Espino, Stacey - Midlife Ménage [Ride 'em Hard 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (11 page)

Time would tell if Jason continued to pose a threat to his woman.

Chapter Nine

Wendy sat in her hayloft, watching her ruined wheat blow peacefully in the breeze. Still no rain, and she’d given up hope in a miracle. Christine went with Kylie to get things settled at her new dorm in the city, so she wasn’t expecting them back for a day or two. It was just her and her thoughts.

She’d woken early to watch the sun rise. It was one of her favorite sights, a source of inspiration, and fuel to get through each day. Wendy tried to decipher her self-destructive tendencies over the years. She’d hid behind the death of her husband as an excuse to keep emotionally guarded. And she was emotionally guarded to avoid dealing with the pain. It was a vicious cycle that only she could break.

Two good men had been planted in her life for a reason. She had to face her pain and stop closing herself off to new possibilities. People could love again, she knew that now because she felt it growing inside her. Every time she saw Jackson or Wade her heartbeat quickened. When they were away, she pined for them. Wendy felt like a love-struck teenager, but it wasn’t too far from the truth since she’d put off her romantic needs for most of her adult life. Everything felt new and potent.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Why didn’t you wake me?”

She looked down to the yard below. “I’m not working, just sitting. Besides, I want you to get some rest.”

Jackson disappeared into the barn and emerged from the trapdoor in the hayloft a minute later. He looked gorgeous with the early-morning light reflecting in his eyes, his hair dishevelled, and jaw unshaved.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he said as he flopped down on the pile of saddle blankets beside her. Jackson rested on his side, his head propped up by his elbow.

“I’m wondering why you’re not properly dressed.” He was shirtless, his jeans not even done up right. His belt was unbuckled, flapping open. There wasn’t an extra ounce of fat on his body, just toned muscle.

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Does it bother you?”

She scowled. “You might catch cold,” she said, trying to disguise her burning need to touch him. It was bad enough she couldn’t avert her eyes.

“Then you could warm me up, couldn’t you?” He shifted closer, pushing his weight up on his arm. She flinched when he reached for her face. “Stop fighting me, Wendy. I care about you.”

“I’m not a young woman anymore, Jackson. You could have any girl you want.”

He cupped a hand behind her head and gently brought her down to his level. “I ain’t interested in girls. And it’s you I want. Only you.” His lips brushed hers, as sweet and tender as the wind caressing the wheat. She melted against him, kissing deeper, savoring the connection. Jackson was a dirty-blond Adonis and what was she? The old maid? But every touch, every kiss, made her feel more desirable, more worthy. For some wild reason, the young cowboy wanted her, so why should she question it?

She had to reach forward to stabilize herself when he pulled her lower. His shoulder was solid and warm, his bare skin intimate to the touch. All she could think about was how he’d brought her to orgasm with his mouth. Jackson didn’t relent until she was lying beside him on the blankets. Part of her knew she was about to have sex. The unspoken promise was in the air all around them. It had been a long time coming for Wendy, and she was glad her first time with a new man was in the loft and not the house. She’d always associate the house as
their
home, and maybe the only way for her to move on with life was to start fresh in a new place. But for now, the barn would suffice.

“You work too hard,” he said once he flipped her under him. Jackson stroked her hair back, studying her face. She saw genuine adoration in his gaze. “I wish I could give you everything you deserve, but I’m not a wealthy man.”

“When did I ever ask for money?”

Jackson was young, and a hard worker. He devoted himself to his sport, keeping in shape and travelling the circuit. She would never judge him for his lack of a cushioned bank account. Her only worry was the day he’d head back on the road, chasing the next event…and forgetting her.

“You don’t understand how it is for a man. I want to be able to provide for you, make you proud to be my woman.” His woman? While part of her revelled in those two little words, another part was terrified. Could she handle a new relationship? She didn’t want to keep wondering, guessing, dreaming. Wendy wanted to take the plunge, to lose herself in the virile cowboy and fuck the consequences. She needed to know what it would feel like on the other side, as a woman who’d moved on. Would she be ashamed of herself for not continuing to live in suspended animation? Or would she realize giving herself to a new man was exactly what she’d been missing?

Wendy felt a foreign boldness strike within her. She didn’t want to talk anymore. In fact, she was sick and tired of thinking, worrying, and discussing. She wanted to lose herself in Jackson’s strength, to feel him conquer her body and make her his. “There are other ways for a man to prove himself to a woman.”

He pulled his head back and cocked an eyebrow. “Is there now?”

She nodded, eager for him to start showing her what he was made of. Her pussy was drowning in her own juices, her nipples beaded, and heart pounding. She couldn’t be any more ready than she was now.

“In that case, you’ll be begging me to be your man.” Then he whispered against her ear, “No man will fuck you harder than me, darlin’.” She imagined he’d be plenty pent up from all their intimate encounters that left him unsatisfied. He was also young, strong, and used to riding broncs on a daily basis. Wendy felt a slight twinge of trepidation as she imagined the cowboy mounting her and fucking her raw, but only a twinge.

He dropped his head forward and kissed her hard, demanding. She’d given him the permission he needed, and he wasn’t wasting the chance. As he supported his weight over her, he used his free hand to unzip his jeans. She could scarcely recall what a man’s cock looked like, never mind filling her body. The sound of his zipper lowering registered loud and clear, even with his sensual assault of her mouth.

“You’re tense again,” he said, trailing kisses along her jawline to that insatiable erogenous zone around her ear. “No need. I’ll go nice and slow.” Then he added, “This time.”

Jackson unbuttoned her jeans next. She was actually doing this. It was too difficult to pull her Levi’s down her hips in their current position, so he rose to his knees and hooked his hands at the waistband on either side of her. He tugged the material off, along with her panties. When she looked up from her bed of blankets, she saw his monster cock jutting out from his jeans. It was huge and hungry. She swallowed hard, wondering if it would even fit inside of her, and imagining how satisfying it would feel if it did.

“Take off your shirt. I want you naked.”

She did as he asked because she was committed to seeing this through. Her body wasn’t something to write home about, but for her age, she was proud of her figure. She worked hard and it showed. Her body was lean and healthy, but wouldn’t be too impressive to a young buck like Jackson. She hated the thought of him comparing her to the twenty-year-old one-night stands he probably had over the years.

He licked his lips like a predator moving in for the kill, his eyes narrowed and focused on her intimate parts. When he dropped back down over her, their bare skin colliding was electric. A bond was formed just lying together skin to skin, no barrier between them. His cock was prodding her thighs, more like a metal rod, not a part of his anatomy.

“Are you ready?”

“Do cowboys normally talk this much?”

He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

* * * *

Jackson’s ribs ached from where he’d been struck with a crowbar by one of Jason’s friends. He didn’t tell Wendy about it because she had enough on her plate with Kylie and her ailing farm. Besides, they weren’t broken, just sore as all hell. The beauty under him was an excellent distraction, and with all his blood racing to his cock, sex was the answer.

After only getting reluctance or mixed signals, Wendy appeared anxious to get started. She writhed beneath him, her hips shifting this way and that as he prepared himself. He brought two fingers to her pussy to test her readiness. She was slick with moisture, beads of liquid leaking down to her ass. “You’re nice and wet for me,” he said.

She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. So far she’d allowed him to be the aggressor, the instigator. She’d continually avoided touching him, not taking what she clearly wanted—until now. It felt like heaven to have Wendy’s hands on his body, exploring, caressing. He closed his eyes and savored her delicate fingers claiming him.

His balls pulled up high, and his dick had never been so swollen. As much as he’d love to lie with Wendy all day, he had immediate needs that had to take precedence. He prodded her slick folds with the head of his cock, and teased her clit, distributing the abundance of moisture. When he finally sank the first inch of his erection inside her, he stalled, his eyes lolling back in his head. “You’re tight, Wendy.” Impossibly tight. He didn’t expect a woman of her age with four children to be so snug, but he welcomed the tight hug on his dick. “So freakin’ good,” he muttered as he sank deeper.

He realized she’d frozen as he entered her, her legs locked at the sides of his hips, and her arms in a death grip around his neck. Jackson kissed her temple and then the tears forming at the corners of her closed eyes. He would have stopped, but they both knew she had to stop living in the past, sleeping with a dead man.

Once he’d eased all the way inside her, he hooked his arms under her shoulders and held her close. “I love you,” he said, hoping the day came when she could honestly say it back. Maybe he was young and dumb, falling too hard and fast for Wendy, but he didn’t care. She’d awoken new feelings inside him, made him crave more than the status quo.

Jackson felt torn, wanting to comfort her, but also wanting to continue what they started. When he began to pull out, she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” she said. “I like it. Just be patient with me.”

His nerves eased, and her words gave him the permission he needed to truly let loose. He began to work his hips into a fast rhythm, pushing deep, holding her to his chest. Wendy marked her shift from caution into untamed abandon with her throaty groans. The sound fuelled him, brought all his muscles to life. He’d be able to go all night long if he hadn’t been so pent up. But one thing he’d learned was that a real man let his woman finish first. With Wendy, it would be a challenge.

The warm breeze blew the scent of sweet alfalfa into the loft. His body was already sweat glistened, his skin sliding against Wendy’s breasts with each upward thrust.

He wanted to tell her to hurry, that hanging on was killing him, but he wouldn’t mar her first encounter in God knows how many years. She needed this, however long it took.

When she began to calm, her body pliant, he knew she was transitioning, her body preparing for the explosive moment to come. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, but he managed to hear her when she said, “Don’t leave me.”

What did she think? He’d move on to the next town without a backward glance? Jackson may have been a drifter for most of his adult life, but it wasn’t out of love. It was out of honor, and respect for what his father had taught him. But he was dead, leaving behind a grieving widow, just like Wendy’s husband had done to her. He wanted to make a change, to give up his path in life for one good woman.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.” He thrust harder, drowning in her heat, her scent, her touch. All his unfulfilled dreams of the past weeks paled in comparison to the real thing.

She dug her nails into his back as she began to brace herself for climax. “Jackson…” He loved the sound of his name on her sweet lips. Bringing Wendy to her peak was what he was born to do. Her movements, sounds, and breathing all increased just before her pussy clamped down hard on his cock. He was thankful to finally be able to allow himself the release he’d been holding back. As the walls of her cunt milked him, he came hard. He groaned aloud as he spent himself inside her.

“You’ve done me in, darlin’.” He rolled to his side, cringing from the shifting of his sore ribs. During sex he didn’t even remember his name, never mind his physical discomforts. Now they came back with a vengeance.

“I knew it. You
are
hurt.” She rose to a sit, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, hitting the swell of her bare breast. With the sun shining down from the open loft doors, she looked like an angel, his angel.

He shook his head. “You’re beautiful, you know that? I could stare at you all day and never grow bored.”

“Are you blind, cowboy?” she teased, grabbing for her shirt. He stilled her, holding her wrist.