Laying Down The Law (#4, Cowboy Way) (The Cowboy Way) (7 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Brock did not waste time going around to the passenger door. He stopped at the driver’s door and his hand shook as he inserted the key into the lock.  He opened the door and all but tossed Melanie up onto the seat, then pushed her over with his body as he hurriedly cranked the truck.  They could not get back to the ranch soon enough, he thought, throwing the SUV into reverse and glancing in the rearview. 

Need clawed at his insides like barbed wire, electrified wire that set every nerve in his body on fire.  It had been that way all afternoon, but he’d fought it. Brock was done fighting something Melanie obviously wanted as badly as he did.

He had never in his fucking life wanted a woman as bad as he wanted the one sitting beside him.  Right now.  Not tomorrow, not next week.  Right damned now. 

The tires shrieked and the SUV lurched when he threw it into gear and slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. Melanie’s body pitched forward, her hand landed on his thigh and Brock groaned as her fingers dug in and fire shot up his zipper to scorch his painfully engorged cock. 

Her muscles tensed and he looked down into rich, gold-flecked pools of need and her hand slid higher on his thigh as he held her gaze.  Tires squealed, a horn blew rudely, and Brock woke up, slammed on the brakes and flew toward the steering wheel. 

His heart pounding in his ears, Brock frowned at the older lady in the baby blue Cadillac who glared at him from her position half-in and half-out of the last aisle in the parking lot.  His middle finger itched, but he was the sheriff in this town.  He didn’t flip off old ladies—even the ones whose license should be revoked, he thought, as he stopped at the main road.  When he found an opening he pulled out and turned right to head toward the ranch.

Reaching down, he undid the button on his jeans and slid his zipper down an inch because it was cutting off his circulation.  He put his hand back on the wheel, and was surprised when the zipper moved to the bottom of the track.  Looking down, he saw Melanie’s fingers pinching the tab then met her eyes.  She licked those porn star lips of hers that tasted like cotton candy, then turned in the seat, smiling a smile that tightened his balls.

No, she isn’t thinking that
. 
You’re dreaming, dude
. 

“Lift your hips a little, sheriff,” she said, taking a firm hold on either side of his jeans to tug them apart.  The look in her eyes, her words which rang inside his head, made his heart pump blood through his body like a high-pressure water main.

God, he wasn’t dreaming.  
Electricity buzzed through him as he tensed his muscles, lifted and tried like hell to stay on the road while she jerked his jeans lower on his hips. 

Brock hadn’t had a blow job in a vehicle in a very long time.  He hadn’t had
real
sex in a long time either—at least three fucking years.  If Melanie put that beautiful mouth on him, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t be over for him in seconds. 

But there was no way in hell he was going to stop her when she lowered his underwear and her warm palm closed around him, dragging a throaty groan up from his toes which were curled inside his boots.  Her head descended and his breathing became non-existent as her hair covered his crotch, her hot breath warmed his cock. 

He had to see her do this, he thought, his right hand falling to grab the ends of her hair and hold them back.  Fuck, it was dark—he couldn’t see a damned thing except when they passed a street light.  Letting go of her hair, he reached up to turn on the dome light and Melanie leaned up to look at him. 

“I need to watch you,” he croaked, his hand shaking as he grabbed the ends of her thick, silky hair again to hold it back.  The corner of her mouth ticked up, before her head lowered toward him again.  Her palm closed around him and she squeezed, right before her hot breath brushed his skin.  Brock hissed a breath, every muscle in his body went rigid with anticipation and a tremor rocked him when the wet warmth of her lips surrounded his head.

“Oh, my God,” he rasped, flinching when she ran her tongue over him. 

Brock’s eyes dropped to his lap and he whimpered at the amazing sight of her mouth on him, which sent him into sensory overload.  Gritting his teeth, he dragged his eyes back to the road, fighting the orgasm barreling down on him, but it inched higher and higher with every hot circle of her tongue on his shaft. 

The sucking noises and wet heat drove him wild until he squirmed in the seat, his hips moved with her mouth, and her throaty little moans vibrated up his skin to tease the head of his cock.  When she went down on him, Brock swerved and his left hand almost bent the steering wheel.  His fist twisted in her hair and he groaned as he watched her wet mouth slid down to meet her hand until he throbbed against the back of her throat.

“Holy
shit
—” he wheezed, breathing hard as she made a few slurping sucks that were like a sexual soundtrack designed to make him come. 

When Brock couldn’t take the intense sensations any longer, he yanked her hair, but her lips pinched around him, and her teeth grazed his shaft as she dragged her lips slowly up to his head, pulling a wave of come up with them. 

It pulsed right at the head of his cock, tremors rocked him and Brock struggled for breath as he fought to hold on.  He looked back at the road, and was relieved to see they were almost home.  He was going to pay her back for this tenfold when he got her to his bedroom.  Right now, he needed to focus on getting them there alive. 

But just as he whipped into the driveway and rattled over the cattle guard, she sucked him hard and he couldn’t tell if his teeth were chattering from that or the tremors shaking him as she held him to the roof of her mouth with her tongue.  Blood rushed to his head making him dizzy, the ranch house blurred and he pressed on the accelerator to get to the house faster. 

Her mouth pulled one more time and Brock twisted his fist in her hair to yank her off of him.  The holding off was over, he thought, slamming on the brakes.  Dragging in ragged breaths, he fisted his cock, threw his head back and moaned in relief as hot waves of come erupted onto his stomach.  Weak and swimming in endorphins, he leaned his forearm on the wheel and rested his forehead on it.

“Goddamn, Hooty—I think you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose,” he said as he gasped for breath.

“Don’t call me that,” Melanie said darkly, as she lifted up and his eyes fixed on her deliciously swollen lips.

“I’m sorry—I promise it won’t happen again, baby.”  Brock reached to pull her toward him for a kiss but she pulled away.  Damn, just that fast he’d ruined things, because he was a dumbass.

“No, I don’t think it will—not tonight at any rate,” she said, her gaze darting to his still rigid cock.  “You might want to put that away and take me home, because I think you have company.”

She sat back on the seat, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then folded her arms over her breasts as she stared at the house.  Even though he didn’t want to, Brock looked toward the house, and groaned when he saw Lucy’s van parked there and her out and on the move toward the SUV.  He quickly took off his hat, tossed it on the dashboard and pulled his t-shirt over his head to clean up.  He threw it on the floorboard, then lifted his hips to pull up his jeans and zip them.

“I feel like I’m the other woman,” Melanie said, as Lucy stopped to rap her knuckles on Brock’s window, while she glared across the cab at Mel. 

Brock sighed and rolled down the window. “What do you want, Lucy?” he asked gruffly.

“I want the
father
of my son to give a damn about him,” she said waspishly.  “I gave you an ultimatum this morning and you’re with
her
tonight?  I thought you had better sense, not to mention better taste.”

“And I told you I’m not going to put up with being threatened,” he fired back.  “He’s not your property Lucy and I’m not going to allow you to control me with him.”

Lucy growled, notched her chin and glared at Brock.  Melanie reached into the slot in the dash to grab Brock’s cellphone, because she had a feeling fireworks were coming and she didn’t have time to get hers from her purse.

“Make a decision, Brock.  It’s Brady or her—you tell me which right now.  I talked to my mother tonight who told me you were with this tramp at the school.  It’s embarrassing to me, them and Brady.  My parents fully support me if I want to sue you for full custody because of your neglect.  Oh but be warned, my attorney says that you’ll still have to pay support, even if I decide it’s not in his best interest to have you in his life anymore.”

Melanie saw Brock’s knuckles go white on the steering wheel and his jaw work as he ground his teeth.  He glanced at her, then looked back at Lucy.  “You do what you feel froggy enough to do, Lucy, but I won’t be manipulated or blackmailed.”

“Well, I guess you can call it what you will, sheriff,” she said with a sly smile.  “I call it doing what I need to do to protect my child…and myself.”

“I’m sick of the games, Lucy.  You are trespassing here—you weren’t invited—so unless you want me to handcuff you and haul you to jail, I suggest you leave.”

“You wouldn’t haul me to jail with your son in the van,” Lucy challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.  “You wouldn’t arrest me either, because you’re too much of a pussy to do that.  Everyone in town would—”

In the overhead light, Melanie saw Brock’s face turn bright red and his throat blotched too, with what looked to be hives.  This woman gave her hives too.  His breaths came in short, uneven snatches as his head did a slow spin on his neck to meet Lucy’s eyes. 

“The people of this town already think I’m a pussy for putting up with your crap for as long as I have.  Now, if you don’t haul your ass back to that van and take Brady home, I’m calling Rowdy.  I’m sure
he
will take great pleasure in arresting you.”

Lucy stared at him a minute grinding her teeth, then turned and stomped back toward the van.  His shoulders finally relaxed when the brake lights on the van turned red, before Lucy did a three point turn and zoomed past them on the gravel driveway.

Melanie clicked off the recorder, handed Brock his cell phone, then scooted over on the seat.  “Make sure you save that recording to your cloud.  If she sues you for custody, it’s proof she’s playing games.”

Brock just sat there for a minute staring at his phone, before he turned his eyes to her.

“Thanks, but I won’t be needing this because I know she’s blowing smoke.  They’re not going to help her exclude me from his life because I do too much for her and Brady.  It would be a waste of their time and money to try, and it would mean they’d have to do more.  I’ll apologize to her tomorrow and it’ll blow over.” He tossed the phone into the console, put his foot on the brake and grabbed the gear shift.  “I’ll just take you home.”

“You’re going to let her win—just like that?” Melanie asked turning in the seat to face him as he put the truck into reverse.  “Maybe her summation is right then, but I’d add coward to that too and maybe quitter.  That’s why she continues to do this to you, Brock.”

Brock’s foot hit the brake again hard, throwing Melanie toward the dash.  He slammed the truck into park, then opened the door.  “Take the fucking truck home. I’ll get Rowdy to pick me up in the morning to come and get it.” 

With that he shut the door and stormed toward the house, leaving Melanie to watch.  He was almost to the stoop when his knees buckled and he fell in the yard.  In the headlights, she could see his shoulders shaking.  Raw, agonizing pain sliced through her chest, pressure built in her skull and Melanie bent over feeling sick.  It was like his pain transmitted across the yard to her and became her own.  Hollow, empty, desperate—alone. 

Help him
. 

Fist at the center of her chest, Melanie reached for his hat on the dash, turned off the truck and headlights, then opened the door.  By the time she made her way across the dark yard to the stoop, Brock had gone inside but the door was open so she went in.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Brock?” Melanie said, as she laid his hat and keys on the kitchen table. 

She called his name a few more times as she walked through the dark house, because it was very quiet, she knew he had guns there and she did not want to get shot because he thought she was an intruder.  Every few seconds she’d stop to listen for an answer—or a sound of any kind—but heard nothing.  She stood at the end of the hallway she assumed must lead to the bedrooms and listened again. 

A faint agonized moan came from the end of the hall and she quickly ran that way, her heart rising closer to her throat with every step.  She stopped at the last door on the right, and heard another weak moan. Without thought, Melanie opened the door and flicked on the light. Her eyes followed the trail of boots, jeans and underwear that led to the bed where she saw Brock curled into a fetal position on top of the covers, his back to her. 

The pistol on the bed beside him caused her blood to turn to ice in her veins and she hurried to the bed, picked it up and put it on the nightstand with a shaking hand.  Melanie sat on the bed and he mumbled into the pillow he was hugging. 

“Go home, Melanie.”  The hopelessness in his voice caused that knifing pain to slice through her chest again and she rubbed her sternum.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, swinging her legs up onto the bed, but then changing her mind and going to turn off the light.  Some conversations were better had in the dark, she thought, as she pulled the switch down.  Melanie left a trail of clothing on the way back to the bed too and was naked by the time she knelt on the edge to pull back the cover on her side.

“My fucking stomach hurts so damned bad,” he moaned, and Melanie’s stomach hurt too.

“Get under the covers, Brock.  Let me help you,” she said, tugging them.

“Nobody can help me—my life is a fucked-up mess and it’s all my damned fault.”

“No, it’s only partly your fault for letting manipulative women—a manipulative
woman
—control you,” she replied, sitting on the side of the bed.

“
All
women are
manipulative in one way or another,” he replied darkly.  “The fucking bane of my existence.”

He was obviously painting her with that broad, black brush too. 

“I’m a woman, and I assure you I’m not trying to manipulate you.  I just want to help, so stop with the pity party and let me do that.”  Her eyes darted to the nightstand where she’d put the pistol and a shiver racked her as the otherworldly words she’d heard as plain as day in the SUV came back to her. 
Help him
.  The words worked in her throat for a second, before she could manage to push them out.  “Killing yourself isn’t going to help Brady, or anyone else.”

“What the
fuck
are you talking
about
?!?” he roared, before the bed rocked and strong arms clamped around her waist.

Melanie squeaked when her butt left the bed and she was rolled over and then trapped under a very heavy hard body.  He dragged in ragged breaths and his exhales heated her face. “I assure you that will
never
be on my agenda, because
contrary
to what you think, I’m neither a coward
or
a quitter.  I’m just having a fucking mental meltdown at the moment and if you would leave me alone to have it with a side of bleeding ulcer, tomorrow morning I will be
fine
!”

“You have an ulcer?” she asked, her stomach knotting.  Without proper care, especially with the stress he was under, that could cause major problems.  “I can write you a prescription for—” she started, but his hand covered her mouth.

“I don’t need a prescription.  I just need some peace…a break from all this for a few days,” he said, sliding his palm off of her face.

“My daddy had an old shack up in the mountains.  He went up there when he needed a mental vacation,” she said softly.  “I went with him a couple of times and he took me hunting when things got too much for me.”

“You hunt?” Brock asked with disbelief in his tone.

“Daddy said it was better than killing people, and he was right.  I got very close to that point a couple of times with the harassment at school.”

She felt his heat before his mouth touched hers in a slow delicious pass that curled her toes.  “I’m so sorry you went through that, baby,” he whispered, and his breath electrified her lips. “Sorrier that I didn’t help you.”

“I survived and so will you.  But I do think an off-the-grid hunting trip would help you.  That cabin is still there and I’m sure Mom hasn’t gotten rid of it.”  Her mother may not even know it existed.  “I’ll take you up there tomorrow, and you can stay as long as you want to get your head together,” she offered.  “But I have one condition…”

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice sounding a little less stressed.

“You leave your cell phone on the kitchen table.  I don’t want Lucy or anyone else, including myself, to bother you.  Take your shotgun and fishing pole, because there’s a pond there too.  How does that sound?”

“That sounds like just what the doctor ordered,” he replied with a laugh that loosened the knot of tension in her chest a little more.  His body tensed and he sighed.

“What’s wrong now?” she asked.

“I can’t go—there’s nobody here to feed the animals.”

“I’ll stay here—I planned to anyway, to finish that list we started.  You showed me the ropes today, so I can do it.  I’ll just spend the day at Mom’s and stay here at night.  I think they resent my interference anyway.”

His lips slid across her cheek to the corner of her mouth.  “You are a meddling busybody,” he murmured before he dropped a kiss there.  “But I love that about you because your heart is in the right place.”

Her heart was in her throat right now after hearing those words—the L word mentioned—in context with her name. 

Brock shifted his weight off her, dragging his lips over her cheek to the corner of her mouth leaving a trail of wet fire.  His mouth covered hers and he swallowed her mewl in a kiss that scorched through her.  His hand skimmed up the side of her thigh, over her hip, dipped into the curve of her waist, then finally came to rest at the underside of her left breast where his thumb stroked in irritating brushes.  He didn’t move it up to where she needed to feel his touch, her painfully hardened nipple. 

A frustrated moan gurgled up her throat and entered his mouth when she opened for him to kiss her deeper.  His tongue fenced with hers and every muscle in her body twitched as his cock hardened against her thigh.  But he didn’t move that hand and she couldn’t fully enjoy the off-the-charts kiss because the friction of his thumb on her skin was so irritating, enflaming—the need it created in her too intense. 

With a growl she felt inside her chest, he shoved his right hand under her head into her hair to hold her skull as he devoured her mouth.  Tension ratcheted up inside her body, moisture flooded her folds, but all she could focus on was the irritating brush of his thumb on the soft skin under her breast.  With her nerves frenetic, Melanie finally couldn’t take it anymore so she reached for his wrist and dragged his hand over the peak.  She felt his lips curve in a smile, before he pulled back to look down at her in the dark. 

“You want my mouth on your breast, baby?” he asked with a dark laugh, and a tremor rocked her, her clit throbbed because there were other places she wanted that talented mouth too. 

“Y
es
,” she hissed, a little angry he was obviously teasing her.

“All you had to do was ask,” he said, raking his thumb over her rigid nipple making her groan loudly.  He circled it, then flicked his nail over the sensitive tip and her whole body jerked.  Brock leaned over her and breathed on her nipple, his tongue darted out to wet it before he sucked her into his mouth.  The firm tugs sent electricity zipping down the high-voltage highway of her nerve endings to sizzle at her clit, ride along the rails down her folds to her anus and buzz there.  Melanie moaned, arched her back into him, drew shallow breaths as she tried to lasso the orgasm barreling down on her.  He hadn’t even touched her clit yet—she’d probably come in two seconds.  Her inner muscles flexed as he sucked, licked and teased her to insanity. 

The pressure of his lips eased and Melanie whimpered, but that turned into a loud moan when his teeth closed around the bud.  He worried it with his tongue, flicked it and excited jolts spread in every direction.  His head moved back and his teeth dragged her with him.  Melanie fisted the sheet and a guttural moan flowed from her lips until he finally released her.

Brock’s palm skimmed down her body and her muscles quivered under his touch. His fingers curled over her mound, slid lower until he dragged his fingers back up through her folds and her body jerked when they dipped inside her opening. 

“You’re quivering…that is so damned hot,” he growled, and his words made her wetter, made her walls vibrate around the digits.  “I want to taste how much I excite you—smell it.” He plunged them inside her body. Melanie’s hips bucked but he withdrew and brought his hand up to his nose to inhale deeply.  Holding her gaze, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked each one clean.  “Sort of like salt water taffy.  Here taste,” he said in that whiskey-laced voice as he stroked his index finger over her lips, then dipped the tip into her mouth.

Salty sweetness exploded over her taste buds, a bolt of pleasure shot up her body and paralyzed her as a violent tremor rocked her.  “You’re going to make me come before you even touch me,” she whispered, through chattering teeth as her body thrummed with desire.

“No worries, baby—there will be more where that one came from.  I promise.” Brock chuckled as he circled the wetness on his finger around her nipple.    When he leaned down to blow on it, Melanie shivered, squirmed and wrapped her calf around his.

“I
need
more now,” she pleaded.  She tried to squirm from under him, so she could take control, but he pinned her to the mattress with his big body.

“Good things are worth the wait.  You’re proof of that—now just relax,” Brock murmured, as he bent to suck her right breast into his mouth and his hand trailed south down her body.  He nudged her legs apart with his foot, then trapped them with his calf. 

His hand found her wetness again, fire streaked up Melanie’s body and she groaned when he rolled her swollen nub between his fingers.  Her hips worked with his fingers, he pressed harder, sucked her deeper into his mouth and pressure built in her body. 

Warm waves of pleasure crashed at her midsection, the next wave at her breasts, wet heat surrounded her nipple, his teeth abraded the hyper-sensitive tip sending sharp pleasure pain to confuse her brain.  Melanie floated on the gentle ocean of pleasure, let it suck her under.  Faint tremors started at her toes, her legs shook then her body rocked like she’d grabbed an electric wire.  Brock bit down on her nipple, not gently, as he pinched her clit, hummed his pleasure against her skin as he rolled the bud harder and his pinky finger rimmed her opening. 

The peaceful seas turned into angry white caps that shook her, sucked her into a whirlpool of an orgasm that dragged her down into a chasm of pleasure so intense she felt herself leaving her body.  Grabbing his arm, she dug in her fingers to hold on, begging him to free her, hoping he held her right there.  And he did until the last tremor rocked her and her spent body collapsed back onto the mattress.  She didn’t smoke, had never smoked, but she could sure light up right now if she had one. 

Melanie didn’t have a whole lot of sexual experience, but the experiences she had were not anything like this.  Those other men got the job done, made sure she got there, but didn’t spend the time he was spending driving her wild—making her insane for him.  Making her want him so badly if she didn’t have him soon she might die.  That’s what she felt like right now.

She was relieved when Brock moved down her body, kissing and nipping his way to her feet where he knelt and pushed her ankles apart.  Relieved, her body humming with need, Melanie let her knees drop wider and he crawled in between.  She leaned up to reach for him, but he shoved her shoulder down.

“You just lay there and let me drive. You almost made me wreck earlier, so it’s my turn now,” he said, and she knew he was grinning even though she couldn’t see his face.  She heard it in his voice.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” she said, with a pout.  “You’d have died with a smile on your face and my lips on your—
Oooh
,” she gasped, when he lifted her lower half off the bed to scoot under her, then rested her weight on his thick thighs.  His hot, steely length pressed against her ass and her inner walls clenched.

He shoved his hand under her thighs and lifted her higher, scooted closer until only her shoulders touched the mattress.  He put her calves over his shoulders and his hands clasped at her waist to hold her in place.  “Put on your seatbelt, beautiful,” he said as his face lowered between her legs.  His hot breath brushed her slick folds and Melanie tensed, whimpered.

“No, Brock—please—just—” she whined tiredly, but his arms banded tightly at her waist holding her captive.  She couldn’t move as his tongue flicked at her opening, her brain seized and her body vibrated.  He plunged it inside and her walls sucked at him as he slowly rimmed her opening and her muscles twitched in response.