Love at First Rescue Bonus Scene
Cricket
Four Months Later
My heart beats out of my chest as I watch Christian walk up the long driveway to our cabin. He’s tanned and tall and absolutely breathtaking in his crisp sheriff’s uniform and white Stetson. Although I now wear his ring on my finger, I still pinch myself daily that this cowboy is mine. I know he feels the same way about me because he tells me all the time.
It’s hard to think back on all the wasted years between us. I know this is something that could eat away at both of us if we let it. But I have to remind myself that every moment of our lives has led to this wonderful now.
The front door opens, and he strides in, his face unreadable. If anything, there’s a grimace. My heart sinks into my stomach.
Although what Christian confided in me after the rescue lightened his spirit, a shadow still loomed. The shadow of wondering when and how the person who texted him for money would make another move. Being a public servant only made the situation harder because of the weighty responsibility Christian feels to the people of this community.
He’s the last person in the world to think like a politician. He’s too plain-spoken, too kind-hearted, and too quick to intervene when trouble comes looking for a playmate. But these are also the traits that make him the sheriff Gold County needs.
Especially now when so many older residents are passing away, vast tracts of land are changing hands, and developers and city and state officials are looking for new ways to line their pockets. Having a rock-steady, incorruptible sheriff is the only way Hollister will survive when push comes to shove.
It’s more responsibility than any one man should have to bear on his shoulders. But Christian does it ninety-nine percent of the time without complaint. So, how could I let him constantly look over his shoulder, waiting for his past to come back to haunt him again?
I encouraged him to go public with the story surrounding his birth. After talking it out and weighing the pros and cons, he decided on a sit-down interview with Jess, Logan’s wife. She works as an on-location reporter for the Chronicle, and we sat down with her a couple of weeks ago at the cabin for an interview. She’s an amazing interviewer, does painstaking research, and wrote the story with incredible sensitivity.
The article came out over the weekend, but this was the first day Christian had to face the people of Hollister after its publication.
I step forward, and he wraps his arms around me for a long, sensual kiss.
“How was work today, baby?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t get much done, if I’m being honest.” His face looks stoic, and I’m afraid there’s so much more he’s not telling me. Christian has such a strong need to protect me from the bad side of the world that conversations with him can border on omission. Even though he’s been far more open with me over the past few months, I can still feel his drive to shelter me from the unpleasantness of the world.
I put a hand on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble that shows up in the afternoon. There’s something so sexy about him like this, and I love the tactile feel and sound of my fingertips rubbing across his cheek and chin. “Did anyone talk about the article?”
He nods almost imperceptibly. “Everyone, actually.”
I wait, but he doesn’t volunteer any more information. Finally, I ask, “What was the response?”
He looks down to the right, thinking for a moment. Then, leveling his eyes at me he replies, “Supportive … and surprising. The office got some calls for interviews with other publications. I’m not sure I’m up for that. And Jess texted, saying she’s gotten lots of positive feedback, especially from others with similar stories.”
“You’re my hero, Christian. Always giving of yourself to others, and this story is just another example of that.”
He shrugs. “I’m just a guy trying to do my job. But one thing’s for sure. I’ve taken the wind right of the blackmailer’s sails. Haven’t heard a peep from them even though this story has turned into a bigger deal than I imagined.”
I nod gently, taking in his face, trying to read what’s really going on inside his head and heart. “Are you still feeling okay about everything? I hope you don’t feel like I pushed you into this.”
He threads his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly into him. Bringing his forehead down to rest on mine, he replies, “You were right, Cricket. I needed to man up and do this for myself, for you, for Gold County, for our future family.” After a pause, he repeats something I recently said to him. “The skeletons in the closet no longer have control when you let in a little sunlight.” Despite his positive words, his face looks exhausted.
“Did anybody act differently with you?”
He lifts his head, kissing the crown of my head and breathing me in. “Not really. But honestly, the only person I care about not treating me differently is in my arms.”
I tilt my head up, covering his mouth with mine, relishing the relaxed way we can bask in each other’s touch now. A year ago, being in the same room was painful, a study in self-denial that, thankfully, neither one of us could keep up forever. But I still feel grateful every single day that we can be together like this, admitting to ourselves and the world how much we love each other.
“Can I get you a beer or something? You want to kick off your boots and watch some TV?”
“Nope,” he sighs, his mouth moving towards my ear. I shiver at the feel of his hot breath on my cheek and neck. “Everything I need and want is right here, and I’m not letting go of it.”
I giggle as his mouth descends to my neck, covering it with open-mouthed kisses that tighten my core, making my pussy throb. “I could get into this.”
“Oh, could you now?” he murmurs into my shoulder, pulling my pale pink crocheted cardigan down over my shoulder with one hand, making a pathway for his lips to follow while he traces a trail of fire down my arm with the fingertips of his other hand.
“You know how much I like a man in a uniform.”
He teases the sensitive spot behind my ear before showering my earlobe in more kisses, sucking and nipping it until I let out a whoosh of air.
“There’s only one man in a uniform you’re allowed to like,” he demands. Bringing his other hand up under my tank top he squeezes my breast possessively, stroking my pearled nipple.
Shuddering, I half-speak, half-cry, “Yes, only one man. Christian McLeod.”
“You know,” he growls, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I like a woman in a uniform, too. Too bad I didn’t take more advantage of it while you worked for me. But this’ll do. And it is much sweeter.” He grabs onto the front of the pink half-apron I still have on from the bakery, pulling my hips into his thick, firm arousal. My panties are dripping—the thought only compounding the situation. I think back to last night when he ripped a lacy pair off me, smelling and licking them before diving into the center of my arousal.
“Cricket, I need you so bad.” He’s got his hand in the ties of my apron, locking my soft curves against his hard, angular muscles and cock. “The only thing that got me through today was knowing I’d come home to your sweet little pussy. But I need you to tell me how much you want me. How much you want this cock ’cause I don’t want to fucking think about anything else but making you scream.” His voice is heavy with desire and desperation, and I can tell the day’s undone him in ways he’s not telling me. But that’s the thing with Christian. He’d much rather suffer in silence. For him, it’s a way of showing me his love.
His hands fumble to untie the apron, pulling up my shirt with a neediness that thrills me as his warm fingers rove over my back and ribs before settling on my breasts. He squeezes them while his thumbs tease my nipples until I’m gasping. Knowing how desperately he needs me puts a lump in my throat. I’m his heart’s healing, the reward for his sacrifice, the reason he fights through every day with a fierce resolve to come home and make me happy.
My hand cups his cock, and I pant, “I’ve had to go all day without your cock inside me, and it was miserable. I thought about last night at work, and my panties got so wet. I had to work through a throb between my thighs all afternoon just thinking about the feel of your fingers inside of me. I know you’re the only one who can help me with all this tension. Please help me.”
“I can help you,” he says, lowering his head to suck my nipple into his mouth. My back arches against the silky heat of his tongue and lips, and my tight core grinds into him, begging for release.
He needs more from me, and even though I’m still hesitant to voice my desires, I continue in a trembling voice, “I couldn’t stop thinking about your rock-hard cock pounding me, baby. So thick and hot, ramming into my tight little pussy, demanding my cream, and then filling me with your cum.”
“You need my cum, don’t you baby?” he asks without expecting an answer. Turning me around, he orders me to put my hands on the back of the couch so that I’m bent over. He comes up behind me, pressing his steel rod against my lower back as he brings his hands to the front of my pants, deftly unbuttoning them. He pulls them down slowly over my hips and ass until they pool around my ankles.
“Step out of your pants and spread your legs,” he orders, and my heart thrills, fluttering up into my throat.
I obey, and he lets out an appreciative groan as he stops to admire my choice of underwear—a purple and black lace G-string. Smacking my ass with one hand, he brings the other around to the front, sliding beneath the slick wet lace until he finds my pearl.
“You weren’t lying when you said how wet you were.”
“No,” I exhale over my shoulder. “Thinking about you and last night did it to me. It’s all your fault, and now you have to make me better. I had to go all day a sticky throbbing mess waiting for you to get inside of me.”
He’s past words, letting out a throaty moan. Circling my slick clit with his finger, he finds the perfect rhythm and speed, amplifying the throb into a painful need for release. I feel his hot breath on my back as he promises, “I’ve got to get inside you, Cricket. Right this fucking second. But after that, I’ll take my time. I want to spend the whole fucking night worshipping your body.”
“Yes, please, Christian. Please get your cock inside me. I can’t wait any longer. I need you balls deep, baby.”
“Oh, fuck,” he roars, pulling my G-string to the side and plunging into me. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“What is it, baby?”
He’s motionless for a moment, holding his breath before he plunges again. Exhaling sharply, he says, “You feel so fucking good, Cricket. So fucking good. You’re going to make me come, you naughty girl.”
He’s one to talk. His fingers and cock have ramped up the intensity sky-high. I’m already climbing a dizzy ecstasy, feeling every sexual frustration of the day wind into a tight ball of desire before my pussy spasms wildly around his thickness. My legs shake, and I’m thankful my hands are balanced on the couch. He slams into me again and again as I push back into him, wanting him as deep as possible. Christian explodes into me, letting out a deep-throated scream, and I can feel his body pulsing into me as he shudders against my back with each wave of release. He grabs me around the waist, resting his head on my shoulder, and I can feel the heat and sweat of his taut muscles against my bare skin.
After catching his breath, he whispers, “Thank you, Cricket. Thank you for always giving yourself to me, never holding anything back. I don’t know how I’d get through a single solitary day without you.” His words catch me off guard, and I bite my lower lip, fighting back tears. He stands up, steadying himself by holding my hips and slowly slides out, hissing against the feel of his sensitivity against my pussy walls.
Turning to take him in my arms, I reassure him, “And you’ll never have to find out.” My burly, tough-as-nails cowboy wraps himself around me, burying his head in my neck, and I know no matter what life throws our way, together we can stand against any storm.
The history runs long and hot when it comes to Rebecca “Birdie” Jenkins. I remember when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Now I can barely stand to look at her. Let alone see her every day at Rough & Ready Ranch, working as my dad’s home healthcare nurse.
My brothers think I’m being stubborn. That I should give her a break. But the break she gave my heart years ago is something I’m still not over … and not about to repeat. Problem is, she’s sexier than hell, and while my heart may say no, my body’s got other ideas.
If you love rugged western landscapes, a sexy small-town cowboy, a curvy girl who knows how to get what she wants, and a steamy second-chance romance, one-click now to pre-order Love at Second Chance.
