Page 19 of Wild Horses

Giving an inch, War licks his lips with the grin of a manconfident in what he’s bringing to the table, tugs his boxer briefs down, and frees his cock from the confines of its cotton prison.

It’s a gorgeous cock, just like its owner. War strides toward me, wearing nothing but his watch and a smile as he strokes the thick, veiny length. He moves forward until his chest is against mine, leaving the hot heat of him pinned between us. The faint sensation of dampness trails on my stomach. The overwhelming need to touch him, taste him, feel him has me reaching between our bodies. I glide my hand over his cock, scarcely touching him, before flirting with the type of pressure that will make him fall apart.

“Such a tease.” He croaks the words and tips his head before snapping his greedy gaze to my tits. His long fingers skate over my sides, then higher, until they stop to trace slow circles around my pebbled nipples. “So beautiful.”

Reaching around him, I snag my discarded hat. With a coy pout, I say, “You’re too tall for me to put it on you from there.” We both know it isn’t true, but I want to see what he’ll do. If he’ll concede control once more.

My blood turns to molten honey, and my hat falls from my hands—completely forgotten—when he sinks to his knees. Petal-soft kisses flutter over my sternum and stomach, brushing my hips and the sides of my thighs. Then he buries his nose into the lacy material of my panties.

“You want to take these off?”

Gripping his hair, I tilt his head, guiding him to look up at me. “I want you to.”

“Fuck. You’ve already got me kneeling.” But he hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties and tugs them down my legs. When they pool at my feet, I widen my stance, giving him a better view of, well, everything.

“Now what?” I swear I can feel the tension in his whispered words.

“Now, I want you to be a good boy and make me come.”

Whatever thread of control was balancing between us snaps, and War wraps his arms around my thighs and rushes to stand. He takes two tottering steps before dropping me onto the mattress, the springs creaking beneath our weight. Then, like I’m water at the end of a twelve-hour workday in one hundred-degree temps, his mouth is on me.

A pained groan rumbles against my clit. “Laramie.”

The way he moans my name sends a fresh wave of arousal to my core, and I must be flooding his mouth. War pants against me, the warmth sending waves of desire crashing over me. He sucks my lower lips, then thrusts his tongue into me, mimicking the rhythm of his hips against the mattress.

It’s a whirl of sensations: hot licks, grazing teeth, soothing kisses. Then he slips a single finger into my pussy. One quickly becomes two, and when he curls his fingers, pressing against the magical spot inside me, I let my baser instincts take over.

My walls contract around his fingers, and he lets out another needy moan. “I’ll be your good boy,” he promises against my pussy. “But only if you come all over my face.”

The warring sensations of his talented tongue tracing figure-eights around my clit and his nimble fingers combating for supremacy inside me push me to the brink. A delicious jolt surges through my body, and I cry out as I come, stars bursting behind my eyes.

War gentles two more kisses to my clit, then nuzzles his lips and messy chin against my inner thigh. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

I fling an arm over my eyes and smile into the crook of my elbow. “Even better than the steak fingers and tequila?” I bask in his responding laugh like it’s the sun.

“Yeah, sweetheart, way better.”

My stomach flutters at the sincerity in his words, along with a heaping dose of guilt. Am I really going to walk out on this man?

On one side, I have Dr. Panter’s advice about focusing while I’m in PT. My goals. My plans. On the other is a connection I never expected. Turmoil coils through me like a snake slithering for shelter.

But then War rests his head on my stomach and trails a hand up my side, banishing all those worries and leaving lust and a much deeper longing behind.

Embracing the emotions, I lift War’s face and swoop my lips over his before sneaking my tongue between them. With a soft nip, I say, “I promised to ride you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He grunts when I give him a playful shove so I can climb off the bed and find my jeans. Snagging the slim pack of condoms from my pocket, I saunter back to him. “You ready for this?”

A dark growl rumbles from his throat, and he scrambles to lie on the bed. As soon as he’s settled, I’m astride him, legs spread wide over his hips. He’s so sexy, his hair rumpled, his pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed.

I stroke his cock, my thumb swiping the bead of pre-cum at his crown, bringing it to my mouth. With a whimper, I suck his flavor from my skin. “Are you ready?” I repeat. What I mean is, are you sure? Do you really want me?

He nods, digging his fingers into my hips.

“Say it. I want to hear you.”

“I’m so fucking ready, Laramie. And so are you. You’re dripping for me.”

I yank open the condom and roll it down his length. Then, with a teasing grin, I rub my pussy against the flared head of his cock, not taking him in. Not yet. Instead, I tease us both,lowering myself so that just the tip broaches my slit before rising up and away.

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