Page 56 of Ride Me Cowboy

“Well, I slept like a rock, but I had the strangest dream,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her coffee then replacing the mug. “You were there.”

My brows flex upwards. “Oh, yeah?”

She adjusts her shirt, pulling it back into place, but it does nothing to disguise the pert peaks of her nipples, straining against the soft cotton of the tee.

“And just what was I doing?”

“It’s not whatyouwere doing,” she replies. “But what I was doing to you.”

A bit of seed spills from me. I stare down at her, feeling heat spread across my cheekbones. Is she suggesting what I think she’s suggesting?

As if to confirm the direction of my thoughts, she wriggles to the edge of the bed, eyes lifting to me as she moves her hand toward my jeans.

I am way too fully-charged for this. I take a step back, loving what she’s suggesting, but needing to sort myself out before I let her touch me.

But the second I move away, her eyes cloud with uncertainty. Self-doubt. I could kick myself for being so insensitive. “I’ve got a bit of a situation here,” I explain, gesturing to the front of my pants. “If you so much as touch me…”

“Oh.” She blinks then, lips quirking downwards. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

My laugh is hoarse. Cracked.Jesus.

“Come on, Cole. Let me.”

Let me.

Like it’s a privilege. Like she can’t wait to get down and suck my cock.

“Fuck, Beth,” I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. “This isn’t what I came in here for.”

“So what?” She’s out of bed now, her hands latching into my jeans and undoing the button first, then the zipper. Her eyes flick to mine, as she kneels down on the carpeted floor. Her fingers tremble a little, but she pushes at my boxers, freeing my rock-hard dick at her eye height.

“Wow,” she says, which is pretty much the perfect reaction for a girl to give when she sees you for the first time. Her touch is tentative, like she’s building up to doing this.

“Beth, you really don’t have to?—,”

“Shhh,” she says. “I’m just appreciating the moment.” She smiles up at me then, reassuring me, and I realize: I was wrong. She’s not building up to this; she’s relishing it.

A second later, her mouth wraps around my tip and I shudder at how fucking wet and warm she is, at how she swishes her tongueacross me, tasting me, then moving her mouth deeper over my shaft, as deep as she can. I hit the back of her throat and tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling as breath hisses from my body. I don’t see her reach for my hand, but she’s suddenly guiding me to her breast, placing my palm over her shirt, so I groan, guttural and raw, and squeeze her there before pushing higher and getting my hand in the neckline of her shirt so I can touch her flesh, not just the cotton of her shirt.

When I squeeze her nipple, hard, she moans around me, and wriggles her pelvis, like she’s just fucking desperate to come. And I’m going to see to that, too, just as soon as I can think straight. Just as soon as I can move. But the truth is, the sight of this woman down on her knees, taking me so deep, savoring the feeling of me filling her mouth like I am, hell. It’s more perfect that I can describe.

I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of the sight of this. The feel of it. My other hand moves to her hair, tangling in its length, as she moves backwards and forwards over my hard cock until I feel that heat building in my balls, spreading through my whole body, that tells me I’m about three seconds away from shooting my load in her mouth.

“Beth, you need to stop,” I warn, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t. She just takes me deeper, flicking her tongue across my tip before speeding up, so I don’t have a hope in hell of stopping what’s coming. I hit the back of her throat and come, hard, my whole body wracked with the pleasure she’s just given me, every part of me exploding because of her.

All because of her. And even though I know nothing in this life is permanent, that playing for keeps is the last thing I desire, in that perfect, euphoric moment, I want to reach out and grab her with two hands and never fucking let her go again. For thesmallest, most liminal moment, I exist in a world of idealism, with Beth, and me, and a whole golden future. But reality is there, reminding me swiftly what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under you: reminding me that people die without warning, that my sole purpose in life is to take care of my family.

She glances up at me, and smiles, slow and shy, like a good girl who’s just learned she’s actually really bad. Really dirty. And she likes it.

Come to think of it, I like it, too.

“Jesus, honey,” I mutter, reaching down and grabbing her under her arms, pulling her to standing so I can look in her eyes and make sure I don’t see any of those haunted shadows I hate so much lurking there. Clear ice blue stares back at me.

She presses a hand to my chest, where my heart’s racing faster than a spooked stallion.

“I can confirm that’s even better than what I dreamed.”

“For you and me both.” I press a finger beneath her chin, keeping her face tilted to mine. “I only came in here to make sure you were okay.”

---