Dynomite: A Stepbrother Cowboy Romance (24 page)

“You did a good job.” I slid my hand down to cup his balls, massaging them, letting him know I wanted him. “You don’t need that rubber. I want you to fuck me, and I want to feel it. I want to be fucked by this strapping, virile, macho cowboy.”

He grinned against my mouth. “I know you’re just wearing teeny thong panties. Every man jack at this party can see that. Your fucking uncle can see that, so I’m not leaving your side until he’s hellaway back to Liberace’s mansion.” He raised the skirt of my dress, snapping the feeble elastic of my thong with one twist of his fingers. It bit into my thigh like a nasty bug, heightening my senses in preparation for the erotic assault.

“Jan Murray’s.
Ah!
”

He plunged one, two, three fingers between my thighs, slicking them up with pussy juice, tickling my labia. I jumped a foot when he brushed my clit. I had never for a second forgotten Dyno’s unique ability to make me come. Monstrous, gigantic orgasms better than any shower head or BOB. Dyno brought me off like a volcano. Maybe he was named for this ability, not the other talent I’d witnessed when spying on him jacking himself in the shower.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Does dickhead ol’ Mason do this to you?”

“No,” I gasped. “Not very often.”
Never
, if the truth was told. Mason didn’t care about my arousal. He just shoved it on in, wham, bam, thank you ma’am. But all men did that, so it was nothing to complain about.

Now he flicked his middle finger up and down the length of my clit. It was almost like he’d spied on
me
pleasuring myself, that’s how accurate, on the nose he was. Or should I say “on the button.”

His other hand grabbed a handful of my hair at the back of my neck. “Tell me, April. Let’s cut this fucking bullshit out, this fucking game playing. Shoot straight with me.”

“I’m about to.” I couldn’t resist the quip, though I was dying to hear his proposal. “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t aim to. I don’t aim to ever stop with you, April. Let’s put all this childish game playing aside and be fucking honest with each other. I want you. You want me. We’re too old to care about being step-siblings. Our parents are in Europe. What the fuck are we hiding from?”

“Oh, yes!” I cried. I had my fucking toes up on the edge of the dresser like it was some OBGYN’s chair while he diddled me expertly. Each stroke of his fingers brought more blood rushing to my cunt, my entire pelvis flooded with congestion now. If he didn’t bring me off and break the dam, I was going to scream loud enough to bring ol’ Milt running. He’d have a bitch of a time judging
us
, I figured. “I don’t care that you’re my stepbrother. Who cares? Oh God, don’t stop, Dyno!”

“No one cares, you sweet, nasty filly.” He was probably echoing what he
wished
was the truth, but still. It was nice to feel hopeful for once instead of beaten down, forlorn, demoralized. Hope surged through me along with my lust. I guess you could say that’s when I really, truly started loving Dyno. Before had been a childish crush, an undeveloped adolescent longing for something I knew I couldn’t have.

Dyno was right. Now we were adults in every sense of the word. Nothing stood in our way. Even if our parents did return and condemn us, who cared?

My orgasm surged over me with unexpected power. Every muscle in my womb and vagina clenched up so rigidly I was almost afraid I was having a seizure. One high heel teetered off the tips of my toes. The other one had long ago bounced to the floor. I came for what seemed like ungodly
minutes
, each spasm a shred less intense than the one before it, hiccupping out of me.

I barely noticed when he slid his penis inside of me in one smooth motion.

Of course, I was much more used to it by now, at the ripe old age of twenty-five. My pussy accepted his girth eagerly. He uttered such a low, deep groan that it resonated deep in his gut and vibrated his prick. It thrilled me so deeply that my other shoe fell off my toes and I twined both ankles together at the small of his back, giving him the ultimate access to me.

I tried to smear his hair from his face. He’d grown it longer, messier, in the SEALs. SEALs could do what they wanted, a perfect place for him. I whispered, “Dyno. I’ve longed for you for years. You’re the only man who’s ever been the one for me. But how could I wait for someone who hates me?”

He growled, “I don’t hate you. Never did. Want to throw you down and fuck the stuffing out of you, but I never hated you. The more you riled me the more you got my tail up. You’re the only hell your mama ever raised, April. And I’m thankful for that.”

With one deep lunge, he seated his cockhead up against my womb. Now I groaned with the resonance of a bass speaker, making my cunt flutter around his dick. I’d never been so truly, utterly, and totally well-fucked, so filled with a man’s penis and soul. A tear actually squeezed from one corner of my mouth as I kissed him.

“Dyno,” I murmured. “You get me in a horn tossing mood, that’s why. When I saw that bimbo with you tonight I wanted to rip her fake boobs right off her.”

He grinned against my mouth. “How you reckon she’s got fake boobs?”

“No one has baseballs glued to their chest like that. I want you to dump her right now.”

“You ready to go public with me? Didn’t think so.”

I could actually feel his prick expand inside me as he plunged it in and out of me. I tilted my hips into him, accepting him completely. My pussy muscles gripped him like they’d never let go, and I slid one hand down his beautiful flank to squeeze his ass. He was buffer now, more solid, a compact fighting machine. It wasn’t his first rodeo, and his worldly, mature experience seemed to seep into me like I was a sponge. His cock quivered and plumped inside me like it was priming itself for the explosion. A tornado could come and take my house away, and I’d keep on fucking Dyno.

“You gonna stick around?” I asked.

“Your daddy hired me, didn’t he? I don’t take any job lightly.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I clenched his dick with my muscles, and he gasped.

“That’s a yes, sir,” he confirmed, and came inside me.

I milked him with my muscles, like I was afraid to let a single drop of the precious jizz go to waste. I even thought it was a shame that I still had that damned IUD in place. It made it easy with Mason and the men before him, but for the first time ever, I regretted it.

I wanted Dyno so badly, I wanted to make something
more
with him, an expression of our love. I wanted to build a house for him, a monument to his excellence. He was such a rough and ready outlaw, I wanted to devour him, to take him into me, to make us whole as a couple. Because it seemed we were only ever truly complete with each other. Even when fussing and fighting with each other, it was more vital, more intense, more invigorating than the slow, pointless death of being apart.

“
Ah
…” He held me still by gripping the back of my neck like a vise. My thighs were around him like iron rubber bands as I milked him. “
April
. You broke filly.”

Gratitude flooded me like melted butter that he remembered calling me that. I slashed my lips across his. “You fucking outlaw.”

We were together then, on the same page. Dyno slid out of me and we separated, smoothing down our clothing, but I felt at one with him. He’d professed his love for me, in his own way.

“You’re afraid to tell your dad about us.” That was a statement, not a question.

I held my breath. He was right. I
was
afraid to let Dad know. “Let’s play it by ear, see how it goes. I want to keep ‘seeing’ you.” We both knew that “seeing” was a euphemism for “keep fucking the living daylights out of each other.”

He faced me square on. “I want to see you, too, Miss Squarepants. I don’t aim to go anywhere. I’m here for the long haul.”

I smiled. Another tear escaped my eye. “Dyno. You’re wilder than a peach orchard boar, but fuck me dry. I want you. I want you now and forever.” My lingo was starting to match his.

We grinned at each other like morons until some partygoers wandered near the sliding door. We could practically hear the ice tinkle in their glasses, and it startled us out of our trance.

“Okay!” I said brightly. “Let’s rejoin the party.”

But Dyno wasn’t ready yet. He grabbed my wrist. “What you gonna do about that Mason Simon dickwipe? I can’t abide thinking of you in his bed.”

I actually
had
thought of that. “I could easily move to another one of Hardscrabble’s cottages. It’s not like he’s asked me to marry him or anything.”

So that’s how we left it. Dyno slipped back into the party first to mingle with his fans, and I went through the house to emerge out another door.

The first thing I saw was Mason chatting with that tennis pro, Carla Reyes. She had a flame-haired robustness about her, a vitality that I didn’t possess. I could picture her with a tennis racket whacking the shit out of the ball. She appeared to be hanging on Mason’s every word, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

I stayed in the shadows for another couple of seconds, long enough to see Mason throw his head back in a fit of laughter and ever so casually put his hand on Carla’s lower back.

I knew moving to another cottage would be easier than I thought.

Coming out of the shadows, I purposefully caught his eye just to let him know:
I know
. The laughter instantly evaporated from his face, and he withdrew his hand from Carla as though burned.

I didn’t even stop to greet the tennis star. I wound my way through several groups of people, glad my party was a success. I paused when I caught sight of Dyno chatting up a group of society folks. I was proud of him, doing a good job schmoozing and trying to fit into my circle. He seemed to understand that functions like this were part of a rodeo star’s repertoire, his public image. He couldn’t just ride and compete in a vortex of his own. There were fans, hangers-on, buckle bunnies, and various officials connected with the sport.

I must’ve caught his eye in the middle of a sentence because he stopped cold. The car dealership owner kept blathering to him, but he held my gaze with a knowing look.

I knew everything in that one sly, knowing look.

Dyno loves me.

DYNO

I
’d finally fucked
April, staked my claim on her.

I flew around for a few days in a strange, light-headed high. I herded cows with a new vitality I never knew I possessed. I’d been an adrenaline junkie in the service, but this was a whole new ballgame.

I was a changed man after banging April in Tricky Dick’s bedroom. If I felt any better, I’d drop my harp through a cloud. I should really say “making love,” since that’s what it was—one big, soul-moving, ecstatic display of the passionate love I’d always felt for her. But I wasn’t accustomed to using sappy terminology like that. Never having told a girl I loved her, I held back on that choice piece of information.

April threw me for a loop several days after the cocktail party by telling me she’d moved out of the Water Buffalo Lodge, away from that plastic jerk Mason Simon. Everything was happening so fast. I’d never banged Brianna—sure as fuck didn’t bang her after the cocktail party, after all that happened that night—so it was no tall order to just never call her back again. Next to April, she was about as exciting as a mashed potato sandwich. I’d like to be able to say that throwing her over required a giant sacrifice on my part, but it didn’t. There’d never been a girl that could hold a candle to April Pleasure. And of course, even having only ridden in the rodeo for a few weeks, I’d already collected a group of buckle bunnies I could’ve easily bagged. But I didn’t.

I didn’t because if you fucking want to know the truth, besides being in love with April Pleasure, I had changed in other ways. I’d gotten plenty of arrows in my quiver working overseas. I’d eventually been forced out of the team because the blurred vision resulting from the blast caused me to make some questionable judgment calls. We had each other’s backs overseas, of course, so it took a while before the upper brass was informed that I was puking quite often due to blinding headaches.

So I’d been sort of adrift, wondering if I could even join forces with a domestic security firm. You know, like, be a bodyguard to some despotic drug trafficker or Hollywood asshole. How would I live with myself having to drive them to the Fig and Olive every night? Clean up their cocaine mess, or whatever they currently snorted? Scrape used condoms off the ceiling of a blacked-out SUV? That wasn’t my style, so I’d returned to my first love, cowboying, though there wasn’t much future in that. But nightmares where I was forced to reenact certain missions over and over on an endless loop still plagued me. So I doubled my meetings with the VA shrink who was giving me the EMDR therapy. Nightmares seemed to fizzle away even more after April told me she’d moved into the Quarry Cave House. I think Rock Hudson used to claim the Quarry Cave as his own, and it still boasted shag rugs spotted to look like animals from a Flintstone cartoon.

“So how exactly ‘out’ are we going to be?” I asked April. “Kissing in public out, or looking at each other with smoldering eyes out?”