Espino, Stacey - Midlife Ménage [Ride 'em Hard 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (7 page)

“Do you think Wade Laweson would be a better choice just because he’s older? Or because he has more money than he knows what to do with?”

“I know very well money can’t buy love or I’d have settled down with him over a decade ago. I’m not looking for any man, young or old, rich or poor. That’s not going to change.”

Jackson remained silent for the rest of the short drive. He walked around and opened her door once they pulled up to the house. She held the robe shut tight when she swung her legs around.

“You have no boots on,” he said, just noticing. She’d gotten in the truck with no problem, but now that he saw her bare feet he wouldn’t let her out the door.

“It’s not exactly cold out, Jackson.” Wendy tried to brush him aside but the man was built like a brick house, all solid muscle. The simple touch to push him out of her way seemed to light up her body from the inside. She was even tempted to run her hands over those broad shoulders or her palm along the rough stubble on his jaw.

“I love the way you say my name, darlin’.” He whispered the words, so close. She swallowed the frog in her throat. If only things were different. If only she were a young girl starting out in life without all the baggage. She’d love to throw herself in his arms and let him fend off the world. But fairy tales were for children’s books, not women living the harsh reality where no knight in shining armor existed.

“Don’t…”

He leaned in and scooped her up into his capable arms. She had no choice but to wrap her arm around his neck for fear of falling to the ground. “I’m not letting you walk on the gravel drive. I took you home to care for you, and I plan to do just that.”

“I promise I’m fine.” She squirmed to show her disapproval, but not enough that he’d put her down. Being held by a man was a first for her. Her marriage had been too brief, and she was either pregnant or busy with children while her husband devoted his time to their new farm. He was a good man, but it scared her to admit she may not have really loved him. She was young and idealistic back then, not even an adult, and so little time was devoted to nurturing their relationship. Once he died, it was easy to convince herself she’d lost the love of her life, the father of her children. Her focus, besides her perpetual mourning, was raising her children with enough affection to make up for two parents.

All the feelings she got when she thought of Jackson or Wade were new. She’d never felt that flutter in her stomach or hitch in her breath before. Wendy felt sick and guilty for not having been a better wife or more sorrowful widow. She wanted to give in to these two men, to allow herself a new beginning, but felt too guilty.

Jackson leaned over and opened the front door, not letting her to her feet. He kicked it shut after they entered the house.

Christine rushed over, dressed to head out, but stopped and looked between her and Jackson. “Mom, are you okay?” This was what she feared most, seeing betrayal in her children’s eyes if they saw her with another man.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” She felt foolish being held like a child, but also special and wanted. It was nice being the one cared for rather than doing all of it herself.

“Soup’ll be ready shortly, but I’m going out with Casey tonight. Do you want me to cancel? Yeah, I should cancel.”

Jackson spoke before she could open her mouth. “Oh no. You go on out with your friend. I’ll be taking care of your momma, and I’ll be sure to give her some of your fine soup. It smells delicious.”

Christine smiled. “Okay, then.” She kissed Wendy on the cheek then raced off. Wendy had to constantly remind herself that the younger generation liked to go out and have fun, get a little wild with their friends, not work themselves on a ranch day after day. She liked that Christine was starting to spread her wings, but hoped she made better choices than Kylie had.

Once her daughter was out of sight, Jackson adjusted her in his arms, reminding her his rough hands were still on her body, just the thin robe hiding her nudity. “As for you, you’re going to bed.” He carried her to her room and gently placed her on her mattress. After shutting the blinds and turning on the fan, he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, the mattress dipping from his weight.

“What about the orchard?”

She could understand other people being angry with her. Worrying about crops before health was foolhardy. But she felt good now, and her wheat and apples were her livelihood. How could she just go to sleep and pretend all her worries had vanished? It would be worse when she was fully recovered only to discover her season ruined, much more at stake for her if those young trees died. She’d invested all her savings on establishing the orchard, hoping to create a new and more stable source of income. Now it was just a liability.

“Don’t worry about the orchard,” he said, running his hand across her forehead to remove the stray hairs. She jerked her head away, uncomfortable with the intimate touch. Being over a decade older than Jackson, she shouldn’t feel like an inexperienced schoolgirl, but she did. It was as if all the years she’d stopped living a full life never happened, and she was once again young and shy, in the care of a more traveled lover. Jackson may only be twenty-nine but she was certain he knew the anatomy of a woman and the art of lovemaking. Wendy could barely recall what it felt like to kiss a man.

“But—”

He shook his head and leaned over her torso. Only now could she smell his subtle cologne. She closed her eyes, feeling enveloped by so much masculine energy. He whispered right against her ear, the heat and gentle wisp of air igniting her deep-seated desires. “Trust me.”

“I can’t,” she said with all honesty. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to give up that much power. If she only had herself to rely on, she’d never have to worry about getting hurt or caring about a stranger.

He tongued the shell of her ear, his upper body weight suspended over her. His frame was so large, so strong, everything that attracted her to a man. She never realized there were erogenous zones in and around her ears. He seemed to hit every one with his lips and tongue. Why wasn’t she stopping him? Her eyes were closed, her pussy pulsing, her heart rate deafening as it pounded in her ears.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

She kept silent.

He grew bolder now, probably since she hadn’t asked him to stop. Jackson ran a hand down the side of her neck and under the housecoat at her shoulders. His bare hand against her flesh was hot and rough, titillating her senses. She had no clothes on. All it would take was a quick movement to peel the material open, leaving her completely vulnerable.

“What about this?” As he reached deeper inside her housecoat, his hand skimming her side, the terrycloth parted, exposing one breast. She gasped, trying to cover up, but he stilled her. “Why’re you hiding from me? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I’m nothing to look at.” She had small, insignificant breasts, slightly droopy from nursing all her children for over a year each. Jackson had probably sampled plenty of the young buckle bunnies that frequented the rodeo circuit. She couldn’t compete and wouldn’t be looked at with disgust.

He wrapped his hand around her wrist, raising it above her head in a firm lock. Then he lowered his mouth to her breast, taking the entire areola into his mouth. Her nipple instantly pebbled, sparks of electricity racing through her body. She panted, shocked as much as she wanted more. “You’re delicious, Wendy. More than I could ever ask for.” He trailed those wicked kisses down her center, making her stomach quiver.

“Jackson, what’re you doing?”

“Just one taste, darlin’.” She wasn’t sure what he referred to until his tongue flicked out when he reached her clit. Wendy gasped aloud, the sensation triggering a deep convulsing in her womb. “Yes,” he murmured, spreading her legs apart. She was stiff, awkward, unsure…until he began to suckle her. Jackson ate her pussy—licking, sucking, nipping, and fucking her with his tongue. This was another new experience for her. She felt uninhibited, as if exploring her sexuality for the first time.

It was oddly erotic watching Jackson’s head between her bare legs. Her housecoat was fully open, no longer an afterthought. She focused on his mouth, the pleasurable sounds he made, and the fire sparked to life in her core. The heat grew and spread. Wendy began to whimper, clutching his head, knowing something monumental was about to take place.

He seemed to know the precise spot to concentrate on, bringing her higher until she was floating on a new plane of consciousness. His stubble scraped her sensitive inner thighs and pussy lips, but the mix of pleasure and slight pain was exhilarating.

“Jackson!” She thrust her hips up involuntarily at the same time her body erupted. It was as if some floodgate inside her had broken forth, releasing all her desire in one massive rush of energy. He didn’t pull away, but suckled her cunt until all her contractions eased, leaving her a boneless mass on the bed.

“You’re sweeter than apple pie.”

“But you love my apple pie,” she muttered, barely able to form the words.

“I’d much rather eat you for dessert.”

She opened her eyes briefly, only then realizing he stood at the end of the bed gazing at her fully exposed, nude figure. Even though that familiar twinge of embarrassment and shame surfaced, it wasn’t stronger than her exhaustion or the fact she was more thoroughly sated than she thought possible.

“Now, you rest. No getting out of bed. I’m going to get some chores done around the property, and then I’ll come back in and check on you. You best be where I left you.” He pulled a crisp sheet from the blanket box and snapped it out, letting it come to rest over her flush body. As soon as the wave of cotton settled over her skin, she rolled over, clutching the material, and fell asleep.

* * * *

Jackson tore from the house, needing to breathe before he found himself crawling into bed with Mrs. McCay…
Wendy.
If she were his fairy-tale Wendy, then he certainly was a lost boy. He didn’t want to throw caution to the wind and follow in his daddy’s footsteps, not now that he could finally see an alternative future for himself. Wendy was his anchor and without her he’d only toss on the sea, travelling the circuit with no destination, no greater goal.

All week they’d played games, but she never allowed things to cross that invisible line from friendly to intimate. Now she’d willingly spread her legs and allowed him to go down on her. It had been heaven. The breasts she complained about were adorable and tempting. Her nipples tight buds begging to be sucked, and her stomach fair skinned and silky. He fully expected her to stop him before he reached the gold, but once she allowed him to take that first taste, she was his. Jackson knew how to pleasure a woman, what move could push her over the edge or get her to beg for more. Giving Wendy pleasure had been one of the most memorable experiences in his life. No woman could compare to her.

He’d done the right thing and tucked her into bed, but he was left with a painfully engorged erection in his pants. Nothing a little hard work wouldn’t cure. He tried not to picture her milky skin or remember the mewling sounds when he made her come against his mouth. His priorities were shifting like rapidly moving northern lights. All he could think about was making Wendy’s life easier, making her want him as much as he did her, and proving he was as much a man as Wade Laweson.

He stood at the edge of the fields, trying to imagine the desperation Wendy felt watching her crops wither and scorch under the sun. Jackson wanted to make her proud, be able to tell her he’d saved the day, but how? He wasn’t a farmer, and she had no modern equipment or irrigation. The weather didn’t affect him or his livelihood. All he needed to worry about was keeping his body fit and hanging on for those eight vital seconds. Now he needed to be so much more. He needed to be a hero.

Chapter Six

Wendy finally awoke, twisting about under the sheets. The room was dark, the orange and pink haze of dusk illuminating the shadowed room in a gentle haze of color. All at once, she remembered the current events. She’d let her boarder do explicit things to her body—and she’d loved every minute of it. But how could she face him again? What did it all mean? Her heart beat frantically as reality returned to her awakening mind.

She slipped out of bed and dressed as the last remnants of daylight peeked in through the crack in the curtains. At least the temperature cooled in the evenings, giving reprieve from the never-ending heat during sunup.

As she stepped into the hallway, the rest of the house was dark and silent, the creak in the hardwood echoing. “Christine?” she called out. After no reply, she knew her daughter would be having a late night out with friends. With the rodeo close to home, there was a constant flood of parties and events to get involved in. She had to remember her children weren’t kids anymore, but all adults, free to do as they pleased. “Jackson?”