Page 44 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

“Unzip your jeans,” he said.

“Here?” Reality intruded. They were outdoors. No one was around, but didn’t ranches have ranch hands? Or other cowboys? His cousins? They hadn’t ridden all that far. What if his granddad…?

“Yes.” His hand moved to her other breast.

“Okay.” She arched into him and jammed her butt up against him, loving the feel of being so tight against his hard body.

“That’s good. Do you feel what you do to me?” He rocked against her, and she could feel the hard, straining length of him against her lower back.

Her fingers fumbled with her button.

“Jeans.”

With shaky fingers she tugged and then unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper. His other hand was so close but not where she needed, not yet. And he was still holding Midnight’s reins! Was he going to do something with the leather? Shock and excitement and a frisson of fear jumbled for dominance.

“Do you want me to?” he asked. He lightly dragged the leather across her mound, still covered by her lacy panties.

“Bodhi.” She turned her head, and he kissed her lips, not messing around.

He bit down on her lower lip. “So sexy,” he murmured, his tongue already soothing over the nip, and then he deepened the kiss, and she kissed him back feeling like they were exchanging fire.

She felt a light snap of the reins against her mound, and she gasped, her eyes flying open. Bodhi’s deep blue eyes with the navy ring around the iris mesmerized her.

“Do you like this?” He flicked her mound lightly again. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” she barely breathed.

He angled his pelvis, shifting her so that she bumped up against the pommel.

“Have you used a toy like this?” The question sounded like a sin in her ear. “You said you liked to ride, but it had been a while. Have you ever done this?”

Damn, he was strong. He used his thigh muscles to lift her and rock her against the saddle pommel even as his hand still worked her breasts. Every few times he’d tap her clit lightly with the reins.

“Oh God,” she moaned.

“I asked a question, Nico.”

“No,” she whispered. It had never once occurred to her to pleasure herself on a horse.

And then his hand was there, warm against her damp panties.

“You are so wet for me,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to taste you. I’m thirsty.”

One finger dipped below her panties, and she squirmed as his finger traced her seam.

“Your lips are as plump and sexy as your mouth,” he said, stroking back and forth, his knuckle grazing her clit. Each time he stroked her, she moaned and thrust against his hand.

“I like that you want more. I want you to tell me what you want and what you need and what you like.”

Nico clenched her teeth together, embarrassed at the sounds she was making. She sounded like a wild animal.

Then his hand was gone. She cried out.

He ran his finger—wet with her juices—over her lips.

“Taste yourself,” he invited trailing his finger, still glistening with her juices down the valley between her breasts.

She licked her lips.

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