Page 23 of Horned to be Wild
“Come for me,” he ordered, and she shattered.
Her head fell back against the wall, her sweet little cunt convulsing around his fingers as she cried out his name. A deep satisfaction filled him, and he continued to stroke her slowly, drawing out her climax.
As her body relaxed, she slumped against him. He picked her up and carried her over to the chair he kept in the corner, sitting down with her in his lap, and she nestled happily against him. He’d done it. He’d pleasured her without losing control, without hurting her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft and content.
“My pleasure,” he said, and meant it.
She gave a breathy laugh. “I should hope so.”
He grunted, not wanting to admit how much her climax had affected him. But she shifted, her hip pressing against his erection. Her head tilted back and she looked up at him.
“What about you?”
“This is enough,” he said firmly.
She didn’t look as if she believed him—he wasn’t sure he believed himself—but if this meant he could keep her happy and keep her safe, it was enough. It had to be enough.
She looked around at the paint-splattered workshop and began to laugh again. “We’ve made quite a mess.”
He followed her gaze, taking in the chaos they’d created. But instead of the irritation he would have expected to feel at such disorder, he felt only a deep contentment.
“Worth it,” he said simply, pulling her close again.
“We should probably clean up,” she murmured against his chest, making no move to pull away.
“Probably,” he agreed, equally reluctant to let her go.
Outside, Mabel bleated happily from the shelter of her pen, clearly pleased with her matchmaking success. He made a mental note to give her an extra treat later, but for now his arms were full and his heart was content. That was all that mattered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Paint still speckled Lila’s hair the next day as she made the final adjustments to her paintings. The colorful aftermath of yesterday’s impromptu paint fight with Torin had transformed both of them. She smiled at the memory of his deep laughter, the way his amber eyes had lit up with mischief, how natural it had felt to be wrapped in his powerful arms.
“I never thought I’d see you like that,” she said, glancing over at him as he put the finishing touches on the intricate edge of the Narnia doorframe.
“Like what?” His hands remained steady, though a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Playful. Happy.” She set down her brush and stretched, wincing at the stiffness in her shoulders. “It suits you.”
“I didn’t know I could still be that way,” he admitted quietly.
“Well, get used to it,” she teased, moving to stand behind him. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, her thumbs pressing into the tight muscles at the base of his neck. “I plan to make you laugh a lot more.”
He leaned back into her touch with a low rumble of appreciation that sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She continued massaging his shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath her fingers.
“The carvings are incredible,” she murmured, looking at the doorframes spread around the workshop. “The children are going to be thrilled.”
“Do you really think so?” There was a vulnerability in his question that made her chest ache.
“I know so.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, between his magnificent horns. “They’re magical.”
The next morning dawned clear and bright—installation day. She fidgeted nervously as they loaded the finished pieces into his truck. Each doorframe was a masterpiece, the intricate carvings a perfect frame for her paintings.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside?” she asked again as they pulled up to the elementary school. “Mrs. Gable would love to meet you, and the kids won’t be there yet.”
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “No. We had an agreement.”
