Raising Kane (Rough Riders #9)(54)

Although they hadn’t been scheduled for a lunch date on Tuesday, Ginger had been so…frantic to experience the feelings of sexual empowerment he’d aroused in her, that she’d driven out to his place and surprised him in the barn. She’d dropped to her knees, willing—eager even—for him to take her mouth without any thought to her pleasure, only to his own. Kane had been a little rough, but she’d loved it.


Loved that he trusted her with a side of himself that was more animal than man.


And after he’d roared his climax loud enough to spook the horses, he’d taken her into the cab of his pickup. While the heater warmed the frigid winter air, and country tunes drifted from the radio, Kane slowly, thoroughly made love to her. Face to face, as she straddled his lap. He’d worshipped her breasts, knowing how wild it made her, whispering erotic, raunchy words in her ear, across her skin. He coaxed two orgasms from her before he’d allowed another one for himself. As she’d pulled back onto the highway, headed for town, he leaned against his pickup door, snow swirling around him, watching her go with a big smile on his face.


Wednesday, she’d marked off two hours for lunch. Kane was already in her bedroom, already naked, a rope dangling between his fingers. The spike of uncertainty increased when she’d noticed the bottle of lube on the bed.


When she saw his wicked, wicked grin, she actually turned and ran out of the room.


He chased her. His laugh resembled a pleased growl of intent. When he caught her, Ginger gave herself over to him entirely.


Kane stripped her, bound her wrists behind her back with the rope, and centered her on her bed. Then he kissed her everywhere. The sensation of his firm lips, wet tongue and the scrape of his facial hair was mind-boggling. Every single inch of her skin was subjected to Kane’s questing mouth. Her first orgasm, courtesy of his tongue flicking her clit, hit her from out of left field. The second orgasm built with each drive of his cock into her * until they’d sailed over the edge of the abyss together, silent besides their labored breaths, body plastered to body by sweat.


Without the use of her hands, Ginger was entirely at Kane’s mercy. She missed touching him, mapping those work-defined muscles with her fingertips. Digging her nails into his ass as he pumped into her. Because she was bound, he took extra care to ensure her comfort. He verbally admired the way the position straightened her shoulders, thrust out her tits, and showcased her toned arms. He smoothed and petted her, murmuring erotic words that would’ve been enough to keep her primed.


Then he’d cracked open the container of lube and said, “This sweet, sweet ass is mine today.” He’d kissed her while he’d prepared her, gently, but she didn’t suspect that would last long. Kane’s eyes had darkened with feral intensity. His movements were quick. Sure. Demanding. Impatient.


When Kane determined she was ready, he hiked her hips up. He gripped the backs of her thighs, spreading her legs wide, leaving her balanced on her bound arms and shoulders. The slick head of his cock prodded the puckered entrance. Once. Twice. On the third jab, the thick crown popped past the rigid ring of muscle and he pushed his cock into her anal passage to the hilt.



“Chase, you gonna be around in two weeks?”


He shook his head. “Hitting the event in Memphis.”


“Good luck.”


“Thanks.”


After he picked up trash and shoved the remaining beer in the fridge, he plopped on the couch. Too early to hit the hay. He snagged the remote and started flipping through channels. About ten minutes into mindless surfing, his cell phone trilled. He looked at the caller ID. It read: private caller.


Ginger.


Kane answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?” His smile dried. “No, it’s okay. I told you to call me. I’ll be right over.”


By the time Brandt reached Jessie’s trailer on the outskirts of Moorcroft, he’d lost the edge of rage his clueless brothers’ comments had invoked.


Few people knew about his temper. Brandt took great pains to keep it hidden, as it was an embarrassing trait he’d inherited from his father. He scowled. He’d rather have male pattern baldness than sudden bouts of fury with no outlet besides taking it out on the people he cared about.


He sat in his truck and counted to one hundred before he got out.


Jessie answered the door in pajamas. Not sexy ones. Flannel. No lace. No frills. Which described Jessie to a “T”. She still looked damn sexy. It made Brandt feel like a f*cking pervert to wonder if Jessie had worn skimpy lingerie in the two years she’d been Luke’s wife.


“Brandt. Thank God you’re here.” She stepped aside and waited for him to remove his outerwear and boots before heading down the hallway. “It’s in the bathroom. I turn on the taps for the shower and nothing happens.”


“How long has it been like this?”


“It worked fine when I showered yesterday.”


“Got water in the kitchen?”


“I did for a while, but now it’s tapered off to nothing.”


Brandt scratched his chin. “To be honest, it sounds like a major problem. If the entire system is frozen, you’ll have to crawl under the trailer and see what section froze up and try to thaw it with a torch.