BootsandPromises

Copyright © 2012, Myla Jackson. All rights reserved. No
part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or
otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured
in the United States of America

Editor:
Layla Chase

Cover
artist: Myla Jackson

This is a
work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of
the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance
to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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Ella Lang stood in the bedroom doorway
of her tiny Manhattan apartment, staring at the man she loved more than life.

Jesse James O’Brien lay spread out naked
across the sheets. Six feet three inches of muscled cowboy, his feet hanging
over the end of the double bed, the most gorgeous specimen of masculinity a
woman could ever hope for.

The night had been grueling at the
theater. Nothing had gone right. Stage props hadn’t cooperated. Ella had not
one, but three, wardrobe malfunctions and missed one of her cues.

Her focus hadn’t been on her
performance, so much as on this man, this fish-out-of-water cowboy who had no
business moving to New York just because she had.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, Ella
knew she should never have let him come. He belonged in Texas on the Rockin’ O
Ranch with his father and brothers and sister, not cooped up in a postage-stamp
apartment, searching for work in a city that preferred celebrities over honest,
hard-working cowboys.

God, he looked so peaceful, lying
sprawled across the bed.

Ella didn’t want to wake him.
Instead, she eased around the corner of the bed and entered the tiny bathroom,
peeled off her clothes and showered away the residual stage makeup and
hairspray that was as much a part of a performer’s life as her voice and
acting. She towel-dried her hair and debated slipping into a nightgown or just
sleeping naked like Jesse. After only a moment’s hesitation, her pussy growing
warm and wet, she opted for naked. She hung the towel on the towel bar and
turned to switch off the light. At that moment, she noticed the blue jeans
hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

Jesse’s jeans.

She lifted them down and hugged
them to her chest, the scent of Jesse and denim reminding her of Texas and the
home she’d left to follow her dreams. Visions of wide-open spaces and fields of
fresh green hay came to mind, kicking her in the gut with a truckload of
homesickness. Refusing to give into the ready tears building in her eyes, Ella
folded the jeans over her arm, intent on hanging them in the closet in the
bedroom.

Something dropped from one of the
pockets and bounced off her foot, causing her to glance down. On the floor
beside her lay a tiny box.

Heart thumping, Ella bent to
retrieve it, her knees nearly giving way as she realized what it was. The
little blue package with a pretty white bow had bold black letters spelling
Tiffany
& Co
written in neat script across the top.

Ella’s heartbeat skittered to a
halt and her hand shook so badly she dropped the box again. This time, as she
lifted it, she couldn’t resist. She had to see what was inside. She pressed an ear
to the door. No sounds emanated from the other side as Jesse slept on.

After  slipping the bow off the
edge, she removed the box lid. Inside was a black ring box. She lifted it from
the blue packaging and pushed open the lid. Nestled against midnight-black
velvet was a breathtakingly beautiful, marquis-shaped diamond on a simple
white-gold band.

Her breath caught, joy filling her
heart so full her chest hurt.

Jesse was going to ask her to marry
him. As the reality and enormity of what he was about to do sank in, she sat
down hard on the floor, the tiles cool against her naked bottom. The cold
against her skin spread quickly, shadowing the initial joy.

Ella had waited so long for Jesse
to ask her to marry him. Before she landed a significant role on Broadway, she
wouldn’t have thought twice about giving up all her dreams to get hitched and
stay in Texas, raising horses and babies. Now…she had too much invested in NYC.
She couldn’t go back. Not yet. Part of her would regret not fulfilling her
life’s ambitions, always wondering if she’d made the right decision, never
seeing her name, Ella Lang, on a playbill or in neon lights across a marquee.

If this ring was what she thought it
was, Jesse was going to ask her to marry him. And he'd probably insist on
staying in this metropolis that, as far as Ella could tell, had been nothing
but a disappointment to the Texas cowboy.

Ella closed the box and held it to
her aching breast. She now knew what she had to do. She couldn’t let Jesse make
this big of a mistake. She loved him too much to let him sacrifice all his own
dreams and desires just to be with her. He deserved to find someone who would
happily live on the ranch and help him raise cows and horses...and babies.

She gulped, swallowing back a wave
of longing so strong it nearly made her moan.

Jesse needed a woman who didn't
long for a career in the performance arts and had to live in a metropolis the
size of New York City or Los Angeles to fulfill her dream.

Her heart breaking into a million
pieces, Ella tucked the ring box back in his jeans and hung them exactly the
way she’d found them on the back of the door. Her chest hurt so badly she could
barely breathe past her constricted vocal chords.

Careful not to disturb Jesse, she
slipped into bedroom and onto the bed, wanting only to get as close to him as
possible.

As she lay on her side, facing away
from the man she cared so much about, she fought back tears. Ella didn’t want
him to see them. Didn’t want him to know how much she would hurt to say what
she had to say.

He rolled over, his body spooning
hers, warming her backside.

Ella wanted so badly to turn toward
him and hold him, make love to him, have him drive deep inside her. He was her
soul-mate, her love, her entire life. She couldn’t imagine loving any other
man. Ever. Nor could she imagine life without him.

But she had to.

Jesse had given up everything he’d
loved to follow her to New York, claiming he could make the situation work. He
was smart, hard-working and educated, but, as far as Ella could gather, no
matter how many doors he’d knocked on in the big Apple, he had yet to find work
that suited him.

But then what work was there in NYC
for a man born, bred and raised a cowboy from a long line of ranchers in West
Texas? The man had cattle and horses in his blood. He loved the wide-open spaces
and working with animals.

Yet, when Ella had chosen to follow
her dream to perform on Broadway, he’d followed.

Tears welled and a giant lump
formed in her throat, making breathing difficult . Had she been too selfish?
All her life she’d trained to be a performer—dance classes, acting lessons, a degree
in drama from Julliard. She’d worked too hard to give up her dream. Now that
she’d gotten her break, she had to take advantage while she was still young and
pretty enough to make an impression on a casting director.

Jesse had been a very supportive
lover. He’d driven her to the airport when she’d left for NYC for weeks at a
time, suffering through her disappointments and the endless auditions, even
coming along on several occasions.

Now that Ella was realizing her
dream, Jesse had chosen to join her in NYC permanently. He couldn’t live
without her, he’d said.

But Ella knew Jesse. For two months
he hadn’t said a word about Texas, his horse, Paddy, or his close-knit family.
He’d claimed being on his own would be a refreshing break , without his
brothers and sister constantly interfering in his life. NYC would be an
adventure.

While Ella spent her days
practicing for the show, her nights performing, Jesse was left on his own to
find work, clean the apartment or watch television. He’d never faltered in his
commitment to be with her, never said anything about his disappointment on the
employment front. As far as Ella could tell, he hadn't found anything, but he'd
spend every day out of the apartment.
Working on his plan
, he'd
insisted.

God, she loved him…

That’s why she couldn’t marry him,
couldn’t even let him ask. She’d be too tempted to say yes. He’d never be happy
in a city, away from his family and his beloved ranch and horses. Texas was as
much a part of him as breathing.

Ella had her work, the stage,
everything she’d worked for.

Jesse’s hand slipped up over her
hip to cup one of her breasts and he stirred against her, his cock nudging her
bottom. “Hey darlin’,” he said in his slow southern drawl that melted Ella
every time he spoke. “Whatcha thinkin’?”

She swallowed the lump knotting in
her throat. “How much I wanted you to wake up and make love to me.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest,
vibrating against her back, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair on the
back of Ella's neck. “Hmmm. I don’t know if I have it in me,” he said.

Ella scooted backward, fitting his
shaft into the crease between her butt cheeks. “I think you have the right
equipment for the job. I suppose you don’t have the right motivation.”

His fingers squeezed the tip of her
nipple. “What kind of motivation do you propose?”

She grabbed a condom from the ready
stash on her nightstand, rolled over to straddle him and planted her knees on
either side of his hips. “Is this more inspiring?”

Jesse smiled up at Ella, as she
tore open the packet and removed the rubber.

With her hands poised to slip the
condom down over his stiff, hard member, she couldn’t help thinking this might
be the last time, and her heart clenched.

Jesse caught her hands. “Darlin’,
I’ve been thinking…we need to talk.”

Ella laughed, the sound more of a
sob. She couldn’t let him declare his love one more time. The pain would be
more than she could bear. “Don’t talk, just love me.” She shook off his grip,
slid her ass down his legs and took his long, thick length into her mouth.
Cupping his balls, she massaged them between her fingers.

His eyes closed and he breathed
deeply, his chest rising and falling, his hips lifting beneath her, pressing
deeper until he bumped against the back of her throat. “Really, Ella, we should
talk.”

She worked his scrotum, her fingers
squeezing, releasing. Her mouth slid up his cock, her tongue swirling around
the head, catching the bulbous rim. Ella stuck the tip of her tongue in the
hole, tasting his pre-come, her own body awash with heat. “You really want to
talk when we could fuck?” she said around his hard dick.

“Baby, you know I can’t resist when
you talk dirty.”

“Then ride me, cowboy.” Her throat
tightened but she forced the words past the lump. “Ride me like there’s no
tomorrow.”

He bucked beneath her, shoving back
into her mouth, his hips driving upward, over and over.

She could feel his body tensing,
his cock increasing in size and thickness until the shaft was so hard, it had
to hurt.

Then he pulled Ella off, laying her
down beside him. "You first."

"No, it's okay, really," she
protested, afraid she'd lose control of her emotions if he was too nice.
"I love it when you come first."

He pressed a finger to her lips and
replaced it with his mouth, his tongue thrusting inside, swirling around hers
while his hands cupped her face, holding her as if she was something precious.

Jesse always made Ella feel like
the center of his universe. She swallowed a wave of tears lumping in her
throat.

His mouth shifted off her lips and
slid over her chin, maneuvering a path downward along the long line of her
neck, stopping to test her pulse at the base of her throat.

Without too much pause, he
continued to her distended nipples, taking one between his teeth, biting down
gently, tugging at the turgid peak until Ella's back arched off the bed,
pushing more of her breast into his mouth.

He leaned to the side, a hand
slipping over her ribs, past her bellybutton to the thatch of hair covering her
pussy.