Page 15 of Stalked By the Rancher

"Sawyer!”

“Yes, that’s in, darlin’. Come on your man’s big dick. Let me feel it, baby.”

His words, as rough and coarse as they are, act as a catalyst. My climax rushes over me, leaving me in a state of dazed euphoria. I moan his name over and over again, my voice echoing through the room.

"Fucking hell," he groans, his pace quickening as he chases his own release. Grunts and heavy breaths mix with our desperate moans.

My body tightens around him as I ride out my orgasm, the sensation sending tremors down Sawyer's spine. His grip on my hips tightens to the brink of pain, grounding me in this moment—in this deliciously raw tangle of limbs and whispered confessions.

"Fuck, baby," he pants against my neck, shuddering as he buries himself deep within me one last time. I can feel the warmth of his release filling me up, marking me as his in a way no one else can ever hope to.

As he collapses onto me, chest heaving with exertion and satisfaction, I can't help but wrap my arms around him. He's mine just as much as I am his—a fact that neither of us can deny now.

"I need you." He murmurs against my shoulder, pressing soft kisses to my skin. "I don't want anyone else to touch you."

His possessive words send shivers down my spine even after the haze of our climax has faded away. There's a sense of rightness to it all, like this is where I'm supposed to be, wrapped up in his arms and claimed by his touch.

My fingers trace the hard lines of his muscular back. His possessiveness sends a thrill of anticipation through my veins. I want him in every possible way, just as much as he wants me. "I'm all yours."

He lifts his head to look at me, his deep blue eyes filled with a multitude of emotions—lust and love, possession and vulnerability. His hand comes up to gently caress my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip in a barely-there touch that sends shivers down my spine.

"Swear it," he demands, his voice rough yet filled with a desperate need that tugs at my heartstrings. He wants reassurance, confirmation that I belong to him as much as he belongs to me.

"I swear," I promise him earnestly, meeting his gaze without any hesitation. "I'm yours, Sawyer. Only yours."

That seems to satisfy him because he grins down at me before leaning in to kiss me deeply. His tongue slips past my lips, exploring my mouth with a fervor that leaves no room for doubt—I am his and he is mine.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sawyer

The barn door slams open, nearly coming off its hinges, and there stands Edward Davenport. His face? Red like the devil's backside after a trip down a steep slide. He marches straight up to me, that vein in his forehead looking like it's about to pop.

"End it with Nora!" he barks, spitting fire with each word. "You've taken enough from her innocence, Blackwood."

I'm on my feet in a heartbeat, every muscle tensed, ready for whatever this storm's gonna throw at me. "Listen, Ed," I start, my voice low and steady, "I ain't taking advantage of nobody. Nora? She's something special, and I care about her. More than you know."

"Care?" Edward snorts, throwing the word out like it's a curse. "Is that what you call leaving hickeys on her neck? That girl is barely out of high school, and you're—what?—some big-shot rancher who thinks he can have whatever he wants?"

"Damn right I'm a rancher," I shoot back, stepping closer, feeling the heat from his anger and the chill from mine collide. "And I want Nora. But not like some prize, not like you're thinking. I want her heart, not just her body, though, hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that too."

"Her heart?" he scoffs, shaking his head like I'm selling him swamp land in the desert. "You think love is marked by bruises on her skin?"

"Love is a lot of things," I say, my jaw so clenched it might crack. "It's messy, it's raw, and yeah, sometimes it leaves a mark. But it's real, Ed. What Nora and I have? It's as real as the dirt under our boots."

"Real or not, you'll end it, or I swear to God?—"

"Or what?" I cut him off, my eyes blazing now. "You'll take her away? Tell her she can't make her own choices? She's eighteen, Ed. And she chose me."

"Because you've blinded her with your... your..."

"Come on, Ed,” I interrupt him, “let's not pretend this isn't killing you because she's your little girl. I get it. But don't make her pay for your fears."

"Pay for—you think you're some kind of gift to her?"

"Hell, I’m no gift," I concede, my tone softening just a notch. "But I'm someone who'll fight for her, stand by her, and give her all of me. Can you honestly tell her she shouldn't have that?"

His fists clench and unclench at his sides, and I know I've hit a nerve. Maybe because deep down, he knows it too. Love ain't clean-cut and pretty like in those romance novels. It's gritty, it's hard, and yeah, sometimes it leaves you breathless and wanting more.

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