Page 77 of Thornhill Road

“Baby, we’re out,” he called from the door.

I glanced his way and nodded, then looked to Bull once more.

He didn’t exactly strike me as a man who doled out hugs, but I couldn’t help it. What he’d just given me was huge. Without second guessing myself, I took two quick steps toward him, wrapped my arms around him in a quick hug, then hurried for my man.

I didn’t look back, but I was sure I hadn’t imagined the low, soft rumble of his endearing laugh.

“What was that about?” asked Mustang as I reached for his hand.

“Just saying thanks. Come on—that cardio worked up my appetite.”

He looked back at his brothers from over my head, squeezed my hand, and then we were gone.

We had steak, potatoes, and roasted broccoli for dinner.

Like everything Mustang cooked, it was delicious.

Soon after I helped him clean up the kitchen, we were on his hog.

We rode west for nearly an hour, making it all the way to the next town over before he turned around and pointed us home.

When he pulled into his garage, I was buzzing from my road high and aching for my man.

I thought for sure we were on the same page when, after we both dismounted, he leaned down, shoved his shoulder into my belly and hoisted me off of my feet, carrying me all the way to his bed.

But I was wrong.

We weren’t on the same page.

His page was better.

Waybetter.

He laid me down gently across his mattress, making room for himself between my legs before he kissed me. He worked my mouth so well for so long, I thought I might come out of my skin if he didn’t touch me. I moaned and tried to work him out of his kutte, but he caught my hands and pinned them to the bed.

Finally breaking our kiss, he gave me his eyes—vibrant and smoldering—and asked, “You on the pill?”

My sex clenched and I shivered at the promise held in that one question.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Been a month since I got checked, but you’re the only pussy I’ve fucked since—that good enough for you?”

I was aching for him already, but now I was all but trembling with need, and I couldn’t manage more than a nod.

That was all the answer he needed.

“Don’t move,” he demanded before he stood.

I watched as he stripped himself naked, squirming impatiently when I saw how hard he was for me already. He’d never mademe wait to have him after a ride, and I could feel my arousal leaking out of me as I endured this slow torture.

Then he started undressing me. He took his time, exploring every inch of skin he uncovered with his hands and his lips.

That’s when I knew—his page was better.

Waybetter.

When he finally sank himself inside of me, the only reason I didn’t start crying was because I needed him too much. I was more turned on than I thought possible and blinded by desire.

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