Page 40 of Sexting the Cowboy
He reaches beneath my ass and rolls onto his back, taking me with him until I’m straddling him. His hard cock lies between us,pressed along the length of my pussy. His hands are on my ass, and as he pulls me down, I aim him for my entrance, and again, we meet in the middle of our own chaos as he fills me up.
The stretch steals my breath. “Oh, fuck!”
His sounds border on animalistic. He rolls himself up deeper inside. “That’s it, baby, you feel so fucking good. Ride me like a good girl.”
I don’t have a choice. Between his vise grip and my body’s own need, I’m on autopilot, rolling myself up and down his considerable length, craving every stroke, every motion. It’s never felt this good.
When I’m finally down to the hilt, he sits up, his chest against mine. He pulls me in for another kiss as we rock together. I can’t get enough of his mouth—that devil tongue tastes like me. And then he scoots to the edge of the bed, every awkward movement shoving him deeper inside. As we get to the edge, he breaks our kiss. “Hang on tight, cowgirl.”
“What—”
He grips my ass and stands, still inside of me. I whoop, and he laughs as he carries me to the nearest wall. It’s cold against my back, but he’s hot everywhere else, and that makes up for it. When he thrusts this time, our angles are different. His pubic bone nudges against my clit, and he’s deep enough to bottom out. My back scrapes against the wall, tinging every pleasure with a little pain. The combination lights me up until I’m on fire again.
“Brick, I’m?—”
“Come for me,” he mutters, so low it sounds like a threat.
My body heeds the danger, climaxing as he thrusts deep again and again and again. One orgasm tumbles into two and falls into three and more, until I lose count. Breathing becomes optional as I drift on a sea of orgasms. He bites my throat, driving me into another one, and I can’t see straight.
I’m barely in my body until I notice the bed at my back again. But it’s only for a moment before he flips me onto my stomach and thrusts in from behind. We’re flat—me against the bed, him on my back. His arms have hooked beneath my shoulders to keep me pinned to him. Again, inches of him massage my G-spot on each thrust, and I have no words. No thoughts. He leans close and quietly murmurs, “I’m dying to fuck your ass right now.”
I’m half-alive, half-orgasming, half out of my mind, so I mutter, “Yeah.”
“Hell no.” He shoves deep and holds still, lips at my earlobe. “When I fuck your ass, I want you here for it. Not spun off the earth the way you are now. I want to look in your eyes and watch the faces you make when I stick my cock in you there, because I’m going to jerk off to the memory for the rest of my life.”
Then he reaches beneath my hip and finds my clit once more. He doesn’t thrust—he’s still in me all the way. Instead, he plays with my clit and makes me throb around his cock. “This time when you come, I want to feel every pulse of it.”
My body tenses—I was almost there already. I grit my teeth to tell him, “Soon.”
He keeps playing with me as he speaks. “Oh, I know. You’re an easy read, baby. I know what you taste like right before you break. I know what you taste like when you come…sweet. Sofucking sweet, I might get a toothache if I taste you as much as I want to.”
He rocks once, twice, setting me firmly on the edge. “But right now, I want to feel you from the inside when I make you come.” He keeps at me, and I tip over the edge, biting the pillow as I scream. It comes in waves, and his cock swells inside me. He grunts, “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come.”
I do my best to grind back on him, and he lets out a beastly growl as he pours himself into me, slamming over and over until it’s done. His body goes weak on top of mine and forces us both into the mattress. He kisses the back of my neck and shoulder as he pulls out and rolls from me until we’re facing each other and making out again. Wetness pours down my thigh onto the bed, and I only notice because it tickles. But his big hands are warm on my hip, and I could stay here forever.
When we finally slow the kissing to a stop, he pulls me against him to rest my head on his chest. He kisses the top of my head and holds me close. His heart has slowed down a little, and his breaths are even.
It’s not the time for diagnostics, but habits are habits.
“That was…”
“Yeah.” I yawn.
“That was incredible. You’re a hell of a woman, doc.”
I snort at that. “Same to you.”
“I’m a hell of a woman? Mighty kind of you.”
I roll my eyes but can’t fight the laugh. “I didn’t mean to insult your manliness?—”
“Insult?” He huffs. “I consider that to be high praise. Can’t be insulted by being called what you love.”
I peek up at him. “You’re an odd cowboy.”
He laughs. “Been called worse. By you.”
“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t been pushing my buttons?—”
