Page 30 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

“You’re so big.”

When he moves, I start to doubt if I can take it. His hips draw back and then push forward, grinding against my sensitized clit. My pussy feels heavy and achy. The ridge around the head of his cock eases over somewhere inside me that makes my toes curl. I don’t understand how he’s doing this and holding me. His strength and control seem almost inhuman, but I’m not going to complain because in his arms, I feel important and necessary. I feel desired and claimed. I feel like I exist.

“Taylor.” Maverick grips my jaw, as his warm, hazel eyes darken. He kisses me hard, pressing even deeper inside me, his hips thrusting so hard that my back slaps against the plaster rhythmically.

“Maverick,” I whisper.

“That’s it. Say my name. Say my name when you come.”

The same feeling that built between my legs with Clint and Jesse threatens to spill. With them, I’d closed my eyes before slipping into the mist of pleasure, but Maverick demands my attention.

“Oh… oh…”

He thrusts harder as I gasp and grind into him, so close I can almost taste the honey of bliss on my tongue.

“That’s it. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

And I do. “Maverick,” I shout, going rigid and then limp as warm pleasure radiates from my core into my mind and my limbs.

He doesn’t slow, but instead, he speeds up, thrusting into me so powerfully that my legs rise until I’m almost folded in two. When he comes, his face loses its intense expression. There’s no safe and engaging smile, either. He’s lost in his release, lips thin, cheeks pinched, eyes tightly scrunched.

Watching him come apart because of me is a gift. Mindy said a lot of things about me today, but she was wrong. Maverick wanted me. This wasn’t a pity screw. It was something deeper. A recognition of a connection and an effort to claim his place in Jesse’s arrangement. It was inevitable, but it didn’t feel awkward. Like the tide edges forward, Maverick and I were swept away.

My body feels cramped and sore, but I wait for Maverick to move. I give him his time to dwell in the peace that settles.

“Taylor,” he whispers. “You rock my goddamn world.”

Even with a curse, his words inspire hope to bloom like wildflowers around my heart.

But wildflowers don’t last long before they wither and die.

As he kisses me, I remind myself that my life with these three cowboys is built on shaky ground.

Finding sweetness and hope is dangerous.

Not just for me, but for Molly, too.

9

TAYLOR

THE PRINCESS IN THE TOWER

Clicking the bedroom door shut behind me, I sink down against the back of the door until I reach the floor. Resting my head against the sturdy wood, I inhale slowly and close my eyes.

I don’t know how to feel. So much has happened in such a short space of time. My emotions are a rollercoaster of highs and lows, dips and spins. I’m used to living on high alert, waiting for something to go wrong. I’m used to being attuned to the feelings of others and adapting myself to fit. I’m used to expecting abuse and needing to protect myself and Molly as best as I can. But here, at Twin Springs, it’s different.

My body is tingling in ways I never knew possible.

I don’t know these men, but in all our interactions, I’ve found them to be decent. They have funny ideas about how they want to live their lives and brought me into it without consulting me first. That should make me mad. I should feel used and abused. Sex with three men is… well, it isn’t normal.

Feeling so much pleasure delivered by almost strangers is confusing. My intuition feels like it should be off balance after so many years of abuse. Everything that has happened since I arrived has been a sensory overload, but having a good cry and releasing so much built-up emotion feels good. Maverick was so kind and protective. And what came next. Something about him reaches deep inside me as if we’re kindred spirits. I let my mind wander back to the sound of his voice, the feel of his warm hand comforting me, his gentle eyes searching mine, his body moving inside me. My heart thuds a tune of its own, a song with his voice lightly singing the lyrics. He’s starting to find his way into my psyche, and there doesn’t seem like much I can do to stop it.

I take my new items into the bathroom. I dribble the new rose-scented bath foam into the gushing water and place one of the disposable razors and the shaving gel onto the roll-top bath edge. I place the lip gloss and blush into the bathroom cabinet and turn the mascara in my hand, wondering if it will be easy to apply, before putting that away, too. There’s a tingle in my tummy, a feeling of optimism, maybe. I’m going to take the first step in paying myself some attention. I’m going to make myself pretty, and it’s going to work out. I have to be positive. Looking down at the plain band signaling my marriage to Clint, I claim a new mantra. I’m the wife of a cowboy. I’m someone. I can imagine Maverick’s voice encouraging me. I’ve never been in a position before to think about lighthearted things, like nail polish or beauty regimes. All I have ever been able to focus on is staying alive and surviving. And making sure Molly can do the same.

The better I look, the better I fit in, and the closer I get to asking them to help my sister.

The bath is relaxing, but my racing mind won’t let up. A piece of my soul is missing, and she’s out there, alone with our father and in who knows what sort of state. After only a short soak, I give up and decide to dress in some of my new clothes. My phone is in the side dresser, turned off, and as I wait for it to fire up, I wonder if I’ll have any messages. No new messages. I almost breathe a sigh of relief. No news is good news. But then, a moment later, one new message. It’s Natalie.

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