Page 20 of A Cowboy's Twinkling Lights Lasso
“Sweetheart, that’s all you.” My breaths are ragged. “That’s what you do to me.”
Her fingers thread through my hair and stop at the nape of my neck. She grasps a handful and roughly yanks my head back. “You’ve been very naughty.” Her breath is hot against my ear.
Oh shit. I’ve never been so fucking turned on and powerless at the same time.
She digs her fingernails down my torso. I close my eyes, accepting the position of my head as I endure the trail burning down my chest—to the point I may be bleeding. Her teeth clamp on my earlobe and drag across my skin.
“Flora. Fuck.” My senses are heightened.
I try to look at her, but she holds my head firm. Her nibbling continues down my throat. Each bite harder the lower shetravels. When she grinds against me, it’s all I do not to come right here and now.
Her mouth is at my ear again. “I want you for your candy cane.”
I don’t give a shit. Fuck me, use me—at this point it doesn’t matter.
And as quickly as she straddled me, she sprang to her feet.
My head tilts down, with a lazy look on my face, ready to finish what we started.
She’s gone.
“Flora?”
I squint through the darkness to see a fleeting shadow walking away.
“Flora?” She continues toward the exit without a word. “Flora, what the fuck?!”
The door slams shut.
Chapter Six
FLORA
––––––––
“HOW WAS THE water pressure this evening?” Dani waggles her eyebrows when I step out of the bathroom.
She’s already showered, her face is flawless, her hair braided down one side, and she is dressed to impress in a cute denim outfit.
“It was incredible, thank you.” It’s more like my revenge on Thorn was incredible.
I wonder if he’s still sitting there, tied up and livid? Or did his brother rescue him? Maybe a lodge employee went to double-check the room and found him lassoed in his little predicament. That would be the perfect outcome. However, even better would be if he knocked over the chair and lay sprawled out on the floor when rescued. The possible outcomes are endless.
I shut the door to the bathroom we are sharing with our aunts. I tuck in the edge of the towel and snuggly secure it around my body.
“After your playtime with Thorn Slater, I bet you burst into an explosive orgasm the second that stream hit your coochie.” Her moan muffles into the material of the denim dress she yanks over her head. “That Thorn looks as smooth as sweet tea and twice as tempting.”
She tosses it on one of the queen-size log beds in a chaotic pile of mixed fabrics bunched up and twisted inside out.
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but Thorn doesn’t do it for me.”
That will be the case from here forward. Yes, I almost fell into his charm and banged him on the chair. Yes, every speck of my being wanted to strip down and ride him into an explosive release. Then he spoke and reminded me I wasn’t the only girl he shared his Stetson with that summer.
I could’ve walked away. I could’ve been the adult I am, but something sparked inside me, and I wasn’t feeling that generous.
I pat another towel against my damp hair before I drape it over the arm of one of the chairs by the stone fireplace. Our room is small but a cozy haven. The dark, rich colors, rustic wood walls, beams along the ceiling, and traditional decor create a Southern charm. Add in the throw pillows and blankets in festive holiday prints, and it’s an indoor winter wonderland.
I unzip my suitcase and begin unpacking my belongings into the dresser. After the weekend, I’ll be packing them right back up and leaving—again. I’ll be leaving Rocky Ridge Creek, my family, my childhood. And it’s what I want. But for whatever reason, a sense of home clings to me like the humid southern December air.
