Page 65 of Branded By the Cowboy

Afterward, we climb the narrow stairs to our room. The key is old-fashioned brass and weighty. The room is even better—planked wood walls, wide windows, a bed big enough to roll around in, and soft lamplight casting golden shadows. It smells like cedar and clean linen with a trace of woodsmoke from the stove downstairs, and we stand there and breathe it in for a minute.

Luna kicks off her boots and flops onto the bed with a sigh. “I could stay here forever.”

I toe off mine and stretch out beside her. “We’ve got two nights.”

“That enough time to make a dent in your plans?”

I roll over and brace one arm above her head. “Guess we’ll find out.”

She reaches for me first, fingers sliding under my shirt. I groan low in my throat as she drags her hands up my chest, nails scratching enough to wake up every nerve.

“You planned this,” she says, kissing the corner of my mouth. “You brought me here. Fed me. Bribed me with beer.”

“Mmhm.”

“And now?”

I reach down, cup the back of her knee, and slide her leg around my waist. Her skin is like hot satin, hot against my palm. “Now I show you how much I love being married to you.”

But Luna surprises me.

She pushes me back, eyes glittering. Climbing into my lap, she straddles me, anchoring her hands on my shoulders. Then she kisses me—fierce and hungry like she’s still starving and I’m her favorite meal.

“Let me,” she whispers against my lips, already working at the buttons of my shirt. “You always take care of me. Let me take care of you.”

God.

I stop breathing.

She peels my shirt open, palms sliding over my chest like she’s claiming every inch of skin. My cock is already straining in my jeans, but I don’t rush her. I can’t. I’m caught in the way she looks at me—eyes dark and full of heat, her need raw and reverent.

Her hands go to my belt. She unbuckles it, popping the button and dragging the zipper down so fucking slowly it’s torture. My hips twitch, and she grins wickedly. Knowingly. My jeans and boxers are shoved down enough to free me, my cock flushed and straining, heavy in her hand.

“I’ve thought about this,” she says huskily. “About what you taste like. How you’d sound when I made you fall apart.”

Jesus.

“You like teasing me?” I growl, fisting the sheets beside me as her lips brush my tip.

“I like owning you,” she murmurs.

Then she wraps her lips around the head and slides me into her mouth.

My head slams against the pillows.

Fuuuck.

Her mouth is everything—wet, hot, skilled. She’s not shy about it either. She moans as she takes me deeper, using her tongue to draw slow circles while her hand strokes the base. She’s devouring me like she’s memorizing every inch.

“God, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good,” I pant, my hand threading into her hair. “You were made for this. You look so fucking pretty with your lips around my cock.”

She hums at that—low and pleased—and the vibration tears through me. She adjusts her angle, and suddenly, I’m hitting the back of her throat.

“Shit, Luna,” I groan, hips jerking. “You keep going, I’m gonna come down your throat.”

She flattens her hand on my stomach, holding me down as she releases me with apop.

“Not yet,” she says, voice thick with control. “I’m not done with you.”

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