Page 97 of A Rancher's Heart
Tamara caught her knees and stared down at him, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she offered a rosy-cheeked smile. “You are a very thorough looker,” she teased.
He didn’t answer, just rose up so he could peel off one furry sock then press a kiss to the arch of her foot.
She giggled, the entire bed shaking as her laughter grew. He ignored her, although he had a smile on his face as he sucked her toes into his mouth one by one. Next came more kisses, from her ankle up the backside of her leg until he could torment the sensitive skin on the back of her knee with his tongue.
The giggling stopped at that point, turning into moans of ecstasy.
He repeated everything on the opposite side, and laughter returned as he peeled off her second sock.
“Caleb Stone. Do you have a foot fetish?” she demanded.
He gripped her ankle more firmly then teased his tongue between her toes. Tamara’s eyes widened, pleasure streaking across her face.
He was having too much fun to stop. This time he didn’t hesitate for more than a second at the back of her knee before continuing all the way along her inner thigh, scraping his whisker-roughened cheek against her soft skin. Pressing her knees farther toward her head so her hips rocked off the bed.
Open and ready for when he dropped to his elbows and licked delicately.
“Oh…”
Caleb took his time, tasting and teasing. Listening to the sounds she made in response to each one of his actions as he learned what she liked and what she loved.
And every time he glanced up she was still watching, gaze on his mouth, drifting over his features. Eyes fluttering shut as her body tensed under him, closing on her peak.
He pulled away before she could climax, swallowing her soft moan of protest with a kiss before he rolled away, digging in his jeans for one of the condoms he’d stashed.
He was back on the bed in seconds, pushing her back when she would have sat up to join him.
When he lifted the wrapper to his mouth to rip it open, though, Tamara stole the condom from his fingers. “None of that. No teeth near condoms unless you’re doing it the right way.”
Her words were confusing enough to make him hesitate. He found himself being levered to the bed, her firm grasp around his shaft as good as a nose ring on a bull. “The right way?”
Tamara removed the condom then placed it on the head of his cock, and the next second she’d leaned forward and was using her lips to roll it down his length. Slow repetitious movements that threatened to send him flying over the edge far too quickly.
“Fuck.”
She pulled back and wiped her mouth. “Strawberry. My favourite.”
Caleb laughed, pulling her into his arms and catching hold of her ass. He lifted her over him, but she rolled to her side. Moving together to line up, he slid deep, her leg draped over his hip giving him the perfect angle to be surrounded with white-hot pleasure.
There was too much to feel. Too much to enjoy. Tamara scratched his back, sliding a hand over his ass as he pumped against her. He got a breast in his fingers, kneading the heavy weight before pinning the tip of her nipple against his fingers with his thumb and rolling.
Another kiss, another caress. And through it all, the motion of their bodies rocking against each other, ancient and perfect and far too raw to resist.
Tamara arched against him as a throaty cry escaped. Her sex clamped down, and he swore, fighting off his release for another thrust. And another, long enough to drag out her pleasure until she gasped every time he drove forward.
He lost all finesse, rolling her to her back, locking his elbow around her knee to pull her farther open so he could drive deep for his last thrusts.
Release started somewhere near his toes and went all the way up, shooting through his system as if he were being electrocuted, power surging until the top of his head was ready to come off and stars formed in front of his eyes.
They clung to each other, breathing heavily. He didn’t want to leave, but he took care of the condom quickly before returning and pulling her back into his arms.
She curled against him, and he realized that sometime in the last ten seconds she’d finally removed her glasses. “You don’t need to see anymore?” he teased.
Tamara shook her head, a gentle motion against his chest. Her arms draped over him, their legs tangled. “Need sleep.”
It was late enough that it made sense. No postcoital serious discussion, no questions about where they went from there.
He rolled far enough to turn out the light before coming back to cradle her. Staring around the room that had once been his wife’s.
