Page 22 of Ride a Cowboy

“There’s a difference between never and never really.”

“Porter spanked me a little bit when…we…um…I’m thinking now would be an excellent time to shut up.”

“I see.”

Yeah. She was afraid he did. And once again, she worried that her drunken one-night stand with Porter had the potential to ruin what she had no doubt was going to be the greatest relationship of her life before it even started.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m not. I’m glad he exposed you to it.”

“You are?”

“It’s just a different way to have sex, Macie. And we won’t do it all the time. A lot of nights, we’re going to crawl into this bed and I’m going to make love to you, missionary style.”

She considered that. “That sounds kind of boring now that you’ve offered up the kinky stuff.”

He chuckled and kissed the back of her head. “Macie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m done talking now.”

She giggled until he stood up. Hank didn’t complain when she rolled to her side to watch as he pushed down his jeans and boxers, toed off his shoes.

Hank definitely was not overcompensating for anything with his big truck.

“Big truck, big…” she murmured.

The edges of his mouth tipped up as he ran his hand from the root to the tip of his cock.

“Can I do that?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Later, Whiskey. Right now,” he gestured with his hand for her to lie back down, “I want to be inside you.”

She opened her legs in invitation and Hank stepped between her knees, leaning over her as he guided his cock to her pussy.

He placed just the head inside before pausing. “You going to be okay with just missionary the first time, kinky girl?” he teased.

It was on the tip of her tongue to continue the joke, to make some comment like “if she had to,” but Hank didn’t give her the chance to reply.

He slammed in to the hilt with a thrust that pushed her a few inches across the bed. Her hands flew to his shoulders, then wrapped around his neck as she searched for some way to hold on. He took her Vin Diesel style, fast and furious.

“Lock your ankles around my waist,” he demanded as he continued to piston inside her.

Macie had never been particularly vocal in bed, which was ironic considering she never shut up anywhere else. This time, remaining quiet wasn’t an option. Hank produced a litany of groans, moans, grunts, curses, pleas and—Jesus—even an almost scream as she came so hard, her teeth rattled.

Her inner muscles clenched tightly as stars flashed, blinding her. Throughout her climax, Hank kept fucking her, taking her even harder, if that was possible.

“Can’t. Take…”

He withdrew, flipping her to her stomach, plowing back inside. The change meant he was going deeper and stroking new hot spots. Hank reached around her waist with one hand, his fingers rubbing her clit in time with his pounding rhythm.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, as a trickle of perspiration ran along her cheek. “Holy. Fuck.”

She placed her hand on his wrist, intent on tugging his hand away from her clit. Not because she didn’t love it, but because it felt almost too good. It was overwhelming, too much stimulation. Macie wasn’t used to being out of control, and certainly not to this extreme.

“Move your hand.”

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