Page 71 of Chasing Home

I gape at him when his fingers grow still inside of me. I increase the pressure on my clit and rub it in quick circles, continuing to chase the pleasure he built and then abandoned.

He slaps my hand away and glares down at me. “Don’t turn into a liar, Rory. Tell me what it is you were just thinking about, and I’ll keep going. You want to come, don’t you?”

I could always make myself come. But is that what I want? Another mediocre orgasm brought on by myself?

“I like how attentive you are to me,” I tell him.

He bends down and kisses me firmly, as a reward, I think. When he pulls back, I lean forward and chase his lips, not ready to be done yet.

“Yes,” I whimper as he starts to slide his fingers inside me again. “It’s so good. I’m close already.”

“Tell me something else,” he demands, his kisses growing harder, like he’s losing his control with every squeeze of my walls around his fingers.

I reach up to grab his other shoulder, needing to know he’s not going to abandon me here once I speak.

“I wanted to throw mud at her head when she hugged you. It’s not fair, but I want to be the only one who gets to hug you like that.”

A deep noise rattles his chest as he drops his other hand between us and pinches my clit before rolling it in quick circles exactly how I was.

“Is that right, Rory? You want to have a claim on me, then?” he asks, his voice strained as he fucks his fingers into me harder.

Every curl of them has me jerking against him, my skin hot and sticky with sweat. I hold his shoulders and bite at his lips as we kiss, feral with the climax that’s building and building inside of me.

He pinches my clit again, and I go off like a fucking firework. Colours fill my vision as I cry, “Yes! Yes, I want to have a claim on you!”

“Christ, that’s it. You’ve already claimed me, gorgeous. Now it’s fuckin’ written in stone,” he murmurs.

I crash hard from the high while he slowly works his fingers deep, every aftershock rippling around them. Blowing out a puff of air, I close my eyes and go still, letting my hands fall to rest against his chest.

“Look at me, Rory,” he coaxes, slipping his fingers free from inside of me.

I’m too weak-willed not to deny him, and I’m glad about that once I see why he wanted me to look. My belly flutters at the sight of him sucking his fingers clean, my cum all over them.

It’s primitive and dirty, yet I love it and want him to do it every single time we do this.

“Next time, I’m going to taste you right from the source,” he promises.

And I believe him.

24

JOHNNY

A week after coming home with three new horses instead of two, Aurora still hasn’t asked about Frost.

Her lack of questioning solidified my assumption that she hadn’t noticed me loading her up. Too pissed off with me and Jill, she avoided looking back at us after stumbling upon our interaction in the stable.

I’m still a smug bastard about her jealousy. Her heavy admissions on that dirt road have replayed in my mind all week. There haven’t been any new ones since, and I’m itching to pull more out. I know they’re there, trapped deep in the well she keeps hidden inside of herself. Each smile and small tidbit about her life that she gifts me during lunch or glass of iced tea she hands me while I work on her porch every night has me sure of it.

My conversation with Wade that same night we got back comes tumbling into my mind for the millionth time since, attempting to plant seeds of doubt.

“Why the fuck is there a white horse in my stable?”

I come up behind him with my hands in my pockets. The stable is quiet, the horses tucked in and the other ranch hands done for the day.

“They were running a buy two, get one half off sale.”

He spins to face me, a heavy scowl on his face. “The bill says otherwise.”

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