Page 135 of Ride the Sky

“Yes.” She hesitates, bites her lip. “I want to see.”

“See what?”

Her hands yank at my shirt, lust-glazed eyes roaming my face. “How you feel. How you taste.”

I angle my head and crush my mouth to hers. Her kiss burns from the whiskey. Her tongue stroking over mine, I let her control the kiss. It’s hungry, heated. She bites my lip, and I groan, crazy with need for this girl.

I wish she didn’t taste this fuckin’ good. Wish she didn’t drive me wild.

When we pull back, Fallon trembles against me. “You taste like the rodeo,” she says hoarsely. “Wild. Raw.”

“You want raw, baby, that’s exactly how I’m gonna fuck you.” It’s already decided. Fuck self-control. Touching her, fucking her is all that matters. Time to strip my girl bare and make her come.

I scoot her hips forward, positioning her legs on either side of me. With shaking hands, I shove her skirt up around her hips. Drag her panties down to her knees. Taking my time, I slide a finger through her tight pink pussy. Fallon’s head falls back, a whimper escaping those ruby-red lips.

“Soaked,” I rasp. “Fuckin’ soaked for me.”

“Wyatt,” she whines.

I grin. I love this side of my girl. Letting me take charge. Aching for me like she damn well should.

I release my fly and pull out my cock. It throbs in my palm.

Her pupils dilate.

I step closer. “Grab the fuckin’ curtains, Trouble.”

She reaches behind her head and grabs at the curtain rod. I step into the apex of her thighs then slam inside of her.

Fallon cries out, eyes shuttering. Her rosy cheeks, her flushed breasts, are so fucking stunning I have to remind myself to breathe.

I stay there for a moment, soaking her in, then I begin to thrust. Harder and harder as she trembles against each slam of my hips.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps, arching her back and grinding her pussy against me. The curtain rod shakes. Her breaths are loud and fitful.

Gripping her thighs, I groan as I sink deeper. My voice strangles. “Fuck, baby.”

“I know, I know, it feels…” Her mouth opens, closes. “Perfect,” she finishes.

“Fucking perfect,” I rasp.

Our bond. This life. Perfect’s the only world to describe it. Everything else pales in comparison. Fallon’s my path in this fucked-up world. No doubt about her. No existence without her.

I step back, pulling out, then slam back into her. She releases a half-cry, half-moan. I fist a hand in her hair, let myself go, and thrust hard. Harder. Matching my movements to the slow circles of her hips, riding out the ripples of her pussy.

Fallon comes violently, shaking in my arms and screaming my name.

Bracing myself on the counter, I fall forward and detonate. Grunting and emptying myself into her. Each release only cements how much I love her.

Her slack legs, her arms fall around me. At the perfect time, too. The curtain rod finally comes unhinged, clattering to the counter.

“Well, fuck.” I laugh, stroking a hand through her wild hair. “Guess I’ll fix that tomorrow.”

Fallon laughs and buries her face in my chest.

I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bedroom.

“Kitchen sex at midnight,” she murmurs as I settle her on the bed. Her smile’s dreamy. Triumphant. “What a way to end the night.”

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