Page 55 of Wrangled Up

“Damn, I can’t hold back for long.”

Her body gripped him harder in response. He became attuned to her rasping breaths but wanted more.

“Cry out if it feels good, sweetheart.”

A low mew broke from her. Not enough.

He ground his cock against her womb.

A long moan spiraled from her.

Jerking out, he hesitated before plunging back into her long enough to make her squirm. He slid his fingers into her wet heat and gathered all of her cream.

With an abrupt shove, he filled her with his cock again even as he circled her rim with his damp fingers.

She cried out and shoved against him.

“Like that, do you?” he growled in her ear.

He eased a finger into her ass, past the muscular ring that barely gave him resistance. She was ready, so ready.

When he was buried balls and knuckle deep, she loosed a tremulous cry that splintered the silence.

“Fuck, yessss. You want him. You want both of us.”

“Yes,” she whimpered.

He plunged his finger in and out of her ass. “As long as the stars burn, he’ll be between us. He gave us this.” He churned his hips, twisting his cock in her tight sheath.

“As long as the stars burn,” she echoed.

He lost himself to sensation. The need to pour his seed into her tight little body stole all control, and he pounded into her.

She came apart. Her pucker clenched and released his finger even as her pussy grew as tight as a hot glove. Her hoarse scream triggered a violent spasm in his core. With a barely contained bellow, he unloaded. Spurt after spurt left his swollen cock even as his heart seemed to pour out into her.

Lashing her body to his, he whispered hotly into her ear, “Come on me, sweetheart. Don’t stop until you’ve given me everything.”

A final shudder ripped through her. She turned her head to the side, bringing her lips up against his. He brushed his mouth over hers gently, back and forth as the last remnants of his release tingled through his system.

“Christian,” she whispered. Her eyes were closed and a light dew spangled her hairline and throat. The sun beamed down from the high windows and vents, bathing her in a golden glow.

His nymph. Glorious girl.

Was she truly his, though? Or was he a stand-in for Tucker? No, she’d admitted she wanted them both. If Claire was anything, it was honest.

He pulled out of her body and dealt with his condom, dropping it into the trash amongst the old feed and a few soda cans. By the time he turned to her again, she’d wiggled her skirt down her hips and was seated on the hay bale, knees together and ankles splayed.

When he neared, she crooked a finger at him. The tenderness in her eyes was unmistakable.

In two long strides, he reached her. Plucking her off the hay bale, he sat and tucked her on his lap. She locked her arms around him and he hooked a finger in the belt loop of her denim skirt, tethering her to him.

Emotion warred inside him. If Tucker came home, he could lose Claire. But all he wanted was for his friend to return. It wasn’teven possible to orgasm without Tucker’s face flashing in his mind’s eye. They were all irrevocably connected.

She settled in the cage of his arms. Her head rested in the crook of his neck, and her curls teased his jaw.

Her voice cracked the silence. “I’m growing attached to you.”

He smiled against the top of her head.You couldn’t pry me away from you.“Mmm. What does that mean?”

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