Read Online Taking the Bull by the Horns, a Cascade Texas novella by MJ Fredrick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: MJ Fredrick
Ads: Link
underwear.
But he made her feel so good, not self-conscious at all, as she’d feared. He made her laugh, and he made her ache, and then he made her come, his fingers quick and skilled, and he dragged out the sensation before she begged him to fill her. He reached across the bed to fumble in a drawer with one hand while he unhooked her bra with the other. The rustle of cellophane filled the tiny room as he nuzzled her breast, suckling, stroking. She reached between them for his erection and he gasped against her skin when she closed her fingers around him, stroked slowly, learning him, learning what pleased him. Which seemed to be everything, judging by his breathing.
He lifted his head and pressed the open condom into her hand. “Don’t rip this, too.”
“Why? Aren’t there more?”
“There’s more.”
“Thank God,” she murmured, and sheathed him. Then she parted for him and cried out as he filled her slowly, slowly, waiting for her body to accept him before he started moving. He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her when he started to move.
Then she was moving too, and they found a rhythm, only to lose it and find another, then another.
“I’m fine if you want to lead this time,” he teased.
“I don’t remember how.”
He withdrew and rolled onto his back, reaching for her. “You’ll figure it out.”
Never would she have thought she would have the confidence to be on top, not with a young, handsome cowboy. How had he managed to melt her resistance, her self-consciousness? But this wasn’t just a young, handsome cowboy. This was Taylor, and she brought him into her, dragging a moan from both of them. He didn’t touch her until she found a rhythm that suited both of them, then he closed his hands over her hips and surged into her, matching her movements.
“I don’t think I can—”
“Oh, yes, you can.” And he dipped his thumb between them, dragging it along that bundle of nerves and bringing her to a shattering orgasm before tumbling her onto her back and driving into her, finding his own pleasure before collapsing over her.
****
“I hate sending you home.” Taylor lay on his side, one hand propped under his head as he watched Lavender gather her scattered clothes and put them on again.
She was still shaking from their second go-round, and knew if she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t. And boy, wouldn’t that cause all kinds of problems.
“I hate leaving,” she murmured, afraid to look at him. “What time are you heading out tomorrow?”
“Early.”
A lump formed in her throat. “So I won’t see you again.”
“I’ll be back in three weeks.”
She made herself turn to him then. “I don’t need promises.” But God, she wanted them.
“Lavender.” He rolled to his feet, pulled on his jeans without his jockeys, and reached for her.
She let him pull her close, tucked her head under his chin. “I’m not kidding myself about what this is. I know there’s not a future.”
“But it doesn’t have to already be the past, either. I’ll be back in three weeks. I’ll want to see you.”
She eased back and placed her fingers over his lips. She’d heard it all before. “No promises, Taylor, okay? Thank you.” She pulled out of his arms, hating how empty she felt without him wrapped around her. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. The whole weekend, not just tonight. Thank you.” And before she could start bawling, she hurried out the door.
She wondered how debauched she looked when she came in the front door of the house. Just when she was about to reassure herself that her grandmother wouldn’t see her until the morning–well, later in the morning–she heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.
“Mrs. Aguilar?” she asked, rounding the corner.
And stopped short to see a strange woman facing off with Gertrude.
Okay, not strange, just unexpected.
“Mother? What are you doing here?”
Eleanor Prouty turned to look at her
But he made her feel so good, not self-conscious at all, as she’d feared. He made her laugh, and he made her ache, and then he made her come, his fingers quick and skilled, and he dragged out the sensation before she begged him to fill her. He reached across the bed to fumble in a drawer with one hand while he unhooked her bra with the other. The rustle of cellophane filled the tiny room as he nuzzled her breast, suckling, stroking. She reached between them for his erection and he gasped against her skin when she closed her fingers around him, stroked slowly, learning him, learning what pleased him. Which seemed to be everything, judging by his breathing.
He lifted his head and pressed the open condom into her hand. “Don’t rip this, too.”
“Why? Aren’t there more?”
“There’s more.”
“Thank God,” she murmured, and sheathed him. Then she parted for him and cried out as he filled her slowly, slowly, waiting for her body to accept him before he started moving. He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her when he started to move.
Then she was moving too, and they found a rhythm, only to lose it and find another, then another.
“I’m fine if you want to lead this time,” he teased.
“I don’t remember how.”
He withdrew and rolled onto his back, reaching for her. “You’ll figure it out.”
Never would she have thought she would have the confidence to be on top, not with a young, handsome cowboy. How had he managed to melt her resistance, her self-consciousness? But this wasn’t just a young, handsome cowboy. This was Taylor, and she brought him into her, dragging a moan from both of them. He didn’t touch her until she found a rhythm that suited both of them, then he closed his hands over her hips and surged into her, matching her movements.
“I don’t think I can—”
“Oh, yes, you can.” And he dipped his thumb between them, dragging it along that bundle of nerves and bringing her to a shattering orgasm before tumbling her onto her back and driving into her, finding his own pleasure before collapsing over her.
****
“I hate sending you home.” Taylor lay on his side, one hand propped under his head as he watched Lavender gather her scattered clothes and put them on again.
She was still shaking from their second go-round, and knew if she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t. And boy, wouldn’t that cause all kinds of problems.
“I hate leaving,” she murmured, afraid to look at him. “What time are you heading out tomorrow?”
“Early.”
A lump formed in her throat. “So I won’t see you again.”
“I’ll be back in three weeks.”
She made herself turn to him then. “I don’t need promises.” But God, she wanted them.
“Lavender.” He rolled to his feet, pulled on his jeans without his jockeys, and reached for her.
She let him pull her close, tucked her head under his chin. “I’m not kidding myself about what this is. I know there’s not a future.”
“But it doesn’t have to already be the past, either. I’ll be back in three weeks. I’ll want to see you.”
She eased back and placed her fingers over his lips. She’d heard it all before. “No promises, Taylor, okay? Thank you.” She pulled out of his arms, hating how empty she felt without him wrapped around her. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. The whole weekend, not just tonight. Thank you.” And before she could start bawling, she hurried out the door.
She wondered how debauched she looked when she came in the front door of the house. Just when she was about to reassure herself that her grandmother wouldn’t see her until the morning–well, later in the morning–she heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.
“Mrs. Aguilar?” she asked, rounding the corner.
And stopped short to see a strange woman facing off with Gertrude.
Okay, not strange, just unexpected.
“Mother? What are you doing here?”
Eleanor Prouty turned to look at her
Similar Books
