Colt Claims His Curvy Housekeeper
Rancher Colt finally bends his hot curvy housekeeper over the kitchen table and fucks her senseless.
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The wind howled across the wide Montana valley like a wounded animal, driving sheets of cold rain against the ranch house windows. Colt McRae stood at the kitchen sink, broad shoulders filling the frame of his damp flannel shirt, watching Lila bend over to pull a roast from the oven. Her thick, heart-shaped ass stretched the denim of her jeans until the seams looked ready to surrender. Every time she moved, her heavy breasts swayed inside the thin white tank top she wore, the fabric damp from the heat of the stove and clinging to the dark circles of her nipples.
He’d hired her six months ago, right after his wife’s funeral. Lila was his late wife’s step-cousin—distant enough that the bloodline didn’t touch—but close enough that it still felt forbidden. She’d shown up with two suitcases and a nervous smile, offering to keep the house running while he ran the cattle operation. He should have said no. Instead he’d given her the room at the end of the hall and tried not to notice how her wide hips rolled when she walked.
Now it was impossible to look away.
Lila straightened, brushing a damp curl from her flushed cheek. She felt his stare like a brand on her skin. At twenty-six, she was tired of pretending the ache between her thighs every night wasn’t because of the big, silent rancher who watched her like a wolf studying a fatted calf. Her panties were perpetually damp around him. She knew he wanted her. She also knew he was fighting it with everything he had.
“Supper’s almost ready,” she said, voice low and a little husky. “You want a beer first?”
Colt’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the counter. “Yeah. Thanks.”
She moved past him to the fridge, close enough that the soft swell of her breast brushed his arm. The contact sent electricity crackling through both of them. Colt inhaled sharply, catching the warm scent of her—vanilla, woman, and something sweet like ripe peaches. His cock thickened behind his fly, heavy and insistent.
Lila didn’t pull away. She lingered there for a heartbeat too long, pretending to search for the bottle, letting her hip graze the front of his jeans. She heard the low growl that rumbled in his chest and felt her pussy clench hard in response.
The storm outside was only getting worse.