Page 52 of Sexting the Cowboy
I blow out a hard breath. “I’ve never hated him, B. Not once. Never could. I don’t hate him. I hate what drinking does to him. But he’s so tied up in the bottle that he thinks it’s a part of him, so he thinks I hate him. And I don’t know how to make him understand the difference.”
She sighs and gives a little nod. “We’ll get him back, Dad. We just have to be here when he’s ready.”
“As long as he lets me, I will be.”
With that, she pulls out to head for parts unknown. It’s only then that I realize her hotel room is upstairs. Where the hell is she going?
Doesn’t matter. My youngest is twenty-two, and she can handle herself just fine. Probably heading out to a bar to blow off some steam or something.
For a moment, I consider the same for myself. But there’s only one place I want to go right now, and only one person I want to see. It takes some doing to find her address, but the moment I’ve got it, I’m in drive, peeling down the dusty Sandy roads.
She lives in a quaint apartment building, nothing flashy like I would have expected of a doctor. Brick and mortar, half-maintained hedges out front. I charge up her stairs, two at a time. When I get to her door, though, my hand hangs in the air before I can knock.
What if she has someone in there? We haven’t spoken about any kind of exclusivity, and she’s a pretty woman. She has every right to entertain whomever she wants. And if I barge in, all balls and no brains, I could ruin things for them.
Good. No, not good, but near enough.
Nah. No good came from being petty. Maybe I should text first and take her temperature. Something digs into my sternum at the thought. I need to see her. I can’t explain it, but I know seeing her face will make the night better. I’ll just text her first, and?—
The door swings open.
Annie blinks up at me. Then a grin slashes across her face as she grabs my collar and yanks me inside, slamming the door behind me. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Is that a good thing? You sound like it’s a good?—”
Her lips are on me before I finish, and suddenly all is right with the world. She tastes so damn sweet that I’m glad I didn’t have dessert. When she pulls back, her eyes are sex drunk. “I was just heading to the fairgrounds to bother you at your trailer.”
“Great minds…”
“Yeah. Something like that.” She wraps her slender arms around my neck and kisses me like it’ll solve all the world’s problems at once. We don’t come up for air before I realize she’s pulling me into her bedroom.
I don’t even get the tour before she’s naked and pawing at my clothes. The only thing I really notice in her bedroom is the smooth white sheets, and then she’s working my belt buckle. This woman is trying to kill me, and I will beg her for the honor.
Her body is curved in all the right ways, from the flare of her hips and the nip of her waist to the swells of her breasts. Those little pink nipples demand attention, and I give it. My mouth, my lips,my tongue, my fingers, all of it sets her on edge. Which is just where I like her.
She’s mewling for me, her body gyrating beneath me. A thing of beauty, she is. I stroke the soft hair between her thighs, and she purrs. Fucking purrs. When I scoot between her legs, she’s impatient, aiming herself at my face before I even get there.
The fact that I’ve turned her from “You don’t have to” into “Here I am, yes, please, go for it” is a boost of pride I didn’t know I needed.
Once I’m there, though, I have something else in mind. I reach beneath her and flip, rolling onto my back and her onto my face in the process.
“Oh my god, what are you doing?”
“Have a seat, baby. I need dessert.”
“You want me to sit on your face?”
“That’s it exactly.”
“Oh. Um, okay.” It takes her a second, but I help her get arranged until she’s secure, then I wrap my arms around her. She’s not going anywhere unless I let her.
And then, I begin. The angle lets me feel exactly how aroused she is, because she’s leaking all over my face and down my neck. When she’s close, she tastes a little lighter, sweeter. I lock my arms tight to make sure she’s secure, and then I go to town, letting my stubble do some of the work for me. I can’t hear her words—I got thigh earmuffs right now—but the tone speaks volumes. So does her volume.
I might drown, and I can’t think of a better way to go.
When she finally stops screaming, she taps my head, and I let her slide away. But not too far. I’m not done yet.
I pull her to me, spooning her on our sides. From there, I slowly slide in from behind, fingers on her clit again. She’s shuddering in my arms, still coming on some level. I feel it inside, that delicate pulse that milks my cock. Now, I take my time with her.
