Page 27 of My Cowboy Salvation
“Fuck. Then how about we bring each other pleasure?” I lick my thumb just as I reach out and rub her pussy, finding her clit. She’s already wet, and soon my hand is drenched as I go between stroking her and sliding my fingers into her channel.
Fuck this. I grab her hips and lift her so she’s astride me, her ass in my face, and I lean forward, licking her as she makes an art of giving me the best fucking blow job. The sound of her mouth and tongue as they suck my dick has me ready to explode again.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I grab a condom and sheath myself. With her ass still facing me, I rise to my knees and grip her hips, then bring her back, as the hilt of my dick finds her entrance again. Holding onto her, I thrust forward, the angle of her pussy as it sheaths around me, the vision of her ass as my dick slides inside her, incredibly potent, and I know I’m close.
I find her clit again and rub my finger over it. She gasps, and her walls tighten around me. It doesn’t take long for her to come again, her back arching as she cries softly, and I follow a few seconds later.
This time, as she settles in my arms, I hold her close, as if the safety of my arms will fend off any waiting tears. Soon, her soft breathing tells me she’s asleep, and with happy relief, I follow right after.
Chapter 14
Dylan
It’s after eight,and from the heaviness of Logan’s arm as I carefully lift it off my hip, he’s still in a deep sleep. Perfect.
Grabbing his shirt from the floor, I slide into it, buttoning it up as I head downstairs and to the kitchen. With the coffee brewing, I get started cooking the bacon and prepping the batter for the waffles.
It’s crazy, this sense of happiness and fulfillment I feel from just this simple task. Okay, so it’s not so liberated finding fulfillment in making a meal for your man, but there it is. It’s not like I’m going to come down here and make him breakfast every day.
But for today… most definitely.
The bacon is almost done. I test the waffle iron, then pour enough batter to fill the tray. I’m pulling off the third waffle and prepping the iron for another when I hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he’s there behind me, his naked chest bringing me against him as he wraps his arms around me, I have the last of the batter poured and the iron steaming as it cooks.
“You completely spoiled my surprise,” he says, whispering against my ear. “I was planning on making you breakfast.”
“Next time.” I stand there, just enjoying the feel of his skin against mine, the sweet smell of waffles and savoriness of the bacon that fills the kitchen. I can’t imagine anything feeling any better.
His hand finds my breast. Okay. I can imagine a few more things that feel better. “Not so fast,” I say joyfully and step from his arms. “Food first. I’m in need of a high carb load after our recent activity.”
He swats me on my ass and grabs a coffee mug. “Fine. Fair warning. I have the entire day off, and the only thing I have on my agenda is you, so—”
The quick succession of knocks on the front door cuts him off. We continue to stare at each other for a moment, his thoughts likely echoing my own. Who would be at the door on an early Sunday morning?
The knocking resumes, but his time a voice comes through the door. “Dad? You up? It’s Parker.”
My eyes widen. He’s standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a loose pair of jeans, while I’m wearing his shirt and nothing else.
“Dad?” The knocking turns to pounding.
“Here, you need this.” I pull his shirt over my head and hand it to him, very aware I’m buck naked in his kitchen. I race across the floor to the stairs, grateful Parker won’t be able to see my ascent up the stairs.
As I reach my room, I hear Logan greet his son.
Parker. Here. Instantly, I feel a wave of embarrassment about what his dad and I were just doing before he arrived and what we spent most of the night doing, too. What’s the etiquette here? Should I have talked about this with him before Logan and I did anything? Did I need his blessing?
More importantly, does Logan need his blessing if what happened between us is going to continue?
I grab a pair of jeans and a sweater from the trove of clothes I got from Hope and stop at the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth. I blink as I look at the image, feeling a sense of vanity and relief that I no longer look like a terrified Goth girl and more like myself. I really missed my red hair.
Satisfied, I come down the stairs as Parker explains to his dad how he thought, as an extra precaution, he wouldn’t call ahead to warn about his visit—or tell anyone else about it for that matter—and surprise us instead with his arrival.
Surprise indeed.
I step into the room as both sets of eyes turn. Parker’s face lights up as he sees me, and he comes over to hug me tightly. I look past his shoulder to see Logan watching us as he leans against the kitchen counter, his face a mask.
I wish we had a moment to talk about things, so I felt better about how to interact with his son. Especially since, as Parker steps back, I’m longing to go stand by Logan and hold his hand.
“You look great,” Parker says, staring at me with relief and something more.
