Page 105 of For Cowgirls and Kings
He groans, his eyes never wavering from my center. “Yes. Fuck yes.” Instead of responding with words, I tilt my hips forward a fraction, and he doesn’t wait a second before his tongue makes its first pass through my folds. My stomach instantly constricts at the contact, and I have to grip his hair to keep from toppling over. He hums his approval, his hands sliding up my bare thighs before gripping firmly on the globes of my ass. His flattens, passing a second time from entrance to clit, and I cry out in surprise.
“That feels so much better than I expected,” I pant. Stars burst behind my eyes, and I curse myself for not ever doing this before.Why did I spend so many years hiding my body?
He picks up pace, his hands pulling me closer to his face and I shamelessly grind against him—his nose, his chin, his tongue—they all press deliciously against different parts of my pussy, making my skin burn. His tongue traces hungry lines and circles through my folds and around my clit, making my legs get closer to resembling Jell-O than anything else. It’s incredible—too fucking incredible, andI’m going to die from it.
“Take me to the bed,” I beg, somewhere between a cry and a scream. He does exactly as I ask, his mouth never leaving my pussy, as he stands. His hands hold me tightly to him, and I sling my other leg over his shoulder as he walks blindly to the bed. I grip his head tighter, my fingers ripping at his hair.
This is fucking madness.
And I hope it never ends.
His legs connect with the mattress, and he drops me with a groan, my body bouncing on impact. Mateo begins to move, as ifto stretch out over me, but I extend my leg, the heel of my boot pressing to his chest, and he eyes me angrily.
He looks like a crazed beast, eyes blown black, my cum clinging to his lips and chin, nose pink from rubbing against me. It’s fucking incredible.He’s fucking incredible.
“Take your clothes off,” I demand breathlessly. His eyes drop to my exposed center, my legs splayed open wide, like he can’t think of anything beyond getting back to it—to devouring me. He shifts slightly, pushing against my foot, like he’s going to ignore my demand and do just that.
But that wasn’t our agreement. He wants me to be in control, so that’s exactly what I’m going to be.
“No,” I growl, and he freezes. “Take off your clothes or be punished. Now.” One dark eyebrow quirks, like the sound of punishment might be more intriguing than doing what I demand. Fuck, I need to do some research on good punishments for submissive men.
Is that what he is? Is he being my submissive? Am I being a dominant?Who am I?
He concedes,the desperate boy wanting to please his mistress,and says, “Yes, cowgirl.” I whimper at his words, my pussy pulsing with the need to be filled.
With quick fingers, he takes off his shirt and pants, slinging his boots across the room to slam against the wall. The picture above the bed rattles and a zing of excitement races through me at his show of desperation. I watch in wonder as inch after inch of incredibly hard, tanned, and tattooed skin becomes exposed to my hungry gaze. My own private show. Once he’s in his boxers, he looks at me expectantly.
“You’re still clothed,” I challenge, getting more annoyed with his defiance—I just want him to do as I say so I can fuck him already. So I do the only thing I can think of that would be a punishment to him at this moment.
I slide my hand down my body, my boot still pressed firmly in his chest, and begin to make frantic circling motions over my clit. I groan, biting my lip as an orgasm quickly builds, its familiar tingling firing low in my belly. I slide two fingers into my waiting pussy, the walls instantly clamping down on the intrusion, and Mateo and I cry out in unison.
My eyes find his, now pinched in a mix of pain and frustration. There are creases by his eyes, and his lips are nearly white with the pressure of pinching them together. The line of his cock is long and hard beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, and I ache to have it inside of me, not my own fingers.
Fingers that’ve gotten enough action of the years that I hope after tonight, I never have to use them again. But tonight, this is about a lesson. About doing as you’re told.
“Please,” he croaks, and it only spurs me on, my hand pumping and circling faster.
I stare into his eyes, my own heavy lidded. “Will you do what you’re told next time?”
“Yes, please. I’ll do anything. Let me touch you. Let me finish you,” he begs and the power associated with hearing him beg is enough to send me over the edge.
“Next time you’ll be a good boy,” I whisper–shout, throwing my head back, body going rigid. The orgasm explodes through me, milking at my fingers.
And as incredible as it is, I still feel empty. I still feel needy and want more. I sit up on my elbows, chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat, the turquoise jewelry stark against my tan skin, and smile at him.
“You’re going to fuck me now.”
The words hit him like a crack across a snow covered mountain—his pristine, perfect exterior sliding away with monumental force, sweeping me under with the weight of his unrestrained desire. I don’t see him shed his boxers, but in thenext moment he’s stretched out on top of me, his naked body pressing into mine, burning my flesh with his own. His scent floods my senses, and I feel both set to drown and catch fire, and part of me hopes it’s both.
His lips sear to the column of my throat, his tongue lapping in the same path his teeth nip at my skin. His teeth graze my collar bone and I hiss, leaning into his ravenous mouth, hoping against hope that I can crawl beneath his skinand burn.
My fingers frantically yank at his hair, and his teeth pinch harder, both in punishment and encouragement. I pull at the strands, desperate to bring his mouth to my own, but he fights me, his fingers roaming over my skin, his lips and teeth and tongue—I feel like he’s touching me everywhere and the sensations are borderline too much.
Last time we came together—my first time—was different. He was different; kinder, calmer, more restrained. This version is anything but. This time he seems to barely be conscious, driven by a primal need to devour, devour,devour.
“Mateo—” I moan, the‘o’drawn out as his lips wrap around my aching nipple. My eyes roll to the back of my head, body arching to push more of my sensitive flesh into his devilish mouth.
He growls in response, his hands somehow ending on my hips, pining me to the bed with his full weight.
