Page 88 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

Instead, I pulled away from him all at once, taking away my hands and my lips from his ear. He groaned at the loss of contact, swaying on his feet.

“Down. On all fours,” I told him.

I was here to make him come and show him how good my tongue could feel.

Not for intimacy.

Not to hold him so close it veered into something… more.

He looked utterly gorgeous—and painfully fuckable—as he got down on his hands and knees for me on the blanket.

I’d always liked seeing a strong man in a position of submission, but something about Max was even more fun than that.

He was submitting to me, yes.

But he craved my touch, and I wasn’t going to deny him that addiction.

“Almost thought you were about to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,” he murmured. “Your mouth up against me like that.”

“My mouth up against you makes you fucking melt. Wait until it’s on your hole.”

“I had a dream about you last night,” he said as I got down on my knees behind him.

Getting into this position was tempting beyond belief. I could fuck him, right now. Go in raw, slicked only with spit, and he would learn to like the pain.

Fuck him hard and get the hell out of this city, so that I never bring him into my world, at all.

Protect him—from me, not from the others.

I shoved the thoughts away.

“What was your dream?” I asked him.

“That I was chasing you. Down the halls of some sort of fancy, lavish hotel. But you were always one turn away, one room away.”

I hummed, grazing my fingertips over the small of his back, watching the goosebumps it drew out from his skin.

“Chasing me, huh? Why?”

“Because I wanted something from you.”

Heat rippled out from the center of my chest. “Good.”

Bad, bad, bad.

“I woke up hard,” he said. “A few moments of my hand around my dick and it was spilling out of me.”

“Put your hand around your cock now,” I said, my breath a little hoarse.

He obliged instantly, and I bent over, biting one of his ass cheeks before pressing a line of small kisses towards his hole.

I spread him wide. As I brought one fingertip to his hole, he jumped, just slightly, as if he was expecting it to be my tongue.

“Easy, Baby Blue,” I murmured.

When I finally let my tongue slide one slow, steady stripe along his hole, he didn’t flinch at all, though.

I heard him whisper under his breath. “Oh, God.”

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