Page 55 of Westin

His hand braces in the mud by my eyes, hard, lean fingers digging in. Knuckles tense. The veins up his forearm stand out. My eyes rollback at the first thrust. He’s big, and he fills me perfectly, like our bodies were always meant to be connected.

He pumps his hips, groaning. I cry out softly. His other hand slides into my hair and closes against my scalp, dragging my head back. His hips slam into me, and I see color for the first time in my life.

Beautiful, like a meadowlark rising dark against the golden sky.

Am I really supposed to give this up for Thomas Garrison?

There has to be another way to protect the farm. I can’t walk away now.

I can’t leave him.

I’m not the woman I was a month ago, and I never will be again. He made sure of that. I sank my teeth into the forbidden fruit. Now, I’m out of the garden, and I left with the snake.

But I know what it feels like to be alive.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WESTIN

My head is empty. The world shakes on its axis.

I pull from her and flip her body. She’s muddy, and I drag my fingers over her stomach, drawing patterns in the dirt on her skin. My handprint is on her breast. She cries out softly, her hazy eyes on the blue sky as I push back inside.

Her hips are loose, her legs spread.

She wants it.

And God, I want it too.

I grip her upper thigh, and something in her awakens. Her body tenses and her eyes flash. Her hand comes up, and her fingers dig into the back of my neck.

Her hips rise to meet mine, and they collide in a shower of sparks. We’re both panting, rutting our bodies together in the dirt, streaked with mud, desperate to be so close that we can never untangle ourselves.

I slam into the soft resistance of her cervix. I’m too big for her, but I don’t care. My hips stay there, grinding. My sweat drips onto her face, but she doesn’t brush it away. Her body shakes, and I grind harder.

Then, she comes, crying out loud enough that it scares the birds from the trees above us in a dark flurry. Her cunt tightens, working me from base to tip. Pleasure comes in a rush, and I can’t stop it. My head is empty, my dick doing all the talking.

Her eyes widen.

My hips rut harder, fucking, chasing my orgasm. She’s soaked, she’s willing, but more than that, she’s mine.

Now seems like a good time to finally consummate that statement.

The last thrust is the sweetest. It tastes like lightning in my teeth and heaven in my groin. Our bodies meet, and I can’t bite back my groan as I’m washed away.

She moans, and I come hard, emptying everything I have into her pussy.

No condom in sight.

We both go still. Breathless, I disengage my hips and fall onto my back, pulling her muddy body into mine. She shakes like a leaf. I run my hand over her back, and the mud that’s starting to dry there crumbles.

I kiss her forehead.

“Diane,” I whisper.

She pushes herself onto her elbow. Her dark eyes are soft. Her lower lip is a little bloody—she must have bit it at some point. I bend and kiss her, tasting metal.

“Let’s wash up,” I say.

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