Page 47 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
His eyes narrow. “Why? Because you already know it’s true?”
I shake my head and go to step away, but he grabs my hips and pulls me back, pinning me to the mirror with his body.
“You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared,” he murmurs. “You kissed me because your body’s screaming for mine.”
“I didn’t mean to?—”
“You did,” he growls. “And I fucking loved it. So did you.”
I hate that he’s right.
His mouth crashes into mine again, harder this time. “Be quiet for me, baby,” he whispers against my collarbone. “Just feel.”
His breath is hot against my throat. Then lower. Lower still. And he’s sinking to his knees before me, his hands already sliding up my thighs. And in moments,he’s dragging my panties down slowly as he looks up at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered. I step out of them.
“I need to taste you properly. Is that okay?” he asks gently.
I swallow hard and nod, having forgotten how to speak.
He fists the hem of my dress and pushes it up, baring me inch by inch until the cool air hits the inferno between my legs. I’m trembling already. No underwear. Nothing to hide me. And God, I want to hide, but I don’t. I widen my stance instead, shaky but willing, because if he doesn’t touch me soon, I might fall apart on my own.
He exhales. “Fuck me. Look at you.”
His thumbs stroke over the crease where my thighs meet my lips, spreading me open just enough to expose the mess he’s made of me. I can’t even look down; I’m too close to combusting.
“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “All pink and glistening like you were made for me. You want my mouth here, darlin’?”
“You have no idea,” I manage.
He chuckles, dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”
And then his tongue is on me, slow and deliberate, licking through my folds like he’s savoring every inch. My hips jerk, a whimper slipping past my lips as he drags the flat of his tongue over my clit, then back down, teasing, tasting,claiming.
“Mmm,” he groans against me. “Fuckin’ soaked. Sweetest damn thing I’ve ever had on my tongue.”
His grip tightens as he spreads me further, tongue circling, flicking, then diving deep. I bite down on my lower lip again, knees going soft, body lighting up in waves that crest too fast to process.
Suddenly, two thick fingers push into me, fast and sure, filling me to the hilt. I nearly cry out, back arching against the wall as he curls them just right, dragging across that spot that has my vision going white.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Take it. Let me feel how bad you need it.”
The stretch, the fullness—it’s too much and not enough all at once.
He keeps working me with his mouth, tongue flicking my clit while his fingers pump slow and deep. I try to hold still, but I’m trembling, grinding into every stroke like I’ve lost control of my own body. Because I have.
I’m gone.
Just a slick, gasping girl pinned against the wall with a man between her legs who knows exactly how to bring her to her knees.
A moan escapes me even though I’ve been trying to be quiet and not draw attention to us in the dressing room.
Too loud.
He pulls his mouth away, just barely, and looks upthrough heavy lashes, fingers still buried deep inside me.
“You’re bein’ too noisy,” he murmurs. “Don’t want those salesgirls hearing how wet you get for me, do you?”
I shake my head, hardly able to breathe.
