Page 11 of The Curvy Girl's Christmas Cowboy
We ride through our climaxes, until we collapse against each other. I hold her close, closing my eyes in bliss, burying my head in her shoulder, never wanting to let her go.
Chapter eight
Peach
It’s been a two-week love fest since I discovered the truth about him and Marjorie and we cleared the air. I’m over the moon.
We haven’t spent one night apart. He has a separate house on his family’s ranch where we picked out a balsam fir Christmas tree, chopped it down, and decorated it yesterday. But this morning we’re at my place, and even now, as the soft early light filters through the curtains, I could pinch myself. Every moment we spend together feels like pure magic.
The room smells like us, a mix of his fresh rain, smokey wood scent, my vanilla lotion and sex—the most perfect aroma on the planet. I inhale deeply and pull the sheet snugly over my shoulder. My gaze naturally gravitates toward him, sprawled on the bed with his tousled, sandy blonde hair against the pristine white pillow. Storm’s sculpted back, smooth and muscular, moves rhythmically with each breath. We made love off and on throughout the night and I’m already dying for him to be inside me again.
“Think we have time for a quickie?” His deep masculine voice shocks me as he suddenly rolls over wide awake with a lecherous grin. He clasps both my wrists in his big hand and holds them over my head, pinning me beneath him as I break into a fit of giggles.
I give him a playful once-over, flashing a sly smile. “How did you know exactly what I was thinking?”
“My spidey senses work when I’m asleep.” He chuckles, depositing a warm kiss on my lips while running his knowing hands along my sides, skimming my curves. How did I get so lucky? The man is perfection. His brown eyes are more hazel this morning, flecked with gold and there’s a trace of stubble along his square jaw. His full lips are too tempting to ignore. I cup his face and pull him close for a slow tongue kiss, feeling his morning wood grow harder against me.
I realize we’re pushing it for time. The Christmas Hoe Down starts in three hours and there’s a long drive ahead of us. We should be getting up and heading to the shower, but what’s a poor addict like me to do? There’s no way I’m passing up on my favorite love drug. I slip out from his hold and friskily push him down on the mattress, so I’m on top, with heat pooling between my thighs as I grind against him.
“Not so fast, my juicy little Peach,” he says with a wicked grin, scooping me into his arms effortlessly repositioning us so he’s staring down at me, with his hard cock wedged into my thigh.
“You’re such an alpha.” I laugh and try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he knows this is my favorite position. I’m at his mercy as he slides his hand down between my legs, teasing me with his fingers. I moan, arching my back, already desperate for release.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he murmurs in a low, hoarse voice, his breath hot against my ear. He slowly slides inside me, filling every inch of my needy pussy.
“I think you were made for me,” I sigh, basking in pleasure. At this angle, his dick is rubbing my clit with the perfect amount of friction. Gasping, I clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he rotates his hips. He slides down and captures my nipple in his mouth, sending sparks of electric currents buzzing through my veins.
Storm thrusts in deeper, and we fuck each other without mercy. He knows exactly when I want him to get a little rough and wild. The mattress squeaks to our rhythm, the headboard bangs against the wall, faster and harder we take each other to the edge until we’re both moaning, and crying out, with waves of ecstasy washing over us. We collapse into a sweaty heap, but unfortunately my phone rudely interrupts our morning cuddle by vibrating against the nightstand.
I lift my head to look, and decide to ignore the call. But whoever’s trying to get in touch, doesn’t give up. I crawl on my belly to the far edge of my side of the bed and grab my cell. Loretta Parker’s name flashes on the screen. “It’s the boss.” I turn to Storm before picking up. “She’s probably already at the barn.”
“I’m so glad I caught you,” Loretta says off the bat, without a hello, which is so unlike her. “We have a problem. A big one.”
“Oh no.” I hold my breath as a thousand nightmare scenarios fly through my brain—Did Boondocks back out on catering? Maybe the Ramblers cancelled, or the venue lost power. “What is it?”
“I’m hoping Storm can save the day, does he happen to be there?”
I bite down a giggle, shaking my head. Word travel’s fast around this town. “As a matter of fact, you’re in luck. Hang on.” I pass the phone to Storm. “It’s for you.”
He raises a brow and says hello. I watch with bated breath, trying to hear what’s going on but it’s a one-sided conversation, with Storm uttering only a few words. “I understand,” he says gravely. “Of course.” It’s another few seconds before he adds, “Don’t worry. I’ll manage … No, it isn’t a problem … Will do. See you there. Bye.”
“Well?” I ask the second he hangs up. “What happened? Tell me, what’s wrong.”
He shrugs his shoulders and falls back on the bed.
“Guess who’s playing Santa today?”
Chapter nine
Peach
The day’s been a whirlwind, but as Montana’s winter sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with fiery hues, I’m savoring the success of West Palomino’s first Christmas Hoe Down. I take a seat on a bale of hay and scan the spectacle of the now almost vacant, enchanting barn twinkling with lights from the rafters. The Christmas tree stands proudly in the center of the room dripping with sparkling ornaments from every branch.
Outside, the sleigh rides were a hit from the moment we opened the doors, to sunset. Today’s snowfall added a touch of magic blanketing everything with white powder. The sweet sound of sleighbells and children laughing drifted in through the doors all day.
The Wildcat Bar and Grill went above and beyond with the food, and Boondocks when all out with the beer, wine and festive drinks. Mom and Dad’s desserts were a hit as usual, and the entertainment was incredible. Rhett, Loretta’s son, managed to sneak away from Nashville with his band and made a surprise appearance, delighting everyone when they took the stage with the Ramblers.
Loretta’s craft fair was a triumph. The joy in her eyes said it all. Hundreds of handcrafted treasures and one-of-a-kind gifts found new homes, while we raised much-needed funds for our West Palomino. Before she left, she was already asking for volunteers to sign up for next year’s event.
