Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He lets me nuzzle him, rubs his head against the side of mine. I want to holler with joy, want to celebrate this victory with him, while also wanting to keep it to myself. No, I actually want to share it with Sully. Want him to see what I can do, that Storm is coming around, partly because of me. Hell, I spent every day at this ranch trying to show off for Bishop Sullivan, trying to show him that I’m just as good as he is. I might not believe it, but it’s clear I’m still trying.
Storm gives me a sigh before he backs up and walks away. A moment later I hear footsteps in the grass and know without looking who it is.
“Sorry. I hope I didn’t scare him away. I thought you’d be out here with him, but when I saw the two of you, I stayed back, not wanting to interrupt. Looks like I did that anyway.”
I nod but don’t turn toward him. “I think he was done with me anyway. He was ornery earlier, and so I guess he wanted a little bit of love before he went back to being a brat again.”
Sully joins me, standing close enough that I feel his flannel brush against mine. Warmth floods my gut, and I wish we didn’t have the fabric between us, that I could feel him skin to skin.
“That sounds familiar.” There’s a smile in his voice that makes the heat inside me rise.
“Are you calling me ornery and a brat?”
“If the shoe fits…”
I chuckle in a way that he seems to make me do, even when I wish that wasn’t the case.
“I’m sorry about my momma. She was trying to extend an olive branch.”
“Yeah, I know. Did you hear what she said?”
He shakes his head, and relief floods me. Still, I tell him, “She said she wished I’d been at your wedding.”
“Ugh!” Sully lets out a long groan and rubs a hand over his face. “Her trying hard often ends in her saying the worst possible thing.”
This time we laugh together, the sound dancing along a mostly silent ranch. When we settle down, I give him a little more. “Pie was good.”
“I’m glad.”
“She said you missed me. Wanted to tell her I missed you getting down on your knees for me.”
Sully moans, deep and needy. He knows that’s not all I missed about him, but also understands I can’t say the rest.
“If you told me to do it right now, I would,” he admits, making blood rush to my groin.
“Right here? What if someone comes out and sees? What if they find out you like sucking dick, and even more importantly, that you love sucking mine.”
We’re playing with fire again, but I don’t think we have it in ourselves not to be around each other and risk the burn. That’s the thing about Sully. He’s a good son, a good man. Always does the right thing, does what’s expected of him, but something about me makes him want to be bad, I think, and damn, do I love the feeling I get from it.
“Jesus, Porter. You’re making my dick hard just talking to me like this.”
“Would you do it, then? Duck back into the shadows and get on your knees for me? I can push you down to them if you’d like, boss.”
The last word is a reminder of our roles, that he is my boss, but when we’re like this, I get to be on equal ground, and hell, he loves it when I’m the one in charge. Always has.
“Fuck.” He reaches out, grabs hold of my hip, and tugs me closer. “I don’t know why I’m like this with you.”
“Because you can be,” I admit softly, take his hand, and pull him out of the light and toward a darker corner of the ranch. There’s no point in holding back. While I’m here, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my hands off him.
Chapter 17
Bishop
There’s something about giving Porter control that appeals to me. Not only because it lets me off the hook for a while, takes away the pressure of being next in line to run this place, but also because it’s so fucking hot. He’s so fucking hot.
I’m an idiot for doing this with him on the ranch, but the grooms and cattle hands are still enjoying their dinner in the bunkhouse. My parents won’t venture outside to find us behind the stable, in the darkest corner, where all you can see are the stars and the whites of each other’s eyes.
We stand close, breathing the same air, and when he takes my mouth, I lose myself to him. Always have, probably always will. He tastes like that pie, cinnamon and nutmeg, and as I earnestly suck on his tongue, I can’t get enough.