Page 37 of Special Delivery Cowboy
She climbed onto the mattress, and I followed her down, settling between her thighs. But instead of rushing, I slowed down. Kissed her until we were both gasping. Let my hands explore—the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the soft skin of her inner thighs.
"I want to try something," I murmured against her mouth.
"What?"
I reached over to the nightstand where we'd left Melody's gift basket. Grabbed the massage oil and one of the candy canes tucked inside.
Tinsley's eyes went wide. "Are you serious?"
"Trust me?"
She nodded, and I unwrapped the candy cane, popping it into my mouth. The peppermint flooded my tongue, sharp and sweet.
Then I kissed my way down her body. Took my time about it. Learned which spots made her gasp, which made her arch into me. When I finally settled between her thighs, she was already breathing hard.
"TJ, what are you—oh my god."
The first touch of my peppermint-cooled tongue against her had her hips coming off the bed. I gripped her thighs, holding her steady, and got to work. The candy cane made everything more intense—cool mint against her heat, the flavor mixing with the taste of her.
"Jesus," she gasped, hands flying to my hair. "That feels—oh god, don't stop."
I had no intention of stopping. I worked her slow and thorough, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit. Added two fingers, crooked them to find that spot inside that made her keen.
"There," she choked out. "Right there, please—"
I kept my rhythm steady, the candy cane long dissolved but the cool tingle still there. Felt her inner walls start to flutter, knew she was close.
"Come on, sweetheart," I murmured against her. "Let me feel it."
She shattered with a cry, thighs clamping around my head, whole body going taut as a bowstring. I worked her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks rolled through her.
When I finally kissed my way back up her body, she looked thoroughly wrecked. Lips parted, eyes glazed, chest heaving.
"That was..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
"We're just getting started." I grabbed the massage oil, warming it between my palms. "Roll over."
"Bossy."
"You like it."
She rolled onto her stomach with a laugh, and I straddled her thighs. Started working the oil into her shoulders, her back, taking my time. Her muscles went loose under my hands, small sounds of pleasure escaping her throat.
"That feels amazing," she murmured into the pillow.
"Good." I worked my way down her spine, thumbs pressing into the tight spots. When I reached her ass, I couldn't resist—gave her a light smack that made her yelp and laugh.
"Hey!"
"Couldn't help myself. You've got a great ass."
"Flatterer."
I smoothed the oil over her hips, her thighs, then helped her roll back over. Started working my way up—calves, knees, inner thighs. By the time I reached her breasts, she was squirming.
"TJ, please—"
"Patience," I said, but my own was wearing thin. Seeing her spread out like this, slick with oil and flushed with want, was testing every bit of my control.
