Page 44 of Bull Rush

“That’s what this is about, right? The dinner and the sudden willingness to have me in your bed. The apology. You’re worried if you don’t hold up the bargain, I won’t pay out.”

I’m in deep now, between a rock and a hard place. If I tell him the truth—that I actually want him, desperately, he’ll run with it and use it against me. He already has enough aces up his sleeve for a lifetime. If I agree with him, I’m going to undo everything I’ve been trying to do today—and despite the fact I still hate him, some part of me is going soft on him too. Like my heart knows its missing piece is back on this ranch, no matter how many times I’ve tried to snuff it out.

“Maybe you’re just so used to it, you’re projecting. Maybe you didn’t even have to dangle the million in front of me to get me into bed. But now you’ll never know, will you?” I taunt him.

His smirk deepens and turns devilish. He leans forward, one hand on the counter, bracketing me in as he tilts his head down to whisper in my ear.

“The bigger question is will I care when this spiteful little mouth is too busy gagging on my cock—and I already know the answer to that.”

I reach down and run my fingers over his belt, undoing the leather from the buckle.

“Can’t blame you there. Those fancy ones never do learn how to get their knees dirty and swallow gracefully, do they?” Ipull his belt loose and let it drop to the floor, my fingers making quick work of the buttons and zipper next. His hands still mine.

“You don’t have to rush, sugar. I’m gonna use you all night long.”

“All night?” I taunt him, my lashes lifting. “Let’s be honest. You’re probably gonna come the second your dick hits my tongue.”

His eyes darken at the implication, and he grabs me, pulling me close and then turning me around until my back faces his front, pinning me against the counter. He sweeps my hair off my neck and nips his way down my spine.

“I was gonna go easy on you. Break you back in slowly,” he rasps against my skin as his hands work on my button and zipper, wrenching my jeans and panties down to my knees. “But we can do it your way.”

He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and forces me down against the counter. A moment later, I feel his cock slam inside of me. There’s a guttural sound from his chest and a low moan as he eases out and back in again. He takes what he wants from me, and I let him have it.

“Fuck me. Tight as you ever were.” He grunts.

He feels so fucking good. Like mine. Likehome.

“And so fucking wet. Goddamn. You were soaking those panties all through dinner just hoping I’d fuck you, weren’t you, sugar?”

He starts fucking me harder, and I can’t stop the soft moans that come out of me. Ones he’s eating up with every single thrust, gloating and murmuring about how much I’ve needed him. He grabs my ass cheek and digs his fingers into the flesh, squeezing so hard it hurts, and I hiss out a muted “fuck.”

“Use your fingers on that swollen clit. I want you coming with me,” he grits out the instruction, and I follow it, slippingmy fingers through my own wetness and working slowly around the tender spot.

“You’re gonna have to get used to being fucked by someone who knows how to handle you.”

I’m counting on it. Curtis treats me like I’m glass. Like the wrong move could be a mistake and send me crashing to the floor in pieces. Ramsey got over that fear years ago.

I hear him spit a second later, the warmth of it slipping down between my cheeks. His fingers slip through it, and then I feel him circle around the second, tighter entrance, one that yields to the tip of his finger a moment later. I gasp at the sensation, and I hear him grunt his approval.

“You let him fuck you here yet, or are you saving that for the wedding night like you did for me?”

“I haven’t—” I barely get the words out because I’m already close, muttering another curse before I can finish the sentence. His cock is deep inside me, his finger teasing my ass, and my fingers circling my clit, all of it working in perfect rhythm and giving me more of what I need in a few short minutes than I’ve had in years.

“That’s good, sugar. I’m glad you know what belongs to me.”

“I don’t belong to you.” I manage to get the words out in between moans, and it’s less than convincing. So pathetic that he lets out a low, rumbling laugh.

“You might not, but this body remembers exactly who owns it.”

“Fuck you, Ramsey.”

“I intend to. Over and over again until I break you back in, and you remember who holds the fucking reins.”

“I won’t. You don’t fucking own anything about me.” I fight him. I don’t know why. Somewhere deep inside I know theodds aren’t in my favor—but I still have hope this is nothing but closure for us.

“I own you. Your house. Your name. Your body.” Each word is a punctuated thrust. “And every single time, you’ve come wishing it was me when you fucked him.”

I feel him coming inside me, and I tighten the circle around my clit with my fingers. A moment later, the pleasure blooms through me, lightning hot, and I’m nearly screaming from how good it feels. At least until I feel his come, hot and heavy inside me, and the alarm spreads. He didn’t have a condom on, and he knows I take medications that make my birth control unreliable. We were always careful when we were married.

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