Must Love Cowboys (21 page)

Despite his strangled-sounding “Oh, God,” he certainly wasn't trying to stop me.

Not that he could.

I gave the tight head a lick, enjoying the salty taste of him and the slick fluid welling up from his slit. Opening wide, I slid my lips over his cockhead, taking him in as far as I could. His cock was big and warm in my mouth, and it didn't take me long to get creative, licking up and down the shaft before going back to sip the juice from the head. Saying it wasn't bad was a gross understatement.

I not only liked it, I
loved
it.

Any cramps I might've had were superseded by an ache that had its origins in passion and desire. If he had insisted on actual intercourse, I wouldn't have objected; I would have tucked a towel under my butt and yanked him inside me in a heartbeat.

But that was something new lovers probably didn't do. It was too intimate, too…knowing.

I trailed the back of my hand over his balls, delighting in the tickle of his scrotal hair against my skin. Reaching down, I cupped them in my palm, feeling their weight, wanting nothing more than to suck them until he begged for mercy. I kissed my way down his length until springy curls brushed my cheek.

Oddly enough, Wyatt didn't smell like a man who had been in the saddle all day. In fact, I caught a whiff of something—cologne, perhaps—on the soft skin where his torso met his thigh. A smile tugged at my lips as I leaned closer. The scent was subtle, as though he'd placed an infinitesimal drop of spicy fragrance precisely where he had known I would find it.

Was it enticement or reward? I didn't know and didn't care. I fully intended to suck him until he came in my mouth whether he expected it of me or not. His enjoyment was important to me, but this was something I suspected would give me as much satisfaction as actually being nailed by my big, handsome cowboy.

Between his drooling dick and my saliva, I had no trouble getting him wet enough to suck a nut into my mouth. Wyatt's gasp of surprise was followed by a guttural groan of pure pleasure, a response which served as both encouragement and reward. I continued on, stroking his cock while caressing his scrotum with my tongue. After a bit, I fisted my hand around his shaft and took up a steady rhythm, rotating my palm over his slick cockhead before plummeting to the base and back again.

Tingles washed over my skin as he slid a hand from my shoulder to the back of my head. Tangling his fingers in my hair, he lightly massaged my scalp as though attempting to return the favor by caressing the only part of me he could reach.

Anxious to savor more of his juice, I released his testicle and turned on my side. With my head pillowed on his stomach, I aimed his delicious dick at my lips and sucked him in. His hips rose in response, driving him in deeper still. My subsequent moan must have urged him to continue, because he kept on, each thrust becoming increasingly forceful until he was actually fucking my mouth.

Without warning, the orgasm I never expected to have began coiling up inside me like a cobra threatening to strike. I only hoped I could hang on long enough for Wyatt to reach his own climax because that was one event I did
not
want to miss. He had to be close; his cock was unbelievably hard, the flange catching my lips on the outstroke. As his pace slowed, I slackened my hold on him, letting it happen, letting him come.

Seconds later, his back arched and an inarticulate sound issued from his throat as his cock pulsed against my tongue, filling my mouth with his cream. I had barely begun to swallow when my own orgasm detonated, making my previous episode of “cramps” seem like a mere hiccup in comparison.

Apparently, there were orgasms and then there were
orgasms
.

Wyatt's cock slipped from my mouth, and from where I lay sprawled on top of him, I caught the next spurt of semen across my neck. My mind went blank as wave after wave of gut-clenching ecstasy passed through me, rendering me oblivious to my surroundings, save for the erratic rise and fall of his chest.

Slowly, the spasms began to subside, and I rolled onto my back, my uppermost arm flopping bonelessly onto the sheet. “Holy cow, that was good.”

He let out a breathless laugh and patted the top of my head, ruffling my hair. “Glad you liked it. For a second there, I thought you were gettin' kinda grossed out.”

“No way,” I insisted. “That was absolutely fabulous.”

In the past, I had always found that “Have a happy period” marketing strategy for feminine products to be rather annoying. Now I was beginning to suspect whoever came up with that little gem of having been fortunate enough to have a guy like Wyatt around to help her through it.

Nah. Prob'ly not.

Either way, I doubted I would ever refer to my monthly visit from Aunt Flo as “The Curse” again.

I awoke the next morning with a man in my bed.

So many new things were happening to me, things most women my age took for granted. Every one of my high school chums had married. One had even tied the knot before graduation. I'm sure there were plenty of guys in my college classes who hadn't found the right woman, but they were geeks like me. Shy. Introverted. Nervous around the opposite sex.

Would I still be nervous around men with whom I wasn't sharing a bunkhouse? Maybe. That was one test I had yet to face, although I certainly would when I went back home.

Or would I? I had no job to return to. No apartment. No reason not to stay and cook for this gang of cowboys for the rest of my life. But did I really want that? Was it even possible? Calvin would undoubtedly be ticked if I stole his job, and now that he was out of the hospital, Angela might not want to keep me on the payroll.

Yet another decision that will probably be made for me.

Truth be told, I was getting a little tired of being on the receiving end of those kinds of decisions. Wyatt had told me I had a choice. I liked that idea. I could kick him out of my bed and send him back to the bunkhouse if I wished. I didn't want to, but knowing I could made a huge difference.

Rolling over, I sat up. Ophelia looked up at me from her post on the doormat, her tail wagging in greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” I said. “Need to go out?”

Wyatt spoke up from his side of the bed. “Probably not. I let her out a little while ago.”

Yet another first.
No one had ever done that for me. At least, not within recent memory.

“Thanks.” I was about to ask if he'd had trouble sleeping when I recalled that he had always been the one to answer my cries for help during the night. “You must be a really light sleeper.”

“Yeah. Unlike
you
.”

I turned toward him to protest, but one glimpse of his tousled hair, sleepy eyes, and boyish grin nearly detonated another orgasm. “Not my fault I was dead to the world.” My comeback wasn't as snappy as I would've liked, but given the circumstances, I didn't think it was too shabby.

Chuckling, he ran a finger down my arm. “I slept better than usual myself.”

“No nightmares?”

“Not a one,” he declared. “Just sweet dreams about this beautiful blond who gets off on sucking my dick.”

“Hmm…well, don't let it go to your head.”

“I might if I'm the only one to have that effect.” His gaze intensified, seeming to delve past my eyes to discover my thoughts. “Am I?”

This from a man who could make me climax simply by walking into the room.

“So far,” I replied. “Actually, that was a first—and not just the orgasm.”

“Meaning?”

Dean had already figured out the truth. It was only a matter of time before Wyatt reached that same conclusion.

“
You
were my first.”

His mouth formed a soundless O, and for a long moment, all he did was blink. “I don't get it. You're beautiful and sweet and sexy as hell. Why—”

“I'm a computer geek, Wyatt. I thought I'd made that clear.”

“What? You mean geeks never have sex?”

“The shy ones don't.”

“You must've hung out with some real idiots,” he said with a slow wag of his head. “I can't imagine any man not falling for you.”

“It's sweet of you to say that, but Dean was the closest thing I've ever had to a boyfriend, and we didn't get that far.”

As a long silence stretched between us, his satyr-like frown returned. “I'm not sorry I'm your first, but I hurt you. Didn't I?”

“Maybe a little,” I admitted.

“You should have said something. I wouldn't have—”

“Been quite so rough?” I touched his cheek. “Wyatt, sweetheart, you didn't do anything I didn't want you to do. I've been waiting all my life for that moment, and my wildest dreams were nowhere near as fabulous as the reality.”

He drew in a breath. “I'm glad you feel that way. You aren't the only one whose wildest dreams were put to shame. In many ways, that was a first for me too.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn't imagine a man like Wyatt not being sought after by every single woman within a hundred-mile radius, perhaps even the subject of a determined chase. He was the kind of man most women dreamed about. Strong, dependable, and astonishingly sexy. Completely nonplussed, I just sat there for a few seconds. Then I decided I had to know.

“Okay. Spill it. If that's true, I'm guessing you've never been married, but you have to at least have had a girlfriend.”

He shrugged. “I'm not saying I've never had sex. I dated a few girls in high school—even made the mistake of sleeping with one of them. I had a nightmare that freaked her out like you wouldn't believe. I never tried it again. Until now. It was…
different
with you—like it really meant something instead of just going through the motions.” His expression grew wistful as he added, “And you're right. I've never been married. Not even close. After a while, you stop looking.”

We had more in common than I ever would have guessed. “I can relate to that. I might've ogled a few hunky firefighters, but I never expected them to return the favor. Shy girls like me tend to be invisible.”

“You're not invisible, Tina,” he said. “Not to me or any cowboy on this ranch. We're all crazy about you; it's hard to believe we've only known you for a week.”

Actually, I'd been there less than a week, but I saw no need to split hairs. I smiled, shaking my head. “I never would've thought we would get along so well. You guys made me nervous as all get-out in the beginning.” Anticipating his next question, I added, “And no, there aren't any past traumas to explain my shyness. I just didn't inherit the flirting gene.”

“Does that mean your mom's a flirt?” His teasing smile took any sting out of his question. “Or was it your father?”

“No—well…they might've been when they were younger. I really don't know for sure. Neither of them is anywhere near as shy as I am. I mean, they found each other and had kids and everything. ” I debated whether to add more to that, opting against it before ultimately deciding it was something I needed to get off my chest. “I never thought that sort of life was even possible for me. But being here with you, I feel almost…normal.”

“Same here,” he said. “Normal. Boringly, predictably normal.”

I shot him a grin. “Doncha just love it?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a sage nod. “Being different is highly overrated.”

As both of us burst out laughing, I suddenly realized how happy I was. Deliriously so, like the heroine of a romantic movie, dancing the night away with the man who brought out the joy in her. I'd always been in the background, far too quiet and shy to join in the fun. Now I was giggling my head off while a handsome and completely naked cowboy pulled me back down on the bed and ruthlessly kissed me.

The banging on my bedroom door was a minor event, and even Nick's shouted, “I'm starving! Will somebody please fix me some breakfast?” didn't bother me.

I did, however, respond. “Keep your shirt on, Nick. I'm coming.”

The sexual connotation of what I'd just said struck Wyatt and me at the same time, resulting in another spurt of laughter. Still giggling, I sat up and put on my slippers, then reached for my robe.

I could get used to being normal. Especially if it meant getting a rear view of Wyatt every morning as he headed toward the bathroom. The soft morning light accentuated the curves and planes of his body, the broad perfection of his back, which tapered to narrow hips, muscular thighs, and buns to die for.

Oh, wow…

I glanced down at my flannel pj's. Wyatt might appreciate it if I returned the favor now and then. Unfortunately, I'd never been comfortable wandering about in the altogether, and I hadn't made a habit of it even when I lived alone. Given the minimal privacy of the bunkhouse, I probably shouldn't start.

It would be different if Wyatt and I had a place of our own—

Whoa, Tina. Don't go there yet.

Without the benefit of a fairy godmother, our happily ever after was still a long way off. We barely knew one another. Could a lasting love be forged in such a short time? I doubted it, although the possibility certainly provided food for thought. If we ever decided to make a life together, would it be on the Circle Bar K? Living in the bunkhouse was fine now, but raising kids in that environment would pose quite a challenge.

Kids.
Yet another adventure my shyness had denied me. Had I ever even considered what being a mother would entail? No doubt I had contemplated the joy of gazing into the trusting eyes of my newborn child. But the ups and downs, the challenges and the triumphs, not so much—probably because I considered the chances of ever having a family of my own to be so remote.

On the flip side, I was beginning to think of the ranch as home and the people there as family. Wyatt had said he'd felt the same way when he first arrived. Viewed in that light, the whole fate and kismet thing seemed perfectly plausible, even without a magic wand to cast the spell.

At the moment, however, I had cowboys to feed and pies to bake. Any plans for the future would have to wait a while longer.

* * *

As the men lined up for breakfast, I was pleased to note that Calvin seemed to have improved overnight. The lines around his eyes had diminished, and he moved with greater confidence.

I dropped a heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs on his plate. “You're looking pretty chipper this morning. Sleep okay?”

“Sure did,” he replied. “There's no place like home.” His sly wink suggested that while he might have known Wyatt and I were sharing a bed, he hadn't been disturbed by any peculiar sounds coming from my room. “Throw a few home-cooked meals on top of that, and anyone would feel better.”

Bull, who had been first in line, helped himself to three slices of buttered toast, then patted his stomach. “I dunno about that. Since Tina's been doing the cooking, I think I might've picked up a few pounds.”

I arched a brow. “Now, Bull. Don't go blaming me. I never forced you to eat anything.”

“Can I help it if you're such a damned fine cook?” He turned toward Calvin. “You just wait. She'll have you fattened up in no time.”

“I'm sure she will.” If Calvin's smile was to be believed, he hadn't taken offense at the implication that my culinary skills eclipsed his own. Either that or, after years of hearing Bull carry on, he probably knew better than to take him seriously.

Nick stepped forward and held out his plate. “Uh-huh. That is, if you stick around long enough.”

There was no mistaking his meaning. “I'll stay as long as I'm needed.” Keeping my tone neutral, I deliberately avoided Wyatt's gaze. If he had any sense at all, he would know that the “being needed” stipulation applied to him more than anyone.

Calvin was still smiling when he picked up his toast and followed Bull into the mess hall.

“Yeah, well, you know how we all feel about
that
.” As though acknowledging his previous faux pas, Nick hung his head slightly while keeping his voice low.

I spoke in an even softer tone, hoping that Calvin hadn't overheard either of us. “And the less said about it, the better.”

Angela hadn't mentioned the possibility that I might stay on indefinitely, and I doubted she would have said anything to Calvin, either. Stealing a man's job while he was in the hospital was pretty tacky. I'd heard of permanent replacements being hired during an extended sick leave, but Calvin had been gone less than a week.

I filled Sonny's plate in silence. Wyatt was next in line.

“You know why I said that, don't you?” I whispered after Sonny left the room. “I don't want Calvin to think I'm trying to snatch his job out from under him.”

“He's a grown man, Tina,” Wyatt said. “And he's also a realist.”

“Yes, but what if he never recovers enough to work on the ranch with you guys? Being the full-time cook might be his only option.” I glanced at Joe, who stood behind Wyatt. “What will happen if he turns out to be permanently disabled?”

Joe shrugged. “No telling. Although I'm pretty sure no one would kick him out of the bunkhouse—at least not right away. Come to think of it, I can't remember anyone ever actually retiring from this job.”

I had no idea whether that was a commentary on the life span of the average cowboy or their tendency to drift from place to place, neither of which appealed to me.

What happened to retired cowboys? Did they live out their declining years in solitude or was there a special home for them? I could just imagine a bunch of crusty old cowhands sitting on a sunny porch swapping stories, but God only knew whether that was the best choice for them. In a more diverse group, they would undoubtedly brighten the lives of any elderly ladies who'd ever fantasized about riding off into the sunset with Gary Cooper or John Wayne.

The truth was there was nothing terribly romantic about what they did. From my perspective, it was a very lonely sort of existence. The camaraderie among the men on the Circle Bar K was clearly evident, but there were times when they might spend an entire day with only their four-legged friends for company.

I was no different, really. I spent most of my time with electronic devices. What did that make me?

Having filled their plates, I collected my own breakfast, but with a somewhat wistful, contemplative air rather than the more contented mood with which my day had begun. My feelings now were more akin to those I normally had in late summer or early fall, when the whirring voices of cicadas provided a counterpoint to chirping birdsong while soft, cool breezes blew in through my windows—enjoying those moments of peace knowing they wouldn't last and that winter would soon be upon us.