Page 51 of Eight Seconds to Ride

Clearing my throat, I wet my lips, trying to get my pulse under control. “Y-you’ve seemed upset for a few days now. Wanna talk about it?”

Shooter sniggers, his gaze following the pad of his finger as it descends even further, circling around my navel before dipping inside. “How would you know? You’ve been ignoring me since we got back into town.”

Rearing back, I ask, “How have I been ignoring you? We haven’t been in the same space since we got home, and the one brief time we were, you said hi and I said it back. Hardly call that ignoring you, Shooter.”

He shrugs lazily. “Could’ve texted me, but you didn’t.”

“Because we text so much normally,” I deadpan. “And even if we did, could you blame me for not? You were a huge dick on our way home. But I’m here now if you want to talk.”

“No,” he replies. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

It’s an effort to not roll my eyes right in his face. Leave it to Shooter to corner me in my own room, only to shut me down. Dragging in a deep breath, I exhale before trying again. “W-what, uh…” Jesus Christ, his hands and those laser focused eyes on my body have my mind short-circuiting. “You sure? I’m, uh, a great listener.”

I’m a great listener? Really, Sterling?

Lip ticking up in the most sultry smirk I think I’ve ever seen, his eyes slowly raise from my abdomen up to meet mine, walking us backward until my back hits the wall right beside the huge barn window that overlooks the backyard. “You wanna know what I want?” he asks, gravel lacing his words, giving me a pretty good idea of what it is he actually wants.

Yet, still, I nod, watching him like there isn’t anything else on the planet I’d rather know than what it is hewantsright now.

Leaning in, Shooter brings his body flush with mine as I suck in a breath. His gaze alternates between my mouth and my eyesfor a moment before bringing his lips right next to my ears. “I want to forget about everything for a little bit while I lose myself inside of you.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for any type of response from me. Bringing his thumb and index finger up to grip my chin, he turns my face toward his, fusing our lips together in the next breath. Tongue plunging into my mouth, he curls it around mine, stroking urgently. Whiskey and desire fill my senses as he floods my taste buds, his hand coming down from my chin to wrap around my throat. Squeezing my pulse point lightly, I feel him smile against my lips when he feels how fast it’s beating for him.

“I got you nervous, dirty boy?” Shaking my head, that only makes his smirk grow wider. He knows I’m lying. “Your heart’s racing a mile a minute, but your dick is hard as stone against mine.” To emphasize his point, Shooter reaches between us, palming my length where it’s sitting against my thigh. This time, the groan slips out before I can stop it, the feel of his grip around me electric. Skillful fingers work my jeans open before he shoves them down until they pool at my ankles. Giving my dick a slow, lazy tug, his eyes lift, meeting mine, his pupils blown. “Turn around,” he orders me. “Hands on the wall.”

My mind stalls for half a second before I kick into gear and do as he says. As soon as my palms are flat against the wall, his hands come up, groping and spreading the globes of my ass. Leaning in, letting out a sound that can only be described as a growl, Shooter says, “You got such a nice ass, man. Anyone ever told you that before?”

Heat blooms on my cheeks as his compliment washes over me. I shake my head.

“That’s a damn shame,” he replies, nipping at the skin of my lobe. “An ass this fucking nice should be praised on the daily.”

The loss of his body heat has me tossing a glance over my shoulder, where I see him drop to his knees. My heart ratespeeds up, my palms starting to sweat. “No, no!” My attempts at moving away are unsuccessful when he pins my hips to the wall with his firm grip. “I haven’t showered yet today. I was helping Conrad with the horses this morning, and helping my mom this afternoon. You don’t want to do that.”

His smirk almost looks devious as he peers up at me from his knees, hands spreading me open. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, baby.” Good God, his voice is dripping with lust. “I want all of your sweat, your flavor, your everything. I want my senses drowning in you. The more seasoned, the better.”

With that, he dives in, and my legs tremble on contact. The flat of his tongue laves across my taint, licking a hot, wet stripe up the length of my crease. I choke out the most embarrassing sound, but I don’t even care. His mouth on me feels too good.

Shooter feasts on me like a starving man, the noises coming from him as he licks and sucks and nips sound downright animalistic. It’s more than clear he’s enjoying himself just as much as I am, and that fact turns me on so much more. I gasp when he slips a finger into my hole, alongside his tongue, the stretch minimal but still a shock. After a few moments, he pulls out, tapping my hip with his hand.

“Turn around. I want your cock in my mouth too.”

When I spin around, he quickly shoves my back into the wall. My dick is painfully hard, and I practically yelp when he sucks the tip into his mouth. Tongue twirling around, he has my entire body thrumming with need for him. A need for him to take me deeper. A need for him to put his hands back on me—backinme.

In the back of my mind, I’m hyperaware of the window right next to me. The window that overlooks the backyard…where nearly everybody is. It’s a large, floor-to-ceiling arch window that I know from experience can be seen from down below. While we aren’t directly in front of it, I have no doubt that ifsomeone were to look up here, they’d seesomething, I just don’t know what.

Shooter grabs my right leg, tossing it over his shoulder as he sinks down, taking more of my length into his mouth. His tongue continues to tease along the underside, driving me absolutely wild. Dark, hooded eyes look up at me from beneath his lashes, and without breaking eye contact or halting his movement, he slips a finger into his mouth, right beside my dick, getting it nice and slippery wet before pulling it out and skirting behind my balls, along my taint, until the pad of his finger is circling my hole. The leg not wrapped around his shoulder shakes as he slips the tip of his finger inside, breaching the muscle.

“Oh, Christ, Shooter,” I gasp, my hand going to the top of his head, holding on to him like an anchor as he works me over from both ends. Simultaneously, he inches more of his finger into my channel while he sinks lower on my dick until I’m seated in his throat. Swallowing around the tip, I throw my head back, crying out at the sensation of him constricting around me. Everything feelstoo much.

My hips start moving of their own volition, thrusting into his mouth and pushing back onto his finger, the need to come intensifying when he crooks the finger inside of me, hitting my prostate. He does it over, and over, and over until I swear I’m seeing stars. Until I’m sure I can’t hold on any longer.

“Oh, God…Shooter.” My voice cracks as I moan his name, his eyes gleaming, full of unshed tears as he glances up at me. His eyes on me, in addition to everything else he’s doing, are like a sensory overload in the very best way. Heat pools in my groin, tingles spreading to every part of my body as he works me closer to the finish line. “Don’t stop,” I beg, brows clashed together. “Don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna come.”

Shooter’s finger drags across my prostate one more time as his throat closes around me, and I’m done for. The pressurebuilds and builds until a dam breaks, and I spill into his mouth, a loud hoarse cry falling from my lips as I ride the wave. My orgasm feels like it goes on forever, and Shooter takes every last drop, milking me for all that I have. My legs are so weak, it’s a miracle I’m standing at all.

Standing up, Shooter boxes me in against the wall, crashing his mouth down on mine. He thrusts into my mouth, my cum still on his tongue as he caresses mine, letting me taste myself. I moan, bringing a hand up to wrap around the back of his neck while my other cups him over his jeans. He’s so hard for me, and I love that. I stroke his denim-clad cock for a few moments, before working his belt buckle open. As soon as I get it open and move to work on his button and zipper, someone calls out for me, sending ice through my veins.

“Sterling!” The voice is coming from Daisy, and I freeze. “You up there?”

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