Page 27 of Old-Fashioned Rancher

By the time I turned around, Grady was on me, pinning my body between him and the edge of the table. He grabbed a fistful of my skirt, rucking it up around my waist. I fumbled at the buttons of his shirt with frantic fingers. I loved the feel of his strong chest beneath my palm, the coarse texture of dark hair, and the shift of his muscles when he lifted me onto the table.

As I started unbuckling Grady’s belt, I gasped as he slipped his hand past the elastic of my panties and crooked two thick, callused fingers inside me. He brushed a kiss to my temple, bringing his mouth to my ear.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

As soon as I shifted my legs apart wide enough, Grady pressed his fingers deeper. Pleasure raced hot and fast through my veins. A smile spread across his face, crinkling his eyes as he watched me arch into his touch, trying so desperately to grind my clit against his palm.

“I wish you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now. Flushed and squirming and so needy.”

He twisted his fingers, hitting just the right spot to make me shudder. And he was so damn smug about it.

“Take off your shirt.”

I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, tossing it aside. I hurried to unhook my bra, too. Grady’s pupils dilated full-black as his gaze fell to my breasts. A muscle flexed in his jaw.

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

The steady curling, coaxing rhythm of his fingers had a haze of arousal fogging up the edges of my vision.

“I—I’m listening.”

Grady pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of my throat, tracing his lips between my breasts.

“That day we had lunch together,” he said. “When I spilled water all over myself like an idiot.”

I barely registered what he was saying. The slow burn of my rising orgasm was maddening and I just wanted to come.

“I looked straight down your shirt,” Grady finished. “And I’m not sorry for it. Your tits are goddamn perfect.”

I let out a breathless laugh as I fisted my hand in his hair. They were far from perfect, with stretch marks after hormonal changes and weight gain. They sagged more than I liked, too. But the slick heat of Grady’s mouth made me forget any misgivings I had about them.

“Then show your appreciation,” I replied.

Grady flicked a quick look up at my face with the slightest twitch of one eyebrow. For a big, bossy rancher man, he certainly liked it when I gave him orders now and then. Lowering his head, he closed his lips around my nipple, teasing at it with his teeth.

I fisted my fingers in Grady’s hair to anchor myself and let the pleasure wash over me. The rhythm of his fingers, the hot suction of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against the soft curve of my breast—it was too much to take. My orgasm hit, and I clenched around his fingers.

Grady grazed his teeth over my nipple with a sweet sting of pain to contrast the overwhelming surge of pleasure. I made a noise of frustration when he pulled his fingers out, leaving me empty. He peeled my panties off while I unzipped his fly. My breath hitched at the feel of his hard length in my hand.

I gazed up at him as I swirled my thumb over the thick, red head. Grady groaned deep in his throat and braced his hands on the table, bracketing my thighs. He flexed his hips forward, trying to thrust into my grip.

“Looks like I’m not the only one needy around here,” I said.

I could do this all day. Watching the way Grady’s body strained with every touch and stroke. When I pressed my thumb beneath the crown of his cock, the tendons in his neck tensed. I liked seeing him fight for his self-control, slowly unraveling because of me.

Hooking my legs around Grady’s hips, I pulled him between my thighs. His breathing was shallow and fast, teeth clenched, cock throbbing. I slipped my hand into his back pocket and pulled out a condom, tearing the packet open with my teeth.

I nuzzled at the curve of Grady’s throat as I rolled the condom on. He smelled incredible—like black coffee and horses and wild mountain air. Everything about him was rough, wild, barely tamed, but he was gentle as a lamb when I had him in my hands like this.

As I lined Grady’s tip with my entrance, he lightly grasped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Then he shifted closer, pushing deep. Every inch was slick and scorching and glorious.

I sucked in a breath and clamped my lower lip between my teeth with anticipation. Grady leveled me with his gray-eyed stare that never failed to fill my stomach with butterflies. He placed his palm, scratchy and rough, on my inner thigh, pressing my legs wider. I couldn’t decide what was hotter—his unrelenting, steady eye contact as he buried himself inside me, or the temptation to watch where we were joined until I’d taken his entire cock.

Grady kissed me slowly, deeply, stealing my breath away with the measured roll of his hips. I clutched the back of his neck, drawing him closer. His knuckles grazed the heavy curve of my breast.

Clinging to each other, every gasp and thrust sent us climbing higher. My second orgasm lingered just out of reach, but Grady was losing his rhythm fast. With a growl, he sank balls-deep inside me, pulsing, throbbing. As he fell apart, he shoved one hand between my thighs and pressed the rough pads of his fingertips to my sensitive, aching clit.

I flinched with a cry of ecstasy and wrapped my legs around Grady like a vise, keeping us locked together. He trailed lazy kisses over my shoulder, down my chest, softer this time, showing his appreciation as he’d been ordered to do. I smiled, hiding my face in his neck.

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