Page 11 of Buck Me

There’s no hesitation in her eyes, but I ask the questions anyway.Are you sure?

Do you want this?And finally,can I take care of you?

When she responds, her breath is quick and her cheeks flush. “I’ve never been sure of anything, but I am sure of you.”

In an instant, my mouth is back on hers. It’s a frenzy of tugging and pulling. I plant kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. My fingers find the hem of her shirt. When I pull it over her head, the morning air kisses her skin. I bury my face in her swollen cleavage.

Her hands work at the buttons of my flannel. When it falls away, she traces the lines of ink on my forearms. “Danner, you are everything."

I lean her back and slip her shorts onto the floor. Mine follow. My mouth finds the hollow of her throat, then I move lower. When I press on her thighs, she lets them fall open for me. I run my tongue down the length of her slit only to find she’s already drenched. The taste of her sends blood coursing through me and my cock pulsates with anticipation.

Taking my time, I work her into a fervor. She matches my long strokes by arching into my touch, and it’s stunning. Becca’s fingers dig into the back of my scalp, and she moans my name into the ceiling. The breathy sound ignites me.

I climb on top of her and line myself up with her opening.

Becca’s hand shoots up, and she presses her fingers into my chest. “You have to go slow, this is my first time.”

“Okay, I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

I press inside of her slowly. Becca gasps as I fill her. My body hums while her walls stretch around my girth. We finally come together, slow and sweet and desperate all at once. I pick up the pace and rock into her.

Grasping at her ass, I guide her movements until her hips move in time with my thrusts. I lose myself in time and space. Claiming her is white hot bliss. Becca is the only thing I can see, and I already know there isn’t any going back.

When she asks me for more, I give it to her. I thrust into Becca until she clenches along my length. Her beautiful body wracks with tremors. Her breath comes in shallow gasps. It takes everything in me to hold on as I drive her toward the edge.

When she falls over, she takes me with her. Becca chants my name as she rides a wave of release, and it undoes me. I cage her in with arms, pin her to the countertop, and pound her into the old wooden surface until I collapse.

CHAPTER 8

BOOTS AND BITCHING POD

What’s up,Sagebrush Creek? My ears are perked, my tea is steeped, and I’ve got a story so hot they might just curl your hair. Kingridge Ranch has never been accused of being boring. And lately, they’ve been giving us everything.

It’s your favorite secret podcaster back again with another boots-on-the-ground update. Grab your sweet tea, your spiked lemonade, or whatever makes you bold, and settle in because today it sounds like the bees ain’t the only ones getting busy in the flowers…

Well, yeehaw, y’all. When the greenhouse is rockin’, don’t come knockin’. Or so the rumor goes….

Apparently, things have been growing a little too well out on the edge of the ranch’s property if you catch my drift.

Sources say someone spotted a certain greenhouse door swinging open at dawn, and inside? A flannel-clad Kingridge and a mystery woman tangled up like roots in spring soil. No names were spoken aloud, but let’s just say the town’s favorite conservation cowboy has been spending extra time in the pollinator beds.

Now look, with so many of those Kingridge boys getting cozy these days, it’s hard to say whose boots were whose…Word is someone's been getting very comfortable with the greenhouse's... amenities. Sources say the old wooden table in there has been seeing a lot more action than just potting plants. The kind of action that leaves handprints on dusty surfaces and requires a good scrub-down afterward.

Guess who made a prodigal return with the incriminating evidence in his mouth… Thrusty.Yes, that goat.

Apparently, the ornery little bastard came swaggering out of the brush with a victory strut and—get this—a pair of lacey underwear in his mouth. White. Floral. Delicate. Not the kind of thing you expect to see on a livestock escapee, but hey, we don’t kink shame on this podcast.

The underwear was traced back to a pile of laundry left in the corner of the ranch’s old greenhouse. So now the real question is: Who’s running around Sagebrush Creek commando today?

Not that there's anything wrong with a little agricultural romance, but maybe invest in some curtains with all that ranching money. The sunrise tours are starting to get a little more educational than intended.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate what we’re dealing with here: a reformed goat, a mystery hookup, and someone who clearly had a very good morning.

Now, don’t go clutching your pearls just yet. This town’s no stranger to scandal, but this one? This has legs. Maybe even a whole future crop of wildflowers. And before you ask—no, Mayor Bellcourt has not commented. But wouldn’t you just love to see his face when he finds out who’s been pollinating who? Allegedly, of course.

Anyway, I’ll be watching. I’ll be listening. And I’ll be double-checking all the farmstand produce for any unwanted lacy surprises.

Until next time, Sagebrush?—

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