Page 120 of Dust Storm

“Christian—” she gasped as I parted her dripping sex with my fingers. It was the softest shade of pink. Her sex was warm and swollen with arousal as I lapped at her clit.

A bite of cool air made us both stop and shiver.

“All you get is this orgasm, Cassandra.” I slid two fingers inside of her, crooking them and slowly stroking.

The fence creaked as she went weak in the knees.

“That’s all you want anyway, right?” I circled her clit with my tongue. “You use all that bravado with everyone else. Ripping them a new one and putting them in their place. You’re not willing to use it to fight for yourself. For what you want.”

“Christian, please?—”

I cupped her ass in my hand as I devoured her. She swore at the sky. She pleaded to me, to deities, to anything with ears. She pulled and pulled against that damn fence post.

I didn’t let up.

Maybe I was out of my goddamn mind. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She hated this ranch. She didn’t like kids. She despised nearly everything about my way of life.

And yet she was perfect for it.

I saw it every time I looked at her.

Cassandra had an unmatched strength. She was confident in ways I had never seen. She had a stubborn streak that supported that confidence. She was protective. She never took “no” for an answer when she wanted a “yes.” She was wildly arrogant, brash, and abrasive.

And every bit of me loved her for it.

Her breasts nearly spilled out of her bra as she thrashed against the post. Blonde tresses flung recklessly in every direction.

“Make me come,” she whispered as she pushed her hips out, desperately seeking my mouth and hands.

My hair was spilling out of the bun I tied it in. My beard was damp with her arousal. The taste of her coated my tongue.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Her breathing turned frantic.

Silence.

A gasp.

Then the explosion.

She whimpered, her thighs quivering as she shattered. Cassandra threw her head back, letting out a string of muttered profanities so loud it was probably heard at the bunkhouse. I didn’t let up, lapping at her cunt until she was begging me to stop and pushing me away with her foot.

Without a word, I dried her thighs and pussy with her torn panties, then helped her back into her pants. She stood still as I silently untied her wrists and threaded the sash back through her belt loops.

Cassandra rubbed the red marks circling her skin as I buttoned her blouse.

My hat teetered backward on her head when she looked up at me regretfully.

I plucked my hat off of her head and put it back on. “Why do you look sad?” I cupped her cheek. “You got what you wanted.”

I was waiting for her to say it.

To say it wasn’teverythingshe wanted.

I was waiting for her to admit to being stubborn because it was safe.

But she didn’t.

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