Page 39 of Sexting the Cowboy
I can’t believe he knew. I mean, I guess it makes sense that he knew. But we never really talked about any of that, so I didn’t realize he was aware of our connection. And he’s fine with it. My ex’s own father doesn’t see a problem with it, so why do I?
And why do I want him so bad?
That kiss. The one I had and instantly craved another. I’m not sure I can live without more of that. I don’t want to.
I won’t.
My hand is on the doorknob before I can even think. I fling the door open, and he stands there, wearing nothing but a surprised expression. His towel is draped on the chair, and I take in his entirely naked form.
The man doesn’t have an inappropriate ounce of fat on his body. Instead, he’s solid muscle, head to toe. Scars litter the tan skin, along with the bandage I placed myself. Small lines, a fewgnarled keloids on his left upper thigh. His skin is a road map of a cowboy’s lifetime.
I want the story of every scar, after I run my tongue along them.
We silently clear the distance between us and crash in the middle of the room, bodies tight, lips parting. No words need to be said. We both know why we’re here.
His tongue glides over the seam of my lips, but I’m too busy to let him in. I take his bottom lip in my teeth, earning a growl from him. He pulls back, his steel-blue eyes scanning my face. Searching for hesitation, no doubt. “You’re sure about this, baby?”
“Stop talking.” I give him a gentle push toward the bed, and he laughs as he tumbles backward onto it.
He doesn’t stay still for long, reaching up to pull me onto him. He rolls me onto my back, and once on top, he takes full advantage of the power position. My shirt is the first thing to go, quickly followed by my shoes and jeans, flying in every direction.
It’s feverish, this thing between us. I can’t explain it. I’ve never experienced anything like it. But I’m not stopping. Never again. I need this man more than I need my next breath, and my blood sings in my veins, throbbing for something, anything he’ll give me.
When I’m naked, he pauses. His eyes scrape over every inch of exposed skin. I’ve never been shy. Not about being naked or being with someone new. But this moment, the moment he takes me in like he’s examining a prize horse, I can’t breathe. I can’t get a read on him either.
But then his voice is a rasp on gravel. “Better than I dreamed.” And then he’s on me, kissing down my chest, sucking on my tits, biting my ribs until I’m squirming.
His hand finds its way between my thighs, and I stop squirming. I stop doing anything but rocking toward those fingertips. Rough, calloused, but not unkind, and very,verytalented. He kisses my navel and keeps heading down.
“What are you?—”
“Let a man eat his dinner in peace.” He spreads my thighs wide as he kneels on the floor between my feet.
I blurt, “You don’t need to do that.” It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that it’s not my favorite item to order off the menu.
From between my legs, he peeks up at me. “You might be a doctor, baby, but right now, you clearly have no idea what I need.” Then those magic fingertips spread me wide, and the cool air on my wet skin sends a shiver through me. It lasts only until his mouth is on my clit, sensation bursts through me, and my back arcs from the bed.
“Damn, baby.” He latches his muscular arms underneath my hips, and his hands hold me down. “You’re gonna have to hold still if I’m to enjoy my supper.”
“Don’t…think I can.”
Pure male pride spreads his smile wide before he resumes his meal. That tongue—up, down, left, right, center—until he finds the spot that makes my breath stick in my throat. I grip the sheets, balling them in my fists. It’s not enough, so I grab his hair, silver silk spilling between my fingers. His growls get rougher when I pull him where I want him.
A finger joins the party, entering me. Another works in, and I’m bucking up to his face and down to his fingers. He’s right on my G-spot, my clit, and I’m making sounds that should embarrass me, but I don’t fucking care. Just as I start to unravel, a sneaky finger enters my ass, and the world explodes as I come, howling his name.
He doesn’t wait for me to come down. I’m still throbbing when he crawls up me, up the bed, up to my face. We’re eye to eye now, him lying on his side to face me. He leans on one hand while the other draws lines on my tits, plucking at my nipples. Brick is so pleased when he makes me flinch with that. His erection is hot against my thigh, and when he’s done tormenting my tits, he turns me onto my side to face him. “Put your legs together tight.”
I manage by locking my ankles together, and he presses his cock between my thighs, against my pussy, fucking that Y-shaped crevice instead of me. But every stroke means that inches of him rub against my clit, and I can hardly hold still.
His breath falls on my face. “I want to be inside you so damn bad?—”
“Now,” I gasp as I throw my leg over his hip.
His forehead presses to mine. “I have to know you won’t hate me after.”
We both fall still. This is the point of no return, and we both know it.
I cup his handsome face with my palm. “I could never hate you, Brick. And I want this more than I’ve wanted anything.”
