Page 49 of A Cowboy in the Streets

I groaned. She was perfect. A pocket-sized pinup meant to drive me to my knees—a place I had every intention of going tonight. Her breasts were full and luscious, with soft pink nipples hard and pointed right at me.

“Skirt off,” I ordered.

She flicked open the snap with a small, self-satisfied smirk hovering on her lips. My girl knew exactly what she was doing to me. I bit my knuckle as she shimmied it down her hips, leaving her in a midnight-blue thong and those pink fucking boots. She started to toe them off, but I stopped her.

“The boots stay on, buttercup. I want to feel your heels digging into my back when I make you come on my tongue.”

An audible breath whooshed out of her. She stared at me, wide-eyed.

That was fine. She could contemplate that while I feasted on those glorious tits of hers.

I boosted her into my arms, and she instantly wrapped her legs around my waist, clasping them at the ankles. I lowered my head, dropping kisses to the adorable sprinkle of freckles along her collarbone and chest. Her head fell back, giving me better access, and I took it. I kissed down the curve of her breast. Relished in the soft fullness of it. Found her nipple and flicked it with my tongue. She gasped, her hands digging into my shoulders. I sucked her nipple into my mouth with a deep, languid pull.

Then I went for the other one, kissing and sucking as I took us to the bed and laid her down gently.

I greedily ate up the sight of her spread before me. Her breasts, the flare of her hips, that sexy blue thong wedged up and lewdly showing the shape of her pussy lips. Her shapely legs in those pink boots. A fucking wet dream come to life.

“Christ, baby, you should see yourself. So pretty.”

She bit her lip, arching her chest, her cheeks flushing at my praise.

I went to my knees. Dragged my finger down that flimsy triangle of fabric. Found it soaked. I tsked at her softly. “So fucking wet, James. How long has this sweet little pussy been needing me?”

She moaned as I slid the fabric aside and pushed a finger in. Her hands went to her breasts, and she rolled her nipples between her fingers. Fuck.

I pulled my finger free. “How long, James?”

“Since four-fifteen.”

My start time.

My attention jerked to her face. “What?”

“Since the second you rode into the arena and bossed around a baby cow.” She lifted up on her elbows and served me a disgruntled pout. “It’s been hours, Adam.”

My cock jerked as I stared at her. Then I sprang into action, frantically dragging her panties down her legs before I tossed her booted feet over my shoulders one at a time.

“Remember what I said, buttercup. I want to see bruises tomorrow.”

I didn’t wait for her response before I delved between her thighs. I slid my tongue right into her, tasting all that sweetness that was there for me. Got drunk from it. When she squirmed beneath me, I splayed a hand across her belly and pressed her into the mattress. Giving her nowhere to go except my mouth.

She responded, canting her hips toward my seeking tongue. I sucked her clit, gently at first, and then with more suction when she let me know she liked it. Her strong thighs clamped tightly around my head.

“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god,” she chanted.

I knew she was close. Too close. I slowed the rhythm of my tongue. Brought her away from the edge. Bought myself a few more moments of drinking her, delving my tongue through all that soft, warm flesh between her legs. I kissed her, teased her, until she whined my name.

I grinned against her pussy. And then I built her up again. Every little sound she made, every twitch of her body, made my dick throb desperately. Her thighs quivered and suddenly she was there. Her hips bucked upward, pushing against my mouth as her pussy clenched around my tongue in rhythmic spasms. Her boots dug into my trap muscles. Trapped me there in the vise of her thighs, my new favorite place on earth.

I licked until her tremors stopped and her thighs splayed limply.

I pushed to my feet, shucked my jeans and boots, took my aching cock in hand, and—

Shit.

“I don’t have a condom,” I said.

She waved a hand weakly and let it flop back on the bed. “My bag.”

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