Page 148 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
If she were wearing panties, they would have melted off her body.
They had taken the dirty talk role-play to the next level—which took steadfast dedication and was no small accomplishment for busy parents.
She ran her hands up his powerful, leather-clad legs and inhaled her husband’s earthy, sensual scent. He gripped her waist and sat up to take her tight nipple into his mouth as the tip of his cock teased her entrance.
“I’m ready for my riding lesson,” she purred, her lips parting as Jordan licked and caressed her breasts.
“How do you want it, cowgirl?” he growled like a rough and ready ranch hand.
She rocked into him. “This naughty rancher’s daughter wants it hard and fast.”
“Jesus, Georgiana,” he bit out, thrusting his cock inside of her.
The searing connection between them hadn’t dampened. Each time his hard length entered her body, the sweet sting of him filling her completely made her bite her lip as she reveled in wanton pleasure.
He rolled his hips as she rode his cock. Arching her back, she ran her fingers through her sex hair as he gripped her ass—his strong hands guiding her up and down in heated strokes. Their bodies grew slick with sweat as she rode him, true to her word, hard and fast. The slap of skin, coupled with the sweet grind of his pelvis against her tight bundle of nerves, had this naughty cowgirl teetering on the edge of oblivion before you could shout yeehaw.
“Georgiana, you’re so damned beautiful,” he said, his voice low and husky and exactly what she needed to hear to let go.
She collapsed into him. Her world shrank into one tiny ball of light before exploding into a spray of heated, frenzied energy as they met their earth-shattering orgasm. Their lips crashed together as he swallowed her lusty cries. Her greedy body writhed with his, drawing out every ounce of gratification.
“You should keep the chaps in the bedroom,” she said on a winded breath.
“You were the one who said they were never going back to the costume store.”
She maneuvered her body off of his, and they turned to face each other, lying side by side. She traced her finger down his jawline and stared at his handsome face, unable to imagine a life without this man. Together—and often with the world watching—they’d crafted a life that was uniquely theirs.
The eight and the ten who became more than just a number.
“Look at all the things I’ve been right about,” she teased, reaching down to see if her randy ranch hand was up for round two when the door to the bedroom swung open.
“Look, Mommy! Daddy’s dressed like a cowboy who lost his underwear!”
