I made no pretense of dropping Dusty off at the bunkhouse. I parked my truck in the garage and woke him up. If we ran into my father on the way to my room, so much the better. I was getting tired of all the clandestine bullshit. I loved Dusty, and I saw no reason to hide that love anymore—at least, not from my father. Rufus might notice Dusty’s absence, but he wouldn’t necessarily know where to look for him—although he might have been able to make a pretty good guess. With Bull off somewhere with his expensive pussy, Rufus was the only one I needed to be concerned about. The way I saw it, regardless of who might be responsible for the accidents, Dusty was safer with me than alone in the bunkhouse. And he would’ve been alone because Rufus and Calvin slept on the other side of the mess hall—Rufus in the foreman’s private room and Calvin in the cook’s quarters, away from the other men.
If Dusty was surprised I’d brought him up to the main house, he kept quiet about it, busying himself instead with the task of getting out of the truck without breaking another leg. I flipped on the kitchen light and held the door open for him while he negotiated the two steps up from the garage.
Despite Troy’s insistence that it wasn’t all that late, it was nearly one thirty. Dad had apparently gone to bed. Even if we’d elected to go to the bunkhouse, we probably wouldn’t have been disturbed for at least two hours, perhaps even more if the guys didn’t come straight home after Cactus Bill’s closed.
But I wanted more than a few hours. I wanted all night and into the next morning with Dusty—and the next thirty or forty years after that. I might even get it, seeing as how he’d asked me to marry him. I hadn’t given him an answer yet, but when I did, it would be a resounding yes. That is, if he remembered asking me. I would have to check on that to be sure.
As he paused in the doorway, it occurred to me that Dusty had never even been in the kitchen before. He’d only been in the office, which was off to the right of the front hallway. Since the back door was inside the garage and not visible from the bunkhouse, Troy had always come in that way whenever he’d visited me. Dusty never had, which made this moment seem almost as significant as if he were carrying me across the threshold on our wedding day.
The kitchen was the heart of any house, and family members entered through that door. Thankfully, Dusty seemed no more out of place there than Dad, Cody, or the boys would have been. He already belonged. For him to head straight to the refrigerator for a snack would have been perfectly natural.
And that’s exactly what he did.
“Sorry, Angel,” he said. “But I’m starving. I don’t suppose you have any more of that chili, do you?”
Here was my lover, the man I’d been dying to get my hands on all evening, asking to be fed before I ripped his jeans off and had my wicked way with him. It might have been perfectly natural, not to mention endearing, but it was funny as all get-out at the time.
“Sure do,” I replied with a giggle. “Dad doesn’t know how to make a small batch. There’s always enough for an army—although it never seemed like too much once Cody and the boys got into it. It’s there in that big green bowl.”
I realized then just how little I knew about Dusty’s likes and dislikes. Sure, he liked chili—I’d never known anyone to turn their nose up at my father’s version—but would he eat it cold or would he warm it up? Would he drink beer with it, or would he want water or even milk? I had no idea what to expect. I hadn’t lived with anyone completely new since the birth of my second child, and while figuring out what a new baby will eat is always a learning experience, milk and cereal are generally a good place to start. I didn’t have a clue what Dusty liked. Granted, I was the one who brought home the groceries and occasionally helped Calvin with the cooking, but his specific preferences were a mystery.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
Obviously, I’d been staring. I shook my head in an effort to reset my brain and clear my thoughts. “No reason. Just wondering how you want it.”
“In a bowl, hot, with grated cheese on top, and a glass of milk.” His tone and expression implied that as far as he was concerned there was no other way. He might as well have added the “Well, duh.”
“Sorry.” I flapped a hand. “Just a question. You’ll have to fill me in on the stuff you like.”
“I’m not hard to please. I mean, if it was a bowl of chili in my refrigerator, I’d probably stick a spoon in it and eat it cold.” He grinned. “Seems a bit presumptuous at the moment, though.”
“I see your point.” I took the bowl from him and set it on the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll fix it for you.”
Turning a chair sideways, he sat down, stretching his legs out in the middle of the floor. I wondered if this was another quirk of his until I realized it was simply a matter of maneuverability. With his leg in a cast, he would have a hard time getting up if he tucked his legs under the table.
My hands were shaking as I put some chili in a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, and even more so when I poured a glass of milk. Granted, bringing a new man into my home was worth a few butterflies, and the prospect of making love with him might’ve had something to do with it, but I shouldn’t have been so nervous. After all, Troy had visited me several times, and I hadn’t been anywhere near this rattled. I was doing my best to seem nonchalant, but my awkward movements must have given me away.
“Angel,” Dusty said. “Are you having second thoughts about all this?”
So he’d noticed. Imagine that. “What do you mean?” I was stalling, of course. I knew precisely what he meant. I wasn’t fooling anyone, not even myself.
I set the glass of milk on the table beside him. “I don’t know… It seems strange having you here.”
“You aren’t gonna give me that you’re-just-a-hired-hand-and-I’m-the-rancher’s-daughter spiel, are you?” His tone made it clear just how disappointed he would’ve been with me if that were the case—although no more disappointed than I would’ve been with myself.
“That isn’t it at all,” I replied. “But there’s something unsettling about all this. I feel like I’m”—I broke off as it dawned on me what the problem was—“replacing Cody.”
Without any warning, exhaustion suddenly overcame me, and I leaned back against the counter staring dumbly at him, completely ignoring the microwave when it dinged. Troy was different—he’d been a fling, a temporary affair that was bound to end sooner or later. But I intended to marry Dusty—to share my life and the running of the ranch with him. Future decisions would be made based on how well we could discuss important matters—rationally, with clear heads and open minds.
I’d grown into the idea with Cody, but this was different. Dusty was an adult, not some kid right out of high school whom Dad had taken under his wing to educate him on how things were done on the Circle Bar K. I had no idea what his own thoughts were on the subject. My love for him was reason enough to bring him into my house, but once we were married, this would be his house, his ranch, his life, just as much as it was mine. No, the problem wasn’t the hired hand versus the rancher’s daughter thing. My concerns would have applied to anyone I married.
I was beginning to understand why Dad thought Rufus, with all of his knowledge and experience as foreman, would be such a good choice. Dusty had worked for us for several years, but I had no idea what his opinions were. Would he leave the running of the ranch to me, or would he take a more active role? Would he defer to me in most matters, or would he attempt to usurp my position, relegating me to the role of a mere housewife—which was something I’d never truly been, not even when Cody was alive. I did my housewifely chores, of course, but Cody had always understood that while he would share ownership with me eventually, the ranch belonged first and foremost to my father and subsequently to my side of the family. I hadn’t had the opportunity or the inclination to discuss this with Dusty as yet. It hadn’t seemed important until he sat there in my kitchen, waiting for me to make one of the more important decisions of my life.
Replacing Cody. This was different from starting out in life as a young couple, learning as you go along. This was more like a big company suddenly losing its CEO and having to choose a new one—one that the board of directors hoped wouldn’t run the company into the ground, or embezzle from the pension plan, or fire all the workers and hire his own relatives. I sincerely doubted that Dusty would do any of those things, but while he might be a fabulous partner for me, was he the best choice for the ranch?
I refrained from saying anything further for fear of offending him. Instead, I took the chili from the microwave and fixed it the way he’d asked me to.
I could almost feel his speculative gaze on me. Had I already offended him? He didn’t appear to be angry—puzzled perhaps, but not angry. He couldn’t possibly have read all the thoughts racing through my head, couldn’t have known even half of what I was thinking, but he somehow managed, quite perceptively, to key on the most important issue.
“You’re thinking the replacement won’t measure up to the original. Have I got that right?”
I summoned up a smile. “In some ways, you surpass him entirely. But in other ways… I simply don’t know.”
“I’ll do my best, Angel,” he said gently. “And I’ll love you. I can’t promise you any more than that. I’m not perfect and I’m sure Cody wasn’t either, although you may think that now. When he was alive, you would’ve been more likely to admit to his faults, just like anyone else, but now…well, he’s gone and…” He finished his sentence with a shrug.
I knew exactly what he meant. I’d probably romanticized my marriage a great deal in the years since Cody’s death. Perhaps I remembered things differently, but given the circumstances, that was understandable. I’d loved Cody, and he’d been taken from me without warning, just when our children were nearly grown and our future together seemed bright. The ranch was a thriving concern, Dad had been in better health, and aside from the day-to-day details, there had been no worries. Not like there were now.
“I’m dreaming about the good old days?” I suggested, arching a brow. “Is that it?”
“Something like that,” he replied. “But don’t underestimate the future, Angel. It might even be better.”
“You’re right.” I was so tired, the stuffing seemed to drain out of me as I took a seat at the table. “What about you? Are you having second thoughts?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he replied. “No one can ever be completely certain about anything. One day you’re riding high and the next you’re flat on your face with a mouthful of dirt. But right now, with the way I feel about you, I believe it’s worth the risk. My heart’s been broken before, and I’ve been kinda shy about giving it to someone again.
“Maybe that’s why I fell in love with you. You were married and unavailable. I could love you as much as I wanted and never get hurt. But it did hurt. When you’d smile at me I’d feel better for a while, but then I’d be miserable because I knew a smile was all I’d ever get from you. And now, well…now I can have it all. It might be kinda scary, but I’m willing to take the risk because you’re worth it—worth risking my heart and soul for. I love you so much I can hardly stand it.”
“I love you too.” I smiled, glancing down at his bowl. “So why don’t you, um, hurry up and eat that so we can go to bed?”
He made a face but dug his spoon into the bowl anyway. “I know what it is,” he said with a sage nod. “You only love me for my body. Right?”
“You betcha—although there are plenty of other things I love about you.”
“Such as?”
I didn’t have to think very long before making my reply. “The way you make me laugh is one, along with that impish expression when you’re teasing the hell out of Bull. The way you don’t panic in the face of disaster. You can be stuck in a truck with a rattlesnake under your foot and you still don’t lose your sense of humor. The way you allow yourself to be vulnerable—letting your heart go, even though it might cost you dearly. Finally admitting how you felt about me, even knowing it might not be worth the risk. I like that. The courage it took for you to say something at last was remarkable, and it made what you feel for me seem that much stronger.”
I reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze.
“I love the way you make me feel when I touch you, the way you’re not afraid to let me look at you, the freedom you give me to say whatever I wish. The way you don’t fuss at me for giggling all the time like some men might. The way your body responds to me. I like knowing I can reach for you anytime and you’re already anticipating it, already craving it. I like the way you want me the way I am—not younger, prettier, or thinner. You told me I was beautiful. You make me feel that way, and you make me feel loved.” I smiled at him again. “Is that enough, or should I keep going?”
I’d already stopped him in mid-bite a couple of times. At that rate, he was never going to finish that chili.
“Keep going,” he replied. “I’m not done eating yet.”
I laughed. “Dusty, if I keep going, I’ll have to resort to describing the various parts of you and why I like them. You wanted to know other things, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Keep going.” He took another bite.
“Okay. You’re honest, hardworking, trustworthy, and loyal. You have the cutest smile I’ve ever seen. I love your curly hair, the curve of your shoulder, the line of your hip in a pair of jeans—and out of them. I love the way you wanted me to smell you. Did you know I’ve been sniffing at you for years? I could never understand why you wore cologne. It seemed unnecessary, but I liked it. I used to walk behind you just so I could catch a whiff.”
The smile he gave me said it all. “I wear it for you, Angel. Only you.”
I nearly choked on the lump in my throat, needing a moment to recover before I went on. “Do you remember when we delivered that foal together last year? Afterward, I was standing beside you, leaning over the stall door. The foal was adorable, but you were even more so. You were so close I could smell you and feel your heat. All I wanted was for you to put your arm around me and give me a hug. But you didn’t. I figured it was because I was too old or not attractive enough or something.”
He swallowed another mouthful of chili, somehow making that simple act seem overwhelmingly erotic. “I remember that night, and believe me, I wasn’t thinking about how old you were—or that you weren’t pretty enough to suit me. I hate to sound indelicate or unromantic, but you nearly got nailed. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to rip your jeans off and take you right there—whether you liked it or not.”
His big blue eyes were riveted on my own, scorching me with their heat. Quite suddenly, those jeans he’d spoken of needed to come off—badly. They were too hot, too confining. My nipples threatened to wear holes in the cups of my bra. I wanted—needed—his hands on me, and I longed to caress every inch of him with my entire body. He took another mouthful, sliding his tongue across the underside of the spoon, an act that stole my breath and made me squirm in my chair.
“What’s the matter?” A sensuous gleam shone in his half-closed eyes. “Getting hot?”
“No,” I gasped. “Hungry.”
He held out the spoon. “Want some of this?”
I shook my head. “I want some of that.” I pointed at the bulge in his groin, noting that the button-fly of his jeans was being tested to the limit.
A slow, devilish grin curled his lips. “Help yourself. It’s yours for the taking.” He leaned back against the chair, stretching out his legs.
I’d partially undressed him once before, but with his leg in a cast, I wasn’t sure how to go about getting those jeans off him—at least not with any speed. Not that I needed to remove them completely…
Kneeling between his knees, I popped open the top button and nearly swallowed my tongue when I realized he wasn’t wearing briefs.
“You okay, Angel?”
“I’m fine—I think. You, um, be sure to finish your milk. We need to get this leg healed.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” he purred. “What are you going to have?”
“Not sure,” I replied as the second button went. “But there seems to be something wet in here.”
He shifted his butt in the seat. “I dunno. Feels more like a rock—and you know you can’t get water out of a stone, don’t you?” His slow, teasing drawl was certainly making me wet. My mouth was a different story.
“You just watch me,” I told him. “I’ll bet I can do it.”
The third button followed the previous two, and I got my first glimpse of the soft, blond curls those pants had been hiding. He was carrying his cock up against his belly, but off to one side, and I pushed back the flap to reveal it in all its hard, succulent glory. Where it lay against his stomach, the hair was wet and sticking to his skin.
Leaning forward, I nudged his penis aside with my cheek to lick the damp slickness from him. “See? All the water I need.”
“Okay,” he admitted. “You really can squeeze water out of a stone. But would you like something extra to go along with that? Something sweet and warm and creamy?”
If I hadn’t known better, I’d have called my reply an orgasm. Sure felt like one. Either way, it took me a moment to recover my wits.
“I dunno,” I said with a slow wag of my head. “If you really think you can come through a cock that tight, you go right ahead and try it. But I bet you can’t.”
“Watch me,” he said. “You suck hard enough, and I’ll fill you right up.”
I sat back on my heels, scratching my head in a mock bewilderment. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but as I recall, I was supposed to take you home and suck your balls, not your dick.”
Dusty’s gut-wrenching groan made me smile. Two could play this game…
“Ooh, hard choice. But I’ve been a good boy. I ate all of my supper and drank all my milk. Can’t I have both? Huh, Angel? Pretty please?” His pleading expression could’ve seduced a nun.
Chewing my thumbnail, I let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose I could—although I can’t even see your balls yet.” I popped open the two remaining buttons. “Now, where are those little devils?”
Wiggling his butt, he thrust his hips forward, making his cock sway back and forth. “They’re in there, waiting for you—but they’re getting kind of impatient.”
“Poor babies,” I said. “Don’t worry, your Angel will find them and make them feel so much better.”
I found them, all right, but I didn’t use my hands or my fingers in the search. Kissing the uppermost part of his scrotum, I sucked in, creating enough of a vacuum to hold on as I pulled, and out they came. If his openmouthed reaction was any indication, no one had ever sucked Dusty’s balls out of his jeans before. Come to think of it, I couldn’t recall having ever done it myself.
Still, if anyone had ever deserved to win a “Cutest Balls” award, it was Dusty. Smooth and firm within his soft, furry scrotum, they were truly worthy of being called the family jewels. Leaning closer, I licked lightly around the outer edge, his cock pulsing against the side of my face anytime I inhaled as if about to give in to temptation and suck them. I went on teasing him, drawing back from time to time, simply admiring the way his cock and balls were framed by those dark blue denim jeans…
Whoa, momma…
After a bit, I got up to retrieve a dish from the table.
“What’s that?” he gasped.
“Shh… You’ll see,” I promised. “But not yet.”
I picked up where I’d left off, licking, teasing, and gradually wetting his entire scrotum with a combination of my saliva and his cock syrup.
“Angel, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”
Opening my mouth as wide as I could, I placed it against his balls and inhaled. Both of his nuts popped into my mouth.
Dusty let out an “ahhh-h-h-h…” the memory of which I would undoubtedly cherish until my dying day. Running my tongue over the underside of his scrotum, I continued to tease his balls while gently sucking them away from his body.
When I reached up to cup his cockhead in my hand, he shuddered, sending more juice gushing onto my palm. Grasping his cock, I slid my fingers over his skin. His own lubrication was almost enough, but not quite, and I wanted this to be good—not the slightest bit uncomfortable for him. Moving by feel alone, I took the lid off the dish and scooped up a dollop of soft butter and slathered it all over his cock.
Glancing up, I saw the same expression of awe mingled with ecstasy I’d seen on his face that day in the bunkhouse. I wanted to be able to see that at least twice a day for the rest of my life.
“Oh God,” he gasped. “You’re really gonna do it, aren’t you? Right here in the kitchen?”
I couldn’t reply—couldn’t even nod without hurting him—so I gave him a quick thumbs-up with my buttery right hand. Wrapping my fingers around his cock, I slid them lovingly up and down his quivering shaft. As I leaned into him, inhaling his masculine scent, my core contracted, sending the moisture that had been building up inside me out with a whoosh—along with another mini-orgasm. I had to stifle a chuckle. There I was trying to get him off, and I’d already flown off into space twice before he ever left the launchpad.
Not that it would take much longer. His breath came in quick, hard gasps as I fucked him relentlessly with my hand.
“Angel,” he cried out suddenly. “I’m—” He stopped as his words were replaced with inarticulate grunts as his nuts spasmed inside my mouth. Releasing his balls, I rose from the floor, going for his hot, buttered dick just as it let loose like a geyser. The first spurt hit me on the chin, but I was able to suck him into my mouth in time to get a mouthful of butter-flavored semen. I allowed him a few seconds of recovery time before licking him clean.
When I finished, I stood and reached for a napkin to wipe the butter from my face and hands.
Dusty closed his eyes and sighed. “Troy wasn’t kidding, was he?”
“About what?”
“He said I hadn’t lived until you’d sucked my balls.” He gazed up at me with a mixture of adoration and gratitude. “He was right.”
I smiled. “I’m glad you agree.” I glanced at the clock. “Two o’clock is way past my bedtime. Are you ready for bed now?”
“I-I think so,” he replied, a dazed expression in his eyes. “Let’s see now… My stomach’s full and my dick’s empty. Is there anything else I should do?”
“You might want to pee and brush your teeth. Aside from that, it sounds like you’re good to go.”
He frowned. “Don’t you want me to, um, do you?”
As befuddled as he seemed, I wasn’t sure he was up to it. “Think you can?”
His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?” Apparently my taunt had cleared his head better than a whiff of ammonia. “Might need someplace to lie down, though. Not sure I can nail you on the kitchen table. Not tonight, anyway.”
“I know just the place.” I shot him a wink. “Follow me.”