chance of that,
cowboy.” She slowed her pace. “Got you right where I want you.”

“Jesus, woman. Don’t
slow, either.” He began to buck beneath her.

“And I thought you
were so patient.” She rose as high as she could without losing him and dropped down,
slapping her bottom against his thighs, driving him deeper into her interior.

“Yes, that’s it,”
Clint howled. “I’m coming.”