Page 106 of 11 Cowboys
No one moves. No one speaks. The air is charged with this thing these cowboys want to build between us.
I can’t give them a commitment. My life back home still calls to me with its safe routine and control. It’s hard not to panic when you’re presented with the exact opposite of everything you ever expect. The exact thing you always thought you wanted.
Instead, I take Conway’s hand and then Jaxon’s, and I lead them to sit on the blankets. I’m barefoot and emotionally wrecked, but having these men around me is all I need to feel better. McCartney drops down in front of me, wordless and warm, and I slide my hand into his, squeezing softly.
Conway sits on my other side, and when I lean into him, he doesn’t hesitate to lift his arm so I can rest my head on his shoulder. Jaxon places his broad palm on my leg, reassuring and strong.
The rest settle in around us. Quiet. Still. Together, letting the soft country music wash over us.
I don’t think about the article I have to write or the decision I have to make.
I listen as they share stories of growing up on this land, and when I’m relaxed and a little drowsy, I’ve decided what I need to do.
38
HARRISON
The air is still warm; the fire pit is enough to stop the slight breeze from chilling our skin. The atmosphere is thick with intention as we gather around Grace, her party done, her eyes still shining with tears. It breaks my heart, especially on her birthday. I know the song saysyou can cry if you want to,but I like to think that birthdays should be about laughter. And if not laughter, maybe orgasms.
Now the kids are inside, the real celebrations can begin. Maybe this is the way we lift Grace from whatever brought about her dark spiral. Above us, the moon is merely a slice of white in a navy sky, a sly smile that I wish Grace would feel happy enough to mirror.
Grace snuggles into Conway’s chest, and he wraps his arm around her, kissing her forehead. Maybe it’s how she runs her hand up his side that reveals that she’s seeking more than comfort. Or maybe it’s the soft sigh she makes when Jaxon lifts her hair to kiss her nape.
We’ve all been with Grace in varying numbers between one and four, except Brody, who lurks at the outside of thegroup, still standing, hands folded over his chest.
But never as a group as large as this.
So many huge cowboys gathered around one woman are a sight to behold. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say this was a fool’s errand, except the Jackson Ranch has ten cowboys to one woman, and they’re still sitting pretty after a few years and a few babies.
When Conway tips Grace’s chin, and she leans into his kiss, letting his hand slide up her shirt and over the smooth skin of her ribs, she moans, and that’s the sound that changes everything. Time seems to stand still as we crowd in closer. Jaxon’s hand runs from her calf to the outside of her thigh, smoothing the fabric of her jeans until he palms her ass. Nash eases one boot, then the other, from her feet, peeling away the socks next.
It’s ridiculous to feel aroused by the sight of her tiny feet, nails painted as red as her lips, but I do. And knowing there’s so much more to be revealed has my cock stiffening behind the zipper of my jeans. Conway unbuttons her shirt and pulls her into his arms so her back rests against his chest and her arms are hooked tightly in the material. He whispers something into her ear, which makes her shiver, and her nipples tighten beneath her tank.
“Take off her jeans,” Conway orders Jaxon.
Jay responds quickly, unbuttoning and unzipping, then easing the denim over Grace’s shapely legs until she’s left in black cotton panties.
“And her underwear,” Conway says.
Jaxon seems to seek reassurance from Grace that she wants this, and she nods, her lips parting on a swift inhale as he bares her to the rest of us under the stars.
Nine sets of eyes focus on the brown curls at the apex of her thighs and the miles of smooth skin that leads to the tightest, sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. Conway’s hands cup the insides of her thighs, and he parts them, using his thumbs to spread her labia.
“See these men,” he says, in his gruffest, growliest voice. “You understand what seeing you like this does to them? What they want to do for you, Gracie? How they want to serve you?”
She shakes her head, blinking slowly like she’s drunk too much punch.
“They want to worship at your altar, darlin’. Show you all the ways they can make you scream. There isn’t another person around for miles who can hear you cry out or see you spread out like a feast for us.”
Grace whimpers, her hands still tight at her sides, immobile, as Jaxon dips his head to flick his tongue over her clit. She’s so aroused that one simple touch is enough to make her buck off the blanket, her legs fighting against Conway’s grip to snap together. She’s no match for a hardened cowboy like Conway, though, and Jaxon isn’t giving up his place between her legs that quickly.
“Sshhh,” Conway whispers. “It’s okay. Jaxon’s going to make it all better.”
I lean closer, watching, fascinated, as Jaxon’s fingers slip inside Grace and his tongue swipes through her folds over and over, working his magic, making her moan. When she starts to come, Jaxon groans, lapping at her wetness, his nose nuzzling her clit. Conway pulls her closer, murmuring reassurances, his fingers rubbing small circles over her ribs and across her breasts.
“That’s it, darlin’. You did so good.”
I move forward, my cock straining at my jeans. Grace’s pretty hazel eyes meet mine, heavy-lidded and a little bleary. “Harrison,” she whispers, her hands flexing like she wants to reach for me.
