Ginger wasn’t a virgin to anal sex, but that first stroke hurt. She bit her lip and held her breath, hoping the pain would ease and give way to that hazy feeling of floating.


Kane’s focus wasn’t on her, and strangely that didn’t bother her—rather, it turned her on. The visual of his cock balls-deep in her ass must’ve been an erotic sight; he couldn’t tear his focus away from where they were intimately joined. He pulled back, coming completely out of her ass, the tiny hole rippled open again as his entire shaft slid in. And back out. And in again. Harder. Faster. Deeper. And as Kane fucked her ass, she felt a thrilling sense of his possession. No other man had touched her the way he had, physically, emotionally.

The knowledge freed her. The bite of pain as his hard length scraped her delicate tissues became an exquisite ache—a welcome ache. She countered his thrusts, meeting his urgency. His need. Silently encouraging him to take.

His climax rolled through them both, his hot ejaculate burst against her inner anal walls. As soon as his dick softened, he eased out. He scooted down the mattress and circled his lips around her clit, suckling strongly until she came against his mouth.

There hadn’t been much to say after that. He’d unwound the rope from her arms, rubbing until the circulation returned, kissing her shoulders, nuzzling her nape, brushing her nipples across his forearm. He understood the rasp of his body hair on the tips was almost an orgasmic experience itself.

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They’d kept the silence as they’d dressed, even after he’d kissed her with a lover’s surety and a whispered goodbye. She listened as his truck roared off, with her forehead pressed into the doorframe, completely undone.

Ginger’s cell phone buzzed on her desk, startling her out of her sexual flashback. “Hey, son. What’s up?”

“Are you coming home soon?”

“Pretty quick. I have to make one stop first. Why?”

“Grandpa says to tell you we’re out of cereal and bread. He’s making fish sticks for supper and they smell gross. Now he’s mad that I don’t wanna eat his food, but I’d rather starve.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Yeah. That’s why he’s mad.”

As many times as she’d told her father he didn’t need to help out in the kitchen, every once in a while he got it in his head that he could cook. Never mind his culinary skills were limited to heating prepackaged frozen entrees, canned soup and dishing up ice cream. Even Ginger admitted the thought of eating fish sticks turned her stomach. “What would you rather have for supper?”


“I’m leaving the office now.”

By the time Ginger picked up her prescription and stopped at the grocery store, her head pounded with such force she felt her eyeballs pulsing.

Playing intermediary between her son and father didn’t help her headache. Once she’d finished kitchen duties, she downed her pills, crawled in bed with a box of Kleenex and a hot compress on her sinuses and was dead to the world.

Chapter Thirteen

“I’m out.”

“Jesus, Chase. That’s like the fifth hand in a row,” Bennett complained.

“And I’m still up more than you,” Chase pointed out. “I’m playin’ smart.”

“For a professional bull rider, you’re playin’ it awfully safe.”

Kane watched his cousin Tell sweep Chase’s cards into a pile. Then Tell looked at him. “How many?”


Tell dealt then faced his brother Brandt. “How many?”


“He’s bettin’ on a pair, boys,” Dalton announced.

“Shut your pie hole,” Brandt grumbled.

Dalton, the youngest McKay of the group, just grinned. “I’ll be takin’ three cards myself, bro,” he said to Tell.

“Fine. I’m takin’ two. Kane, bid’s to you.”

Kane knocked back a sip of his Budweiser. Full house. Threes and queens. Maybe he could bluff his way into winning the pot. “I’ll raise three.”

All around the table, trash talking ensued between the brothers and cousins. These biweekly poker nights had become a tradition in the last year. Kane didn’t kid himself it was his great planning that brought them together. Things had always been somewhat strained between his Uncle Casper and his three brothers, Carson, Charles and Calvin, hence a strained relationship existed between the McKay cousins from that branch. The original McKay homestead had been equally divided between the four brothers, which meant they were tied together in the ranching business until one of them bought the other three out. With the value of the ranch, no one had that kind of cash, and the McKays were beyond stubborn so the chances of that ever happening were slim to none.

Uncle Carson had quadrupled the size of his holding, and that didn’t include the pieces of land his sons had purchased. Kane’s dad had added to his original section too, but not as substantially. He only had Kane and Kade to help him work it, not four or five sons. Uncle Charles had added acreage in the last few years when he’d turned over the majority of the ranch responsibility to Quinn and Bennett. Chase returned to Wyoming and helped his brothers when he wasn’t on tour with the PBR. Except it seemed Chase’s Raising Kane

return home lately was to avoid the tabloids. Kane admitted pride in the kid, for taking the bad-boy, hell-raisin’ McKay reputation to a whole ’nother level—a national level.

But the biggest reason for them spending time together, besides the fact they were all still single, happened after Luke McKay’s death.

The remaining sons had a falling out with their father, a rift that still hadn’t healed. Uncle Casper had a bug up his ass about something, and he’d further alienated his brothers and nephews. It made for awkward conversation when dealing with ranch business. Especially since Brandt, Tell and Dalton purchased a tract of land on their own. As their father was the only McKay descendant who hadn’t added on—it’d always been a bitter point of contention for Uncle Casper and he’d taken it out on his sons.

Yeah, they were just one big happy fucking family.

Kane knew this type of poker game wouldn’t have happened in his younger years, when he was in the same age group as Brandt, Tell, Dalton, Bennett and Chase. At almost thirty-seven, Kane was the old man in the group. Uncle Casper and Aunt Joan had started their family later than his brothers, and had four boys in six years. Luke had been just turned twenty-seven when he died. Brandt had just turned twenty-five; Tell had turned twenty-four and Dalton twenty-one.

On the Charles McKay branch of the family, Quinn was going on thirty-four. Bennett was twenty-nine and Chase had passed the quarter-century mark and turned twenty-six.

Why did age—his and his other family members’—matter to him?

Because all Kane’s male cousins had been married by his age. Most married with families. And he wasn’t enjoying the bachelor lifestyle these days, not like he had when he’d lived at the Boars Nest. Hell, he hadn’t even missed having an active sex life. He avoided the bars, knowing he’d run into a woman or fifteen he’d fucked at some point in the last two decades, usually a woman he’d fucked over. The sad truth was, Kane had been with so many women…he didn’t remember all of them.

Talk about great husband and father material. Jesus. No wonder he was single.

His thoughts drifted to Ginger. At times, he believed they could make a good life together. But other times, he wondered why she’d want him long-term. They were already getting it on every chance they had.

He was already a father figure to her son. She wasn’t looking for security or a provider. Hell, she probably made more money in two months than he made all year. He knew she wasn’t looking to take this to another level.

And that sucked.

“He’s thinkin’ about bein’ on his knees in front of some big biker dude with a pierced cock, wearin’

leathers, holdin’ a whip.”

Kane’s focus zoomed back to the present and he stared at his cousin Tell. “What the hell were you talkin’ about?”

“You. Dreamin’ of your new boyfriend,” Tell answered.

Chase made kissing noises.


“Fuck off. All of you.”

“Just sayin’…we tried to get your attention, but you were off in dreamland. We’re all mighty curious to know whatcha were thinkin’ about.”

“I was thinkin’ about all the ways I’m gonna spend the money I win tonight when I kick your pansy-asses.”

“Bring it.” Tell pointed to Kane. “No one raised after you, so show your hand.”

“Full house. Threes over queens.”

Bennett threw down three kings.

Dalton had a flush, all spades.

Tell showed a straight, ten high.

Brandt spread out a full house, aces over jacks, and grinned. “Kitty pay me.”

Boos, fuck yous and cards flew. Chase passed out another round of beer. And they settled in to the next game.

“So Chase,” Dalton drawled, “which buckle bunny hottie you bangin’ this week?”

“Maybe you oughta ask him which buckle bunny he’s runnin’ from this week,” Bennett said slyly.

Chase took a long pull of his beer. “Neither. I’ve given up women for Lent.”

Guffaws broke out.

“No, I’m serious.”

“Right. We ain’t Catholic and it’s a goddamn long time until Easter.”

“True story, I swear. Since that tabloid shit went down with Vivica, my publicist said to cool it. And my buddy Marshall bet me I couldn’t go four months without sex. So cousins, I’m sittin’ here before you, a man who hasn’t fucked a woman since New Year’s Eve.”

Silence. Then laugher.

“You’ve got to be pullin’ our leg,” Tell said.

Chase shook his head. “Ten thousand dollars is on the line.”

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