Page 56 of Braving the Storm
The snaking glide of his hand finds its way between my body and the mattress. He’s wrapped around me, just like those mornings I’ve woken up, with him blanketing my spine and one hand cupping my pussy.
The video on screen is silent; he’s muted the audio but leaves it on a looping clip of videos showing different rides across his career. I’ve watched this one several times before. It goes on for at least ten minutes. A compilation of slow-motion footage showcasing every single powerful and breathtaking detail of the cowboy at my back.
“Tell me, darlin’… is that what you’re wanting? The famous bull rider? The starStôrmand Laneto fuck you and be done with you like some nameless buckle bunny desperate for a chance to taste my cock?”
A gasp escapes me at the coarseness of his words, mixed with the tightness of his fingers pressed against my pussy, the heel of his palm cupping me in a possessive hold. It’s the perfect position to add pressure to my clit, but he’s teasing me with wicked words and refuses to move his hand.
“I—I don’t know.” My hips shift involuntarily, and another whimpering noise comes out of me.
“Watch that screen. I know you want to. Because you’re in here at night watching these videos… so you’d better tell me, are you getting yourself off imagining what it would be like?”
I grind harder against his fingers. On my phone screen he’s all strength and agility and fearlessness. Leaner, thanks to his youth and peak athleticism, but no less impressive. Behind me that same man, only older and more hardened by life, is even hotter, more desirable.
Pure temptation and forbidden fruit I so desperately wish could drip all over my tongue and run like nectar straight down my throat.
I feel like my brain and body are tearing apart, nothing more than a shredded piece of paper.
“We can’t—This can’t happen.” Biting down on my lip hardly suppresses the moan as I hump his fingers and seek out that coiled, spiral winding tighter inside me.
“You think I don’t fucking know that.” His lips brush my ear before his nose drags over that same spot. The heat of his palm grips both my wrists tighter, and his body shifts over the top of mine. I catch another glimpse of those rings, of his leather cuff up close, and my pussy ripples with being so near to the edge of that release I’ve been chasing.
Oh god. Our bodies line up perfectly, and we’re grinding, writhing together on the mattress, fully clothed.
“Please.” My body is crying out, aching with the need for release. “I don’t want him.” I don’t want the man on the screen, or my date from earlier today. I want the gorgeous cowboy whose body drapes over mine from knees to hips, to strong arms holding me, to his mouth at my ear.
“Fuck, darlin’.” He grunts against my neck, and I let out an unholy noise. Did I just outright start pleading with him to slide my dress up and put us both out of our misery?
I try to turn my head away, to ignore the vision of him wrestling in an attempt to remain astride the massive bull on my phone screen until that buzzer sounds, but he won't allow it.
“Look at it darlin’. You want to watch? Then watch, while you grind that pretty little pussy on my hand and take what you need. Watch me ride that bull and imagine how it would feel for me to ride you.”
For how often I’ve imagined being at his mercy, it catches me entirely unprepared for the feel of this man actually being on top of me like this. The potent masculine scent, the heat, the rustle of sheets beneath us.
“Take what you need. Your sweet little cunt needs this, and fuck, I wish I could give you more, but you’re gonna have to be theone to take it. Use my fingers, and let me see how gorgeous you look when you come.”
The illicit fruit he dangles in front of me is too tempting, too ripe, and mouth-watering. The layers of material between us are so thin, it’s almost like I can feel every inch and vein of his hard cock. My fingers claw at the blankets beside my head, still pinned in his hold. Each needy, rapid roll of my hips draws in my climax. The roaring of blood in my ears and the rub of my hard nipples against the inside of my bra, it all combines and races up the climb to reach that perfect peak.
“Goddamn. This dress should be illegal.” He nips at my earlobe, teeth sharp and pinching, voice rough with arousal. “You want to know where I was tonight?”
A sobbing noise comes out of me, incoherent pleading and nodding against the blanket.
“I was trying to find every way I could to stop myself from tearing your clothes off you.”
He lowers his mouth closer still, pressing his heated lips and filling my senses with gritty, coarse words.
“Believe me, I wasn’t with anyone else, darlin’… so whether you want to imagine it’s me helping you get there, or if you need to pretend it’s that man you’ve been watching in those videos, I don’t fucking care, but you’re going to come for me right now.”
As he says those final words, he grinds his hips harshly against my ass, the soft fabric of his sweats and his rigid cock flatten me to the bed. Driving me onto his fingers, again and again, and that’s what tips me over the edge.
My orgasm floods my veins as my toes curl, and a low moan breaks out of me.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” I’m chanting, and my entire body clenches, my channel left feeling empty and so desperate to be filled, because this liquid pleasure would be so much more intense, a thousand brilliant pinpricks of light brighter and more tantalizing with his thick length stretching me.
“Fuck. Goddamn it, Briar.” Above me, I hear the unmistakablegrunt of intense frustration before a final savage thrust of his hips against my own. So forceful it knocks the air from my lungs.
I’m floating higher and out of my head, knowing that he nearly lost it with me because of that.
Because of what I do to him.
