Braving The Storm: An Age Gap, Cowboy Romance (Crimson Ridge Book 2)
Braving The Storm: Chapter 24

“Well, this is new…” Storm’s voice is thick and drowsy right beside my ear as he stirs from yet another heavy sleep. I have no idea what time it is; the room is layered with shadows, but I’ve been content to lie still. Truth be told, I’m blissed out, simply enjoying listening to his soothing, steady breathing at my back. Soaking up the rhythm accompanying each rise and fall of his torso fitted against my spine.

A smile slides onto my lips, hearing his words, because he’s about to discover the opposite is, in fact, true.

“So, about that.” Musing out loud, my fingers wander down, tracking the corded muscles of his forearm. Tracing the veins and shape of him that I’d been so afraid to allow myself to admit I wanted to touch until now.

His fingers tighten over the place where he cups my bare pussy.

“Got something you want to tell me?” He nudges the shell of my ear with his nose. Hitting me with a voice so desirous and sinfully appealing that I’ve got absolutely no chance of withstanding any command he might give.

Not that I have any intention to.

The cuff is still on.

“This is, uh, it’s actually how you always hold me in the morning.” I swallow thickly. “You know, the times we’ve shared a bed… before.”

Before you turned my entire life inside out and upside down with one invitation, one kiss, one moment of temptation, I couldn’t replace my sanity or a single reason to refuse.

“Why didn’t you say something?” His words glide over me as he continues to pin me beneath a firm hold. My spine flush against his chest. The weight of his arm snaking down my stomach, settled between my thighs. A note of curiosity colors his voice.

Why didn’t I?

His question sends me into an immediate fluster. My cheeks burst into flames, embarrassment flying to every corner of my body. How am I supposed to put any of this into words? That I craved him touching me, long before we reached the point of no return last night.

How pathetic I am that I was stealing his caresses when he didn’t even intend to give them to me.

“Briar.” He rumbles, kissing my neck, sending liquid heat pooling beneath his fingertips. The way this man can read me so effortlessly, he can tell when I’m caught in a spiral.

“I—I don’t know. I didn’t want to make things awkward for you, so I would get up before you noticed.”

I’m expecting him to tease, or to have something typically smart to say. Instead, he makes a low noise, one that I feel extending through from my spine to my chest.

He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“You should have stayed.”

Those words, they’re unreasonably sexy when uttered in that early morning voice of his, and it’s like listening to honey, dripping over my skin.

Except, then, his wickedness follows, hot and tempting. “Or did you like it a little too much when your uncle was wrapped around you every morning? Is that why you developed a taste for early morning shower time?”

I whimper as he begins to fondle me, confirming that, once again, I am absolutely drenched between my thighs for this man.

Storm lets out a satisfied grunt—a self-assured triumphant sound. Followed by gently hitching my leg exactly how he wants followed by the act of pressing forward to wedge the head of his thick cock inside me.

As he works his way in, with shallow, pulses of his hips, he continues to strum his fingers over my clit, and I absolutely melt for him.

“Darlin’, it’s no mystery why you suddenly needed alone time, I know exactly why you were in that shower every morning.” Holy shit, he fills me with a delicious, insistent press forward.

“Oh my god.”

“Though, it’s a shame you didn’t tell me all that aching and tension was for me. I can think of a lot of ways that I would have helped you out. All the times I could have joined you in there.” He settles himself all the way, filling me until I can’t think straight, then stays still. Storm doesn’t thrust, or move, just allows my pussy to stretch and form to wrap around him, and holy fuck, it ignites something wild inside me.

“What was I supposed to do?” I gasp. This is so filthy. He wants to wedge himself inside me and then stay there? The way he’s cradling my body against his, lazily fondling over my clit, dragging my slickness up to pinch and caress my nipples, it’s almost as if… as if he would be happy to stay like this, buried inside me for hours.

The notion of that—of being impaled on his cock and nothing more than a pussy wrapped around him because he wants to be inside me—nearly has me whining and moaning.

“Well, for a start, if you wake up horny and dripping, then use me.” His big palm cups and squeezes my breast. “Or if you want to play with that pretty cunt, I don’t mind being an audience for you. I’ll watch you come all over your fingers anytime.”

“God. Storm.” He’s wicked, and yet I can’t get enough.

“Look how perfect you are. Every curve, every fucking inch of you.” His dick is all the way deep, so fucking deep, as he lies there, still not attempting to thrust or move at all. It drives me out of my head with how unbelievable this feels.

“Go back to sleep if you want, darlin’.” Storm’s lips follow the slope of my neck, sending a flurry of goosebumps and shivers across my arms. “Let me teach you this. What I want right now is to enjoy playing with you, while you lie nice and still for me, squeezing me so goddamn tight.”

He makes a groaning noise as I do exactly that.

“Mmmfffuck. I don’t need you to stay awake for what I want, but if it means I get to have you gripping me that hard, then go right ahead and lie there while I have my fun using your sweet little hole.”

This man.

This fucking man.

I know for certain, right then and there, as he strokes his rough touch over every part of my belly, my breasts, my thighs—dipping down into my pussy with each pass over my form, even while still filling me—that I’m in serious trouble.

How am I going to survive being treated like this?

How am I ever going to replace someone else to compare?

I’m the definition of ill-equipped to handle Stôrmand Lane.

Having to spend all day around him today while he finishes up the last of the horses on Devil’s Peak Ranch is going to kill me, of that, I’m certain.

The man is so smooth, it would be unbearable if it didn’t turn me into a panting, wanton mess at every turn.

Every single glance, with a secretive twitch playing on the corner of his mouth—a mouth that I know exactly how and what is capable of when he uses it as a damn weapon on my body—combined with the effortless way he’s strolling around these stables using his deep, sexy voice to talk to the horses is enough to do me in.

Wearing his goddamn chaps that make me want to drop to my knees and stick out my tongue.

Has he turned me into a sex addict after just one night?

Because I sure as hell cannot stop thinking about his dick.

All I seem to be capable of is running replays in my mind’s eye. Flashes and glimpses and erotic snippets of us together. Seeing myself, a version of me that I didn’t even recognize, reflected in that mirror after Storm had fucked every last brain cell out of my head.

What I saw as he prowled over me like a conqueror, all tattoos and muscles, was myself splayed out beneath him. Limp and flushed and fucked out of my damn mind.

In a state of pure, unadulterated bliss.

As I shift my weight, holding the horse’s head while he works on their shoe fitting, I feel the band of leather on my wrist dig in slightly beneath the sleeve of my jacket.

I’m hyper-aware of its smooth feel against my skin. How it warms to match my body temperature. How it belongs to him, or more accurately, denotes that I belong to him.

At least for the duration of time while we play this game.

For however long I choose to stay here, I guess.

My eyes roam all over his shoulders, recalling exactly how that same broad expanse filled the reflection in the mirror last night when he commanded me to watch.

How he loomed behind me. Tattooed and muscled and so imposing, braced over my spine.

The look on his face… it’s something imprinted in my damn DNA, I’m sure of it.

He looked ravenous. For me.

I’m giddy for more of his gritty orders, his calloused palms roaming across my skin. I want him to tell me what to do, exactly when to watch, to see how incredible we look, to see how much I enjoy being full of his cock and leaking his cum.

That possessive behavior unlocked something in me, something compelling. I didn’t expect to replace it comforting, but being told I’m nothing more than his toy and slut to use… holy shit.

I’ve never been more turned on or felt more secure in my life.

“You’re one talented man, Storm.” The familiar voice of Layla interrupts my silent reverie of drooling.

He grunts something inaudible, bent double, driving a nail with precision into the horseshoe. The kind of ten-thousand-hour practiced perfection that only someone as skilled as he could achieve. A mere mortal such as myself would certainly have either broken my thumb with that hammer or ended up with the nail straight through my hand rather than the horse’s hoof.

“They look fantastic.” Layla comes up beside me and runs a hand over the long, glossy neck. “Ready to put in a big shift this summer, aren’t you, gorgeous boy?” Big dewy eyes blink at her, and I’m no better than the horse, staring at Layla like she’s the green-eyed elfin queen of this barn and I’m her humble servant.

From all accounts, Devil’s Peak Ranch will never have been busier, after Layla’s social media took off last year. She started out by posting cute videos and photos as a fun way to share her days when she first took a job here during her veterinary training, then everything snowballed.

Now, the upcoming summer season is almost fully booked, with a waitlist stretching from here to Crimson Ridge, and these horses are the star attraction.

“Yeah, well, Colt’s a fussy bastard. I’m sure he’ll take one look and tell me he could do better himself.” Storm clips the excess nail endings with a pair of metal snips so they don’t stick out from the hoof, then wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

I nearly buckle at the knees when he hits me with those piercing blue eyes in the act of straightening up. It’s only a quick glance, but it does something fluttery to my insides, all the same, to discover his eyes seeking out mine immediately.

“Like he’s got time for that.” Layla chuckles.

“For giving me hell? You know the prick will always replace time.” Storm picks up the file and makes quick work of smoothing down any rough edges above the horseshoe. Long, smooth strokes that keep me entranced with the tattoos on his hands and veins popping.

“How about I put in a good word for you? He might even pick up your tab for dinner this weekend if I ask nicely?” Layla teases back, and it’s all so effortless being around these people. There’s no agenda or hidden purpose. I love the way everyone is just good hearted to each other. Not trying to play a game, score points, or squirrel away some detail of a weakness to be used against the person at a later point in time.

“Fuck that. You owe me about a year’s worth of hot dinners, Stôrmand Lane. After clearing out my entire deep freezer of meat while I was gone.” Colt arrives in the barn, looking rugged and like he’s been carved from the very landscape out here. As he approaches, his eyes are focused only on Layla, with an unspoken language flowing between them.

God, they’re so perfectly in tune with each other. It makes my heart pitter-patter to see that kind of soul-deep bond between two people.

A flesh and blood reminder that a kind of love like this does exist.

For the lucky ones, at least.

Colt leads his horse behind him, pausing on his way past us to stop and brush some fine hairs off Layla’s forehead with a little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, before he leans down and kisses her neck. It’s the most romantic fucking thing I’ve ever seen in the flesh, and if I wasn’t holding the halter in front of me, there is every chance my entire soul might have melted onto the floor.

“For putting up with prince charming, feeding your goddamn cows, and being balls deep in ice all winter so you could go skinny dipping in the Mediterranean? I’d say we’re even, old man.” Storm keeps working but shakes his head as he files off the remaining nail-ends.

The two of them keep bickering in their gruff way, and Layla takes over handling things like the horse’s saddle and tack while chiming in with the conversation as she works.

Meanwhile, I’m standing here wondering if anyone could look at me and immediately know. Would they have any inkling of the fact I’m wearing his cuff beneath the sleeve of this jacket. His jacket.

Would anyone ever suspect a thing? Our little secret and all the forbidden intricacies our arrangement entails.

The more I chew the inside of my cheek and shift my weight, the more this naughty little hidden detail turns me the fuck on.

Storm finishes up, with this being the final horse he’s working on for the day, and I’m doing all I can to be his perfect assistant. Now that I’m somewhat more familiar with the routine of how he goes about things, I feel like I can actually be useful in packing up and getting ready to leave.

We’ve just finished loading the truck when Layla follows us outside.

“So, we’re all meeting at six o’clock on Saturday… I’m leaving this oaf in your capable hands, city girl, to make sure he’s at least made an attempt at cleaning himself up.”

Shutting the tailgate with a forceful shunt, Storm gives a wry smile in Layla’s direction. His blue eyes swing my way, and there’s no mistaking the trouble flickering there. It’s boyish and devious and far too goddamn attractive for my health.

“Don’t worry Layla, I’ll be the perfect uncle and listen to everything my niece tells me to do.”

I nearly choke, one hand shooting out in an attempt to steady myself on the passenger’s door.

“Perfect. Drive safely guys, can’t wait for you to meet Sage.” Layla waves as she heads toward the main house, the setting sun casting an orange glow in the reflection bouncing off the big planes of glass windows along the south-facing vista of the property.

As I yank my door open, I level my sternest glare across the distance between us. “You can’t keep saying shit like that. You’re a bad, bad man.”

I’m greeted with a cocky smirk as he slides into the driver’s side.

“Yup, and you’re getting hornier every time I say it, so we’re all winning here, little thorn.”