Page 26 of Branded By the Cowboy

“Angus…” It’s a whisper. A plea.

I look up, watching the way she bites her lip and tries not to shake.

“Let me,” I say.

Luna nods. “Yes. Please.”

I part the glistening folds of her sex with my fingers, growling as she digs her fingers into my hair. Spearing my tongue through her folds, I lick her center.

“Divine,” I rasp, licking her again. And again.

I curl my tongue around her clit, lapping and laving before wriggling the tip of my tongue inside her tight sheath.

“Angus,” Luna groans, meeting my eyes.“Please.”

“Don’t worry, my little runaway,” I grunt against her slick entrance. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Gripping her hips, I pull her toward me until no space remains between my mouth and her quivering flesh. And I suckle her clit. Hard.

She cries out—sharp and sweet—and her hips arch off the hay. I anchor her with my hands and don’t stop. I find a rhythm, patient and precise, like I’ve waited a lifetime to learn what makes her fall apart.

And when she does—when she explodes in my mouth, fingers fisting the hay, breath catching on my name—I hold her through every second of it.

“Oh, God, it’s too much,” she moans, twitching and moaning as she comes down.

I place a final kiss on her clit before sliding up her body to claim her mouth, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

Her arms curl around my neck, eyes dazed and glowing. I brush her hair back from her face, pressing my forehead to hers. We breathe the same air for a beat. Two. Then her hand slides down, slow and curious, brushing over the hard line of my cock through my jeans.

I still her with a hand on her wrist.

“Do you, um, need… relief?” Her cheeks are flushed, her voice still rough from the moans I dragged from her,

My mouth lifts at one corner. “No.”

She blinks. “Seriously?”

I nod once. “Tonight was about you.”

“But—”

I hush her with another kiss. “You’ve given me more than you know.”

It’s the truth. I don’t need anything more than this right now. The taste of her still on my lips. The way she’s looking at me like I’m someone she trusts not to let her fall.

I help her dress again, buttoning her jeans and tugging her shirt over her shoulders with care. Then I shrug off my jacket, wrap it around her, and settle us beneath the wool blanket we keep in the tack trunk.

Luna tucks her face against my chest, one hand curled at my stomach, her breathing already slowing. “You’re warm.”

“Good thing, since I'm your personal heater for the night.”

She snorts, sleepy and satisfied. “You’re very smug for a man who just said no to a hand job.”

“Was that what you were offering? I thought you were checking for a pulse.”

“Oh, there was a pulse.” She laughs huskily. “Abigpulse.”

I smirk. “We don’t do small in Montana, sweetheart.”

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