Page 98 of Owned By The Cowboy
“We should get back,” I murmur against his mouth.
“Should we?”
His mouth moves to my neck, finding that spot that makes memelt, and I forget why we need to hurry back to anyone.
“I love you,” I tell him, because sometimes I still can’t believe I get to say that.
“I love you too.”
We kiss again, longer this time, and I’m starting to think we might need more than fifteen minutes…
Blayne’s kisses deepen, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that makes my toes curl. His hands slide up my sides, rough calluses grazing my skin through my thin sweater, sending sparks through me. I arch into him, my fingers digging into his broad shoulders, feeling the solid muscle under his jacket. The cool night air brushes my neck where his mouth lingers, but all I can focus on is the heat building between us, the way his giant body presses me against the wall, firm and unyielding.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating against my skin. “You’re making it real hard to behave.”
“Who said I want you to?” I tilt my head back, giving him better access as his lips trail lower, teasing the sensitive spot just above my collarbone. My pulse races, and I can feel the thrum of it under his mouth, each kiss pulling a soft gasp from me.
His hands slip under my sweater, finding bare skin, and I shiver—not from the cold, but from the way his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along my waist. He tugs the fabric up. The night air hits my skin, but his hands are back on me instantly, warm and possessive, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” I say, breathless, as he lowers my bra cups. His eyes darken, raking over me, and the look alone is enough to make my knees weak.
“Worth it,” he growls, and then his mouth is on me, kissing a path down my chest. He takes his time, lips brushing over the curve of my breast before closing around a nipple, teasing it with a flick of his tongue, a nip of his teeth. I moan louder than I mean to, and clap a hand over my mouth, glancing toward the distant stadium lights. The faint roar of the crowd feels a million miles away.
Blayne chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. “No one’s gonna hear you back here, baby.” His hands work the button of my jeans, popping it open with a quick twist, and I help him shimmy them down. I’m pressed against the rough wall, and the contrast of the cool concrete and his warm hands is dizzying.
I tug at his jacket, desperate to feel more of him. “Your turn,” I say, and he obliges, shrugging it off and pulling his shirt over his head. The sight of him, all broad shoulders, heavy muscle, the faint trail of hair disappearing into his jeans, makes my mouth water. I run my hands over his broad chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart, and pull him back to me, kissing him hard.
His hands grip my hips, lifting me slightly so I’m pinned between him and the wall. I can feel him, hard and straining against his jeans, pressing right where I need him most. I rock against him, and he groans, his fingers tightening on my thighs.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his lips brushing my ear. “You keep that up, this is gonna be over fast.”
“Then hurry,” I whisper, nipping at his jaw. My hands fumble with his belt, the buckle clinking as I get it undone. He helps me shove his jeans and boxers down just enough, and then he’s there, long, hard, hot and ready against me. He slides my panties to the side, his fingers brushing over me, slick and teasing, and I whimper, clutching his shoulders.
“You good?” he asks, his voice rough and soft all at once, checking in even now, and it makes my heart squeeze.
“Honey, please,” I say, and that’s all he needs. He pushes into me, and I gasp at the stretch, the fullness, the way he fits inside my pussy like he was fucking made for me. He pauses when he’s fully rooted, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his big hands steadying me.
“Better than okay.” I roll my hips, urging him to move, and he does, starting with deep thrusts that make my head tip back against the wall. Each movement, building a rhythm that has me clinging to him, my nails digging into his back. The roughness of the wall, the cool air, the heat of his skin… it’s overwhelming, every sensation amplified.
“God, you feel so good,” he rasps, his voice strained as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper. I meet him move for move, and the friction is perfect, pushing me closer. His hand slips between us, finding my swollen clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and I can’t hold back the moan that spills out of my mouth.
“Blayne,” I gasp, my body tightening, the pressure building fast. He kisses me, swallowing my cries as I come, pleasure crashing through me like a tsunami. He’s right behind, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he buries himself deep, his grip on my hips bruising.
We stay like that for a moment, panting, holding each other as the world comes back into focus. The distant hum of the stadium, the cool night air, the faint scent of grass, it all feels softer now, less urgent. Blayne presses a gentle kiss to my lips, then my forehead, easing me back to my feet but keeping his arms around me.
“Fifteen minutes well spent,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
I laugh, still catching my breath, and swat his chest. “We’re cutting it close.”
“Worth every second.” He helps me with my clothes, stealing kisses as we straighten ourselves, and by the time we’re heading back toward the bleachers, hand in hand, I’m pretty sure we’re both grinning like idiots.
We make our way back to the others, who are gathered by the entrance waiting for Jaylen. When he finally appears, still in his uniform and grinning from ear to ear, we all congratulate him and make plans to go to Rosie’s for a victory dinner.
It’s the kind of night that makes you grateful for the life you’ve built, the family you’ve chosen, the love you’ve found. And as we walk toward the parking lot, Blayne’s arm around my shoulders and my kids chattering excitedly about the game, I realize this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Home. With him. With all of them. Forever.
Twenty Seven
