Just Once (33 page)

I come. My eyes squeeze shut as though I can’t handle seeing him as well as feeling him. My legs try to clamp together, but he’s blocking them with his body, forcing me to remain open while he presses harder and deeper and makes the orgasm go on forever.

I don’t know when we left the water or how much time has passed when Shane finally removes his hand, toying with my nipples as he waits for me to come back to earth. “I don’t know how much more of that I can take,” I breathe.

He kisses me. “You said you wanted to do it my way.”

Shane’s way soon has him leaning back on his arms as I take him in my mouth, doing my best to repay the favor. At one point I look up to see him watching me and remember how he watched me the first time in his trailer, when I thought we’d never do this again.

“I’m going to come in your mouth,” he warns.

“Do it,” I say around a mouthful of cock.

“Jesus.” His hand covers the top of my head, holding me still as he spurts long streams of come into my throat. I swallow, laving him while he groans, and when he’s spent I pull away and flop back on the blanket to give us both some time to recover.

After a while Shane pushes himself up to his knees and looks down at me, studying every inch, naked and bare for his gaze. “Open your legs.”

I bite my lip but follow the order.

“Wider.”

He strokes a finger through my wet lips and circles my clit. Then that same hand trails up my stomach to my breast, his other hand mirroring the action. My breathing quickens as he plays with each breast, pinching each distended nipple, harder and harder until I gasp.

“Shane,” I warn.

“I can see your pussy getting wetter,” he says softly.

I clamp my legs shut, horrified at my body’s betrayal, but instantly feel Shane’s hands on my knees, gently tugging them apart. “I said open your legs,” he reminds me. “Don’t close them again.”

I moan. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“Why don’t you like this?” he asks, twisting my nipples again, making me whimper.

“It hurts.”

“Does it? This is nothing.”

“What would you know?”

He laughs. “I think you’re used to finesse, Kate, and you’re not used to fucking.”

One hand massages my breasts while the other delves between my legs, flicking my clit, pulling back the hood and stroking the small bud. My hips buck upward, and I can’t stop the cry that spills from my throat.

“But finesse is okay too,” he whispers. The finger that torments my clit slips down lower, past my throbbing entrance to the darker, tighter hole beneath. “So is this.”

My eyes flutter open. “Shane, no.”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to fuck my ass.”

“How about just a finger?”

I force myself to breathe, slowly and evenly. No one has ever touched me there before. They haven’t been allowed. Even in my drunkest, wildest moments, I’ve never agreed. And now, older, wiser Kate is actually considering it.

Shane swirls that deviant finger in my copious juices and holds it up so I can see it shining in the sunlight. Then he dips his hand far back between my legs and presses in slightly. The tight muscles refuse to budge.

“Let me in,” he whispers.

“I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

I try to find the words but they won’t come. His finger rests on that forbidden place and now his other hand is tormenting my clit.

“I don’t know,” I say weakly.

“I’m going to lick your pussy the whole time,” Shane promises, lying on his stomach between my spread legs. “Then,” he continues, “when you can’t take it anymore, I’m going to come up there and fuck you long and hard. Do you understand?”

All I can do is nod.

“You can still say no.”

I shake my head.

“Good.”

His face disappears between my legs, tongue swirling, and that slick finger presses harder and harder on my untried opening until it breaks through and pushes inside. My legs fall open, my heels dig into the ground, and I thrust up into Shane’s dangerous, practiced mouth. He parts his lips and sucks me in, tongue pushing high into my depths, teeth grazing my clit. His finger plunders in deeper and deeper until it can’t go any farther, then he pulls out, fucking my ass gently but firmly.

I clamp a hand over my mouth to smother my cries. My eyes fly open to watch the speckled light in the trees, a kaleidoscope of blue and yellow and green. Shane holds me down, having his way, then circles my clit with his mouth and sucks hard.

“I’m going to come,” I cry.

“I know.”

“Hurry.”

“Say it.”

Even in my pre-orgasmic haze, I know what he wants. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me!”

In an instant Shane is on top of me, elbows on either side of my head. His cock rams inside, making me scream and bite his shoulder. His fingers find mine, and he holds on as his hips pound forward, again and again. I know I don’t have long, but I want us to come together.

I open my eyes and find his already open, inches away from mine. I refuse to look away, and that’s what does it. Shane cries out and comes, grinding into me. I spasm tightly around him, legs locking around his hips to hold him in place as his pubic bone rasps my clit and forces out every possible ounce of pleasure, taking and taking and taking until there’s nothing left to give.

Chapter Twenty

J
ULY
P
ASSES
I
N
A B
LUR
of work, sun, and Shane, not necessarily in that order. We don’t hold hands or kiss in the dining room—well, except for that one time that had the wranglers groaning—but we’re not a secret, and I’m surprised by how comfortable I am with the idea that this man, who by all means is not my type, is mine. And he certainly seems to consider me his, if his penchant for control is any indication.

As a woman who has run her own life somewhat successfully for thirty years, it’s taken some time to get used to sharing control with someone else. Not that Shane’s great at sharing, but he’s trying. And I can’t lie—most of the time his “detail-oriented” control freak ways end up with me in the throes of a phenomenal orgasm. So I’m not complaining.

“I’m jealous,” Stanley moans when I tell him as much.

“What do you have to be jealous of? You have a gorgeous surgeon husband who lets you wear your new cowboy boots in the house.”

“I know. I’m just jealous I’m not there to spy on you two. I’ve never seen Kate Burke in love before.”

I laugh. “I’m not in love. I’m in lust. It’s different.”

“I saw the way that man looked at you. That was more than lust.”

“That was a month ago, and it was mostly fueled by rage and jealousy. You’re confused.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Stanley. Don’t put ideas in my head.”

“Why not? What’s the harm in falling in love?”

“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love—with the right person. But it’s already August, and I’m leaving in a month.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you leaving?”

“I have a plane ticket.”

“That’s a terrible reason.”

“Is not.”

“And where will you be going?”

“Back to Boston! To live next door to my best friend and constant nag, Stanley Goldblatt!”

“There’s nothing for you here.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“I’m serious, Kate. What’s the harm in staying?”

“Well, first of all, the ranch closes for the winter, and I’d have nowhere to live. I’d have nothing to do—”

“You’re self-employed, not to mention loaded. You don’t need to work. And you know how off-putting it is to see rich blondes complain about boredom.”

“That’s mean.”

“It’s true.”

“Stanley—”

“Just think about it.”

I lower my voice. “Think about falling in love with Shane? It’s not something you can train yourself to do!”

“I don’t think you need to ‘train’ yourself on this, Katie. You dated that handsome hotelier—thanks again for the lifetime room discount—”

“I regret that.”

“…for two years, but you never once talked about him the way you do this guy.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Stop punishing yourself for what happened—”

“Nobody’s being punished. I have to go.”

“You aren’t stupid and reckless anymore. You can trust your judgment. Fall in love.”

“I am in love, Stanley. With you. Or at least I was until this conversation. Now I have to go. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

I hang up.

I’m not lying to Stanley. I really do have to go. For the third time in as many days I watch Hank and Mary wave goodbye to a new group of power suits in a shiny rental car. I dash out of the phone booth and walk/run around the lodge to intercept my seasonal parents once the guests have gone.

“Hey!” I gasp, breathing hard.

They turn to me in surprise. “Hey, Kate,” Mary says, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Where are you off to?”

“Nothing. Nowhere. I mean, who was that?” I gesture at the retreating cloud of dust disappearing under the arch.

“Oh, just some…people.”

“I couldn’t help notice that you guys have had several ‘people’ drop by for tours this summer. Is it a new promotional thing you’re doing?”

They look at each other. Mary scuffs the ground with her boot. “Um, no…”

“Then what’s going on?” I’d like to consider myself a fairly calm and rational person, but that goes out the window when I’m suddenly struck with a horrifying thought. “Are you two all right?” I demand. “They’re not doctors, are they?”

Hank lets loose with a big belly laugh. “No, Kate, they’re not doctors. They’re…well, why don’t you come inside and we’ll talk about it?”

I refuse their offer of iced tea but follow them down the lane to their house, taking a seat in the cluttered country kitchen. Hank begins to talk, and all I can do is stare at them across the scarred wooden table.

“You’re selling?” I echo, lips numb.

“It’s time,” Mary says. “We’re getting old, and running this place just isn’t as much fun as it used to be.”

“You’re the one who gave us the idea,” Hank adds.

I stare at him in horrified confusion. “Me? How—?”

“Your writing,” he clarifies. “All those beautiful places you’ve been. Over the years we’ve been keeping a list of the places we’d like to visit, but we can never find the time. If we sell the ranch we’ll have the best of both worlds: money and time.”

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it through my chest. All I can think about is Shane. Shane wants to buy this place. Shane doesn’t have the money.

“B-But what about the winter?” I stammer. “Can’t you travel all winter? Isn’t that the American dream? Warm summers here, warm winters there?”

Mary frowns. “That’s not the only American dream, Kate. What about the one where you get to retire and stop working?”

“Are those people going to buy it?”

“I don’t know,” Mary answers. “Maybe. They seem interested.”

“And will they keep things the same? What will they—”

Hank runs a weary hand over his thinning hair. “That’s the tough part,” he admits. “We’ve been trying to find someone who wants to keep the ranch intact, but that’s a lot to take on.”

“Shane wants to buy it,” I say impulsively. “He’d keep it just like it is. And he loves it here.”

Mary pats my arm. “I know you care about him, dear, but we’ve spoken to Shane in the past, and he’s not even close to having enough money. He’d be in debt for the rest of his life. It’s too much to take on. It wouldn’t be fair to anybody.”

“Tell me, will you?” I plead. “If you find a buyer. Just…tell me?”

“Of course.” Mary nods. “No problem.”

“Well,” Hanks says, pulling a huge photo album off the counter and thumping it onto the table. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I guess you can help us plan our trip.”

I can only stare in shock when he flips open the first page of the photo album to reveal copies of my old travel articles, recommending people travel to Bali or Hong Kong or Rio. There are hundreds of them—page after page, some flagged with sticky notes.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Mary asks. “I can’t wait. And it’s all thanks to you.”