Page 108 of My Cowboy Freedom
Because I’d fucked and sucked and taken it up the ass enough for both of us.
I kissed him because it’s as intimate as fucking, as revealing as open-heart surgery.
I kissed him and I couldn’t stop kissing him.
“Sky,” he begged.
I ground down, hips arching into his. He gripped my ass and pulled me closer. Together we set that mindless, jerking hump-hump struggle for pressure and angle on hyperdrive...
“Oh, god.” I still needed my hands to hold me up, so he dug between our bodies and freed our cocks, wrapping his hands around both at once. Our dicks slid together in his tight, damp fist.
After a few minutes of grinding like animals—blinding pleasure and not a little pain—he lost patience and rolled me beneath him.
Gotta dig a guy who can palm your ass like a basketball.
I locked my ankles behind his back, cradling his hips, clasping my hands behind his neck. Then I arched against him and he thrust down. Each time the movement was smaller, more powerful, more precise.
The pressure, the friction, the heat was shocking.
“Fuck.” Rock sank his teeth into the meat of my shoulder and lost control. His hips flexed and he chanted in time with his thrusts:yes, yes, yes, yes.
My body drew as tight as a bow string, hovering on the edge of release, and then I tumbled helplessly into motherfucking paradise.
Rock let out a grunt of satisfaction.
Cum spattered, hot and thick between our bellies, the scent rich and bitter in the stale air.
After a while, I had to move off the hard floor. “Lemme up.”
“Mmnh.” Rock rolled off of me and sat up, stripping his T-shirt off, and using it to wipe my skin. I raised my hand, and he clasped it to pull me up.
His eyes filled with warmth. “You look awful good sitting there with my jiz drying on your skin.”
“I should go back. Unless you have a sleeping bag out here.”
He painted circles on my stomach with the tip of his index finger. “Sorry. Next time.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I got to my feet and helped him up. Even when we had our clothes on, we looked pretty disreputable. “We should probably go.”
“Probably.” He hesitated, and then pulled me close, wrapping his big body around mine. I locked my hands behind his hips and we shuffled there, not standing, not dancing, but swaying...
Rock hummed music I didn’t recognize. I’m not sure he was even aware he was doing it.
I could have stayed there forever, been happy forever, exactly like that.
ThenBAM!Sterling Chandler burst through the door, followed by honest-to-god uniformed sheriff’s deputies.
They looked Rock over, and then focused on me.
“Skyler Brody?” The dude smiled cruelly. Oh, he couldn’t wait to remind me who was in charge.
Sadistic fuckbucket.
“That’s me.” I had to catch Rock, whose first instinct—apparently—was to block anything coming my way. Must’ve played defense back in school.“It’s okay, Rock.”
“Assume the position.” The deputy was pulling on gloves, getting ready to pat me down. “Am I going to find anything sharp, dangerous, or toxic?”
“Wait—” Rock argued, while Maisy anxiously danced next to his feet, whining.
