Page 16 of Kentucky Nights (Dead Man’s Ranch #1)

I know I shouldn’t be spying on him. It isn’t right. He deserves his space just like I deserve mine, but when I walked into the empty house, I missed him.

That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Missing someone I barely know. I don’t understand this need to be close to him at all times. Most of me believes he isn’t the monster I thought, yet, there is another part that is screaming to run and never look back.

The mere thought of turning my back on Kentucky has pain searing through my heart.

Kentucky is so much more than I originally judged him to be.

I thought he was a monster, a killer, someone who was playing with his food.

Even though it has only been one very long day of being here, the truth is, I’m not sure if I do want to leave.

I don’t understand why, but he knows the answer.

I’m not the kind of woman to leave when I don’t have all the information.

I refuse to have anyone else make decisions for me.

No one has ever had that power over me, and they never will.

I’ve always listened to myself. My instincts have never steered me wrong.

I only want to understand why I’m so drawn to him and why the thought of leaving makes me sick to my stomach.

He’s different than what I thought a vampire was. He’s a gentleman. He has manners that I’ve only seen in old romantic movies. He cares to have self-control if his fighting his vampire urges in the barn tells me anything. That means more in this world than he knows.

Most human men don’t even try that hard.

The rolling baritone of thunder has me blinking away my inner turmoil. I glance around the rustic living room, knowing I shouldn’t peek into the telescope again to peer into the pasture where Kentucky is. I need to get my mind off him.

It’s an impossible task when I’m surrounded by him.

The living room is open to the kitchen, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, and there are more of them than drywall in this house. I wonder if he likes natural light or just likes being able to see outside. Whatever the reason, I love it.

There’s a worn leather sectional couch sitting in front of the fireplace, and a coffee table that looks handmade with the same designs as the bedroom door.

There is simplicity to the decor. I can tell he hasn’t really made himself at home.

Usually, people have personal touches like art hanging on the wall, pictures of friends or family, books lying around, but the house is almost stale.

Clearly, he only rests here.

If I lived here, I would change that.

Why am I thinking like that? This isn’t my house.

I don’t live here. In a few days, I’ll be home in the comfort of my own bed, surrounded by books, movies, records, pictures, and everything else that makes me, me .

That brings me peace like the dozens of blankets I have that I love to wrap myself in while lying in bed and watching TV.

I dart my eyes around the room, twisting and turning my body to see if I’m missing it.

Nope.

Kentucky doesn’t have a TV.

The wind howls outside, causing the trees to smack against the glass, and I jump, startled by how loud it is.

The rain is bulleting against the windows too, and in the distance, the trees sway and lightning strobes in the clouds. With every burst of light, the sky illuminates the pasture, the long grass swaying back and forth.

It’s serene.

Unable to stop myself any longer, I lean down and place my eye against the telescope, guiding it left, right, up, and down to find where Kentucky is. He was by his truck, but he isn’t there anymore.

“Where did you go?” I ask no one other than myself.

My sights finally land on him, and a breath catches in my throat when I take in his bare chest. I straighten, knowing I can’t look at him without him being aware.

That would be wrong. So very wrong.

I nibble on my thumbnail with anxiety, staring at the telescope and debating if I should walk away.

The temptation is too strong.

He doesn’t need to find out.

Bending down again, I rearrange the focus on the lens to get the clearest view of Kentucky I can. He is gripping the top of the window frame, leaning out to allow the rain to drench his body.

“Damn,” I whisper to the empty room, thankful that I’m alone or I’d be embarrassed gawking over him.

The water slicks his torso, defining the hard ridges of every muscle. His chest and shoulders are wide, built with large muscles that only come from working on a ranch his entire life.

He slicks his hair back, away from his eyes, the twin crimson drops glowing in the chaos of the storm. His mouth opens, the low light from the barn shines against the pointed fangs, and his roar is so loud, it causes a picture to fall from the mantle.

I’ll pick it up in a minute.

In response, my blood heats, and a light sheen of sweat causes his shirt to stick to my back.

I straighten again, fanning myself from the overwhelming sudden warmth that not only has my cheeks burning, but my underwear drenched.

My clit throbs with need, my nipples tighten under the shirt, and the material lightly scratches against them.

The slight sensation causes me to pinch my lips shut to hold in a gasp.

I can’t look at him again. It isn’t right. It’s wrong. Everything about me lusting after him is hypocritical. He should be everything I’m against.

I can’t help it.

I have to. I need to see him. If I don’t, I might scream until I die, until I run out of air, and don’t care to take another inhale because living for another second without seeing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Peering into the telescope, my mouth becomes dry from what I see. Kentucky is kneeling, eyes once again the color of a predator, frustration and pleasure snarling his face, and his hand stroking his thick cock.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, licking my lips as if I need to quench my thirst by licking the rain off his body.

His head is tossed back, one arm leans against the barn, while his other hand is busy fucking his cock. Kentucky’s sculpted muscles are tense, the veins in his arm defined by the stern grip he has on himself.

By how his nails have lengthened to claws and his facial features seem a little sharper, more cut and angled, he is in full vampire form.

Another roar rips from him, the vibrations tickling the pads of my feet.

He’s staring at the house through the storm, his free hand slamming against the ground.

His claws create grooves in the wood as if he is holding himself back from launching himself in my direction.

The longer he stares at the house, the more I begin to wonder if his struggle is due to me.

And for some reason, I really love the sound of that.

Watching Kentucky lose himself to me has my hand drift down my chest, stomach, then dip under the waistband. My fingers graze over the trimmed hair I keep, caressing over my throbbing clit. A rush of heat pools into my panties, my hole pulsating for more.

“Ahhh,” I groan, slipping two fingers inside my pussy to try to ease the agony of not having him stretch me.

Knowing he doesn’t know I’m watching him fuck himself has me so wet, I have to insert another finger. Rocking my hips against my hand, all I can think about is how I wish I were fucking him instead.

I moan when he lies down, whimpering when he wraps both hands around himself.

His thumb swipes over the wide head before tracing the crown.

I love the expression taking over his face.

His mouth is parted, those sharp fangs on display, and his eyebrows furrow differently with every tight stroke he gives himself.

Tracing the crown again, he arches his back, and he slams a fist through the wooden floor. Another growl rumbles the windows, adding more sensations and bringing my orgasm closer to the surface.

“Oh, god!” I cry, taking my fingers until I reach my knuckles. I need more. I need so much more.

He arches his back again, exposing the defined grooves on either side of his hips. I wonder what those gasps falling from his lips sound like. What makes him moan and shout? Would he whisper how good he feels into my ear? Could I make him feel that good?

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Oh, god, I can’t stop watching him.

He’s beautiful.

His hips begin to move, thrusting into the air, and the thought of me on top of him, taking him, being stretched by him, calling out his name, my orgasm slams into my bones.

I cry out, wave after wave of pleasure sweeping through my body. My head becomes dizzy with how intense each spasm is. My knees buckle, and I catch myself on the telescope, the cool metal pressing against my heated flesh.

Tugging my fingers free, I suck them into my mouth, licking the proof of how good Kentucky makes me feel away.

When the room stops spinning, I peer into the lens again, spying on him once more. The head of his cock is a blushing red as a bulging vein fills the length. Blood pumps into the impressive shaft so much, he looks so hard it seems painful.

Right now, I’d love to be the one to take his pain away.

I can’t believe I just thought that about a vampire. Kentucky isn’t just any vampire, though, is he?

He’s mine.

I’m not sure where that thought comes from. He isn’t mine. I don’t plan for him to be. We are too different. What kind of life could we have if I’m a human and he is a vampire? I’d grow old and die while he gets to live forever? No. That’s cruel.

It’s best if we both realize that any type of pull we experience with one another, we ignore.

You can’t.

The voice in the back of my head whispers another useless statement to me.

Yet as I watch Kentucky bringing himself closer to climax, I know the voice in the back of my head is right. All I can do is ignore it the best I can until I can go home.

You’re staring at your home.