Page 17 of Auctioned to the Cowboy

This is all me. I’m the one unraveling him, driving him to the edge. The realization sends a rush of pride and desire through me, intoxicating and addictive. I want more—I want to see how far I can take him, how completely I can make him fall apart.

I quicken my pace, my head moving rhythmically along his length while my hand works the base, adding to his torment. More precum beads at the tip, mingling with my saliva as I savor him. He tastes raw, primal, and utterly addictive. I can't get enough.

Henry groans again, his work-roughened hands pushing my hair back and holding my head in place as I take him even deeper until the head of his cock hits the back of my throat. I gag reflexively.

He fists my hair more tightly. "That's it, Shay. Take every fucking inch," he commands.

I obey, determined to drive him insane. Me, virginal-Shay-turned-avid-cocksucker. But only with him. With Henry. My husband.

“Shay,” he grunts, his hips faltering. “I'm gonna come, sweetheart. If you don’t want it, pull away now.”

Pull away? Nu-uh. I want all of it. Every drop. I shake my head slightly, and his head tips back.

“Fuck!”

With that warning, his cum fills my mouth. There’s so much that it spills down my chin and onto my breasts.

Henry is panting as he pulls me up and kisses me fiercely. Unbelievably, his cock is still hard between us.

“Isn’t that… supposed to go down?” I ask when he lets me up for air, glancing between us.

Henry chuckles. “Yeah, but I guess he didn’t get the memo where you’re concerned because, fuck, you're incredible. I've never come like that before.”

He drops a kiss on my swollen mouth before moving to the adjoining bathroom. He returns a minute later with a warm washcloth and cleans his cum from my mouth and breasts. I shiver as he uses it to circle my nipples, reigniting the pulse of desire between my legs.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck my nipple into his mouth.

“If it’s anything like what you’re doing to me, I have a pretty good idea,” I squeak as he bites down gently. “I want you, Henry. All of you.”

He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?"

I pause, pretending to reconsider as I glance at his thick cock. “Well, having had that in my mouth, I’m now wondering how it’ll fit in my vagina, so…”

He frowns, taking me at face value. “We don’t have to?—”

“Yes. We do,” I say, cutting him off by pressing my fingers against his mouth. “I know this was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but we don’t have to be in love to enjoy each other.”

Something flickers in his eyes at my words, but it’s swiftly gone. Then he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed, his eyes locked on mine as he lays me down gently. His big, naked body looms over me as he joins me on the bed, his lips finding mine in a deep kiss. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

His hands roam my body, exploring every curve, every inch. I arch into his touch, wanting more, needing more. His fingers find my breasts, teasing, pinching, driving me wild.

I moan into his mouth, my body arching beneath him. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, my collarbone, my chest. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking, biting, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I gasp, my hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention, driving me wild with desire.

“Are you nervous?”

My gaze flies to his at the unexpected question. I shake my head. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” he admits gruffly, his cheeks ruddy. “Been a long time for me, and I want to make this good for you.”

I can’t help the spark of pleasure his admission gives me. His vulnerability makes this all the more poignant.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s been never for me, so you have a blank canvas. Paint on me however you like. I think I’m already addicted to your brushstrokes.”

I jerk as he covers my nipple with his mouth, his tongue warm and moist as he drags it over the hard peak. “Like this?” he growls. “This the kind of strokes you mean?”

“Oh, yes,” I agree wholeheartedly. “Just like that.”

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