Page 66 of Wild and Wrangled

When he slid a second finger inside of me, my head fell back on a moan. “That’s right, angel,” he said as he licked and sucked at my neck. “Let me hear you. Don’t be shy. You never were before with me.” His thumb pressed on my clit, and I didn’t recognize the sound that came out of my body.

“Dusty,” I panted, and he bit down on my neck.

“Again,” he growled against my skin. “Say it again.”

I clutched at his back, trying to grab on to his shirt to steady myself. “Dusty,” I said again.

More. I wanted more. I spread my legs wider.

I felt it when Dusty’s mouth left my skin, but I didn’t have time to wonder where it went because when I brought my head back up, I saw him drop to his knees, pull me to the edge of the counter, and then his mouth was back on me. I was lost to the sensation of it all—of the ways he felt familiar and new all at once. It was like my body remembered him and reacted accordingly.

He used one of his hands to keep my underwear out of the way as he licked up my slit. I watched with rapt attention as he devoured me with his mouth and fucked me with his fingers.

The sight of him, with my legs over his shoulders and his eyes closed in pleasure, made my hips buck. “Oh my god,” I panted as his fingers went in and out of me—their rapid but steady pace felt so different from the languidness of his tongue, and I couldn’t get enough. I didn’t even register the sounds I was making or the way my body was writhing. I was just focused on him. I stared at Dusty between my legs until pressure started to travel down my spine.

“Dusty…” I moaned again, and my eyes rolled back. I couldn’t tell if I was shaking or if it was the world around me, but something was definitely falling apart. Dusty put pressure on my clit using the pad of his tongue before he sucked my clit into his mouth, and I broke apart.

I wasn’t used to this. The way my body fell apart under Dusty’s touch felt foreign and wonderful. Not that it hadn’t been incredible before, but there was something to be said for being older and wiser and more experienced.

And he kept going. He didn’t let up—forcing me to ride thewave of my orgasm. He made it last—wringing every ounce out of me. When I finally came down, Dusty’s mouth was still on me, and it felt like too much. I needed something different—something more. I wanted him inside of me.

“Dusty,” I panted. “I can’t—” I stumbled. “—No more, please,” I gasped.

Dusty lifted his head from between my legs slowly and grinned up at me. “Sorry,” he said, even though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’ve missed…doing that.”

“Noted,” I breathed.

As he rose from his knees, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and if I wasn’t already seated, I probably would have collapsed.

“You’re, um…” God, why couldn’t I make my voice sound normal? “You’re still…very good at it.” That felt like a stupid thing to say. “I—I mean—”

Dusty kissed me then, stopping my idiot blabbering. It was soft and tender and made me feel like I was a puddle on the floor of this very beautiful bathroom. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get my mouth on you again,” he whispered darkly. “And I’m nowhere close to done.”

I wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him closer and used my other hand to try to unbutton his pants.

A knock at the door startled both of us out of the kiss. “Anyone in here?” a man’s voice called. I slapped my hands over my mouth and started to giggle.

“Occupied,” Dusty called back. When his eyes met mine, he shook his head and started to laugh, too.

He pressed his forehead to mine, and I felt him breathe me in. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 29

Cam

Fifteen Years Ago

Before I met Dusty, I never would have entered any sort of tattoo shop. But now, here I was, sitting next to him while he added more ink to his arm. This one was a creepy-looking moth with skulls on it near his shoulder. I already loved it. I loved everything about him.

The hand attached to the arm that wasn’t getting tattooed was resting on my thigh. I thought he would tense up or something, but he didn’t. He was relaxed. Sometimes his eyes were closed, and sometimes they were on me.

Both of us were trying not to think about the fact that he was leaving in a week.

The artist working on him was an older guy named Shannon who was covered in tattoos. He even had the words “OLD SCHOOL” tattooed around the back of his head.

“What if I got one for you?” Dusty said out of nowhere.

I looked at him questioningly. “A tattoo?”

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