Smoke. Fire. Cowboy (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 3)
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Authors: Rhonda Lee Carver
SMOKE. FIRE. COWBOY
2016 Rhonda Lee Carver
Copyright 2016 Rhonda Lee Carver
All rights reserved
Smoke. Fire. Cowboy (Book 3, Cowboys of Nirvana)
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the author, Rhonda Lee Carver—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages written in a review. For information, please contact Rhonda Lee Carver @
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This work is fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue in this work are from the author’s imagination and creation. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, dead or alive, is completely coincidental.
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Thank you my family, friends and everyone who has brought a smile to my face.
Sofie tightened the belt at her waist and stepped off onto the twelfth floor, plastering an award-winning smile on her face as the receptionist sitting behind the polished steel desk greeted her. Sofie caught a sliver of surprise in the other woman’s expression.
Luther had called her that morning asking her to stop by so they could ‘talk’.She’d taken that as code for ‘fuck’. They hadn’t touched—or kissed—in two weeks, a record for them. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked her to visit him during the day. Six months? Maybe even a year.
He worked as a corporate investment banker for one of the largest financial companies in the world, known for being driven and a self-made success. Lately, he’d been busier than usual—sleeping at his office to catch up on work, missing dinners they’d planned weeks in advance, and forgetting their anniversary. She’d prepared a seven-course, candlelit dinner as any dutiful spouse would for their hard-working man, but by the time he’d shown up after midnight, the filet mignon was dry and the asparagus wilted. And the sexy, silk robe she’d bought just for the occasion had been exchanged for a cotton nightgown.
She forgave him. He worked hard crunching numbers.
Now, anticipating a secret rendezvous, or hoping for one as they used to do early in their relationship, she dressed the part—or rather didn’t dress. Showing up at his office wearing only a lightweight trench coat and nothing else, she doubted he would object to her choice of attire. The red, three-inch heels with slender, ankle straps were the perfect embellishment to seduction, always making her legs look amazing. Yoga four times a week had its reward, especially when it came to flexibility.
Sofie walked into the enormous glass and white sandstone lobby and Luther’s secretary, Sasha, brought her head up from the solid, tan desk. “Good morning, Mrs. Drake. Mr. Drake is waiting for you in his office.” Another broad smile in greeting, but the pale pink flush on the attractive woman’s cheeks didn’t go unobserved by Sofie. Her husband had quite the flock of besotted females working under his wing. Luther once told her regarding the beautiful women working for him, “I don’t mix business with pleasure.” Sofie often wondered if the fact that he was married had any impact in his disregard for his employees who made obvious advances.
She understood all too well that her husband could charm a fish out of its skin. He’d become more distinguished, and powerful, with age.
Not too long ago, Sofie was the blushing bride, swept away by the older man, ten years older to be exact. His elegance, magnetism, and ever-present confidence had taken her by storm, just like every other person, whether personal or business, who had the fortune of being near him.
Today, she hoped to show her husband what he had been missing.
He always liked when she surprised him, especially when it meant he would be getting lucky. They needed and deserved time together, even if only for a quick sexcapade, releasing her sexual frustration. Her pink vibrator just wasn’t cutting it these days.
She pushed through the double glass doors and stepped into his impressive, but intimidating, office. To her left were white leather chairs surrounding a sleek glass coffee table with a vase of fresh flowers. On the wall to her right were original pieces of abstract art. The stark splashes of red evoked a sense of sadness in her. Behind Luther’s massive wood desk were floor to ceiling windows overlooking the skyline of Cheyenne, Wyoming. The beautiful view always stunned her.
Luther brought his head up and several expressions flashed across his model good looks. He worked his jaw, but before he could manage one word, she opened her coat, flashing him her naked breasts and freshly groomed treasure. He liked her bare and wet.
Of course, she had a deeper ulterior motive for wearing nothing. After months of rebuff, he’d finally agreed to have a child with her. Excited at the prospect, she’d marked her calendar for the times that her body was the ripest for fertilization. This included taking her temperature every morning before her feet hit the floor. Although today wasn’t the most fertile time of her cycle, she’d take what she could get. Babies couldn’t be made if she and Luther weren’t having sex. According to the books she’d read on conceiving, she was well within the age for prime baby-making ability and her eggs weren’t shriveling, but ever since she’d held her friend’s baby at the Christmas party last year, Sofie’s empty womb throbbed every time she got within twenty feet of a child.
Luther scrubbed his clean-shaven jaw, his deep growl echoing off the walls as he got up from his tall, executive chair so fast that it banged against the wall, knocking over the framed picture of them from their wedding day. People still oohed and awed over her one-of-a-kind gown. She loved the timeless, structured dress so much that she kept it in her closet hoping that one day her daughter, if Sofie had her wish, would want to wear it at her own wedding. Guests had told Sofie that she looked like Victoria Adams. Beautiful Victoria? Sofie still got a lump in her throat remembering that day and how she’d felt like a princess, although the elegant reception had ended with a bang—a not-so-pleasant one. Luther’s mother had pulled Sofie to the side and told her, “I’m not happy with my son’s choice today, but I’m sure his bank account will train you to become a suitable wife.”
Janet Drake had never liked Sofie, making it clearer with every rude comment and overbearing approach. She’d given up years ago in her attempts to please her monster-in-law.
Giving her mind a mental shake, Sofie smiled. Her husband’s dark, needful gaze told of his desire. She knew exactly what he liked and wanted. Her walk-in closet was filled with skintight dresses, sexy heels, and a luxurious selection of silk and lace that he often requested she wear. Many of the items he’d picked out himself, but nothing ignited his engines as when she was naked.
He didn’t bother clearing off his desk before he motioned for her to come. She slid off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor as she took center stage.
Sofie’s plan to seduce her husband had worked.
Here she was, serving herself up on his massive desk in front of the view of the bright blue sky. She spread her legs wider in invitation, just as any devoted wife would.
His pale eyes turned darker as he swiftly removed his black Armani jacket and slacks, starched dress shirt, and satin boxers. She wanted him so badly that she wouldn’t have contested a quickie with his clothes on, but he hated wrinkles and that was why he neatly folded each article, then placed them on the chair. She doubted many men were as attentive when they had a raging hard-on.
Luther wasn’t like any other man, not that she guessed. He was the only man she had ever known. She was a virgin when she met him and he’d taught her what he liked and what he didn’t like. She’d skilled giving him pleasure, if she could say so herself.
She lowered her eyes down his tanned, toned body. Sleek and sophisticated, fitting nicely here among the elegant décor. He worked out in the gym every morning and on occasion in the evening. There wasn’t an ounce of fat or flab anywhere on his six foot two frame. Only tight, coiled muscles that screamed fitness guru.
“Let me see those breasts,” he muttered.
Like an obedient lover, she arched her back, her nipples budding into tight nubs. He moaned from deep within his chest and his eyes glistened.
He finally joined her and she swirled her hips against his solid body. “Fuck me, Luther.” The words sounded raw, but she knew what they did to him.
“Yes, baby. Yes! You know I like it when you’re dirty.”
His ragged, throaty voice sent goosebumps scattering across her trembling skin. She warmed under his perfectly manicured hands that braced her bare shoulders against the polished desktop. His scent drifted under her nose and she inhaled deeply. He wasn’t wearing the cologne she bought him for his birthday. Was he wearing Jasmine…?
“Sofie,” he whispered next to her ear. His fingers touched her knee, taking a slow, heated trail along her inner thigh, closer to the part of her that already dripped wet with need. After seven years together, she still wanted her husband—still craved having him inside of her.
Being here, in his office, naked and sprawled across his financial reports made her adrenaline pump faster. He always stirred her naughty side, awakening her inner temptress. Being caught loomed at the forefront of her mind, but it only encouraged her. The risk made the act more delicious. Who could fault her for wanting to please her man? He liked taking things to the very edge—in business and in pleasure.
The tension in her muscles turned to an ache, desire pounded through her in waves, one after enchanting another. Warmth built like a raging inferno in her core sending her spiraling down a path of mindless hunger. Whimpers fell off her lips and she clung to him, pulling at him in urgency. Lifting her knees higher and wider, she barely registered that she’d knocked something off onto the sixteenth-century Cairene rug. A stapler maybe? Hopefully not the cup of coffee. She stretched her neck to look past his shoulder, relief spreading over her when she saw the cup on the corner, undisturbed. She knew how much he loved the antique rug.
Mentally shaking her wandering thoughts, she concentrated on the moment.
He placed his hands on the back of her knees and dragged her to the edge of the desk, entering her in one swift thrust. She cried out, but remembered where they were and that only a thin wall separated them from the world. She closed her lips tight to stifle any more outbursts of pleasure. They didn’t need Sasha storming in.
With her knees high on his back, he pounded her steady and fast. With each prod, he pushed her further up the polished wood, then he braced his hands on her shoulders, holding her steady. He rammed her again and again, his heavy breaths filling the room—filling her ears—as she clawed his shoulders and slick back.
“You like this, baby? Like my cock deep inside of your tight pussy.”
“Yes, Luther! Yes! Take me hard and fast! I’m yours.”
A smile curved his lips and his penetrating eyes dazzled with a magic that made him a skilled lover. He’d only gotten better with age.
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and fucked him with her sultry gaze—she’d also perfected lovemaking herself. He groaned and the sound reminded her of a crazed man. He lowered his mouth and kissed her—plunging his tongue inside, hungry and desperate, rolling the tip around the inner recesses. He dragged her tongue in for a gentle suckle that stimulated the invisible strings between her thighs. He pulled back, kissing her chin, neck, and breasts, sucking her tight nipples until she thought she’d scream for mercy.
She raked her fingers down the coiled muscles of his back to his slender waist, stopping at his tight bottom, clenching and unclenching with each movement of his hard body against hers.
“How fast do you want it, baby?” he muttered.
“As fast as you can. Ride me! Ride me hard.” He liked it dirty—liked it wild and crazy.
His cell phone played the song ‘Hard to Handle’.
So that’s what fell to the floor
?
And when did he change his ringer?
He dragged himself out of her slick opening and she whimpered in complaint. “Roll over,” he demanded.
Beads of sweat layered his forehead and his breathing came in pants. Stress lines surrounded his eyes and mouth. Something was bothering him. Usually sex relaxed him. She stared, wanting to ask what was wrong, but he tapped the desk. She quickly did as he commanded and turned onto her stomach, leaning on her elbows. His hands came to her breasts, squeezing and flicking the nipples. She squinted. He was a little too rough…as if he had a large amount of pent up energy.
He tugged her body down the desk until her heels were on the floor and her ass was high in the air. He rolled his wet tip along the crease of her ass, lower until he found her opening again, sliding his bare cock deep inside. His weight pressed onto her back, holding her captive against the desk. She couldn’t move as his strides quickened. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrists, stretching her arms high above her head, while his other hand grasped her hip.
“Stick that ass up further,” he demanded as he lifted off of her slightly, allowing her room to shift.
His words sunk into her fuzzy brain cells. She slid her upper body toward the edge and spread her legs wider. He reached deeper inside of her.
He’d taught her how to be wicked, how to bring more pleasure. She squeezed her inner muscles, clutching his shaft with her body and rolling her hips in a figure eight. Controlling the joystick. His groans deepened, became frantic, as his body tensed. Would he come?
He slowed his pace, then stopped. A second passed before he started moving again, stroking her insides with his erection, moving like a man who was nearing release, but maintained control. He built up speed again, fast and furious, his balls slapping the backs of her thighs. Crisp hair tickling her sensitive flesh. The smacking, slurping sounds of sex filled her ears, mixing with his heavy grunts of pleasure, and they were the only two people in the building…in the universe. She couldn’t have heard the door opening and the soft click that followed even if she was listening.
“You. Fucking. Bastard!”
Sofie tensed. Had she heard a female voice? Luther’s growls continued.
“You two-timing, son-of-a-bitch!”
The words penetrated through the cloud surrounding Sofie. Oh shit! They weren’t alone. She lifted her chin and saw her, Luther’s assistant, standing at the head of the desk. Her mouth was twisted and the intensity in her blue eyes shot lasers into Sofie.