Page 143 of Bucked Hard

“Callie.” He says my name like a warning, low and gravelly breaking me out of my dick trance. His eyes are a confession. My body is on display, muscles twitching, legs wide, so exposed, but he doesn’t move. Just keeps staring, that relentless gaze dragging down my throat, over the swell of my breasts before snapping back up like I’ve burned him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, though it’s a lie. I want him to look at me like this—like I’m something he’s craved for years without daring to take.

His head tilts, that half-smirk of his twisting into something darker. “Now you want me to stop? You threw down the gauntlet, baby. Some things you can’t take back. I’m right, aren’t I?”

The challenge hangs between us, sweet and dangerous. Before I can answer, he’s back on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight, his gaze dark and hungry. The air between us crackles. His hands find my thighs, then slide up, calloused palms dragging fire across my bare skin, until he’s right above me, his fingers cupping my breasts—and then his lips are on mine.

Lips I’ve watched as they moved for so long, telling me tall tales and scolding me when I jumped out of the hay loft and twisted my ankle. Lips that have shared a lifetime of talk with my dad. Telling him secrets and promising to always be there for me.

Not in this way though. I don’t think that was a promise he made to my father. But it’s one he’s going to have to deal with now.

When that first push of his tongue slides through my lips, I’m lost. It’s a real kiss, from a real man. Naked with me in his bed. It’s confident and greedy like we’ve done it a thousand times already.

It doesn’t feel like a kiss so much as an invasion. A war cry. His tongue inside my mouth, no permission asked for or needed, and I gasp into him, arching against the hard press of his hips, the brush of that smooth hardness lighting me up like fourth of July inside.

He groans, deep in his chest, fingers digging into my sides like he’s afraid I’ll float away if he lets go. My fingers fumble at the buttons of his flannel shirt.

‘Who wears flannel in the damn summertime, Buck?’my Dad always chided. I giggle at the memory as I break the kiss just long enough to tug at the front, a button popping off and landing between my breasts.

“Christ,” he breathes against my jaw as I work on unbuttoning the rest, “you’re gonna make me forget how this works.” His laugh is raw, a growl that vibrates in his throat before his lips crush down on mine again. Rougher now. Hungrier. “It’s been a long time. Since before you came along. I don’t know why, I never saw women the same after you came along. I didn’t want you then like I do now, but I never wanted anyone else either. Seems God had a plan. This dick’s yours Callie girl. It’s been waitin’ for you.”

When I finally manage to push the shirt off his shoulders, he helps, shrugging it away with one arm and pulling me tighter against him.

The first brush of his skin against mine steals my breath. His chest is all salt and sun-baked earth, a trail of dark hair leading lower than I’ve ever dared imagine…hard won muscles tense under my touch. God, I’ve never seen a man built like him. It’s my own private dreamscape, and I want to explore every part of him with my tongue.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing the pulse point on my throat. “What’s got you so shook up, little girl? Never kissed a man before?”

“No.” I blurt out. “Yes. I mean, no. Not like this.” I’m not even sure what the truth is.

But I know, I’ve never kissed someone who knows how to make every touch feel like a promise and a threat all at once.

I should explain, but he’s nipping my collarbone, and I’m melting. My breath hitches as he palms one breast, his thumb grazing the hardened peak with just enough pressure to make my knees go weak again.

“Jesus,” he groans, head dropping to kiss the hollow of my shoulder. “You’re fuckin’perfect.” The curse slips out like a prayer, and I’m struck by how un-Buck this is—the Buck who rodeos on Saturdays and drinks Lone Stars with Dad at barbecues isn’t supposed to sound so… vulnerable.

But then his fingers are slipping down my waist, my hips, brushing the apex of my thighs, and vulnerability vanishes. He grins against my skin, sharp and wolfish, when I gasp.

“Still think you’re ready for this?”

I bite his shoulder hard enough to bruise in reply, and he roars with laughter before his hand shifts, and I cry out as he cups my sex, fingertips grazing my damp lips, his rough thumb plucking at my clit and sending me into the stratosphere.

“Eyes on me,” he commands, voice a velvet growl. I obey, even though it’s hard to think straight as his fingers find their way inside me, slick and sure. I press my lips together to hold back a moan that’s ready to raise the roof, my eyes rolling back. “I said look at me.”

I do, and the intensity in his gaze makes my core tighten unbearably. He watches my face as he pushes two fingers into me, slow and deliberate, curling them just so…

“Buck—” I choke out, hips bucking instinctively as he hits something deep that has my vision blurring.

“So fucking tight. Jesus,” he murmurs, thumb flicking against the swollen bundle of nerves above him with practiced ease. “Let go.”

But I’m not ready to let go—not yet. Not when his other hand finds my tit again, fingers grazing my nipple until I’m a moaning mess beneath him. When I arch up, he pauses, groaning low in his throat like it’s killing him to stop… before plunging deeper than before.

“Cum for Papa, show me what a big girl you are,” he orders, voice ragged now, and the command alone sends me spiraling. Blind, deaf and dumb but happier than I’ve been in a long time.

The aftermath of the orgasm leaves me boneless, limbs tangled with Buck’s as we catch our breath on the cooling sheets.

“Nearly made me come just watching you.” He garbles around a mouthful of my tit, I giggle then he’s nibbling at my shoulder like a sated wolf, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my hipbone. For a moment, I let myself forget why this is wrong.

The man I’ve called Papa since I was in pigtails. It was playful then, until it wasn’t. Then it started to mean more to me than I let on. Until now.

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