Page 60 of Saddles and Snowstorms
I stopped dead in my tracks, my gaze finding his. “You kinky fucking slut,” I gasped. I leaned in close, kissing him hungrily. “That sounds hot as hell. What other kinks do you have hidden away behind those innocent brown eyes?”
He grinned, kissing me back. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”
His fingers curled inside me again, making me gasp and forget whatever clever retort I was about to make. Brooks watched my face intently as he worked me open, his own breathing ragged and uneven. The intensity in his eyes made me feel exposed in the best possible way—like he was seeing parts of me no one else ever had.
“Fuck,” I managed to get out between moans. “That feels so good, Brooks…”
“Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice gravelly in my ear as he worked his fingers against my prostate. His other hand stroked my cock, drawing sounds from my lips I didn’t know I could make. “Cum for me.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. With a broken cry, I came hard between us, my body tensing as pleasure crashed through me in waves. Brooks continued stroking me through it, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault on my prostate as my cum painted both our stomachs in hot streaks.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, staring down at me with something like awe in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Before I could catch my breath, he was gathering my release on his fingers, using it to slick his cock just like he’d promised. The sight alone was enough to keep me half-hard despite having just come.
“You ready for me?” he asked, positioning himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
I nodded, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Always,” I whispered, pulling him closer. “I’m yours.”
He pushed inside with agonizing slowness, giving me time to adjust to the stretch. His eyes never left mine, watching for any sign of discomfort. When he was fully seated, he stilled, his arms trembling with the effort of holding back.
“I want you,” I urged, rolling my hips. “I want all of you.”
Brooks let out a groan that seemed to come from deep in his chest,his hips snapping forward with sudden urgency. The slow, tender pace he’d set disappeared as need overtook him, replaced by something primal and desperate.
“Fuck,” he growled, one hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise while the other braced beside my head. “You feel so goddamn good.”
Each thrust drove me further up the bed, the headboard starting to knock against the wall in a rhythm that would leave no doubt for any neighbors what was happening. I didn’t care. Let the whole town hear. Let them all know that Brooks Callahan was mine, that my body belonged to him.
My cock had hardened again fully, trapped between our sweat-slicked bodies. The friction was maddening, not quite enough to get me there but enough to keep me riding the edge. Brooks shifted his angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.
“There,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Right there, don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop,” he panted, his pace becoming erratic as his own release built. “Not gonna stop until you’re filled to the brim.”
His words sent a fresh wave of pleasure through me, the promise of him claiming me so completely making my cock twitch against my stomach.
“Yes,” I gasped, tightening my legs around him. “Fill me up, Brooks. Make me yours.”
His rhythm faltered as he leaned down to capture my mouth in a desperate kiss, swallowing my moans as he drove into me harder. I could feel him swelling inside me, getting closer to the edge.
“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned against my lips. “I’m gonna?—”
“Do it,” I urged, rolling my hips to meet his thrusts. “Come inside me, Brooks. I want to feel it.”
With a guttural cry that he muffled against my neck, Brooks slammed into me one final time, his body going rigid above me as he came. The pulsing of his cock inside me and the hot flood of his release pushed me over the edge again, my second orgasm ripping through me with unexpected and delightful force.
For several long moments, we lay tangled together, breathing hard,neither of us willing to move. Brooks’ weight was heavy on me, but I didn’t mind. I ran my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, savoring the closeness as he slowly softened inside me. Eventually, he shifted, slipping out of me with a wince and rolling to the side, but he kept an arm firmly around my waist, as if afraid I might disappear.
“My god,” he breathed, staring up at the ceiling. “I think you killed me.”
I laughed softly, turning to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Pretty sure I’m the one who should be saying that. You just fucked me through two orgasms.”
He turned his head to look at me, a hint of smugness in his tired smile. “Good.”
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Brooks’ hand traced lazy patterns on my hip, his touch gentle now, almost reverent. I couldn’t help but marvel at the contrast—how those same hands that had gripped me with such force could now touch me like I was made of glass.
“Stay,” I whispered, not meaning to say it out loud.
