A Take Control Book
Lauren, Riding Off Trail
by Mima
Smashwords Edition Copyright 2011 by Mima
Edited by Deanna Pryce
Cover Art by Razzle Dazzle Design, razzdazzdesign.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Author’s Notice
Welcome to the Take Control series of interactive fiction. The original trio features a scifi with bold Becca, a contemporary western with frustrated Lauren, and a paranormal with determined Charlotte. Do not read this story straight through in sequence, for it will not make sense that way. To direct one of Lauren’s choices, please SELECT the underlined text you prefer. Your decisions lead you to many unique endings, some of which might be sexy, happy, or both. If you’re like me, a fair portion of the fun in reading interactive fiction is also finding out what pain awaits you. Whether you’re happy, dead, or disgusted, try, try again. The Index included on the last page is meant for people who wish to use hindsight to make different choices after their first journey is finished. You may get to the index by clicking any links reading “The End.” Good luck. Take control and brave the fates, for true love is hard to find.
Dedicated to Romance Divas
And all the writers who share their knowledge there
Lauren, Riding Off Trail
Lauren breathed Montana’s incredible air. Fresh. Spruce and hay, earth and granite. The far off calls and hoots of people having fun mingled with the cry of a hawk. The airport van disappeared out the timber-and-antler resort gate. Her heart kicked with anticipation at finally being here.
“Welcome to Cloud Canyon!” A matronly woman bustled out onto the lodge porch strewn with massive furniture and striped wool blankets. “Are you Sorrel’s friend?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “Yes, Lauren Smythe. What a beautiful place.” She didn’t have to fake sincerity for the second phrase. The structure was both modern and natural, like a childhood Lincoln Log dream had babies with a chic SoHo design company.
The older woman laughed, delighted. “Wait till the end of the week. No one ever wants to leave. I have the best job in the world.” She snapped out her hand and almost crushed Lauren’s with a firm pumping grip. “I’m Betsy, Activity Director. Sorrel is setting up for the big hoe-down tonight in the main barn and apologizes she couldn’t meet you.”
Lauren kept her smile in place but her neck grew longer and tighter with the effort. “Wow, a hoe-down. What will happen to me if I don’t have a cowgirl hat?”
After inviting Lauren across the country with pleas to overcome their sordid college drama, Sorrel couldn’t meet her? The darker memories of being Sorrel’s friend surged forward, but Lauren pushed them back.
This resort was world class and she was staying here free. In the last eight years, she had trained herself to believe there was more to life than Sorrel, her ex-fiance Tommy, or the rusty-knife-twisting-deep-into-her-bowels image of the two of them locked in a carnal kiss. If Sorrel couldn’t be bothered, then Lauren wouldn’t be.
Betsy took each of Lauren’s medium sized rolling pieces under her arms like they were baby cows and bounced down the flagstone stairs. “We’ll loan you a hat! Everyone needs one.”
“Oh, please, let me take at least one of those. The handle pops up and it rolls.”
“I’ve got them. Wheels don’t do so good on the dirt roads the rest of the ranch has. I’m gonna show you to your cabin and you can clean up and rest if you like.”
Lauren trotted after Betsy with her computer case and giant Coach bag. “So what kinds of activities do you direct?”
Betsy nodded her head toward the stables, painted red and white. “Most people expect a lot of horseback riding. Everyone who stays gets their own horse assigned to them. Do you ride?”
Lauren burst out laughing.
Betsy looked at her.
Lauren bit her lip. “Ah, no. I did ride on the beach in Portugal once and I rode a camel in Cairo.”
Betsy looked her up and down, her gaze skimming without admiration over the cute D&G pantsuit in shimmering chocolate. “Do you like horses?”
Lauren shrugged. She pet the police horse she saw outside her subway entrance when she had time. “Sure.”
“Maybe they’ll give you Gabby, or Goose. Ghost would work, but I think they’ve given her to a child guest.” She pointed with her elbow. “There’s the show corral. We have daily lessons in roping and cowboy exhibitions are staged there. One will start in just a bit.”
There were several people hanging on the tall, metal, runged fence. A half dozen men worked at shining the complex straps around the horses’ heads. One wore a black hat and black fringed chaps that showcased a spectacular jean-clad ass.
Studying the man as she would any fine piece of art, Lauren asked, “Are all your horses named with the letter ‘G’?”
Betsy shot her a wide grin, her blue eyes twinkling. “Only the gentlest or stupidest horses have ‘G’ names, for our greenhorn guests.”
Lauren groaned good-naturedly.
The work of art looked up and met her gaze. Even from across a half-dozen yards, his black eyes shone like polished onyx in the shadows of his brim. Her groan trailed off in a breathless whimper. He grinned, wide and crooked, nodded at her. All of a sudden the balmy warm midday sun seemed tropical and a flush of persperation sheened down her spine.
Betsy tromped on past and Lauren reluctantly followed. “There’s the main barn.” The tan wooden structure was two stories, hugely wide, with an actual hayloft in the peak bristling with hay. “That’s where the dance is tonight, featuring three live bands. If you want to visit Sorrel just pop on over. Otherwise, she said she’d see you at the dance at eight.”
Excuse me? It was three in the afternoon. Sorrel wasn’t going to have dinner with her? Perhaps she would be heading over to the barn to drag the woman around by her hair.
Betsy whistled and a long-haired golden retriever came tearing out of a paddock. “Bo,” she scolded. “You’re not to be in with the yearlings. Get on. Git. Go find Sorrel.”
The dog leaped happily around Betsy, made a half-hearted lean toward Lauren’s crotch, deftly blocked by a swing of her eggplant snakeskin laptop case, then bounded up the rise toward the barn.
Betsy encouraged him. “Good boy! Go get her!” She chuckled. “Goldens are a awesome and there never was a man to refuse our Sorrel.”
Lauren remembered. Tommy, so tall and strong and wonderfully romantic. Sorrel, so tall and slender and wonderfully artistic. Both of them, topless and passionate in her room. And after that, the rest of her Senior year at Stern, NYU’s School of Business, was a blur. She’d walked away from them that day and never gone back. She avoided all her known haunts, found a sublet, bought new clothes, new textbooks. After she’d managed to graduate, she started to rebuild her life into something less zombie-like.
The lively melody of a live fiddle jigged down the air, accompanied by happy barks. Lauren pursed her lips. “Live band tonight, you said?”
“Three! We do put on a good shindig. I bet that’s Chuck warming up right now.”
Ever since Lauren had begun voice lessons a few years back, she’d become a devotee of live music. Small instrumental groups often gave her a chance to practice by letting her sing a set with them on the fly. The fiddle had actually drawn Lauren’s feet to face the big barn before she realized following its lure meant she’d be the one going to Sorrel first. Was that what was going on? A basic power play where Sorrel got off on how Lauren still trotted behind her wilder tune?
“Mmmm.” Betsy inhaled and smacked her lips. Her thick, graying braid swung as she lifted her face toward a huge campfire ring of hay bales and gleaming-smooth logs. “I smell the ribs are on early.”
Decisively, Lauren swung away from the barn and caught up to Betsy. “I understand you have a five star restaurant.”
“We sure do. Plus a family campfire cookout at five. The restaurant has two seatings at six and seven. It’s in the main lodge overlooking our creek.” She pronounced the last word “crick.”
Lauren was used to meeting friends for dinner at nine. Country time, she reminded herself. “I suppose you get up early here?”
“Oh, that’s up to you, of course. First trail ride out leaves at seven, although the fishermen who head down to the big bend leave at five. Tomorrow rock climbing and harmonica lessons are in the morning, with kites and a hike to the Skelly Plateau in the afternoon. It’s supposed to be hot tomorrow, same as today, but you’ll need a sweater for the dance tonight, at least until you kick the figures hard.”
They’d left the outbuilding bustle behind and were headed up into a sparse section of old pines. The cabins scattered among them were all very similar, but each had a different artifact tacked to the front door and the furniture on the tiny private porches varied.
“So is this going to be a square dance?”
Betsy nodded. “A lil’ bit. And line dancing, and honky tonk.”
Well that was as clear as mud. Lauren didn’t think her belly dancing lessons were going to come in handy.
“Here you go. Wagon Wheel has a terrific view of the cattle pasture. In the morning, mist hangs over the grass and it’s just magical.” Betsy thunked her cases down on the porch with verve the airport handlers would approve of.
She dug an electronic key out of her pocket and swiped it. Inside was one large room with a double bed and seating area, no TV. The décor was simple and Lauren was relieved there were no dead animals on the wall. The rustic furniture looked at home with the bare log cabin walls and the moss-colored linens were clearly top quality.
Betsy nodded to Lauren. “See ya in a bit. Wander if you like. Should I reserve a table for you?”
Lauren thought of the snacks in her bag. “No, thanks. I’m guessing there will be some food at the dance?”
“Absolutely. Barbeque chicken, sweet corn, home fries—”
Lauren laughed and held up her hands. “I’ll wait.”
“Welcome to Cloud Canyon, and I hope—” Betsy stopped, looked at the floor. She walked onto the porch and stared into the open landscape stretching beyond. Glancing over her shoulder, she spoke softly. “I hope you have a nice time visiting Sorrel.” She headed off.
Lauren leaned against the porch post, wrapping her arms around it to ward off the shiver Betsy’s words caused. Betsy knew something, or perhaps she was just ashamed Sorrel hadn’t come to meet her. What drama was Sorrel stirring now, and why had Lauren agreed to be part of it?
Lively, gorgeous Sorrel had once been Lauren’s playful moon, a partner to the full-blown heat of Tommy’s sun. Those years had been a tempestuous time full of passion and growth. The memories reminded her a little of this place, with its soft flower-dotted valleys of high sweet grass and yawning jagged mountains like teeth devouring the land. Remembering the two best friends she’d ever had was like that—a mix of unease and surprisingly peaceful moments, with steep shadows in between.
Considering the spread of the ranch from this angle, restlessness toyed with Lauren’s hips. The wilderness looming over her, there for the taking, seemed apropos of her willingness to face the old pain.
Lauren was ready to move on. She kicked off her heeled sandals and ran her hands through her chic, bobbed black hair. The painted porch was warm and slick under her feet. The breeze was balmy and the short walk from the main lodge had raised a slight sweat. A swim would be nice. She knew there was a pool and a hot tub on the property as well as—
Ah. There was the river. Betsy had called it a creek but it was wide. As she watched, a lone man rode his horse across. The black, sun-dazzled water came to the horse’s belly. Lauren’s spine melted with a strong desire to go to it and drift among the pretty aspens lining the shores.
The man moved like he was part of his animal. A centaur. He was brawny, with a brown cowboy hat that hid his face in shadow. The horse paused at the shore. It lowered its head and the man slid off its back, kicking his foot forward over its neck and jumping down to the rocky shore. Mmmm. He was just lovely, with great thighs and significant shoulders. Watching him bend to one knee and wet his kerchief to mop the back of his neck sent shivers of jealously all over her body.
From the opposite direction, a cheer went up with wild whistling. Back at the cowboy corral, a cluster of people lined the tall fence, and in the center, a black cowboy hat bobbed wildly up and down, apparently on a bucking bronco. Lauren grinned. She’d always wanted to meet the idiots who thought that was fun.
What she needed, Lauren decided, was to calm down and focus. There had been too much navel-gazing on the flight from JFK. Twitching at the thighs of her pantsuit to loosen them, she centered herself in the middle of the tiny porch. Stepping out, she leaned into one knee, held her arms straight out from her shoulders and angled her torso into Warrior Two, one of her favorite yoga positions. It empowered her to shed the hours of distasteful airports and time-obsessed hustle. With the time change, the day was deceptively young, but she’d push through with this bright warm sunshine.
The sound of cattle lowing came to her and she smiled, inhaling to hold the moment, gaining energy. She rotated into Warrior One, slid into Tree, and challenged herself with Half Moon. Keeping her breathing controlled, she ended with Downward-Facing Dog, stretching her lower back. Then she rose.
The river sparkled. The man leaning against his horse was a postcard-perfect silhouette of rugged individualism. The mountains rising beyond him did not intimidate him. He had his own strength. Lips tingling with her panting breaths, Lauren knew he was what she wanted to be, all of it, the whole package—the power, self-possession, simplicity, and peace. She could head down to the river herself and create her own noble silhouette.
But the crowd was probably the safer bet. With Mr. Black-Eyed-Black-Hat ever so willing to display his butt, surely some social distraction was what she needed, not more introspection.
Then again, she’d come here for Sorrel, to finally face for the first time the woman who had destroyed her ability to trust. Maybe it would be wisest to damn the woman’s mysterious coyness and just go see her. Face her down and demand her attention. The Facebook postings had been honest and heartfelt. I still think about you. I need to talk to you. Are you ready to listen yet? Come see me. Let’s reconnect. She hadn’t come all this way to be ignored, to be put in the corner and told to bide there until she was called for.
Shaking out her hands, Lauren frowned at how quickly the focus of her yoga had galloped away. Was she going for the call of the wild, the distraction, or the face-off? Breathing deeply of the addictive air, she let her gaze sweep the options. River, corral, or barn? Where should she head next?
STOP! This is an interactive book. Click on the underlined text you prefer to control Lauren’s actions. The link jumps you to a unique chapter that will lead to one of 12 endings. DO NOT READ IN SEQUENCE.
“Ohhhh!” An escalating wail leaked out of her throat with the impending anticipation.
Walt stayed quiet and still, Wheezy pattered longer, smoother, tenser, and then there was a hard jolt as Wheezy pushed off.
They soared through the air.
Wheezy’s mane fluttered with their arcing flight.
So pretty! Lauren thought, delighted.
They landed with a harder jolt. Walt’s arm was like a thick seat belt, and even though she pitched forward and to the side, he held his balance and hauled her back to the center.
Wheezy continued the smooth rocking for a few more beats, then slowed down to a walk again. Lauren leaned forward and patted his thick neck hard, laughing.
“That was amazing.” She looked down the incline as they left the open mountain face and headed into forest again. “Dangerous, but amazing.”
“It felt more dangerous to you because you don’t have stirrups. They change everything.”
Her heart still thumped hard. “I almost stopped you.”
“That would have been more dangerous.”
She shook her head, still giddy. “Wheezy is awesome!”
“I guess,” Walt said with faint amusement.
They rode in silence again for a short ways, and then he said, “Listen. You can hear it now.”
She heard the call of a jay, and then the distant hiss of a steady pouring water. “It sounds bigger than what I was expecting.”
“It’s not that big. Nice, though.”
The evergreen scent was rich in the sun-warmed afternoon, and the stronger scent of horse was coming to her now too. But when they turned through tighter brush, threading through a younger forest, the deeper cool of damp caverns washed over with that lovely scent of water.
The water poured over a smooth rock cliff about thirty feet up. It leapt off in a rounded arc near the top, but landed in a bubbling spray about halfway down, widening into a frilly white cascade. The cascade shimmered over mossy rocks into a deep black pool. The stream snaked around some boulders and off into the trees.
“Oh, Walt. It’s fantastic.”
Wheezy came to a stop and lowered his head to take a drink.
“Glad you like it.” His hands settled on her waist. “Lift your right leg over.” He picked her up and she kicked her leg so she was side-seated again. He urged, “Jump down.”
The ground looked far again, but she nodded and jumped. Her knees took the landing hard. She staggered a bit, surprised at how loose her legs felt. By the time she’d taken a few stretching steps, Walt was off Wheezy in a smooth dismount and tying his reins to a tree.
“I have horse butt,” she joked, staring at his ass in his very unfashionable thick blue jeans. “If this is anything like bike butt, I’ll be sore for days.”
He glanced over at her. “It will take a couple days to build stamina, but the pain will fade quick. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable in your own saddle.”
She smiled at him, hands in the small of her back as she arched side to side. “I wouldn’t bet on that. It felt pretty comfortable.”
He wandered closer to the waterfall, leaned in and wet a blue bandana. She came up next to him, sighing at the spray-filled breeze the water created.
“It’ll feel good to wipe your face.” He held it out to her.
She took it, and boy did it ever feel fantastic. She blotted across her brow and cheeks, then dipped it behind her neck and down her throat. “Have you ever gone swimming here?” She wet it again, rinsed it and handed it back to him, freshened.
He shrugged. “Sure.” He took his hat off and put the bandana inside it. “Will you hold this?”
She took it, and stepped back as he maneuvered onto the uneven rocks at the base of the falls. His boots were not made for exploring waterfalls, and he clearly worked for his balance. When he got right up next to the water, he braced against the cliff and bent to dip his head. The force of the mist was quite hard and his whole torso was soaked in an instant. He stood up and shook his head with a shouted, “Hoo-eee!”
Then he turned, awkwardly, and made his way back the shore. He grinned at her, breathless, dripping. His plaid shirt was almost transparent, revealing a deep muscled chest. It was suddenly a little hard to breathe.
He sliced a hand over his face, shoving his hair back with his fingers. “Aw, shucks. Now I’ll have to do my hair again for the hoe-down.” His smile was wide, and without his hat, he looked more approachable. His eyes glowed a rich mix of colors in the forest shade.
She stepped up to him in one quick, decisive stride. “You’re even more awesome than Wheezy.” She stood so close to him, his hat clamped in her hands. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Not many guys like me in the cities.” He looked down at her, his gaze latched onto hers.
Walt the llama rancher dipped his head down toward her and stopped. “What are you looking for between us?”
She wanted to make love to him. With a fierce, melting demand that poured through her body like the waterfall, drowning her common sense. “I have condoms in my cabin.”
“I’ve got condoms in my saddlebags.”
“Thank the Lord.”
“That’s what you want?” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear it over the water.
A drop landed on her cheek from his messed up short hair. She nodded. Aside from tipsy make-out sessions, this was the fastest she’d ever gotten close to a guy. For a moment, she hesitated. Walt didn’t seem like the type for a quickie. But she trusted him, she liked him, and oh hell, how she wanted him. “If you want me…”
His mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. She had the feeling he was irritated…
“Yeah, it’ll be a real pleasure to fuck you.”
Her head snapped back at the coarse language delivered in the dark, dangerous drawl. You don’t know him! Her brain howled.
He closed the distance and kissed her, and her body slammed the cage shut on her brain. Freefall, that was what this was. Like water shot over a cliff, she was in freefall, and didn’t want a moment of worry to mar the hot mouth that moved into hers. His lips commanded, his tongue teased, and his teeth scored her jaw line with serious intent.
Icy trails seeped down over her cheeks to her neck, all part of the torrent of heat he’d triggered. He gathered her up and squished her in a wet hug. She wound her arms around his neck and dropped her head back, loving the way he kissed down her throat with his open mouth. He walked her over to a tree and with a dip and press, she was held to the trunk, her chest even with his mouth.
Bracing her hands on his meaty shoulders, she watched as his mouth seared across her breasts. He didn’t seem to worry about her shirt, nipping and tonguing her nipples right through the thin cotton. His hands bit into her ribs, but the compression just made her more aware of her pounding heart.
In a few moments her tee clung to her erect nipples, the fabric darkened to pumpkin and painted over the stiff nubs. He set her down, then stepped away. “Undress. I’ll get the condoms.”
Swallowing, she took off her top and dropped it on a bush. Looking around, she realized she was at a loss for where this could happen. The earth was loamy and covered in ferns, sticks, and plants. Rocks scattered the area, but none big enough to stretch out on. She draped her top over a bush, and hugged her chilled breasts. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.
Walt strode back over. He was really something to behold, disheveled brown hair, granite-carved face, wet plaid shirt. He stopped near the bush and just looked at her. This time he didn’t hold her eyes. His gaze was on her chest, where her hug pushed her small breasts up into little mounds. The water’s steady roar filled her blood again. Eventually, she loosened her hold and dropped her arms to her side. Still he stared at her chest, waiting.
Licking her lips, she undid the button and fly on her jeans. Realizing she’d have to get her boots off, she moved over to a stump and sat. She got her boots off, stuffing her socks into them.
Wiggling her painted toes in the earth, she said, “I’m not sure where to go.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
She stood, again uncertain with his silent regard. Shifting from foot to foot, she asked, “Are you going to undress?”
“Not yet.”
She lifted her chin. “Take your shirt off. I want to see you.”
His jaw clenched. Again she got the distinct feeling he didn’t like women who spoke up for themselves. But he undid the buttons and peeled it off his chest, tossing it carelessly to the ground. He was very tan throughout his lean body, with a light smattering of hair on his chest. His hand rose up and he fingered one small nipple.
The sight gave her the fire to push her pants down over her hips. She stepped out and draped them over her tee. Her skin rippled with goosebumps.
She smiled at him. “Hi, Walt.”
“You’re absolutely gorgeous.”
She wasn’t sure how it happened, but she was back in the same position, dangling from his hard grip on her ribs, mashed against the tree, his mouth slithering over her chest like danger. His cheeks and chin were stubbled and the coarseness burned in a very good way. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her voice gasped out small moans. The pleasure he lapped through her skin was sweet, but when he sucked at her nipples it was a sharper sting. The bark chewed up her spine and she squirmed.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
His single curt word issued between wide, hard licks left her speechless. Or maybe it was the way his whole mouth enveloped her entire crest. Now he could both lave with his tongue and suck. She ground her head back into the tree, thrashing at the crazy sweetness.
He put her down finally and his hand dove right between her legs. His fingers swirled through her soft flesh, then pushed deep. He twisted his wrist, shoving more in. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close, and her breasts burned against the soft hair on his chest.
“Goddamn I love hoe-down night.”
She shook her head, laughing, almost choking on the way his touch lit up her belly. He stepped away from her, ripping open the plain brown belt he wore. His jeans were undone, his tighty-whitey underwear shoved down to his thighs, and his erection was out, pointing to the sky, thick and straight.
He stopped. “Are we clear? You’re going to have me?”
She suddenly had a vision of two gunslingers squared off in a dusty boom town street. They stood a yard apart, feet braced, tense and wound. In her mental world, a whiny high whistle trilled with ominous warning. “It’s high noon, partner. Draw.”
He drew faster than she could comprehend. In less than ten seconds, he snagged his back pocket, ripped a foil square with his teeth, and sheathed himself with a downstroke of his fist. His pistol still pointed straight at her.
She licked her lips. The water howled in her ears. Her thighs shook the same way they’d done when she’d gotten off of Wheezy, and her clit itched.
“Hi, Miss Lauren. I’m going to fuck you now.” Walt returned her greeting and upped the ante.
He came at her. Lauren reached for him, aching for his touch. He grabbed her hips and tossed her up in the air. She gasped, holding his hips with her legs, hands clamped to his shoulders. His hand dipped between them, and then his hot cock was tucked into her valley, sliding straight down the chute to her vagina. His hands palmed her ass cheeks and he stood braced as she began to ease down over him.
“Ah!” She twitched in his arms, but he stayed silent and still.
With a tuck and a twist, she eased farther over him. Her body surrounded his, wet and deep. She was joining this powerful man and so desperate to come she panted. His face was a mask of tension, his mouth a thin line and eyes almost closed. Clawing at his back, she forced herself closer, legs straining to hold him. Her breasts and belly sizzled as she clamped closer.
Then his fingers bit painfully into her ass, and his hips began to thrust with a forceful forward pop that would have made any hip-hop video proud. She cried out, stunned with the first strike of pleasure. His cock dragged in and out with shockingly fast pumps. Her legs trembled. Burying her face in his neck, she gave herself over to his command. Her body tightened, strained. Her nails scored red tracks across his shoulder blades, and then he fired his hips into hers so hard she felt the hit echo up into her lungs.
Breathless, she came. Her moan was long and low, jostled by his continued voracious movements.
The forest whirled, and then her ass landed on a scratchy rock, and he was on his knees between her splayed thighs. She gasped for breath, body shivering, shocked with an ecstasy a heck of a lot stronger than what she’d been finding in other sexual explorations.
He grabbed her outer thighs and continued to power his hips against hers, swinging his whole body in a way that reminded her of the swaying walk of the horse. He slowed, but not by much. She slumped against his chest, lost in sensation.
After a few moments, she began to stir, coming aware from her orgasm. Her hands stroked his ribs, arms and chest. She leaned in and kissed his taut throat. His body sailed back and forth inside hers, pushing in surges that made her feel like flying.
“Are you alright?”
“Hell, yeah.” Her voice sounded like she’d downed a liter of Tequila.
“That’s good because I can’t stop.” At least he was out of breath.
“No one’s asking to.”
“Lean back on your hands.”
Lauren managed to process the words, and reluctantly drew her body back from his. Catching her balance on her hands, she arched her breasts toward him, splaying her legs even wider. His gaze was on where he entered her, and watching him watch them jumped the heat up a whole ‘nother step.
His hands swung around to the inside of her thighs. He pulled the skin wide, opening her labia, lifting her folds away so he could see his pumping cock even better. His cock. Her gaze fell to meet the view he’d revealed. Her hips were tucked up enough to see him entering her, but mostly she saw his erection as he dragged it out, the white rim of the condom a line around the forceful muscle he used in her.
Cock. The part of him that was so other, so ugly, yet felt so incredible.
“I love your cock,” she rasped out.
She was a little stunned he had this kind of stamina. He was still thrusting so fast, so hard against her. She could feel the pinch of her next orgasm wind up.
“I’m gonna come,” she warned him, begging, “Please don’t stop.”
She took one hand and grabbed at her clit, desperate to close off the harsh climb she was on. It was too much. She rubbed and pinched, circled and—“Ohhhh.”
He pulled out before she finished. Her body stuttered, seeking the end. Flushed and sizzling, she shivered. Her mouth hung open, breath sawing.
He backed up on his knees, his cock shining wet and still pointing high. “Get over here on your hands and knees. I want you from behind.”
“O-okay.” Shell-shocked, she managed to ooze off the rock and crawl toward him, turning to present her ass.
“I never been with a woman like you.” His hands smoothed over her cheeks, sweeping in hard circles.
She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she didn’t much care. “I’m a woman just like any other. I’ve never been with a man like you.” She arched her back. “Touch me.”
“Can I go hard?”
She was beyond processing this moment. “Yes. Anything.” Shifting her knees wider, opening herself, she waited, body thrumming.
He entered her in a long decisive slide and his hands locked on her hips. A stick jabbed her in the elbow, and she stared at a beetle scurrying out of the way through the itchy ferns, but when he began to slam against her hips, her mind blanked out.
She couldn’t hear the waterfall, she couldn’t smell the pines. She didn’t care about how muddy she was getting or who could hear her. She lived only for the chafing heat he drilled into her, fast, so fast. He was right. It was hard. She’d never had a man use his strength on her like this. Her breath jammed with each strike, her nipples aching as her breasts jerked on her chest.
Time passed while he hammered the pressure deep, deep, deep. It burst. She came wailing, forehead pressed to the dirt, and then he was grunting behind her, the most erotic thing she’d ever heard. The orgasm folded in on itself, soaring over the moment it should have landed.
Their bodies jarred faster and faster. When he came in sudden stillness, the hard flesh buried so deep she burned. His cock fused to her channel, and the roar of the waterfall rattled her head. She scrambled to get her fingers up to her clit, coming one more time, a sweet sharp twist after the gut wrenching orgasm of before.
Eventually, she realized she was on her side, filthy, sweating. She sat up with effort. He sat slumped nearby, one knee drawn up, head resting on his forearm propped there. His chest bellowed with effort still.
She looked down at herself. Dirt smeared across her arms and chest, coated her shins and feet, and even sprinkled across her crotch. A mosquito landed on her knee and she slapped at it. “I’m a mess.”
“I’ll clean you up.”
Hearing his quiet drawl made her shy. He took the condom off, stood, and pulled up his pants. Just like that, he was presentable, while she was a disaster.
He held out his hand and pulled her up. They stood facing each other. His thumbs brushed over her knuckles, then he raised both hands up and kissed the backs of them. “Thank you.”
She blushed and ducked her head. After a few minutes, she learned the bandana really wasn’t going to cut it and got in the pool. She washed the dirt off and dunked her hair back from her face. The water was like ice on her sex-heated body and she scrambled out in a moment. He had on a fresh shirt and gave her a small cloth to sort-of dry off with. She dressed, and once again, mounted to the front of an unknown cowboy.
He took them a different way back, avoiding the jump. It was longer but she didn’t mind. Her thoughts were full of what to do after having amazing sex with a stranger. Finally they came down into the canyon flatlands again. The outbuildings of the ranch came into view. Before long, music came to them over the twilight fields. The temperature was now perfect, but with her wet hair she was glad she had Walt’s heat at her back.
“Walt?”
“Yup?”
“I’m only here for a week. But I’d like to see you again.”
“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised.
She frowned. “Yes, really. It was great meeting you. And… being with you. I want to get to know you better.”
She felt him shrug. “I don’t know. I’m pretty busy.”
Astonishment slackened her face. “Are you serious?” She twisted in the saddle to stare at him incredulously. “You’re serious.” She studied his closed down look.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I figured you want to meet other guys now.”
She was baffled about what he was saying. They were down along the stables now, closing in on her cabin. She shook her head. “We just shared really hot sex. Why do you think I’d want to meet other guys?”
He shrugged again. They were both silent until they came up to her cabin. He angled Wheezy up so that she could hop down onto her porch. Then he dismounted.
Holding the reins to the saddle horn, he studied her face. “I told you, I’m not used to women like you. I’m just surprised you’d want me again.”
She blinked. A chill swept her as the sky deepened into lavender. Her arms were firmly crossed now. “Walt, you’re an incredible guy and a great lover. I’m really interested in seeing you again, and I’m surprised you’re surprised.” This was starting to sound like a farce.
“Listen, Lauren, you know I’m not paying for that, right?”
Her lungs failed to inflate, but she managed to wheeze, “What?”
He tipped his hat back on his head, and regarded her with confused silence.
She managed to breathe again and then said with totally fake calm, “I am not a whore.”
He sighed. “My apologies. That was very rude of me.”
They continued to half-look at each other. Wheezy stamped one hoof. Walt turned and opened his saddlebag. She’d been wondering how to ask him to spend the night on the way back down. Now she was trying to understand his alien mind.
“It’s just that I figured a confident city girl like you would be after a lot of guys. I mean, you had me saddled within an hour.” He turned back to her with her key card. “Come on, Lauren. You can’t really be interested in me.”
It all crystallized for her. He thought she was a tramp. She drew in a deep breath and snatched her key back. “I liked you. A lot.”
He took his hat off for a minute and scratched his head, then settled it back. “Well, sure. That was clear to me.” He gave a small grin. “I liked you, too.”
“I don’t have sex unless I like a guy.” She sounded defensive and absurd. But she wanted to make him understand. “We had a connection. You were… amazing to me. I haven’t had a boyfriend in over a year.”
His eyebrows disappeared up under his brim. “You think I’m your boyfriend?”
“Of course not. I mean, I was hoping. I thought it was possible.”
He tilted his head. “Where do you live?”
“Chelsea.” She clarified. “Manhattan. New York.”
He worked his lips. “And how exactly do you think we’re going to be able to have a relationship?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about the details. I was going with the moment.”
He nodded. “You sure were. And a girl who goes with those kinds of moments isn’t a girl I’d really want as a girlfriend.”
Incandescent rage burned all the hurt out of her in one nanosecond. “You. Ass.”
Whirling, she swiped her room key like she was cutting off his balls and threw open the door. She turned on him, standing framed by gathering darkness.
“Asshole!” She raged again and slammed the door in his face.
Standing in the dark, panting, she threw the key at the door with a screech. A moment later came three firm knocks that made her jump.
She turned away from the door. He didn’t deserve another second.
She turned back to the door. She wanted to scream at him some more.
She turned away from the door. Her temper was wayyy too far gone and she might go bonkers.
She turned back to the door and opened it.
He stood there holding his hat in both hands. He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
When she stood there, choked with hurt, silent, he let out a sigh.
Then he added, “Miss Lauren of Chelsea, it would be my pleasure to invite you over to my ranch for dinner tomorrow.”
She blinked. A vicious no hovered on the tip of her tongue.
“In the meantime…” He looked up at the lit barn pounding with loud rockabilly. “Would you like to go to the dance with me?”
Biting her lip, she nodded. Her throat was swollen but she cleared it. “I would enjoy that very much.” She gestured into the room. “I need to change. Do you want to come in?”
He gestured. “I’ll stay outside with Wheezy.”
Lauren took a fast shower, changed, throwing open her luggage, she stared at her options. Purple skirt, not cute enough. Silver dress, too daring after their recent conversation. The mental image of her wearing a calico prairie poke-bonnet popped into her mind.
With a growl, she grabbed up a pair of Daisy Duke short-shorts with cute lace trim. She paired those with lace-up sandals, crisscrossing the strands up to her knee. For the top half, she wore a red tank with a skin tight paper-thin over-shirt in black. A thick multi-strand chain necklace finished the look. If he pissed her off again, she’d just chain him up.
When she opened the door, she gasped at the slap of frigid air against her.
“Nights get cold. You’ll want to hurry to the barn, but you’ll be fine once you’re there.”
She nodded.
“I have to go set Wheezy up in the corral.”
“Okay.”
They walked Wheezy like a giant dog to the corral near the stables. He unhooked the horse’s reins from over his head, and then set the saddle on the corral fence. He checked the water and put a blanket over his back.
“Lauren? What made you choose Cloud Canyon Ranch for a vacation?”
She chuckled, remembering Sorrel and all her drama. This time it was Lauren bringing the drama. “I have this college roommate who was really horrible to me. She stole my fiancé. Sorrel’s family owns this ranch and she invited me out here to talk to me about the mess back then.”
He gave Wheezy a firm pat and the horse ambled off. “I know Sorrel.”
Lauren got a sick feeling in her stomach. “Have you dated her?”
He barked a laugh. “Who hasn’t? Gorgeous, successful young women are always appreciated among ranchers.”
She hugged herself again as they headed up the incline toward the barn.
“We dated a few times after she came home from college. Then again about two years ago, we saw each other for a few months. Never went anywhere. She’s got a roving eye.”
Licking her lips, she hesitated as they came up to hay bales set like stadium seating up to the barn doors. They were sprinkled with people, with a few around the campfire nearby and a few more hanging out in front of the barn doors. Inside the barn she could see strings of bare bulb lights and a huge crowd of dancers.
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Well, what is it?”
She grimaced. Looking over at him all manly and quiet there, she flashed to watching him maul her chest while holding her pinned to a tree. “Dance with me. Right now. Before I have to see her, to settle our ugly words back at the cabin. Just dance with me.”
The band was going into a song she could honestly say she’d never danced to before—Cash’s Don’t Take Your Guns to Town. He held out his hand. She took it and he led her into the barn. It was almost humid inside. He threaded them into the couples until they were in the thick of the crowd. The ballad continued with the crowd chanting out the refrain. He wrapped her up in his arms and she found that lying against his strength felt comfortable.
He rocked them to and fro with an idle two-step on the beat, and she found herself sad to only have a week with him and confident that’s all they’d ever be. Nestled against Walt’s shoulder, she caught sight of Sorrel standing at the edge of the crowd with surprisingly long, wavy hair. She smiled and gave Lauren a big thumbs up. Then she mouthed good taste and toasted her with a beer bottle.
Smiling, Lauren thought this really was the wild west.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
“She’s Got You.” Lauren called the title out to the band.
“Got it,” the drummer called. Smoothly, he pushed into the song’s classic fifties’ beat, but it was a hair too slow.
The trumpets put in a muted flare where the piano should be. It came out as a blatting sort of sound. Lauren took a breath and her voice roared out. She was so sick of all this. The lingering fascination with this old hurt, the inability to understand how the two people she most wanted seemed to constantly align against her. The trumpets rose to match her voice, and that was when she could feel the song spiral out of control. Sorrel’s face was shocked but it didn’t leave the satisfaction Lauren had wanted.
The crowd began to melt away, with only a few hearty souls trying to sway to the too-slow beat. The sax picked up the doo-wop of the background singers and Lauren snarled through the delicate words like a lumberjack with spiked boots.
She heard someone up front call out “Whoa, Nellie!”
She had no idea what that meant, but it surely wasn’t complimentary. Tommy seemed stunned, but just like before, he failed to move toward her, staying stuck in Sorrel’s arms. When Sorrel shot Lauren a bitter look, Lauren stopped singing. Years fell away and Lauren remembered the scent of the incense she used to burn in that old apartment.
Standing in the cheap wooden doorway, her favorite magazine pictures of exotic destinations and lovely fashions a pulsing swirl of color on the door off to her right. Her hand tightening around the doorknob, suddenly icy and sweaty at the same time. Sorrel’s breasts plastered to Tommy’s firm chest, both of their swollen mouths gleaming damply, panting with passion, eyes wide and dazed as their flushed faces swung toward her. The sound of voices down the hall, traffic far below. And Tommy, just standing there, holding Sorrel. Staring back at Lauren. Standing there. No frantic leap back, no fumbled apology. Just stillness. Her long dark hair spun wide with the force of her desperate twist to get away.
Lauren was not going to run away anymore. She was going to take control back from Sorrel the goddamn temptress if it was the last thing she did.
“How dare you look at me that way!” This was it. She wasn’t going to take this crap anymore. “Yeah, you Sorrel.” Her voice echoed around the barn through the pretty good sound system. “What was that crap down by the river and what is that crap you’ve got your hands all over right now!”
The band continued to play over her rant. People drifted back to the edge of the dance floor, staring curiously at Sorrel and Tommy.
Sorrel shouted something angrily, but her words were lost over the band.
“Come on up here and say that. Oh, but you can’t just come out and tell the truth, can you. It always has to have a little drama. Well how about this for drama!” Bending, Lauren snatched up a brown beer bottle from the edge of the stage and hurled it. Unfortunately, it was half full and sprayed beer like a deranged sprinkler over the crowd.
It felt so good to throw it, she grabbed up another one and threw that, too. This one was almost full, and with her angry strength it sailed quite far. Unlike the first, this one shattered, spraying glass in Sorrel’s direction. She jumped away and stormed forward toward Lauren. Lauren jumped off the stage, still holding the wireless mic.
“You spoiled little brat. This is my home! These people are guests. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She and Sorrel strode toward each other, but Lauren didn’t pull up when they neared. She drew back her arm and smashed Sorrel in the face with the mic. “What is he doing here?”
Sorrel staggered back amid cat calls and applause. The determined band still plugged away on their ugly version of the sweet song. She turned back toward Lauren, and the horror on her face just made Lauren even angrier.
“What is he doing here,” she screamed at Sorrel. “And after everything you’ve done to me, what the fuck are you doing dancing with him?”
“Yeah! Hands off her man,” someone called from nearby.
The crowd crept closer.
“Sorrel honey, don’t you take her garbage. You stand up and show her.” A man’s voice shouted from behind Lauren.
“You’re coming outside with me,” Sorrel hissed. “And you will apologize. This is personal and your behavior is inexcusable.”
“My behavior!” For an instant, the room washed white and Lauren couldn’t breathe. She lunged at Sorrel.
The crowd came around them as Sorrel grappled with her, both of them shoving and grabbing to stop the other from hitting. People were trying to pull them apart, but they were also pressing into Lauren’s back, driving her forward. Someone threw a punch at someone else, their hand flying straight across the small gap between Lauren and Sorrel’s faces.
Lauren jerked back out of instinct, and someone grabbed her ass in a full-handed grope. She swung and lashed out with her microphone again, knowing as the strike landed that the blonde in the pink straw cowboy hat probably wasn’t the guilty party. She shrieked and dove back at Lauren with long painted nails cocked like talons. She dodged but they raked across her arm.
From there on out, it was a blur. Someone pulled her hair, someone slapped her, she hit a couple more people, pain exploding up her arm, and someone tromped on her toes, exposed in their pretty sandals. Someone rammed her so hard from behind she staggered and almost went down, but someone grabbed her and set her aside. Beer flew over the crowd in a smelly splatter, and a man’s voice on the mic pleaded for calm and order.
Finally, she found herself clinging to a barn column, staring at several roaming fights across the dance floor. It flashed through her memory that she’d stood here a short while before, devastated by Sorrel, and seen her dancing with Tommy. Right before the announcer called for volunteers to sing on stage. It felt like three hours ago.
Eventually, men pulled the fighters apart. Sorrel limped up to her a few minutes later. She stood about a yard away. They stared at each other blearily.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Sorrel turned and limped away.
Lauren determined to be gone by dawn. Bitch.
Rancho Notorious
There was just something so classic about the cowboy and his horse at the river. She’d head there and at least wade. It would be a great way to get in touch with this land that was so new to her. The trees’ leaves seemed to shimmer with that special quake aspens had. It was almost like they beckoned her.
Lauren went into her cabin and pulled out her swimsuit. A quick check made sure the black malliot looked as good as it had last month, and her feet were in her silver sandals. She added a huge, gauzy, aqua scarf wrapped around her hips in a make-shift skirt more suited to Aruba, and she took one of the fluffy towels from the bathroom.
A moment’s decision had her leaving her cabin keycard under the front steps. The place didn’t seem like a hotbed of criminal minds, she thought with a grin, as a teenager who looked authentic led a pony past her with a tip of his white hat. A three year old looking considerably less authentic in her cowgirl getup enthusiastically bounced on the unperturbed horse. That one’s name must be Grunty.
When she approached the river, she was surprised to discover the cowboy was still there, messing with pouches on his giant saddle. She snickered, wondering if the derision women had for guys with flashy cars in the city was the same for cowboys with ridiculous saddles. Overcompensation?
He turned as she came up and her mental snicker screeched to a halt. Aaaand then there were those guys who were hardcore hot and looked just fine in a Ferrari. This cowboy could have whatever saddle he damn well pleased. He seemed made from mountain granite, his face was so square and chiseled. His eyes were dark slits beneath his brown hat. He was large-framed and muscled, but moved smoothly. In college, Sorrel would have called him a hotty-totty.
Lauren was not a college student anymore. She smiled and said, “Hi.”
“Hello.” He got points for saying it to her face first. His gaze slid down her body second.
Which didn’t bother her at all. “Or should I have said, ‘Howdy’?”
“Nah. Then people would think you’re from Texas.”
“Which I wouldn’t want.”
“No, Ma’am.”
She smiled wider, and was charmed when a small smile rested just at the corner of his stern mouth. “Do you work here?”
That smile settled farther onto his mouth. “No, Ma’am.”
She had stopped a few yards from his horse. Moving the towel from her hip to her belly, she hugged it. “I think I’m younger than you. The ma’am isn’t necessary.”
“All adult women are ma’am. That’s how we’re raised here. Everybody gets respect.”
“Except Texas?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Oh, she really liked him. She moved closer.
“You’ll want to stop right there.”
She froze.
“Never approach a horse from directly behind or on the right. Left side first, so they can get a look at ya.”
Looking beyond him, she did indeed see his horse craning its neck around, ears pricked, to watch her. It was a colossal horse, a really pretty chestnut with a lighter gold mane and tail.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She angled herself more to the left. The horse relaxed, swinging its head back to the grass at the edge of the river. “I just got here today. Haven’t had my basic lesson.”
“Wheezy wouldn’t have hurt you. It’s just good horse sense.”
She licked her lips to keep from judging the name Wheezy with her face. “Sure, thanks.”
She stood in front of him and had that sudden awkward moment of connection. It happened so much in the city. A good vibe with a random stranger and then the dance of how to ask for a link so she could get a second chance without looking weird. “So you don’t work here, but if you’re a guest, I’ll eat my hat.”
Now it was his turn to work his lips briefly. The movement fascinated her. “If you have a hat, I’ll eat my hat.”
“I have several hats, so there, Mister. But I won’t hold you to snack time.”
“You have a cowboy hat?” He asked in patent disbelief.
She had to be honest with him. “Hell no.”
“It’s okay. Fairies don’t need hats.”
She blinked, uncertain if that was an insult or what.
“I live on the next ranch over. I came over for the hoe-down tonight. And with all the times I’ve stopped at this river, I’ve never seen a vision like you walk up.”
For some reason, his slow, simple, slightly drawled words brought a blush to her cheeks. “This doesn’t seem like fairy country. Native wolf and bear spirits, but not fairies.”
He nodded. “I’ve lived in these mountains all my life, and I’d have said so, too. But…” He turned back to his saddle and finished tying a pocket closed with some long leather laces. “You don’t look out of place to me.”
Awww. So it was a compliment. “I saw you come across the river from my cabin and you were enough to inspire my own magical imagining. You reminded me of a centaur.”
His head ducked back a little. “Ain’t no magic, just practice and trust.”
She shrugged, shy with their flirting. “Well, the river looked so perfect I had to come over for a swim.”
He gathered his horse’s reins from the saddle horn. “Current can be faster than it looks. Stay to the pools or the edge.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s still a little while til the hoe-down. You could come in and cool off with me. It sure is warm enough.”
He nodded. Again with that appreciative slide. “Or you and I could take Wheezy out for a ride.”
She cocked her head, studying the big horse that seemed to have gone to sleep, one back leg resting daintily on the edge of a lifted hoof. “A ride, huh? Together?”
“There’s a waterfall up on the first cliff. It’s real peaceful. I’m perfectly safe. Anyone on the ranch would vouch for me.”
Lauren looked back at the river. It had drawn her over the other attractions on the ranch, and she was dressed for it. It was still calling her. She’d sure like to coax him into joining her. On the other hand, her cabin was just right there, and the chance to be plastered to the length of… “What’s your name?”
“Walt.” He leaned back against the horse, who didn’t budge. “And yourself?”
“I’m Lauren.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lauren.”