Page 50 of Leather & Lies

“I need—” She breaks off with a sob as I finally reach her core, giving her one long, slow lick before pulling away again. “Damn you, Jackson, I need to come.”

“How?” I slide two fingers back into her, keeping them perfectly still. “Like this?” I curl them slightly. “Or like this?” I drag my tongue against her clit, giving her just enough friction to wind her higher without letting her fall.

The rope creaks as she pulls against it. “Please!”

“Please what?” I maintain that maddening rhythm, never quite enough. “You know what I want to hear.”

“I need—” She breaks off again as I add a third finger, stretching her. “God, I need you inside me. Need you to fuck me. Please, Jackson, please?—”

I lift my head, watching her face. She’s magnificent like this—flushed and desperate, still fighting even as she begs. “I need—” Her voice breaks as I curl my fingers again. “Please, I need you inside me. Need you to fill me up. Need your cock, need you to fu—” She breaks off with a cry as I withdraw completely.

“Keep going.” I position myself at her entrance but don’t push in. “Tell me exactly what you need.”

“You!” The word bursts from her like I’ve torn it loose. “I need you, Jackson. Please.”

I need you too, sweetheart.I drive into her in one hard thrust, swallowing her cry with my mouth. She’s impossibly tight, still clenching from denied release. When I start to withdraw, her legs wrap around my waist, trying to keep me deep.

“That’s it, little hellcat.” I set a punishing pace, feeling her body yield to me completely. “Take what you need.”

Her wrists strain against the rope as she meets each thrust. Every move drives her higher, closer to the edge I’ve kept her from for so long. When I feel her start to tighten around me, I slide one hand between us to circle her clit.

“Come for me.” I bite down on her throat, marking her. “Now.”

She shatters, screaming my name, her whole body convulsing as pleasure finally breaks through her control. I fuck her through it, prolonging her release until she’s sobbing with oversensitivity. Only then do I let myself follow her over the edge, emptying myself deep inside her with a growl of possession.

After, I untie her wrists with careful attention, absurdly pleased to see the red marks on her skin. “Easy, little hellcat.” I press my lips to each wrist, tasting her pulse. “Let me take care of you.”

She curls into my chest without prompting, still trembling with aftershocks. The sight of her like this—guard completely down, seeking comfort in my touch—makes something fierce and protective surge to life in my chest. I gather her closer, wrapping the rough blanket around us both.

“Drink.” I hold a canteen to her lips, supporting her head as she sips. Water trails down her chin, and I catch it with my thumb. The small intimacy feels like a victory.

Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion, defiance finally giving way to the need for rest. She settles back against me with a soft sigh that unravels something tight in my chest. I drag my fingers through her tangled hair, noting every mark I’ve left on her skin. Each one is a claim, a reminder that for these precious moments, she trusted me.

Outside, the ranch will eventually wake up, but here, time seems suspended. I map Shiloh’s body with possessive touches, gentler now but no less claiming. Each sweep of my hands tellsher she’s safe, protected, mine. Even if this trust is as fleeting as the storm.

She drifts toward sleep under my ministrations, her breathing evening out. Only then do I let myself acknowledge the truth—that I need her trust as much as I need her submission. That watching her yield to pleasure was devastating but watching her seek comfort in my arms might destroy me completely.

“Sleep, little hellcat.” I press another kiss to her temple, tightening my arms around her. “I’ve got you.”

Her answering murmur might be a curse or an endearment. Either way, I hold her closer, committing every detail to memory. These unguarded moments are as precious as they are rare, and I’m not foolish enough to think I’ve won anything but temporary peace.

Tomorrow she’ll be back to fighting me, and god help me, I’ll want her even more for it. But right now, as she sleeps in my arms, I let myself imagine a future where she gives me everything—not because I’ve forced her to, but because she’s chosen to stay.

19

Shiloh

I findthe drawer by accident, looking for my phone after Jackson had stripped me down to eat me out earlier that day. The leather of his chair still holds his scent—cedar and smoke, leather and sin—as I crouch to retrieve it. My fingertips brush something metal instead. A hidden latch.

The storm builds outside, thunder growling across the Montana sky like a warning I’m too late to heed. Wind rattles the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, and my reflection fragments across the rain-streaked glass—a woman I barely recognize anymore, wearing the soft sweater he’d given me, hair falling loose around my shoulders instead of in its usual practical braid.

The drawer slides open with a whisper of well-oiled hinges.

Time stops.

My hands shake as I lift the first photo. It’s me, three weeks ago, working with the new stallion in the east paddock. I remember that day—the way the sunrise had painted everything gold, how the dangerous horse had finally yielded to my touch. I’d thought I was alone.

I wasn’t.

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