Miss Firecracker: Wild West Boys, Book 2 Page 5
“You all right?”
“I’m great. Almost there.” He closed his eyes. “Sorry this isn’t lasting long. But you got me all kinds of worked up.”
“I like you all kinds of worked up.”
“Work me. Squeeze me with your pussy. Like that. Oh, man.”
She rested her palms on Blake’s pecs, changing the angle so he could pump his hips harder.
“Damn. Here it…” The rest of his sentence was lost on a long, deep moan.
Willow’s release was a pulsing counterpoint to Blake’s. Sweet. Hot. Perfect. Feeling light-headed, she slumped forward on his chest.
His big, rough hands roamed up and down her back. He seemed content just to touch her and hold her. And she was content to let him.
After a while, Blake murmured, “You asleep?”
“No. But you are a comfy mattress.”
“You can sleep on me like this anytime, sunshine.”
“I might take you up on that. But for now,” she levered herself upright, “I need to brush my teeth.”
“I brought an extra toothbrush. You’re welcome to use it.”
She smiled. “You really are a Boy Scout, aren’t you, Blake West?”
“No. But if it turns you on, I’ll take it.” He watched as she scooted back and his cock slid out.
“I need to go home and get a change of clothes. Grab my tools so I can fix the dents in the wall. That’s part of my rehabilitation, right?”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
Ask him to come with you.
No, that’ll seem needy.
But shouting his name as you came for the third time…isn’t?
“What’s goin’ on in that clever head of yours?”
Willow sighed. “Look, I don’t know if you have anything else planned, or if you want to come with me to my place or not.” Part of her didn’t want to look just in case Blake wore a polite expression of refusal.
Chicken.
She lifted her head.
And there was that glorious smile. “I’d love to get your tools with you, Willow. But sweet darlin’, first you gotta get off mine.”
Chapter Five
Blake wasn’t surprised Willow drove an enormous Ford Dually F-350 diesel pickup. Although he suspected she’d bought the biggest one as compensation.
The interior left no doubt this was a working truck. Mud covered floormats. Dust coated the dashboard. Papers, food wrappers and empty Styrofoam coffee cups were overflowing between the bucket seats. An extra coat, a pair of coveralls, scuffed boots and a CD case were stuffed behind her seat.
“You don’t keep your tools in your toolbox?” Blake asked pointing to the oversized fancy silver toolbox in the truckbed.
“Some of them. But the trowel and Sheetrock mud are in the garage unless I’m helping with drywall.”
“Does Gregory Construction do much drywall? Or do you focus in other areas?”
“My end is mostly residential. Dad deals with the commercial side. We stick pretty much to the tri-county area. It’s kept us busy in the past, but with the economy in the toilet, it’s been slow.”
Willow waved at a young woman crossing the street as they stopped at a stoplight.
“What area of carpentry is your specialty?”
“Anything my dad didn’t want to do he passed off on me.”
He laughed.
“Which means I get the brunt of the remodel work.”
“You don’t like remodeling?”
“I hated it at first, especially after coming home from a long day and having to live in my own remodel chaos. Now that my house is done, it doesn’t bug me so much.” Willow shot him a sideways glance. “What about you? What kind of place do you have in Sundance?”
“I’m renting a house. For now.”
She chewed on that for a second. “You looking at moving?”
“I don’t know. Keeping my options open.”
“Your family is there?”
“Lots of extended family around Sundance and Moorcroft. But sometimes it’s too much. Everyone and their dog knows everything about you and your entire family, going back generations. It’s been a relief to be here where no one knows me.”
That sounded ominous, like he was a damn fugitive or something. He backtracked. “As for immediate family, my older brother, Nick, is a police detective in Denver. He and his wife, Holly, are about to make me an uncle.” Blake paused. “What about you?”
“Just one younger brother. Jackie. He goes to college in Lincoln. That’s where my folks are this weekend.”
Easy silence settled between them.
Blake gazed out the window, amazed by the lush, green landscape of western Nebraska, a world of difference from the dry dust and sage of eastern Wyoming. It was flat here, not hilly, with treeless plateaus where you could see for a hundred miles. The humid air was filled with the earthy scent of vegetation.
Willow turned off the highway onto a gravel road. Behind a copse of Cottonwood trees stood an old two-story farmhouse, recently renovated with new Color-loc siding, a new roof, new gutters and high-end Pella windows. The detached three-car garage was new too.
Blake didn’t see a barn or another outbuilding. “This place all yours?”
“Yep. I bought it after I graduated from Vo-tech. I couldn’t live with my folks, or in town, but I didn’t need a place with a large acreage either.”
“Not a horse or cattle girl?”
“God no. I cannot fathom spending my life a slave to animals. Only to ship them off for slaughter. Seems barbaric.”
Yeah, he was really glad he hadn’t told her about his “barbaric” life as a sheep rancher. He’d heard that leading “lambs to slaughter” line enough times and it was another good reason he kept his mouth shut. He glanced across the empty pasture hoping the breeze would cool his flaming cheeks. “What is the acreage?”
“Small. Around ten acres.”
“That is pretty tiny.”
“Hey, it’s not the smallest one around.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I guess I’m just used to Wyoming ‘small’ acreages.”
“What’s considered small there?”
“Anything under a thousand acres.”
“Holy moly.” She parked on the concrete slab in front of the garage.
Blake hopped out of the truck. She led him through the small covered breezeway between the house and the garage.
A large deck stretched along the backside of the house. Willow slid a key in the top lock of a set of French doors. She stepped inside and motioned him in. “You want a tour?”
“Sure.”
She walked him through the main floor, room by room, detailing the changes and improvements. Blake was impressed with the quality of the work, but also that she’d kept the simple country charm of the farmhouse. Some of the places he’d remodeled with his cousins were just damn gaudy.
“Is the crown molding original?”
“In the living room and dining room.” She pointed to the thin, square-cut strip of wood along the ceiling in the kitchen. “Probably overkill to put it in here, but I thought it’d unify all three spaces.”
“It looks like it belongs, which is why I asked.” Blake smiled at her. “If you tell me you did every bit of this remodel yourself I’ll feel like a total slacker.”
His comment jarred her for a second, but she recovered quickly. “I did a lot of it myself. Luckily I didn’t have many structural changes.” She smacked the solid wall with the flat of her hand. “Lots of nights and weekends. Whenever we hit a slow spell and Dad was reluctant to let any of the guys go, knowing business would pick up, we worked over here.”
“You and your dad work together on jobsites?”
Willow’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re the first guy who’s asked that. Most guys say, ‘Oh, you work for your dad in the office?’ because I couldn’t possibly know anything about what goes on at a construction site, let alone how to use a hammer.
“But you didn’t want to work for anyone else?”
“Nope. My granddad started this company and passed it to my dad. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed one day it’d be mine. But I also knew Dad wouldn’t just hand it over. And proving to the guys who’ve worked for him for years that I could do it was another challenge.”
“How many guys you running?”
“Fourteen. And I’m finally to the point where my crew comes to me first to ask questions, not to my father.”
“That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“Thanks. Umm. You want to see the upstairs?”
“Yep. Especially if your bedroom is up there.”
“Figures you’d be interested in that.”
Blake was suitably impressed with how she’d combined two smaller bedrooms into one large master. The amount of lace and frills in her bedroom confounded him, especially since he’d seen nothing of a girly nature anywhere else in her house. With the peach and cream color scheme, he could easily believe it was a beauty queen’s domain.
Willow sighed. “I need a shower.”
“Don’t let me stop you from stripping. After all, it is your bedroom.”
She wrapped her arms around one of the wooden posts on the bed and studied him.
“What?”
“I don’t know how to say this.”
“If you want me to leave, Will, just ask.”
“No, I want you to shower with me,” she blurted.
Well, if that didn’t beat all. Blake grinned. “Then it’s a lucky thing I remembered to grab a condom.”
“Very lucky thing. But then, given your unofficial ‘always be prepared’ motto, I’m not surprised.”
Clothes flew. Willow beat him getting undressed, but not by much. He chased her into the bathroom.
No garden style bathtub for Willow. She entered an enormous glassed-in area that took up half the bathroom. Blake let out a heartfelt moan when he stepped inside the shower. Four sets of jets. Two shower heads.
“You like?”
“Mmm.” He peered at the little box below the row of nozzles. “Is that a steam shower button?”
“Yep. I get dirty on the job. My muscles get sore. I wanted this to be a place where I could just let it all melt away.”
“You and a couple friends could fit in here.”
Willow stared at him for a second.
“What?”
“You’re the first person other than me who’s been in this shower.”
Blake was shocked. Every time he thought he had a bead on Willow, she threw him a curveball.
She turned the jets full on. Hot pulsing spray bombarded him from every angle. As he lingered under the stream of water, he wondered if she could hear him whimpering in sheer bliss. Blake liked nothing better than indulging in a long, hot shower.
Unless it was indulging in a long, hot shower with a hot woman.
Willow scrubbed her hair with some citrusy smelling shampoo. Then she lifted her face to the spray, giving him her back. The white lather slipped across her strong shoulders and down her spine in foamy rivulets, drawing his attention to the curve of her ass and hip. Soon nothing but clear water cascaded across her skin.
He ripped open the condom and rolled it on.
She reached for a razor lying on top of the soapdish. But Blake was too quick. He snatched it up and turned her around. “I’ll help you.”
Her eyes flashed indecision.
“I’ll be careful. I promise. Is it okay if I start at the top and work my way down?”
She nodded.
“Stand like this.” Blake pinned her arms above her head with the back of her wrists against the wall. “You look damn sexy like that.”
“No tickling me.”
“Not to worry. I’ll be the picture of restraint while I’m wielding a razor. But after that, sunshine, all bets are off.”
He squirted shaving gel on his fingers and worked it into a lather. Then he spread it across each armpit.
Willow flinched slightly.
“Steady.”
“I’m trying.”
He scraped away the fine, dark hair until the area was smooth on each side and set aside the razor.
Holding her wrists in one hand, he maneuvered Willow under the water. Blake helped her rinse off, leisurely running his free hand down the inside of her arm, past her armpit and over her breast. He reversed the motion until each pass became a constant caress from her wrist to her ribcage.
He loved the way she moaned and leaned against him. He really loved her feminine gasp when she felt his rigid cock pressing into her back.
Blake switched hands and gave Willow the same thorough treatment on her other side. By the time he finished she was shaking.
“Cold?” he murmured, licking droplets of water from the skin below her ear.
“No.”
“Good. ’Cause I still have to do your legs.”
“I just shaved them yesterday so they don’t need it.” Willow looked at him over her shoulder. “Blake?”
“Hmm?”
“Are we done playing water torture games? Because I’d sure like you to fuck me.”
He froze. “Willow Gregory! I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you cuss.”
“That’s because I don’t cuss.”
“Working in the construction biz and around foul-mouthed welders and you don’t swear?”
“Huh-uh. Early on, my mom was afraid I’d end up with a mouth like my father’s, so she made him fine me every time I uttered anything close to a swear word. I lost the habit fairly quickly.” Her eyes narrowed. “However, I swear if you don’t fuck me right now, I will cuss and scream and throw a tantrum like you’ve never seen.”
Blake let go of her arms. He stepped in front of her, crushed his mouth to hers even as he hoisted her up against the tiled wall. His dick was in perfect position and he slid into her pussy in one long glide.
They moaned in unison.
She was wet. Inside. Outside. She was soft. Inside. Outside.
As he began to thrust, her thighs gripped his hips. Her fingers were in his hair, urging him to keep kissing her. The slap slap slap of their skin echoed as thick ribbons of steam wrapped around them like hot silk.
Blake wanted to take his time making love to her. So he did. Pushing them higher. Slowly. Steadily. Until that moment they both needed more. Harder, faster deeper.
Her pussy clenched tightly around his cock, milking his orgasm with the strength of hers. They held to each other as they spiraled over the edge of pleasure together.
His legs and his arms shook like he’d run a marathon. Had Willow felt that same connection? Or would she think that shower sex was always that intense?
Her breath tickled his ear. “Put me down.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“You’re going to get a cramp, and then you’ll drop me, and I’ll break my wrist or something stupid and you’ll feel all guilty, so—”
“Okay, okay.” Blake pecked her on the lips and set her on her feet. He turned all the jets off and it was suddenly very quiet.
Willow wrapped her arms around him from behind. “Thank you for helping me christen my shower, Blake.”
“My pleasure.” Would she invite other men into her shower now that he’d helped her break it in?
Probably.
Why did he feel so damn jealous?
Because you aren’t a no-strings kind of guy. And she’s the type of woman you want to tie to you forever.
Twenty minutes later Willow was tossing a small bucket of wall-patching supplies into her truck bed when a familiar pickup started up the drive.
Her gaze zoomed to Blake. His hair was still damp and he had that sated look men got after s
ex. The fact he wore it after having sex with her made her want to cheer. The fact that Paul, the electrician and the company’s biggest gossip, would also see that look on Blake, made her want to hide in the garage.
You’re a big girl. Not a Daddy’s girl. You’re entitled to put a big ol’ she-rocked-my-world smile on any man’s face.
Paul parked his rig next to hers but didn’t bother to get out. “Hey, Will.”
“Hey, Paul. What’s up?”
“I haven’t seen you around for a day or so. When I saw your truck out here, I thought I’d check and see if everything is okay, bein’s your dad is out of town.”
“Everything’s fine.”
Paul’s gaze flickered between Willow and Blake.
She could see Paul sizing up the situation and her first thought was to run interference. “Paul, this is Blake West. Blake, Paul Shulman.”
Blake walked over so he could shake Paul’s hand through the pickup window. “Nice to meetcha, Paul.”
“Same goes. So, Blake. What brings you to Broward?”
“Blake is filling in for Dave at LeRoy’s Tavern.”
Blake sent her a why-are-you-speaking-for-me look.
“A bartender, huh?”
“Yep.”
“You planning to stick around these parts? Or is this temporary?”
Blake said, “It depends,” at the same time Willow said, “Temporary.”
“He’s headed back to Sundance when Dave returns,” Willow said in a rush. Shoot. She’d done it again.
“You tend bar in Wyoming?”
“Yeah.” Blake’s eyes shot daggers at Willow daring her to contradict him.
“Whereabouts in Wyoming?”
“Sundance.”
“Beautiful country. I suppose there’s always a need for bartenders.”
Blake shrugged. “There are worse things.”
Paul pointed to the open tailgate and the buckets in Willow’s truck bed. “Whatcha got there?”
“Oh nothing.” She slammed the tailgate shut, hoping to hide her overnight bag from Paul’s prying eyes. “Just a fix-up I’m doing at LeRoy’s to help Blake out. No big deal.”
But by the way Paul’s eyes narrowed, it’d become a big deal. “Since when do you hang out at LeRoy’s?”