Read Online Nightfall by Joey W. Hill and Desiree Holt - Free Book Online Page B

call the shots. To demand. Oh he always paid attention to his partner’s
needs, making sure she was completely satisfied. Tested and teased to find out
the things that turned her on. Excited her. But it was his rodeo. He’d been in
charge all his life, first with his competitions, then with the ranch, now with
the bar.
    But last night Selene had taken command. When she wound his
belt around his wrists, restraining him, he’d been harder than he ever
remembered. When at last she permitted him to come— permitted! —his
release nearly blasted the top of his head off.
    What was it she’d said? There’s a different kind of male
power, Quinn. One that you’ve always known is waiting for you, waiting to serve
a woman if she knows where to look for that treasure.
    It would have to be on her terms. Could he accept that?
    Maybe.
    Maybe that was why he’d had the dream. A message that she
was unlocking a side to him he’d never acknowledged but sensed, particularly in
his growing dissatisfaction with his existing relationships. He saw it as a
battle of wills, himself the animal craving to be both goaded and tamed. While
one part of his brain said fuck, no the other part said more, more,
more.
    Forcibly shutting down his internal dialogue, he shoved
himself out of bed and padded into the bathroom. In the shower he realized he
couldn’t possibly get dressed with his penis so heavy and hard. As he leaned
against the tile wall of the shower, hot water beating down on him, he stroked
himself roughly to completion.
    Closing his eyes, he imagined standing before her. His mouth
grew dry at the vision of her spun-gold hair drifting around her face, the pale
tracery of veins beneath her delicate skin, the faint beat of her pulse at the
sweet hollow of her throat, blue eyes gleaming with hunger as she watched him
come for her. Maybe when he was finished she’d lift his hand and lick it clean
before wrapping those moist lips around his cock.
    Stop!
    He had to get dressed. Get outside. The hands were moving
part of the herd from one pasture to another today and everyone was needed,
including him. His hand was shaking as he turned off the stream of water and
stepped out to dry himself. He managed to pull on his clothes and his boots
without passing out, but his body was so weak it took a supreme effort of
concentration.
    By the time he reached the kitchen he had thankfully managed
to pull himself together.
    “Everyone else ate and headed out,” Annette scolded.
    The woman had come with the ranch, so to speak, having
served as housekeeper for the previous owner. She lived in a tiny house just
past the barn that looked as if it had been built one year before God, but she
always assured him that it suited her just fine. No, she didn’t need him to
make any improvements, thank you very much, so quit pestering her about it.
Quinn wasn’t sure of her exact age. Somewhere between forty and sixty, he
guessed, with a solid body. She wore her graying dark hair in a long braid down
her back and he’d never seen her with makeup. Or clad in anything except jeans
and shirts, come to think of it. She dispensed the law of man according to
Annette along with the most delicious meals he’d ever eaten, and kept the hands
under tight control. Every morning he prayed she hadn’t decided to pull up
stakes and move on.
    “Late night?” she prodded.
    “Hard night at the bar,” he mumbled.
    That had been the damn truth. Only it wasn’t the bar that
had been hard.
    Annette poured coffee into a mug for him and took two egg
and sausage biscuit sandwiches out of the oven. She studied his face. “You’ll
kill yourself running the ranch and that bar at the same time.”
    He swallowed some of the coffee. “I think I might have fixed
that last night.”
    “Yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Not with that piece of trash
Artie you’ve had in there.”
    Quinn smiled, remembering Selene’s attitude where Artie was
concerned.
    “No, Annette. Artie’s