Page 82 of For Cowgirls and Kings
His body quivers beneath my finger, but he remains silent. Instead, he steps forward, tilting my head back with a finger under my chin. He kisses me again, this time soft, barely a whisper of a kiss.
“I’m yours, Dale. Now and always.”
Surely he doesn’t know what he’s saying—as driven by lust as I am.
But when I look into his hungry gaze, in my bones I know he does. This is the edge of a dangerous blade we’ve danced upon for our entire lives, and it’s finally time to see what color we bleed.
THIRTY-ONE
ADALENE
February 23rd, 2025
I traceover his top shirt button, mesmerized by the feel of his stone-like body quivering beneath my touch. Hooking through the gap between the first and second button, I tug on it, snapping not one, but two buttons open. It’s like magic—dinner and a show—and I plan on taking advantage of the twilight zone I’m currently trapped in as long as I can. Because once I wake up from this dream, there’s no way Mateo willingly let’s me touch him like this. There’s no way he’ll look at me like I hung the stars and moon. There’s no way he will be submitting complete and total control to me—his friend.
I scratch a single nail across his freshly exposed skin, watching his trembling flesh pinken as I draw a harsh line across it. He hisses, but doesn’t pull away.
Fuck, is this what power feels like?
I drag my finger downward farther, snapping buttons as I go, digging my nail in, drawing a few drops of blood. It drips onto his perfectly white shirt, and I want to lick it up.Am I sick?Maybe. But I feel so fucking powerful, I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
My finger finds the waistband of his pants, and I look up at him, my eyes heavy as desire pounds through me. I feel like I’m outside of my own body, watching someone far more brave, far more powerful,far more used to being in control,take over my movements.
“I’m going to take your pants off.” I lick my lips, waiting only a second to see if he’ll stop me. His chest only rises and falls, his eyes so glued to my finger I’m not sure he even heard my words. I turn back to the task at hand, and pull at the denim, popping the small silver button free. In the process, my free hand rests on his inner thigh, and I can feel him. His dick—harder, longer, and thicker than anything I could possibly imagine—strains beneath my hand, hot and twitching.
I’ve seen a dick before. I’ve sucked several. But this doesn’t feel like a dick. It feels like a work of art—a pedestal meant to worship on.
I swallow the growing pool of saliva in my mouth, forcing my hands not to shake, and pull his zipper down. I’m torturing us both, going slow, but I can’t seem to make myself move any faster. I refuse to ruin what’ll surely be one of the best moments of my otherwise unimpressive life.
To Mateo’s credit, he doesn’t rush me.
With the zipper down, I pull at the denim, tugging it over the globes of his firm, rounded ass, and down thighs carved from actual fucking stone.God, is everything about this man giant and hard?
The injustice of it all—someone being this fucking perfect while the rest of us mere mortals are left with scraps.
He steps out of each pant leg, and I wait, bent at the waist, a little afraid to look up. What should I do next? What would a dominating, controlling, confident woman do here? What does Mateo like, want?What do I want?
“I want you to tell me what you like,” I say, my voice huskyas I stand up, my eyes level with the second ab from the bottom. My mouth dries at the sight. This might just be my favorite row of abs—there’s a small mole in the shape of a heart, and a scrolling tattoo intersects it like a vine.
It’s a fucking good ab.
“I want you to do what you want, Dale. I’ll like anything you do—” His voice is so strangled, I turn to look at him, my own eyes hardening.
“No, Mateo. This, is what I want. I want you to use your words. I want you to talk me through it.”There, that almost sounded demanding.His eyelids flutter, and I forge on, digging both hands into his chest, small crescents peppering his perfect skin. “Be a good boy, and tell me what you like.”
“Fuuuccckkk.” His chest rumbles under my touch. His hands trace up my arms, wrapping around my wrists. But instead of pulling them away from his skin like I expect, he pushes them deeper. Like he wants me to crawl inside of him.
“Please, take the rest of my clothes off. Please take yours off, I want to see you. I need to see you.”
So proper.The perfect, proper gentleman, Mateo, saying please to get me naked.
I shake my head, licking my lips. “Are you going to fuck me like a gentleman too, or like you actually want me?”
His chest rumbles, and then he presses my nails deeper, small droplets of blood smearing beneath my fingertips. He’s hard and soft, and fucking bleeding—for me.
“Trust me, saying please and letting you go slow is the greatest torture I’ve ever endured. I might just die, but I’ll at least die happy. Now take my fucking clothes off.”
I smirk, content with the way he sounds so completely unhinged, his hands quivering wrapped around my wrists, before they drop.I did that.I push his shirt over his shoulders, and it flutters to the ground. With fingers in the waistbandof his underwear, I suck in breath, holding it as I push them down. His cock bobs, heavy and hard, and I groan, unable to keep my desire confined to my own mind.
