Page 53 of Careless Hope

As his touch grew bolder, tracing the outline of my collarbone, there was a reverence in his actions that made me feelcherished. Not like the inexperienced woman I saw myself as, but as someone who deserved to be explored and discovered. The heat from his fingertips seemed to seep into my skin, lighting paths of fire that pulsed in time with my racing pulse.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight and searching mine for any sign of discomfort.

But discomfort was galaxies away from what I was feeling. Each stroke of his hand awakened parts of me that had lain dormant, unacknowledged by anyone else’s touch. There was no rush in his movements; it was as though he understood the weight of this moment—the shedding of old insecurities and the slow build of something new.

I could see the patience in him, the same kind he’d need for training a young colt, guiding it with a firm yet gentle hand. My body responded to him with an eagerness that surprised me, each new caress eliciting a soft gasp or a shiver that only encouraged him further.

“Good?” he asked, his voice husky as his fingers traced lower, mapping the curve of my waist before venturing to the dip of my hip.

“More than good,” I whispered back, my words getting lost in the thickening air that now seemed to buzz with energy. His touch was skilled, yes, but it was also exploratory, as if we were on this journey together, learning the language of my desire note by note.

The rhythm of our breaths became a duet, rising and falling with the intensity of our movements. His hands, those of a ranch hand seasoned by labor and love for the land, roamed with a surprising gentleness over the landscape of my skin. He undressed me, touching, kissing, licking his way over my body and I didn’t think I’d ever felt anything more decadent.

“Caroline,” Walker’s voice was a low drawl, riding each exhale, “you okay?”

“More than,” I managed to reply, my voice quivering like the leaves on the old oak out by the paddock on a windy day. In this small town where my life had come full circle, I never imagined finding myself here, with him, feeling like the heroine in the novels I’d been devouring.

Walker’s movements grew more deliberate, but soon he stopped altogether. I opened my eyes to find him ripping his clothes off and sheathing himself in a condom.

“You ready for this, darlin’?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He climbed on top of me, his hard cock throbbing between us.

“Lift your legs up. That’s good.” He reached down and touched me, teasing his fingers in and out of me. “God, this pussy is so wet for me, isn’t it? You’re ready for my cock.”

That wasn’t a question. I was.

“I’m gonna give it to you nice and slow at first. Get you used to my size, okay?”

“Okay.” I’d known Walker was on the larger end of the spectrum, but I hadn’t stopped to consider it might hurt. But as he pushed inside me, it didn’t hurt. I felt a deep pressure, a moment of shock as he filled me in a way I’d never experienced. But as he started backing out again, as he started moving his hips, I gasped at the pleasure of it.

“Oh my god, this feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yes.”

“Good. Wrap your legs around me.”

I did, and felt him sink in even deeper.

The pleasure was electrifying, a strange mix of fullness andemptiness, as though he was both filling me and leaving a void at the same time. It was an odd sensation, one that I couldn’t quite put into words. I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me, letting the rhythm of his movements become my own.

Walker’s hands cupped my face, pulling me into a deep, passionate kiss. Our tongues danced together, each movement mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts. I felt as though my entire world was composed of nothing but him and the pulsing of his thrusts, my body arching to meet him each time he pulled out and then plunged back inside.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.

“Keep going,” I breathed, surprised at my own boldness. My hands found the firm muscles of his back, tracing the lines of strength and resilience that had been carved from years of shouldering responsibility. I dug my fingernails into his skin on instinct.

“Goddamn,” he grunted, thrusting harder. “This pussy feels so fucking good. Keep moving your hips like that. Fuck, just like that.”

He kept going, bringing me closer and closer to the edge, then held off pushing me over, switching positions to show me something new. He took me from behind, he fucked me up against the wall, he rested my legs on his shoulders and drove into me so deeply, I almost couldn’t breathe.

And every single moment was heaven.

Soon, he reached his hand down to circle my clit as he thrusted over and over. I felt myself getting close, and I knew he was too from the stiffening of his muscles and the way his movements became erratic.

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