nodded decisively. “Well, I can see why you were distracted. But the fact that we’ve got a long time to make a decision means you have to try to not worry right now. Especially if he won’t know until the end of April if there’s actually a job for you.”
It was good advice, but Jesse knew he would still think about it a lot more than was good for him.
He went for a topic change. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”
“Nothing to be mad about,” she insisted.
“I’m a little pissed that you’re being so understanding,” Jesse confessed. “I could use a little arguing.”
Dare rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because throwing dishes and shouting is so much more fun.”
He rolled her to the carpet, pinning her under his body. “It’s not the shouting that’s fun, it’s what comes after.”
“Oh, that’s the part you’re missing.” Her gaze shifted to his lips. “We can probably come up with a reason why we need to have some angry sex. It is angry sex that you’re looking for, right?”
“Angry. Hot. Heavy.” He jammed a hand under her shirt and slid it upward until her breast filled his palm. “I want to take you hard.”
Instead of telling him he was an ass or yawning in his face, both responses he would’ve completely understood, Dare proved once again she was his absolutely perfect partner.
She grinned. “I think we can manage that.”
Unexpectedly, she twisted. With a hand on his shoulder, she got enough torque to flip him onto his back. An instant later, she’d crawled over him, peeling her shirt up and over her head to toss it aside.
Jesse hummed in approval. He curled up far enough to undo her bra and then sent it flying after her shirt. “Your tits are always stunning, but pregnant? There should be an entire wing in some museum to pay homage to them.”
“They’re big enough to fill an entire wing by themselves,” Dare teased before moaning. “God, Jesse. Yes.”
He didn’t know what to do next. He wanted it all. His hands, his mouth, his teeth all over her skin. He dropped his hands to her waistline, rolling her under him as he shred away her pants and undies.
Dare stripped his shirt away, and fabric tore. They were all hands and heat and dirty delicious noises—far too long, yet it was only moments later, he dipped his fingers between her legs and found her ready and wet for him.
“Do it.” Dare made the words a challenge, a gasp following as he hauled her over his legs and notched himself against her heat.
One inch of movement. One thrust and they were joined.
Their foreheads met. “You are my everything,” Jesse confessed.
Her face lit up like sunshine. “Good. Now fuck me.”
With pleasure. For both of them.
He rocked into her hard and dirty, soaking in the sensations streaking over his skin like wildfire. Aching with the extreme pleasure of the tight fist of her body surrounding him. Dare’s heels dug into his ass as she rocked to meet his demands with her own vibrant enthusiasm.
He paused for a moment to lick his thumb then reached between their bodies to slide over her clit.
Dare arched, her breasts pressing against his naked chest. Head falling back, her hair slid over his arm supporting her back. Sweaty and hot with every bit of pleasure centered on his cock as she squeezed him, Jesse took as hard as he gave.
A moment later her nails raked across his shoulders, and she let out a cry. He lost it, the connection between them fire and passion.
They clung to each other, chests heaving. Coming down while still connected. Bodies, souls. Hearts.
Dare sighed happily. “I love you. We’ll figure it out.”
“I love you too,” he agreed. “And we will.”
Jesse just hoped the right answer wouldn’t require tearing his heart in two.
SP Ranch Journal
~Michael Coleman, January 1984~
Still trying to figure out where the hell the past twelve months flew to.
With the successful year we’ve had, it’s time. I know Da intended to someday divide the land into six sections, one for each of us boys to be able to take charge of and find our way.
I’m in total agreement. Just because I had to take over when I did doesn’t mean I’m the best man for all the tasks. Plus, I know our hearts lie in different areas. If I have to listen to George wax poetically about his damn horses for another three straight hours…
He’s got interesting plans, and I bet they work, but as