Page 47 of Branded By the Cowboy

“I’m yours,” I whisper. “Always.”

He sinks in deep and slow, every inch a stretch that makes my head fall back with a cry. “Oh, God…”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel like a dream. So hot. So wet. You were made for me, Luna.”

I wrap my legs around him as he bottoms out, his cock buried so deep I swear I can feel him prodding one of my kidneys.

“You make me feel so full,” I whisper, shaking beneath him. “So safe. I never want to leave this bed.”

“Youwon’t,” he growls, cupping my face. “You’re mine. You hear me? My wife. My home.”

Then he moves. Long, deep strokes that make the headboard knock against the wall and tear moans from my throat.

“You hear yourself?” he murmurs, voice rough. “All those little sounds aremusic. That whimper right there—that’s my favorite.”

I dig my nails into his back. “Harder. Please.”

He growls like an animal and slams into me, faster now, sweat slicking his chest, his eyes locked on mine like he needs to watch me come.

“You close, love? Need to feel you squeeze my cock while I’m deep inside. Need to come with you. Fill you, claim you all over again.”

“Yes,” I sob. “Please, Angus. Don’t stop.”

But he does, the bastard.

I moan in frustration when he pulls out of me, unannounced and swift.

He flips me onto my stomach. “Hands and knees, Luna.”

I bite my lip but do as he orders, positioning my body as he watches.

“Like this?” I whisper, looking at him over my shoulder.

“Perfect,” he growls, his throat bobbing on a swallow. “So fucking perfect.”

I flush, pleased. My eyes drop to his cock, shimmering with my slickness. He doesn’t leave me aching for long, kneeling behind me.

“Ooooh!” I cry out as he slides inside me. Deep. Deeper than before.

“Okay?” Angus rasps behind me. “Too much?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s good. So good.”

He grips my hips harder, slowly withdrawing and thrusting forward again as he pulls my hips back. Our flesh makes a loud slapping noise as he plunges deep.

“Angus!”

With his name on my lips, he drives into my body. Again. Again. My breath grows ragged as I clench around him, little moans huffing from my throat with each punch of his hips.

“Mine,” Angus growls. “My wife.”

It feels so right because we were always meant for this.

“Tell me,” my husband demands. “Tell me you’re mine. That you’ll never leave me.”

I hear the vulnerability in his voice. I know what he’s asking. Not justAre you mine?ButWill you stay when it gets hard? Will you stay when I’m fighting my way out of the darkness?

“Yours,” I pant, my arms shaking as I turn my head to meet his eyes. “Always.”

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