Page 18 of Ghosted Cowboy
"Okay?" I managed when I was halfway in.
"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
I pushed deeper, and deeper still, until I was fully seated inside her. We both froze, breathing hard, staring at each other in the greenish emergency lighting.
"Fuck, you feel—" I couldn't finish the sentence. Nothing I said would be adequate.
"I know." Her legs wrapped around my hips, pulling me even deeper. "I know. Move. Please move."
I did. Slow, deep strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. She was so tight, so wet, her body gripping me like she never wanted to let go. The angle was perfect, letting me hit deep, and every thrust made her cry out.
"Faster," she demanded, her nails digging into my back. "Harder. I need—"
"Tell me what you need, baby."
"You. Just you. More of you. All of you."
I gave her what she wanted. Drove into her harder, faster, the settee creaking beneath us with every thrust. Outside, the storm raged—thunder and rain and wind battering the building. Inside, there was only us. Only the sound of our bodies coming together, the gasps and moans we couldn't contain.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, like that, just like that—"
"You feel so good," I said against her throat. "So perfect. Like you were made for me."
"I was." She pulled my mouth to hers, kissing me deep. "I was made for you."
The words undid something in my chest. "I love you," I said. "Always have. Always will."
"I love you too." Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "Don't ever leave me again."
"Never." I kissed the tears away, adjusted my angle, and she cried out. "You're mine now. Mine forever. Tell me you're mine."
"Yours," she moaned. "Always yours—oh God—"
The angle on the narrow settee wasn't quite right, so I shifted, pulling out and turning her.
"Hands on the armrest," I said.
She obeyed immediately, presenting herself to me on her hands and knees. The sight nearly made me come right there—her back arched, her ass in the air, her body open and ready for me.
I ran my hands over the curves of her hips, her waist, the line of her spine. "You're so beautiful like this."
"Ransom, please—"
I pushed back inside her in one smooth thrust, and she cried out, her back arching more. This angle was deeper, tighter, hitting spots that made her shake.
She moaned with pleasure. "Right there, just like that—"
I gripped her hips and set a rhythm—hard, deep, relentless. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the emptytheater, mixing with our gasps and moans and the storm outside.
"Touch yourself," I said. "I want to feel you come around me."
She slid one hand between her legs, and I felt it immediately—the way her inner walls tightened, the way her body started to climb.
"That's it. Make yourself come on my cock. Want to feel it, want to feel you—"
"I'm close," she whimpered. "So close, just don't stop, please don't stop—"
"Not stopping. Never stopping." I reached around, covered her hand with mine, helping her circle her clit. "Come for me, Rainey. Let go."
