Page 94 of Lavender Lake
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Ranch
“I love fucking you,” Cas growled as he thrust between my legs.
I clawed his back, scoring his skin with my nails.
“Cas,” I moaned.
“Come for me again,” he commanded.
“I can’t.”
“You can. You will.”
He shifted the angle of his pelvis, grinding against the perfect spot that was already primed and sensitive.
Cas knew my body better than I did and I clenched around him, gripping his tight ass in my hands.
With a few more thrusts, Cas came, holding me close and whispering words of approval in my ear.
The scent of us was in the air, along with hay and horses. We were on a pallet in the loft of the barn—where we’d spent every spare moment together that we could find. The last week, we’d been insatiable, desperate for one another.
Insane for each other.
We hadn’t slept in the house since our first night together, deciding we could be freer and louder in the loft of the barn. We always crept inside an hour before my grandmother woke up to tend to the chickens. So far, we hadn’t been caught.
Cas slid out of me and I gushed.
“God, I’m never going to get tired of seeing that.” He grabbed his shirt and cleaned me up as best he could.
He laid down next to me and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at me. There was a battery-operated camping lantern that cast a soft amber glow, giving us just enough light to see shadows and smiles.
“I like this,” he said, grazing my nipple and pinching it between his fingers.
“My breast? Yes, I’m aware.”
He laughed. “Not just your breast. Or breasts. Butthis. Just you and me. Up here. Not a care in the world.”
Up here, without a care in the world, each brick of my fortress was slowly being dismantled.
“So,” he began.
“So.” I stretched out my legs and sighed.
He traced the ink on my rib cage. “Okay. Time to explain this.”
“It’s been driving you crazy, huh?”
“Just as crazy as seeing another man’s name on you,” he grumbled.
“It happened because of a drunken girls’ night,” I explained. “I wanted the four of us—Hadley, Wyn, Poet and me—to solidify our friendship. They all thought it was a great idea, too. So the next day, after a greasy diner breakfast, we all went to a tattoo parlor in the East Village.”
“Hmm. Do all the tattoos match?”
“No.” I grasped his finger to stop him from tracing my rib cage because it made my skin buzz, and not in a good way.
