Page 95 of Ace of Spades
The pleasure is indescribable, my toes curling as I turn into a senseless puddle of need. He hums a moan against my bundle of nerves as I roll my hips into him, the vibrations driving me over the brink as I fall apart on his tongue and fingers.
He laps me up, licking every drop like a greedy man before standing, not missing a beat as his hand grabs me by the nape and his lips slam to mine.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he whispers against my mouth, my hands reaching for him as I rake my nails down his back.
“Fuck me, cowboy,” I pant, a glint lighting in his eye as he remembers our first time.
“Anything you want, baby,” he tells me, his arms hooking beneath my thighs as he pulls me into him, a squeal escaping me as he drags me across the counter.
His sweats are pulled down in the next moment, both of us looking between our bodies to watch as he places himself at my now-soaked entrance, our heavy breaths in sync for the briefest moment before he slams into me.
The noise that escapes me is guttural, deep, and full of pleasure as I adjust to his size, my need already growing once more.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, his thrusts picking up pace as our lips meet once more, our kisses crazed.
He reaches his palm to my chest, slowly pushing me down to the counter as my back meets the wooden surface. He doesn’t miss a beat, still pumping into me as he reaches to push up my t-shirt, exposing my bare breasts and grabbing one in his large palm.
His thumb brushes over my nipple, earning a moan from my lips as he rolls it between his fingers. My skin is on fire, every nerve ending in my body firing as he continues to drive into me at a punishing pace.
“Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he rasps, his hand moving lower to rub his thumb over my clit.
I come undone with his name on my lips, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as the pleasure overwhelms me. I feel myself pulsing around him, a curse leaving his lips as he stills inside of me, the two of us falling over the edge together.
“How are you so perfect?” he pants as we come back down to earth, his touch turning gentle as he runs his hand up to cup my face.
I manage a lazy smile up at him, words evading me as my mind is wiped from the wave of euphoria that overcomes me.
He studies me, a light sheen of sweat coating his skin as he regards me with an expression that I can’t quite place. Three words come to the forefront of my mind just then—three words that would be all too easy to spill in the moment, but that I can’t quite bring myself to say.
Three words that I can feel deep in my soul, but would be much too rash to speak out loud. But with the way he looks at me now, I can’t help but wonder if he might just feel the same.
“Come on,” he finally speaks, slowly pulling out of me as I let out a whimper. He picks me up in one move, my arms wrapping around his neck and my legs around his waist as he lifts me off the counter.
“Where are we going?” I laugh, letting out a giggle.
“Shower. Better get cleaned up,” he says, giving me an affectionate kiss on the forehead as he carries me out of the kitchen.
I sink my face into the crook of his neck as I let him whisk me away, my heart fluttering in my chest. I wasn’t supposed to fall for Weston Langford. So why does it feel like that’s exactly what’s happening?
We pull up to the lodge, Poncho tucked into my work shirt as I step out of the truck, the borrowed button-down tucked into my jeans haphazardly as the loose end nearly reaches mid-thigh. Weston lets the dogs out of the back seat, the two of them racing past us to meet everyone inside.
“Well, good morning!” Debbie greets us, her auburn hair flowing around her face as she offers us each a warm smile.
“Morning, Deb,” Weston greets, moving to offer her a peck on the cheek. The space was full this morning, electricity moving through the room as everyone devoured their breakfast.
“Meet our guests—they just checked in yesterday!” Rhonda introduces, reaching over to hug each of us.
“Victor,” the older man greets, a youth in his eyes that contradicts the wrinkles lining his face.
“Hannah,” his wife introduces, a bright smile set in place over her features.
“And I’m Drew!”
A little boy runs between the two of them, a loose pancake in hand as syrup stains his dinosaur t-shirt.
“And this is our grandson, Drew. We figured we’d give the kiddos a day to themselves to celebrate their anniversary—they ran over to Copper Springs for the day for couples massages and a bit of shopping.”
“Well, hey there, Drew,” Weston tells the kid, squatting down to his haunches to greet him.
