Rough and Ready (More Than A Cowboy 2)

Fuck, she was gorgeous, and I wanted to watch her come more than anything else in my life. “Come, princess.”

She did, and I felt her thighs quiver as they pressed into mine, watched her breasts rise and fall beneath her blouse as she cried out her release, felt her panties become wet from a flood of her desire. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and that unsettled me. I’d never been affected like this before, and I’d only touched her over her panties, and my dick was tucked away—painfully—in my jeans. How had something so… so high school seemed like something new?

She was as broken as me. Money and privilege, opportunity even, didn’t keep someone from bad shit. The night before she’d mentioned having a shitty family, and whatever happened between them cut her deep. Some people drank, some did drugs. Some did reckless shit like skydiving to ease the pain. It seemed Harper lost herself in meaningless sex.

She was done with that. Larry was the last loser she pulled into a stairwell to make herself feel better.

I continued to stroke her until the last bits of her pleasure ebbed. Her eyes opened, met mine. Instead of a sated smile, her eyes widened as if she just realized what she’d done, and then she crumbled. She started to cry. Her hands covered her face as she straddled me and sobbed. For a moment, I was frozen, completely surprised by the swift change, but I should have known.

She’d wanted a release, to come and feel better. Larry would have given it to her, but I doubted she’d have felt safe enough to let go completely. What she probably hadn’t even realized was that she’d needed to cry, and Larry wouldn’t have been able to give her that. I had. Because she trusted me, felt protected enough to let down every one of those damn walls. I felt humbled and in trouble. This woman was going to make me think things I could never have.

7

HARPER

This hadn’t gone as I’d expected. I was sitting in Reed’s lap crying, my skirt all but bunched about my waist.

I didn’t cry. There hadn’t been any tears left from two years ago. I’d thought they were all gone, but no. Somehow Reed—god, the one man I never expected—turned me into a damn faucet. All because he’d refused to fuck me.

I had no idea how long I cried. Minutes? Hours? The entire time, he just sat there and rubbed my back, my cheek pressed into his chest. He was warm, his big hands comforting, and I’d felt… protected. He’d allowed me to let my guard down, and he’d seen me at my worst. I could only imagine what he thought of me.

I sat up quickly, almost bumping his chin doing so. With my fingers, I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I was sure my mascara stained them. God, I probably looked a mess. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t usually do that.”

“No, I didn’t think you did,” he replied quietly.

I dared a peek at him, and I was surprised. He wasn’t revolted or even bored. He looked concerned. It wasn’t an expression I expected to see on a tough fighter. Those pale eyes had none of the cold fury he’d aimed at Larry. Only concern. Patience. Curiosity.

I sniffed, tried to push through my embarrassment. “I should go.”

His hands were on my thighs again, this time the touch wasn’t sexual but gentle. I could feel rough callouses, reminding me they were weapons against others. But not me. For me, his touch was gentle and comforting.

“Not yet. I can’t let you leave like this.” His voice was missing that sharp bite from before.

“I’m fine,” I countered, taking a deep breath. I was calmer now, if only I could extricate myself from his lap, from his apartment and die of embarrassment alone. I’d gotten on my knees with the intention of sucking him off. My neighbor! I could never live that down, never look him in the eye again.

“You will be. Just give yourself a minute.”

He was too damn patient. How did a brawler like him end up being so sweet? I didn’t dare ask. I knew he’d been aroused. I’d felt his hard length press against me, and if I glanced down, I’d see the thick outline through his jeans. But he wasn’t doing anything about it. Why?

“Don’t you want me to…” I couldn’t say the rest, just tilted my head down.

“Not tonight.”

Not tonight? I frowned. “But this was just a one-time thing.”

His pale eyes held mine as he reached up and stroked my hair back from my face where it clung to my damp cheeks. “No way.”

“But you don’t want more.”

“I’m not looking for a relationship, no. But I won’t have you getting your needs met by some random guy. He could be an asshole or worse. It’s too dangerous. Like I said before, you come to me if you need to get off.”

“Or cry,” I said, shame faced.

“Or cry,” he repeated. “A release is a release, princess. Feel better?”

I did. Yeah, what he’d done with his thumb had been just short of miraculous, and he’d barely touched me. I could only imagine what it would be like if we took our clothes off, were skin to skin. To say there was chemistry between us was an understatement.

It had just been his concern, his quiet presence that settled me. He knew now that I had some serious issues with my family, but who didn’t? Fortunately, I hadn’t told him about Cam or my mother. He hadn’t known about my need for connection that my therapist called self-destructive. Well, he did now. And still, he wasn’t judging, wasn’t using me for himself. He’d declined a blow job. He could ask for me to get him off—it was his turn—but he didn’t. He probably had the worst case of blue balls and didn’t seem to care.