Page 57 of Strawberry Moon

His hands fisted in my shirt, and he was halfway to pushing me back. I rocked onto my heels, searching his cloudy eyes for any sign of hesitation.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight. We can take it slow as you want. I’ll even drive you ba—”

“Shut up.” He dragged me in for another kiss, sharp with his teeth as he tugged on my bottom lip.

I groaned. If he was mad at me for being an ass before, that wasn’t any kind of punishment I minded.

“Can we? Can we fuck? Tonight. I mean, for real. Like, you want me?”

I grinned against his lips. “Sweetheart, I want you like the anvil wants a hammer. Hot and hard and always. You wanna go inside?” Barbara and Henrik were probably asleep, and we could be quiet. Sneak inside and upstairs and muffle any sounds we made.

Archer’s eyes turned up toward the loft above us. He bit the corner of his lip and shrugged. “The house is quite a walk up the drive.”

My heart lurched in my chest. “Yeah, I guess it is. We could stay here.” I pulled on his tucked-in shirt and slipped my fingers under it to brush the smooth, warm skin of his hip. I wanted him there, in my arms. Not because his heat or because money, but because my Archer had a good heart, and I wanted to show him how careful I was going to be with it from now on.

His breath hitched. “That’d be okay. This once.”

I laughed, brushing my lips across his forehead. “Okay. But next time, we’re really gonna have to invest in a bed, you and me. You’ll have to tell me what kind you like. We’ll set it up somewhere special.”

Because as much as I loved Barbara and Henrik, Archer deserved a place of his own. Me too. That didn’t make the Hills any less family.

Archer scoffed, but it didn’t matter to me how much money he had. I was going to take care of him. If I was lucky, he might even like it sometimes.

I helped him up to the loft, the freshly cleaned blankets over my shoulder from the horses that winter. It was time to put them away, but they’d get just a little more use first.

When I laid them out and crawled into the center on my knees, I held out my arms for him. He practically melted into the circle of them, his sweet kisses brushing my lips, my cheeks, every bit of me he could reach as we pulled each other’s clothes off.

I didn’t know how a man got so damn pretty as Archer Sterling, but I wasn’t going to complain when he let me scoop him up and flip him over. On his back, his cheeks went bright red. I kissed each of them before working a trail down his squirming body.

“What are you doing?” he asked breathily, wiggling so much I had to hold his hips still in both hands.

“Admiring the view.”

I sat back on my heels, rubbing my hands over his thighs, kneading the full, firm muscles there. I spread them apart, slipping my hands between them, running my fingers up and up.

I weighed his balls in my hands, the soft, downy red curls tickling the heel of my palm as I lifted them.

“So fucking pretty,” I mumbled. Then, I parted my lips and sank down on his cock.

The blunt head hit the roof of my mouth. Slid back, spreading a bitter salt taste across my tongue.

I didn’t know if I was any good at this, really. I’d fumbled with men before, but only back when I was a kid. Who gave good head at fifteen, anyway?

But I wanted to give it to Archer. Only, I choked that first time. Pulling back, I coughed. My throat convulsed around nothing, my tongue smearing the sticky precome on the roof of my mouth.

“Ford?” Archer whined. His eyes were unfocused, his pupils blown so wide his eyes were dark.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” I held him steady and tried again, ravenous for him. I wanted him in every inch of me.

This time, when he hit the back of my throat, I breathed deep through my nose, ignored the watering of my eyes, and swallowed. I swallowed around the tip, and sank.

With a cry, Archer came off the padding under him, thrusting deep. Gagging, I pulled back, but that wasn’t enough. I suckled the tip with my lips, working my tongue into his slit while he trembled.

Once I relaxed, I slid back down. Swallowed. Up and suckle.

I set a steady pace like that, rubbing his thighs, his balls, his stomach. Every part of him I could touch was mine, until he was writhing and nonsensical.

His hand slapped sharply on my shoulder. Again and again.

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