Page 35 of Branded By the Cowboy

She kisses me, mouth opening to mine as her hips rock slightly. Her body begins to soften, adjust,accept me.

I move again. Slowly at first—so fucking slowly—until her gasps turn into moans. Until her nails drag down my back instead of digging in. Until she’s matching my rhythm and her hips rise to meet mine, pulling me deeper every time.

She wraps her legs around my waist and tilts her pelvis enough that I find the right spot—the one that makes her eyes roll back and her breath catch on my name.

I thrust again. And again.

“More, Angus. I need more.”

“I don’t… wanna hurt you,” I say through my teeth.

“You said you couldn’t be gentle. But you were,” she huffs, clenching around me. “And now I want all of you. Don’t hold back.”

I growl, low and rough, the sound ripping straight from my chest. “I’ll give you all of me, sweetheart. Every last fucking inch.”

I grip her hips and drive into her harder, deeper, and the cry that rips from her throat undoes me. Her body takes me, welcomes me, surrounds me in heat and slick, pulsing need. She trembles beneath, meeting every thrust like she can’t get enough.

The slap of flesh against flesh, her breathy moans, the way she clings to me like I’m the only thing tethering her to the earth—it’s too much.

She gasps. “I—I think I’m—Angus?—”

“I’ve got you,” I rasp. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

Her body locks beneath mine and she shudders, breaking apart with a cry muffled against my shoulder. Her walls grip me like a fist, and I’m done for.

I thrust one last time and spill deep inside her, groaning her name like a prayer.

Afterward, I don’t move. I can’t. My arms shake as I lower myself beside her and gather her against me.

Her breath is still uneven. Her cheeks are damp. And her fingers curl into my chest like she’s afraid I might vanish if she lets go.

We lie there for a minute in the dim light, tangled in heat and sweat.

Once I’ve caught my breath, I gently disentangle myself from her soft body and pad to the bathroom before she can say anything.

Quickly cleaning myself up, I grab a clean washcloth. I soak it in warm water and wring it out with shaking hands, still recovering from what we just shared.

When I return to the bedroom, she’s still curled on her side, eyes half-lidded, watching me like she’s not sure if I’ll bolt or kiss her again.

“I’m fine,” she says, voice soft and raspy. “You don’t have to?—”

“Yeah, I do.”

I settle beside her again and gently nudge her thighs apart. She blushes and tries to close them, but I shake my head.

“Don’t hide from me now, Luna,” I murmur. “Let me take care of you.”

She nods, biting her lip, and relaxes.

I clean her slowly, carefully, the way you handle something precious. She hisses once when the cloth brushes her tender skin, and I murmur a low apology, pressing a kiss to her knee as I finish.

She reaches for me, pulling me back under the covers with her. I don’t resist.

Her head finds my chest, hand curled above my heart. She’s quiet for a while, fingers tracing idle circles over my skin. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft. Curious. Careful.

“Have you… been with a lot of women?”

I go still. Not because I’m offended, but because I wasn’t expecting it. She doesn’t sound jealous. Just… uncertain. Like maybe she thinks she’s not enough.

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