Page 68 of Every Single Wildflower
“Inside.” The deep timber of his voice sends a jolt straight between my legs, and I slowly walk backwards as he stalks toward me. Shutting the door behind him, his eyes trail over me, his hand dropping to the bulge growing behind his zipper. I lick my lips, the urge to taste him hitting me like an unexpected tsunami.
“See something you want?” He taunts.
I nod, and he palms his jeans. “You want this, Goldie?”
“Yes.” My answer is breathy, and I move my impatient hands to help him unclasp his buckle, then unbutton his jeans.
I drop to my knees before he can tell me otherwise. With eager hands, I pull out his hard length and stroke him from root totip. His head falls back. His groan deep and brutal. Harboring my confidence, I let my tongue out to lick his pulsing tip, before I suck him into my mouth. A curse flies from his lips, before his hand is in my hair, guiding my movements along. My own hands grip his thighs as I take him deeper.
“Look at you, Ivy baby,” he praises. “Sucking me so good.”
I moan around him, and the vibration sets him off, a deep growl echoing in the small room before I’m yanked up from the floor. His mouth is on me, his hands bunching up my skirt as he guides me toward a bench in the corner. His tongue spears mine before he spins me around, then he drops down to the bench.
“Spread,” he rasps.
I peer at him over my shoulder as he grips his cock, the tip leaking over onto his thumb when he strokes himself. I oblige, spreading my legs as my skirt pools around my waist. His fingertips reach down, sliding my panties to the side, allowing me the freedom to hover over his lap.
“Sit.” The next order is combined with him pressing into my soaking center.
When he enters me, my head drops back, resting against his forehead as his magical fingers land on my clit. He strums a tortuous rhythm, his hips thrusting upward to dive into me with wild abandonment.
“So good,” he murmurs. "Always so fucking good."
“So good,” I repeat before a throaty moan expels from my body.
My core tightens, my blood rushing when he thrusts hard and bites down on my shoulder. One more tight circle of his thumb and I ignite. My release hits me full speed, the ultimate bliss flowing through my veins as I ride out my orgasm. He's still making long languid strokes, one hand wrapping around my waist to steady me. Just before my body sags, he stills, his hipsjerking as he empties himself inside of me, the wordsI love you,groaned out with every drop.
When we finally catch our breath, he lands a few soothing kisses on my shoulder before he lifts me, depositing me back on the floor so I can fix my clothes.
I smooth down my top. "How do I look?"
He smirks. "Thoroughly fucked."
"Shut up." I roll my eyes. "We need to look normal."
He buckles his belt, then slides his hands along my jaw to tenderly hold my face. "I don't like hiding this."
"I know," I whisper before he drops a soft kiss on my lips. "You go out first."
He studies me for a moment before he nods, then leaves the room. I count to thirty, then slip out into the hallway, hoping no one is none the wiser.
We managed to make it out completely satisfied and unscathed, so I'm trying not to engage in too much activity or the undeniable evidence of what happened in that supply closet will be running down my legs. Sipping on my drink, I watch Laiken and Maddox glide across the saw dust floor. He spins her around just as I hear a ruckus from the front. Peeking over my shoulder, I spot Brady. He’s barely walking in a straight line, while Emily is tucked up under his arm.
Great.
They stumble in, both appearing to be three sheets to the wind.
I glance to the dance floor, trying to catch eyes with Maddox. He meets mine, before drifting them to the doorway. I can see a small curse fly from his lips and Laiken follows his line of sight.
I’m sitting by Hoss, one of the younger ranch hands who lifts an arm to wave at Brady.
“Ivy Mayson.” Brady slurs, as he and Emily approach the table. “Gorgeous as always.”
Emily rolls her eyes before she unhooks his arm from around her shoulder.
“How about a dance, babe?” He leans in, his whiskey breath fanning over my face.
“You’re drunk, Brady.” I let out a light laugh, trying to keep the tension light. “Let’s get you some water.”
