Deleted Scene – Double Bucked

Note from Adora: This is a deleted 18+ scene from Double Bucked. It was my first attempt at an epilogue, in which Ransom, Claire, and Everett get up to trouble in Maeby’s tavern. In this scene, Claire and Ransom enjoy a little roleplaying and pretend to sneak around behind Everett’s back. Also, remember that scene when Everett teases Ransom because blue handkerchiefs signify bottoming in flagging culture? Yeah…that comes back

I ended up not using this scene because it didn’t feel authentic enough to the characters, but I did end up writing a different spicy epilogue, which I have linked below. I hope you enjoy this deleted scene!

xoxo, Adora

Chapter 1. Claire.

I push through the door to the bathroom. It closes behind me. It looks empty in here. I set my purse on one of the sinks, open it up, and take out my lipstick.

I hear the click of the door locking into place. He slips behind me, his strong hand sliding over my waist. 

“Put that away,” Ransom says. “Would hate for you to have to reapply twice.”

I twist so I can face him. My back presses against the hard sink.

Fuck. He really does look good in that outfit. I run my fingers over the buttons of his shirt. I gasp dramatically. “Ransom. My husband’s going to see us.”

“See us like this, you mean?”

He fixes his hand underneath my dress. I gasp. His strong hands slip underneath my panties. “Please,” I whimper. “Don’t…”

His head hangs beside mine. His breath is hot on my skin as he growls in my ear: “You afraid he’s going to find out how wet I make you?”

It’s true. I’m soaking. He pushes one finger inside me easily. Then another. I choke on my pleasure, my leg climbing his waist to give him better access. He pumps his fingers inside of me, and when he adds his thumb, rubbing softly against my buzzing clit, I grip his bicep. Tightly. I dig my nails in as I feel the muscle work, drawing me closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “I can feel you squeezing me, Claire. You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I confess breathily. I grab the back of his head. I grip a handful of that thick hair, causing him to grunt.

He thrusts his fingers upwards inside of me. When they curl, I whimper loudly.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen next,” he tells me. “You’re gonna come around my fingers. Hard. Then you’re gonna put your panties back on. You’re gonna go back to your husband. And you’re gonna sit there, wet and dripping. Aching. Wanting. Me.”

I can’t help it. I cry out, gripping him tightly, as I explode around his fingers. He draws me out, petting that spot inside of me that makes my legs tremble violently around his hips.

“That’s it, Claire,” he says in a sigh. “That’s my girl.”

Oh God. It seems to last forever, each wave of pleasure crashing harder than the last, until it’s painful. “Please,” I beg. “I can’t take it.”

He nestles his thumb over my sensitive nub. Slowly, he extracts his fingers from me. I whimper at the emptiness.

He holds his hand up for me to see. “Look at that,” he says. His fingers are coated. Sticky. “See what a mess you are for me?”

He pets the backs of his fingers over my lips. I obey, tasting myself. He licks his fingers, and then pulls his hand back so his tongue tangles with my own. He slots his body against mine and I wind around him—arms and legs tucking him in. Savoring the heat of his body. His hard length on my hip. The possessive, loving way he drinks me in, claiming every inch of my mouth with his tongue.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I’m obsessed with you.”

“The obsession is mutual,” I grin. I’m dizzy. Blissed from the high of my orgasm. And feeling a little devious. I grind against him, little, a shallow lift of my hips. His breath shakes in my ear.

“Uh-huh…” His brain? Mush. I wiggle my hips.

“I should reward you.” I sigh. “But…a girl can only be so bad in one day.”

“Claire…”

I grab his face and kiss him. His kiss is so sweet. Those whiskers tickle my face.

My Ransom.

These devious little fantasies keep things exciting.

“See you at home,” I murmur against his lips.

Before he can protest, I grab my purse, unlock the bathroom door, and slip out, leaving him wanting.

Chapter 2. Ransom.

My blood is humming.

I’m so hard, I could cut through rock.

I need to calm down.

The scent of Claire is intoxicating. On my fingers. Lingering in the air.

I turn on the faucet and rinse my hands. I rinse my face. Trying to bring myself back to life.

Just when I’m pulling myself together, the door opens again.

“Occupied,” I say. But then I glance up and see who it is.

Tall, stormy Everett.

I snort on a laugh. I dab a paper towel over my face, drying myself off. “Y’know, it ain’t much of a cuckolding fantasy if you keep checking in on us.”

“Sorry to burst the fun.”

I toss the paper towel. It bounces off the rim. “She’s all yours. Warmed her up for you.”

He crouches, plucks my towel off the floor, and disposes of it properly. He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt. Carefully, he peels his sleeves back, rolling them up his forearms.

Those sleek, muscled forearms. The dark ink of his wolf tattoo looks menacing wrapped around his arm.

“I hate that shirt on you,” he says, his gaze measured as it meets mine.

I fold my arms across my chest. “I hate that face on you.”

With one step of his long legs, he closes the distance between us.

Instinctively, I take a step back. I feel my back hit the wall.

His gaze falls to my throat. “You’re wearing blue.”

I swallow. Hard. “What about it?”

Those meet mine. His fingers climb my chest and tangle around my handkerchief. “Riley Ransom. Are you ready to be mine?”

His mouth hovers against mine. The warmth of his breath brushes against my lips.

My throat goes tight and dry with the ache of it.

Fuck it. I break. “Yeah. I am.”

“We’re going to go home,” he says. “And I’m going to bury my cock so deeply inside of you, you won’t be able to sit in your saddle for weeks.”

I push my mouth against his, but he pulls away. Just out of reach.

Withholding, teasing bastard.

He’s grinning now, though. Those blue eyes sparkle in a way that makes my heart flip.

“Coming?” he asks.

God, I hope so.

Chapter 3. Everett.

Ransom and I don’t talk as I drive us back to the house. He picks a hair-tie out of his pocket and twists it around and around his fingers, cutting off the circulation to the tips of his fingers, then popping the band off.

He’s overthinking. I let him sweat.

Correction: I enjoy letting him sweat.

The truck barely rolls to a stop in front of the Preacher Ranch before he’s opening the door. “Gotta check the horses. See ya in a bit.”

“Alright.”

The door shuts hard behind him. I watch him hunch over his shoulders and shove his hands in his pockets as he treks over to the stables, his boots leaving heavy marks in the fresh snow.

He’s nervous. It’s adorable.

We dismantled a dangerous society together. We rescued Claire, and she rescued us. And every night, the three of us settle into bed. Together.

But up to this point, Ransom and I haven’t been intimate with each other.

He thinks tonight will change things. He doesn’t realize…

I’ve been his. Since the night that dragonfly landed on my gun.

I’m just waiting for him to be mine.

I leave him to work on the farm. I take the truck and go shopping. There’s a grocery store on Main Street, and a butcher on Maple that I like. I’ve found my routines, and they makes Belleflower feel more and more like home.

Ransom and Claire spend most of their days working on the ranch. I’ve found ways to occupy myself. Cooking is one of them. I’ve started following a few cooking podcasts. I started by following the recipes to the letter, but I’ve been experimenting a bit more. No one’s complained yet.

Tonight, I’m bringing Claire back to France with Coq au Vin. A stew with chicken thighs, pancetta, Burgundy red wine, brandy, tomato paste, thyme, bay leaves, and a melody of vegetables: onion, carrots, mushrooms. I also have a loaf of rye bread baking in the oven. The meal is warm, hearty, and feels right with the fresh dusting of snow falling outside.

It pairs best with the bottle of Burgundy Claire and I will share later. But Ransom is a beer guy. When I hear him enter, I uncap his beer and empty it into a tall pilsner glass. 

“Boots,” I remind him.

I hear his heavy footfalls stop short. He shucks off his boots in the foyer and before entering the kitchen.

His cheeks are ruddy from the chill outside. He pulls his thick hair through his fingers.

“Smells good,” he says.

“I know.”

I hand over his beer. He takes it with a grin. “Aw. You put it in the fancy glass.” He taps his ear, motioning to my earbuds. “What’s playing?”

I take out the earbuds and pocket them. I switch my phone’s connection to the bluetooth speakers. Nina Simone purrs through the kitchen.

Ransom nods along to the music. He drums his fingers over the side of his glass. “Nice choice. Classic. I’m starting to feel wooed.”

“You should.”

The brown eyes look sweet and hopeful. Like a dog’s.

“I’m gonna shower up.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “Smell like horse.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks for the beer.”

He sets the glass down on the counter. In the same move, he swoops his body against mine and pecks his lips to mine.

Simple. Chaste. Gratitude.

He pulls away but—

No. Enough of this dance.

I’ve been patient enough.

I grab his belt, pin him to the counter, and crush his mouth against mine.

Ransom groans. His large hand clutches the back of my neck. His fingers dig into my hair. He’s right. He smells like horse. Like horse, and earth, and sweat, and I want to lick the grim from every inch of his skin.

“Show me,” I tell him. I can hear the thickness in my voice. “Show me how to love you.”

I grip the handkerchief around his neck and rip it from him. His throat has blue and purple spots where Claire marked him with her teeth. I lock on a bruise. Kissing it. Sucking it.

He curses between his teeth. His hips push against mine. I can feel his hardness. His raw lust. It matches my own.

I move my hand to his. Holding it there. Keeping it in my hair. Ransom’s brown eyes are burning. I push his shirt up his stomach and drop to my knees.

Muscled, sweat-slick abdomen. I press the flat of my tongue to his pelvis. I taste the salt of his heat. The short, soft hairs. I leave a worship kiss on that bullet scar. His stomach clenches. Shivers. I nibble his hip.

I nestle my face against the roughness of his jeans. The hard length underneath them. I look up at him from my knees. “Is this what you want, Dragonfly?”

Those eyes are hungry. Smoky with lust. “Yeah…fuck. I want it. So bad.”

I press upwards on the balls of my feet and straighten to my full height. I cup the side of his face. I rub my thumb over the rough beard on his jaw. “Then be a good boy, go upstairs, and take a cold shower. As tempting as it might be, don’t finish yourself. Come down, we’ll have a lovely dinner, and then I’ll make your toes curl in your cowboy boots.”

This time, when I kiss him, he groans. I taste his hunger. His frustration. Like honey on my lips. “You’re wicked as a rattlesnake, you know that?” he murmurs against my mouth.

I grin. “I know.”

***

From Adora: I hope you enjoyed this little deleted scene! If you want to see the actual, finalized epilogue, you can click here for the Double Bucked, Bonus Epilogue.