Page 38 of Claimed By the Cowboys

I want to kiss her, and her no-kissing rule is driving me absolutely fucking wild.

I shouldn’t take her like this, bent over the kitchen island. Part of my brain, the part that’s a chef, is screaming at me for doing this. The other part of my brain, though, remembers that everything can be bleached enough to be clean again. But I might never have the chance to fuck Piper in the kitchen again.

I can hear either Brent or Dalton fucking around outside. Piper clearly can, too, and she’s a little freaked out by the idea. But when I tell her that they could join, she likes it. Because her sweet pussy contracts around me.

I grin. “You want that, Piper?”

“I… Um…”

I press further, her body welcoming me inch by fucking inch. “You want us to share you? To have all three of us show you how fucking sexy we think you are? To show you how you deserve to be fucking worshipped?”

“Tate,” she moans.

I know, baby. I fucking know.

Slowly, I start to drive my hips into her. She’s still standing somewhat upright, but I need to deepen the angle.

I’m not going to last long, and I need her to come before I do.

Gently, I press on the center of Piper’s back, and she leans down. Her breasts hit the cool, flour-covered island, and she shivers. It makes her squeeze me again, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself from exploding right now.

“God damn, Piper,” I manage to grunt. “You’re so fucking good. You feel so fucking good, wrapped around me.”

She whimpers again, and I know that she likes to hear how she makes me feel.

Slowly, I start to pump in and out of her. I grab her hips for stability, giving myself an anchor as I work my cock in and out of her body. If I look down, I can see where we’re joined. Where she’s taking me so fucking well. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my entire life.

“You take me so well, baby. I bet you took Dalton well, too. You were made for me. Made for us,” I emphasize.

She gives a little cry, her nails scrabbling paths through the remnants of the flour on the island.

Oh, yeah. She definitely likes that.

“I think you want one of them to walk in, Piper,” I purr, hitting a rhythm that’s going to send me over the fucking edge. “I think you want one of them to come through the door and see you, laid out, covered in flour, covered in my handprints. You want them to come in, and when I’m done, they can fuck you right after. Fill you up again,” I moan.

Okay. The image is just as fucking hot to me as it is to her, and I can feel the orgasm building at the edge of my awareness.

Time to make Piper come, because I’m not gonna fucking make it.

I adjust slightly, knocking her legs further apart, and one of my hands drifts down to her clit. Piper is gasping as I pick up the pace, and the sound of my heavy balls slapping against her perfect ass fills the kitchen.

“We can make that happen, Piper,” I growl. “We can do anything that you fucking want. I’ll fill you up so that we can have a fucking baby. And then Dalton and Brent can do the same fucking thing, until you’re dripping with our seed,” I rasp.

Holy hell. Under my hands, Piper’s body shakes. She lets out a cry, and she gasps my name. Then, I can feel her squeezing me.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

My hand goes back to her hip, and I slam into her, my movements chaotic as I try to fight against the squeezing of her body. Finally, my orgasm rips through me, and I shove deep inside her, her body taking every last fucking drop that I have as I come harder than I have ever in my fucking life.

My legs are shaking. My hands feel like they’re going to lose grip on Piper, but I can’t do that. I think she might literally fall if I do.

We stand there for a second, breathing. I make sure to support her, moving an arm to hold her up at her waist. She shivers.

“Piper?” I ask, worried that something is wrong.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

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