Page 56 of Country Charm

Pushing my legs into my bed, I sit myself deeper on him and stop his movements. Hunter growls but gives me his submission.

Once I see that he’s settled and waiting for me to make the next move, I raise my hips and heedlessly position his steel rod at my opening. I feel his silky head breach my drenched lips.

“Oh, fuck,” he grumbles, and I start to slide the tip of him in me. I beam at how powerless he suddenly seems.

My skin heats, sending fireworks through my veins as I continue to lower myself onto him. He’s stretching me and filling me in a new way. The sensation feels ethereal andunworldly.

Even though I’m on top of him, I feel like I’m doing it for him. I’ve been on top plenty of times, but that was all for me. I always made sure I got what I needed and never wanted a man to feel like he had dominance over me. Hunter’s dominance is so strong that I feel it from under me.

I can hear my heart pounding in my chest—a loud metronome only I can hear mixed with the music of our labored breaths. In his eyes I can see his wanting, his patience… his passion. I feel like I can hear his unspoken command.

Ride me, make me feel good, make yourself feel good, but not too good… that’s my job.

Listening to this command is quite simple, except I will take everything I want. That is, as long as he lets me. As I slide down his length, his fingers push into the flesh of my thighs with bruising intensity. Hunter’s jaw ticks and his nostrils flare as he looks intently into my eyes.

When I’m seated on him, I roll my hips side to side to accommodate him as best as I can before I begin to move. The rolling alone has me lighting up inside. Being this connected to Hunter, feeling him hot and completely intertwined with me does things to me I’ve never experienced.

Those feelings are somewhat unwanted, so I decide to return to passion. As I roll my hips, I slide my hands across my own skin from my stomach to my neck; my skin has become dewy with anticipation alone. I bring my hands up and slide them through my hair. Every nerve of my body feels like it’s been charged with electricity.

Hunter’s patience continues and his gaze deepens. I desperately want to break our eye contact for my own preservation, but at the same time, I’ve never felt more desired than I do at this moment.

Bringing my hips up a little before sliding back down, I feel the rush of hot air push past my lips in a soft moan.Keep going,Hunter’s eyes tell me. So, I do. I rise higher each time before sliding back down and rolling my hips. My hands fall to his chest to help me gain better support as my body continues to light up.

I ride him, and I do so with unbridled passion. I can feel myself heating up internally. It’s not only with anticipation of climax; I can feel something blossoming deep in my chest, and Hunter’s blue eyes are only making it happen faster. I drop my gaze and my chin before throwing my head back and moaning louder. With every intention to keep my head thrown back, I continue to work him over.

A feeling flits across my skin; it’s a hard, calloused hand sliding from my hip up my body. It slides between my aching breasts, which would die for attention. It slides past my collarbone and to my throat. I expect his fingers to take hold there again, but the sensation causes my chin to tilt and that’s where his hand settles. Gripping my jaw, Hunter pulls my face down so my eyes meet his gaze and pumps his hips up from under me. It sends electricity shooting up my spine, and my channel clenches as I moan loudly.

I want more, so I try to pump my hips to achieve a similar effect. The angle isn’t quite right, and the pressure is different. Hunter’s gaze is knowing. His previous look had been more serious and intense but is now cocky and sweet.

“Ride me, Cass.” His tone is guttural and husk. His demand makes me wild inside. The flame in me has grown bigger. I feel less inhibited, my confidence doesn’t matter. It’s not about how I am being perceived by Hunter; it doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m hot or good at riding him.

My hips begin to move erratically and his hand on my chin falls back to my thigh. Sliding his hands up to my hipshe guides me with tender but strong hands. I feel myself buzzing more and more. Hunter feels it too; his grip is getting tighter, and his movements are punishing my creamy flesh. His right hand drops down and his thumb makes contact with my swollen bud. He’s not rubbing aimlessly, and the pressure isn’t too hard. The measured force is one that I would use with my own fingers to bring myself to climax.

I can’t stop the screams and Hunter can tell I’m faltering. He picks up where I lack, slamming into me from below and angling his hips, while expertly rubbing me.

“Fuck.” Hunter’s hips slam up into me and he holds me still as I feel myself pulsing around him. I feel him pulse inside me, his release evident with a warmness I've never experienced. Eyes that I had not realized were closed open lazily.

“That’s my girl.” He grins below me and tenderly pushes the hair out of my face, before settling his palm against my cheek. My instinct is to turn into that strong hand. I feel pampered and adored. It sends a chill up my spine. I want to get off, but he gently pulls me down to lay on his chest. He gently strokes my back as my ear and cheek lay against his warm skin. A deep sleep is calling to me as I listen to his heart and his attempt to even his breaths.

Fuck me, I’m in trouble.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hunter

Cassidy’s bed is smaller than mine, but there is enough room for both of us to have our own space. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that she prefers to sleep alone and that she prefers to sleep in. I, on the other hand, have been waking up between four thirty and five thirty since I was in my teens.

The sleep I get next to this woman is the best I’ve had in ages, and it doesn’t have to be long. She fell asleep after riding me but woke up shortly after to use the washroom. This apparently gave her enough strength for another round. Before I knew it, we had spent more hours in the night rolling around in bed than actually sleeping.

Now it’s a quarter to five and the poor girl is wiped out. She lies heavily on her side next to me, a hand reaching out and gently holding mine. Her brown hair is a mess, matted in some areas and the rest splaying across her pillow. Her breathing is deep and even, her lips slightly parted. She looks exhausted, but stunning.

Her chest is exposed to the night air, so I reach down for the blanket that’s at her hip and pull it up to cover her. Nota muscle moves. Pulling my hand out from hers, I move to get out of the bed carefully, and Cassidy doesn’t stir.

I walk into her bathroom and take a quick shower. I smell her bodywash, her shampoo, her conditioner. Her bodywash is an obvious handmade bar, but not Franny’s. The shampoo and conditioner are in glass jars instead of plastic. These are the little things I like to see. Her reusable bags at the marketplace. The reusable containers in her shower and locally sourced body soap. Cassidy not buying into mainstream, easy-access cosmetics has a huge appeal to me.

I use her bar soap for everything, figuring it will suffice. After feeling cleaned up and wrapping a towel around my waist, I walk back into Cass’s room to find her sleeping peacefully on the side of the bed I had left.

I toss on a pair of boxers and head out to her living room to make some coffee. She has a prodigious selection of beans, but I look for some that are already ground so I don’t have to grind them and wake her.Kauai Coconut Blend?It seems to be the only one pre-ground, so I make a small pot. It smells and tastes sweeter than I like and lacks the boldness I prefer, but it’s not terrible. Grabbing the mug, I look over the space and decide to sit in the leather chair and read while Cass catches up on her lost sleep.

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