Page 100 of Stockman's Sandstorm

Forty-four

Ash wanted to go slow. But how could he, when everything about Harper was beautiful? That sexy moan, her scent, and her taste was like paradise on his tongue. Who knew watching her body tremble just from his touch would be the biggest turn-on in his life. All he wanted to do was please her.

Her dress was gone. So too her bra, her panties, and she was beautifully bare.

There was a flash of shyness in her eyes as her hands moved to cover herself.

‘Don’t.’ He gripped her hands and held them above her head, pinning her to the wall. ‘Don’t hide, not from me.’ His eyes took a long, long time to admire the smooth curves of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest, and the round shape of her belly. And that arse he gripped, while dipping his head to press kisses to her smooth, flawless skin on a body he wanted to explore for the rest of his life.

‘Do you want a condom? I’m clean. Just that…’ He stepped back, raking fingers through his hair. ‘I’ve got a kid.’ One he hadn’t planned on.

‘Can you wear two?’ She bit her lip.

‘Stay right there.’ He let her wrists go. He had enough self-control to stop, even if he didn’t want to, but it was the fastest trip to his room and back in his life.

He spotted her pill packet on her bedside table as he closed the bedroom door. ‘Aren’t you covered?’

‘I’ve been in hospital, so I don’t trust it?’

Good call. Even if this conversation should kill the mood, it didn’t, even while ripping open the packet and sheathing himself. ‘Ready?’

Her nod was small, but her chest was hammering against his.

But when those eyes of hers locked on his, he had his answer before she spoke. ‘Yes. I’m sure.’

Even though he was as hard as steel, pressed against her body, he had to please his lady first. That began by again catching both her wrists in his left hand to hold them above her head, pressing her against the wall. That pose exposed her delicious body that had his eager fingers admiring the soft warm skin, trailing down her inner arm, making her whimper and squirm.

Forcing her hips still, his fingers carried on their heavenly journey, down to her soft satiny thighs.

Her breathing stuttered as he skimmed his mouth across her lips, as the pads of his fingers found the softest skin in the junction between her legs.

His lips trailed over her collarbone, enjoying the flush that spread across her skin. Her whimpers created the best playlist on the planet, until she leaned her head back with eyes closed and gasped for air with the sexiest moan he’d ever heard. He’d found that nub that made her inner thighs tremble, while his fingers dove deep to prepare her.

He nipped on her earlobe as her breathing grew ragged, her body trembling beneath his hands. And just as she was about to explode, he slid inside.

Her hands flew to his jaw, their teeth clacking against each other’s, as her legs lifted, and she pulled him closer. He surged into her body that stretched around him. It was so damned tight, clamping down on him from the intensity of her orgasm, which rolled on and on, he didn’t know where one ended and the next began.

His grip tightened, trying to get closer, and his groan matched hers. Their mouths met as if to breathe for each other, as his strokes started slow and measured while her hands became entangled in his hair. With her ample breasts pressed deliciously against his chest, her body once again squeezed.

She was torturing him.

He was so wrapped up in her presence, her body, her arms, her gloriously deep moans, he could barely breathe. Nothing and no one could have prepared him for this moment or for her. He growled, a rumble deep in his chest, he was practically vibrating with a need to punish her with pleasure, to kiss her savagely, so that she would understand there would be no walking away from this for either of them. Not when his raw heart craved the closeness of her.

But one stroke later, he came without warning. Cheated, he roared. All his muscles contracted in a concert of emotional overload, pouring his soul into the only woman he’d ever made love to.

No way was he done, not when he had finally won the greatest prize of his life. And carried his queen to bed.

Forty-five

Asleep in a pair of boxers, Ash lay on his son’s spare bed, with little Mason curled up beside him, leaving his cot empty.

There was a tap on the door. It was Harper, holding out a cup of coffee. ‘Thought you might need this.’

‘Thanks. What’s the time?’ He patted his son’s soft hair. Ruby wagged her tail from her fluffy bed, with her bandage still on her leg, so he patted the unsung hero too.

‘Eight,’ replied Harper.

The last he remembered he’d only come in to check on the boy, take him to the toilet, then he was meant to go back to bed with Harper. ‘Have my brothers gone?’

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