Seeing Red (Wells Ranch #2)

by Bailey Hannah

If there’s one thing men have, it’s the fucking audacity.

With tousled red-brown hair under his cowboy hat, tattoos covering both arms, bulky muscles earned from hard farmwork, faded denim stretched across powerful thighs, and playful, cobalt-blue eyes. It’s just too bad about the rest of him.

“Two rules: you don’t say anything stupid and we never speak of this again. Deal?” He throws back the last of his beer and stands. “Deal, sweetheart.” I sigh. “Three rules. Don’t call me sweetheart.”

I don’t even care if he ever finds out about it. Just, for once, I want to feel like I have a little bit of fucking power. I’m so tired of being the mature, polite, responsible one.”

I inhale deeply and, when he nods, let out a long exhale. The way he’s staring into my soul sends a trickle of warmth down my spine, settling beneath my pelvic bone with a haunting ache.

When his hand reaches under my skirt, I roll my hips into him. My core tightens, begging for attention while the seconds drag even slower than his hand. I hate that I want him to touch me but, fucking hell, I do.

So much for a quick revenge fuck. Now I’m masturbating on the hood of my ex’s car while Red, the insufferable cowboy, watches with a carnal look in his eye. Sobering up just enough to realize what I’m doing, I blush and rip away my hand. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep going.”

“I want to watch Wells Canyon’s sweetheart make herself come right out in the open. Touch yourself, Cassidy. Play with your pretty little cunt for me.”

“That’s it—fuck your hand right here in public. You fooled me, Cass. I thought you were just a cocktease but you’re a total fucking slut, aren’t you?” “No.” The word comes out hoarse, less than a whisper. I’m not. Not usually. I don’t know what the hell is happening to me right now. “Just tonight.” “Just for me.” “No.” Yes. But I’m not about to unpack why right now. “Fuck you.”

“Making those sounds with only my fingers—you’ll be screaming when I really fill you.”

“Breathe, Cass. I’m not even close to all the way in—you need to relax.”

“Relax and take a breath.” He groans. “Almost there, sweetheart.”

In a punishing thrust, he bottoms out, balls slapping against my damp skin, and I wrap my legs around his waist to force him deeper. With each pump, the tip hits the spot that has me writhing. I want all of him—every fucking inch. And I kind of hate how badly I want him, but then I prop myself on my elbows and watch as his cock drives into me, and I don’t hate it at all. He’s stretching and filling every bit of me, over and over. With each powerful thrust, the edge of my thong drags along his shaft and catches on my clit in a burst of stunning fireworks. His movement’s slow and steady. And absolutely incredible.

He leaves me panting and empty when he pulls out, bending down to run his flat tongue up my center, lapping me up. My breath hitches, and I knock the cowboy hat from his head to grip a handful of hair. My fingers weave around the soft strands, holding the fuck on like I’m about to ride a bull—even though I’m the one bucking when he hits my clit with the perfect amount of pressure and light suction. His hand’s firmly planted on my stomach, restricting my movement. No amount of squirming or fighting will get me out from under the intense pleasure. When I wiggle, my spine’s only pressed harder into the rigid metal hood.

“You like fucking me, don’t you? You like feeling me deep in your tight cunt.”

After a lifetime of daydreams about her, I was too lost in reliving the way her pussy fit me, the way her body reacted to my touch, and the feel of her hands on my skin to notice her leaving until it was too late to stop her.

Cassidy Bowman is so far out of my league, but I’ve tortured myself for years watching her from afar.

Potatoes, I can do. Potatoes are easy. Nearly impossible to fuck up. Work for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Pair well with nearly everything. That’s my in.

Red: I have scalloped, baked, mashed, AND roasted for tonight. Cass: Weird way to propose, but yes.

I can’t be trusted with oxytocin—you know this. I’m so delusional, if a guy is sort of nice to me I fall in love with him.

Cass: I’m not telling you about my vibrator so you can jerk off thinking about it Red: Please :(

My new favorite place on Earth is wherever Cassidy Bowman is.

Sharing my secrets comes with a weightlessness I’ve never experienced before. My heart’s so light it floats, bouncing against my sternum like a balloon hitting the rafters, her embrace the singular thing keeping me from floating away. And, fuck, her hug’s infinitely more healing than the liquor and weed I’ve previously numbed my pain with.

“Tell me what you want right now.” “You.” She nips at my jaw. “Gonna have to be more specific if you want me to make you come.” “I want…I need you to touch me, lick me, fuck me. I want it all.”

“Sit on my face, sweetheart,”

“You heard me. Sit that sweet pussy down on my mouth. Wrap those pretty thighs around my head and fuck my face. Let me taste you. Let me look up at your perfect fucking body while you come.”

She notches the head of my cock at her entrance, her fingers wrapped around the shaft, and sinks down. Taking inch by goddamn inch, stretching around me with a raspy exhale. Cassidy Bowman is everything.

I know we’re playing with fire. But, fuck, we burn so good.

“I’m going to have to fuck the brattiness right out of you, aren’t I?”

“Fuck, Cass. You’re a fucking dream with my hand around your beautiful neck and my cock buried in your tight pussy.”

“You’re going to call yourself a gentleman immediately after making that comment about your cock down my throat? Really?” “Yeah, I am. A gentleman knows what his lady wants, and I know for a fact you want me to treat you like a pretty little slut. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

Being with him is effortless in the same way breathing is. I don’t have to think when he’s there. We fit together—there’s no denying that—but

“You are everything I need, Cassidy. I want to spend the rest of my life telling you how perfect I think you are. Have you all to myself to worship every day until you stop questioning every compliment I give you.”

I fell in love with him. As easily as the snow fell around us last night. Not falling so much as floating, swirling around before settling in like a comfortable blanket over everything. Despite how long I spent drifting, loving him was as inevitable as the January snow.

While all of this might’ve started as a mistake, it’s far from that now. Didn’t expect to hook up with an obnoxious cowboy at a rodeo and end up falling in love with the man I’m having a baby with. But here we are. And I’m so glad it’s him.