Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (19 page)

He slowed, bringing her down with ease but not allowing her to retreat. Avoiding her ultra-sensitive nerves, he lapped at her opening. When he sent a forefinger into her pussy, she clamped down around him and held on.

He crooked his finger and pressed hard.

She jerked and moaned. “Oh…my…Chris!”

An acute ache took up residence in his pants, but fuck, it was good. He savored the burn, knowing his release would be so good in the end.

He lessened the pressure on her g-spot. She groaned. Before she could draw a full breath, he pinned her down again.

As he fingered her pussy, he listened to her body. The breaths she dragged through her lungs were punctuated by squeaks. His hand was drenched with her want.

After a few plunges, he added a second finger. She wailed in pleasure.

He guided a third into her tight sheath.

“Faster,” she gasped.

Following her direction, he watched the slow pulsations of her body around his hand. The erotic sight nearly stole his control, and he had to squeeze the head of his cock hard through his jeans to keep from blowing.

He splayed his fingers wide.

Contractions squeezed his fingers, but they might as well have squeezed his cock. He couldn’t take another minute. Before she finished with her orgasm, he withdrew his hand.

As fast as he could, he tore his jeans down his hips and had a condom in place. Then gathering her up with an arm around the middle, he drove into her. Deep.

A dark need to possess her mind, body and soul drove him higher than ever before. Ticklish wisps of heat wove through his belly. They tangled around his heart and filled his brain with nothing but Claire.

He dug his fingers into her hips and yanked her into his pistoning hips. His balls slapped her flesh, the quiet sound stimulating him further.

“Damn, I can’t hold back for long.”

Her body gripped him harder in response. He became attuned to her rasping breaths but wanted more.

“Cry out if it feels good, sweetheart.”

A low mew broke from her. Not enough.

He ground his cock against her womb.

A long moan spiraled from her.

Jerking out, he hesitated before plunging back into her long enough to make her squirm. He slid his fingers into her wet heat and gathered all of her cream.

With an abrupt shove, he filled her with his cock again even as he circled her rim with his damp fingers.

She cried out and shoved against him.

“Like that, do you?” he growled in her ear.

He eased a finger into her ass, past the muscular ring that barely gave him resistance. She was ready, so ready.

When he was buried balls and knuckle deep, she loosed a tremulous cry that splintered the silence.

“Fuck, yessss. You want him. You want both of us.”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

He plunged his finger in and out of her ass. “As long as the stars burn, he’ll be between us. He gave us this.” He churned his hips, twisting his cock in her tight sheath.

“As long as the stars burn,” she echoed.

He lost himself to sensation. The need to pour his seed into her tight little body stole all control, and he pounded into her.

She came apart. Her pucker clenched and released his finger even as her pussy grew as tight as a hot glove. Her hoarse scream triggered a violent spasm in his core. With a barely contained bellow, he unloaded. Spurt after spurt left his swollen cock even as his heart seemed to pour out into her.

Lashing her body to his, he whispered hotly into her ear, “Come on me, sweetheart. Don’t stop until you’ve given me everything.”

A final shudder ripped through her. She turned her head to the side, bringing her lips up against his. He brushed his mouth over hers gently, back and forth as the last remnants of his release tingled through his system.

“Christian,” she whispered. Her eyes were closed and a light dew spangled her hairline and throat. The sun beamed down from the high windows and vents, bathing her in a golden glow.

His nymph. Glorious girl.

Was she truly his, though? Or was he a stand-in for Tucker? No, she’d admitted she wanted them both. If Claire was anything, it was honest.

He pulled out of her body and dealt with his condom, dropping it into the trash amongst the old feed and a few soda cans. By the time he turned to her again, she’d wiggled her skirt down her hips and was seated on the hay bale, knees together and ankles splayed.

When he neared, she crooked a finger at him. The tenderness in her eyes was unmistakable.

In two long strides, he reached her. Plucking her off the hay bale, he sat and tucked her on his lap. She locked her arms around him and he hooked a finger in the belt loop of her denim skirt, tethering her to him.

Emotion warred inside him. If Tucker came home, he could lose Claire. But all he wanted was for his friend to return. It wasn’t even possible to orgasm without Tucker’s face flashing in his mind’s eye. They were all irrevocably connected.

She settled in the cage of his arms. Her head rested in the crook of his neck, and her curls teased his jaw.

Her voice cracked the silence. “I’m growing attached to you.”

He smiled against the top of her head.
You couldn’t pry me away from you.
“Mmm. What does that mean?”

“It should mean that I don’t think of Tucker as much as I think of you, but it’s not the case. I’m sorry, Christian.”

He brushed his lips over her hair as he shook his head. “Don’t be. He brought us together. He’s our roots. We couldn’t chop him out if we wanted.”

“Which means we need to bring him back to us.”

Christian flexed his arms around her, squeezing her tighter. He didn’t know how to do that, but he sure as hell had to try. For him. For Claire.

For the man who was on the run and needed to come home.

The scents of cooking tomatoes clouded the warm autumn air. Claire ran a long wooden spoon around the edges and bottom of the big cook pot where the sauce bubbled.

Around her was the detritus of her foray into sauce-making. Crates upon crates of tomatoes, onions, garlic, green peppers and a big bag of jalapenos that provided Letty’s special kick. Basil and oregano filled two big jars—fresh-picked from the kitchen garden.

Letty sat at a folding table, chopping vegetables to put into the next batch of sauce. Christian had recruited a group of men he worked with on the road crew to help haul heavy crates and pots. They dotted the yard, drinking beer Christian had toted outside in a big cooler. One bottle set at Letty’s elbow, and occasionally she would take a long pull before resuming her chopping.

The more Claire stirred, the more her tensions flowed away. Tucker had been gone three and a half weeks now. When she or Christian called him, he never answered, and her hopes for his return were growing fainter.

She sighed.

Today they’d work hard to put up all of the tomatoes, and tomorrow they’d start picking apples. By the week’s end, they’d have full pantries. Some of the wares were going home with Christian’s friends, but he’d suggested that they donate a few crates to the local food bank.

So Claire’s contribution of the jars and canning supplies would go to a worthy cause.

The sauce thickened, indicating it might have scorched.

“Damn.”

“What’s the matter, Claire girl?” Letty asked without looking up from the papery skins of garlic sticking to her fingers.

“I think the sauce may be scorched, but I can’t taste anything but garlic. Chris?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got a chew in.”

Surprise flitted through her. Apparently he chewed tobacco in the company of his coworkers. She’d never seen so much as a pouch of it in his pocket.

She glanced at the next man, who shook his head.

“Anyone here without a chew in who can taste this?”

They all stared at Letty. Her aunt looked up over her wire-rimmed glasses. Suddenly, her cheek distended as she poked her tongue into the small pouch that held the wintergreen snuff she sometimes enjoyed.

“Nah, I’ve got me a wintergreen in.”

A few guffaws from the men rippled around the yard.

“That’d be me.” The low tone stood up every hair on Claire’s body.

She went dead still as Tucker’s voice washed over her from behind. Her heart thumped heavily. Slowly, she raised her head. Christian stood five paces away in her line of vision, his gaze fixed on the man they’d both yearned for.

As long as the stars burn.

Her throat went bone dry. Christian flicked his gaze to her, and she had to bite off a cry of pain.

His gaze was dark and penetrating—wounded—staring right through her.

A shift of a boot on gravel alerted Claire that Tucker was circling her. His worn Wranglers appeared in the line of her vision. Suddenly, her adrenaline kicked into high gear, flooding her system, and she had to move.

She dipped the spoon into the sauce with a shaky hand and held it out.

Tucker folded his muscular body into a crouch inches away from her. His soap and water and pine scents chased each other around her head. His familiar angular jaw, straight nose and bright eyes loomed close. So damn close.

She tightened her grip on the spoon, but her hand surged up and down with nerves.

Tucker wrapped his fingers around hers to hold her hand steady. Then he leaned in and parted his firm lips to accept a taste of the sauce.

She shuddered, her pussy instantly wet. But it was the heartstrings plucking a crazy hoedown that nearly made her fall off her stool.

“Not scorched a bit.” When he spoke, silver flashed under his lower lip, along with his dimple. She looked hard to see a labret piercing hidden in his dirty beard.

As if seeing him for the first time, her scope of vision widened and she drank in his entire appearance. He’d cut his hair. No longer did the warm brown ends brush his shoulders. Instead, it curled up from under the brim of his black Larry Mahan cowboy hat.

His shirt was open at the throat, exposing the tanned flesh she’d dreamed of each night since he left weeks ago. She snapped her free fingers into a fist to keep from reaching for him.

“Let me at that sauce, girl. You go and take a break.” Letty removed the spoon from her hand.

Still, she sat in shock, staring at Tucker. He dropped his gaze to her mouth and stared at it for a full minute before lifting his eyes.

A flurry of motion behind Tucker drew her attention to Christian. He spit out his chew and jammed a breath mint he always carried into his mouth. Then he spun on his heel and strode toward the house.

Her heart turned over. She jumped to her feet, skirted Letty and Tucker and broke toward the house with Tucker on her heels.

“You aren’t glad to see me.” Tucker’s voice burned with pain and accusation.

She shook her head hard. How could he believe that? She and Christian had suffered daily while he was gone.

But she couldn’t force the words past her frozen lips, because Christian’s rod-straight back was disappearing into the house.

“Chris!” She launched herself up the stairs after him and ran into the cool recesses of the house. Tucker slammed the door behind them all.

Christian whirled, fists clenched, a vein pulsing in his throat. “Where the hell do you get off, Langley?”

Tucker widened his stance and hitched his thumb in his jeans pocket. “You mean by returning home—to
my
ranch?”

“Oh, that’s dirty. A man walks—no runs—away from everything he has, leaving two people to pick up his slack, and then he acts as if we’re stepping on his toes.”

“That’s what this is about? You’re pissed off because you had to water a few horses?”

Christian’s face mottled red then interspersed with alarming purple. Claire mentally bounced between the men. Every cell of her being strained to touch Tucker. To put her arms around him, bury her face against his delicious throat and inhale him.

But the fathomless struggle in Christian’s eyes drew her to him.

With a jerk, Christian closed the gap between Tucker and himself. He butted a blunt finger into Tucker’s chest, rocking him on his heels. “A few horses? How about all the particulars of running this ranch, such as how to find a way to purchase feed or cure a case of hoof rot?”

Tucker’s face blanched. “I wired you money… You didn’t use it? You stubborn ass. How is that my fault?”

“I didn’t want your guilt money. I take care of my own. I don’t run.” Christian glared at him.

For several heartbeats, Claire held her breath.

“I was trying to be nice,” Tucker grated out.

“Would have been nicer of you to keep your goddamn relatives from threatening us.”

“Leon and Dale?” His voice strained, as if he’d gulped down some barbed wire, not spaghetti sauce.

“That’s right. We never know where they’ll pop up next, but it seems they have me and Claire pinned down right nice. See, they think we’re squatting on your land with thoughts of stealing something. If I don’t keep Claire in my sights at all times, I’m afraid of what they might do or say to her!”