Page 81 of Ace of Spades
Weston’s movements slow down, his licks turning gentle as I float back down. He crawls over me, licking his glistening lips as he looks down at me with a feral grin, his face hovering directly above mine.
“I think you just became my new favorite meal.”
A blush creeps across my cheeks, the two of us panting as our eyes lock. Something passes between us in that moment, almost like a shared vulnerability. His eyes study mine, as if seeing me for the first time.
His lips graze mine as he kisses me gently, his hand moving to cup my face. It’s passionate but delicate, possessive and yet tender.
My hands reach beneath the hem of his shirt, my fingertips grazing his skin as I explore every hard ridge of his back. The hand cupping my face moves down to my waist, sliding beneath my shirt as he slowly caresses my waist, our touches featherlight.
Weston slowly unbuttons my shirt, his lips only leaving mine for the briefest of moments as he helps me pull his shirt over his head, my hands reaching for his buckle next as we slowly undress each other, taking our time to explore each other’s bodies as if seeing each other for the first time.
His arm comes to rest above my head, his face mere inches from mine, expression unguarded. My hand lifts of its own volition, brushing a few disheveled strands of his dark locks as our gazes meet, his hard length settling at my soaked entrance as Weston settles between my legs.
He pushes into me in one smooth motion, my lips parting as a low moan slips from his lips. Our mouths connect, Weston kissing me sweetly as he begins to move inside of me, my walls adjusting around him.
I moan into his mouth, pleasure building inside of me once more.
“You’re a goddamn masterpiece,” he breathes against my lips.
The two of us move in sync, our bodies entwined as one as we bring each other to the edge, a silent tear slipping free as I’m hit with the realization that whether or not I’m willing to admit it to myself, this man means something to me. And in this moment—right here, right now, wrapped up in Weston’s arms as he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, I realize that there's nowhere else but here that I want to be.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, Weston Langford had become my safe place. And it hits me just how vulnerable that truly makes me.
Chapter 23
WESTON
The summer evening settles in slowly, lanterns swaying in the warm breeze as the air carries the smell of mesquite smoke from the grill at the far end of the open-air deck, where Mike and his wife flip the steaks.
Rafe and Beau play cornhole with some of the ranch hands at the foot of the steps, Chelsea and Dakota mingling with some of the groups of guests from town, a cold beer in both of their hands.
I’m in the middle of catching up with some old friends from high school when someone calls my name, turning to find Kinley and Kelly stridingup to me.
“Wes!”
The twins—as everyone calls them, although they have no relation to each other outside of their friendship and similar blonde hair—both grew up with me in Cedar Creek.
Kinley is a total sweetheart, and I know her pretty well from when she dated my buddy back in middle school.
Her friend, however, was a classic buckle bunny, with one hell of a clingy personality—something that I had learned after making the mistake of fucking her in the back of my truck after a high school football game. I’d spent the next month dodging her around town after she started all but naming our unborn children.
“Hey,” I greet them, offering them each a quick one-armed hug with my free arm. “Thank you guys for coming.”
“Happy Birthday!” Kinley tells me, squeezing me tight. “Twenty-freaking-eight. You’re getting old, bubba. It feels like just yesterday we were throwing cow shit at each other around the trailer park.”
“I distinctly remember you starting those fights,” I laugh, ruffling her hair.
“And I distinctly remember you cheating by smothering it in my hair, you asshole,” she scolds, gently punching me in the arm.
“How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know—same ole’, same ole’. What about you, mister Big Shot? You’re practically a celebrity now. You think you’ll take the buckle again this year? I need to get an idea of how much money to put down on you winning the WRS finals in December before placing my bets.”
“You wound me,” I tell her, dramatically placing my palm on my chest.
“Anyways,” Kelly cuts in. “What if we came to see you at one of your rodeos? Maybe I could be your good luck charm?” she winks. I had to give it to her, the girl had never been afraid of shooting her shot.
“We’ll see,” I tell her.
