Page 112 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
“You,” he said, removing her cowgirl hat before pressing his lips to hers in a whisper-soft kiss.
If she hadn’t done her makeup, she might have allowed herself to melt into a pool of swoon.
But one thing was for sure. Locking lips with this man never got old.
“How much time do we have before the car arrives?” she asked between kisses that grew more impassioned by the second.
Since they were hosting the hoity-toity Denver Literacy Gala for her mother and Howard, the event staff had informed them that a car would be picking them up.
Tonight, they’d rub elbows with Denver’s elite movers and shakers while presenting the auction portion of the evening. And while she wasn’t a huge fan of the city’s socialite scene, this fundraiser was for a good cause close to her heart.
Raising loads of cash to purchase books for kids. Who can argue with that?
Jordan pulled back a fraction, and his gaze flicked to the clock. “We’ve got about ten minutes.”
She gave those chaps another glance. “What do you think we can do in ten minutes?”
A naughty glint sparked in his eyes. “A lot.”
“Define a lot?” she pressed on a breathy exhale.
He ran his hands down the length of her body and lowered his voice. “Turn around. Now.”
The breath caught in her throat as her body tingled, awash in his growly tone. She liked this bossy cowboy!
“Hold on to the counter,” he commanded.
A delicious shiver danced down her spine and settled between her thighs as her cowboy pressed a kiss to her neck, then slipped his hand beneath her dress.
Jordan slid his hand inside her panties and stroked her tight bundle of nerves. Just the right amount of rough from gripping barbells and thick cords of rope at the gym, he worked her in agonizingly slow, sensual circles. She bucked against his hand, wanting more, craving sweet release as her core clenched in anticipation.
“Do you like that, cowgirl?” he purred with a low, gravelly rasp.
She hummed a wicked moan. “You know I do.”
His carnal cowboy control over her body continued as he stroked between her thighs and assaulted her neck with his teeth and tongue, licking and nipping her sensitive skin. She teetered on the edge, hovering between the desire for release and the sweet anguish of knowing the rush of her orgasm was only a breath away.
She closed her eyes and focused on her husband’s magical fingers, stroking her in perfect, rhythmic circles. She rocked against his hand, pure animal instinct taking over, then reached back and held onto the band of his jeans.
Her nails dug into the smooth, cool leather chaps. “Do these come off?” she pleaded.
“They do. But this is all for you,” he answered, inserting a finger inside of her, then cupped her sex as he worked her slick center.
Jordan coaxed her to give in to the intense sensations, whispering in her ear, telling her all the dirty things he was going to do to her in these chaps when they got home tonight. But she couldn’t reply. She could barely think. All she could do was ride his hand, bucking and thrusting like a wickedly wanton cowgirl, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.
And then, she was there. Flying, falling, spiraling. Her body tingling, head to toe.
His warm breath came in scorching puffs against the shell of her ear as she collided with her frenzied release in an explosion of passion.
“Don’t stop,” she bit out, riding an exquisite wave of insurmountable carnal gratification.
And bless this man, he did not slow down. Instead, he doubled his efforts, lengthening each tantalizing swell of her release until her body returned to her, leaving her warm and delectably relaxed.
She blinked open her eyes, feeling delightfully sated and peaceful, to find herself face-to-face with Faby.
“This is strange,” she said on a dreamy sigh.
Jordan pressed a kiss to her temple. “I don’t think Faby minds.”
