Page 19 of Bringing Home A Cowboy
She takes her time with it, exploring every inch of my chest with her lips, her teeth, the flat of her tongue. When she bites down lightly on a nipple, I jerk, pleasure stinging through me. Her mouth is hot, wet, and she makes a low, but sweet noise when I tense. Olivia’s fingers drag down my sides, nails leaving a track that isn’t quite pain but makes my whole body shudder. She moves lower, kisses following the line of hair down my stomach, her breath a tease that has my cock twitch and throb in anticipation. My heart beats a little faster—not from nerves, but from a sharp, impatient need to be inside her.
Her mouth hovers right above my cock, her breath making me throb even harder, and then she looks up at me, dead in the eye. It’s almost like she’s daring me to stop her, but I don’t. I couldn’t, even if I tried.
She wraps her hand around the base of my cock and strokes me slow, the slide of her palm impossibly soft. Then her lips part and she drags her tongue along the head. The sensation is so good it nearly sends my hips off the bed. She circles the tip, eyes never leaving mine, and the same knowing smirk plays at the edge of her mouth—she’s enjoying this, the way she can unravel me in a single motion.
She takes me in, slow and deep and her tongue is soft and exploratory, not rushed. She takes breaks to tease the tip, stroking me with her hand and letting spit drip down the shaft, spreading it with her thumb. She’s got more technique than I expected—a city girl, but she’s thorough, ambitious, and a littlebit wicked. My hips move on their own, chasing her mouth, and I’m not embarrassed—there’s only the need for more.
“Jesus, Olivia,” I groan, half warning, half plea. “You keep going like that, I’m not gonna last.”
She lets me pop free from her lips with a slick sound, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her diamond flashes as she does so and I remember, “we’re fucking married. And, this is what married people do.”
She slaps my thigh playfully as if I’m her pony. “Oh, you got to last, James,” she says. “Now, I’m ready to ride.”
She shakes her hair out, like a challenge, and then lowers her sweet pussy over my cock. I never knew this woman could seem like a harmless kitten and turn into a tigress. But I love it.
She’s so wet, I slide inside her slowly, still feeling tight resistance. She takes her time sliding down on my hardness, her heat and slickness finally swallowing me whole. Her thighs clamp tight around my hips and she sits heavy, making sure I feel every inch of her. Olivia braces herself with both hands on my chest. We lock eyes and I see her mouth open, teeth latched on her bottom lip, the first raw gasp pulling through her. She starts shallow, rocking her hips forward and back. Each grind down sinks me deeper, and I can’t quite catch my breath. The feeling of her—hot, wet, clutching—sends fireworks up my spine and my hands dig into the meat of her thighs without thinking. I try to slow her, but it just makes her dig in harder, faster. She’s relentless, her rhythm greedy. The way she moves—it’s like she’s trying to memorize the shape of me with her whole body. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to lose it, but she’s not letting up. Every time I bottom out inside her, Olivia lets out this sharp little cry—it’s almost a laugh, almost a whimper, and it makes me want to turn her over and bang her from behind. I buck my hips up, meeting her in the middle, and that’s when she loses her rhythm, slams down on me, and shudders. Her mouth dropsopen in a moan so honest it looks like confession. I almost come right there, but I grit my jaw and grip her hips, slowing her just enough that I don’t blow it early.
I want to watch her. She goes limp, her palms splayed against my chest, shoulders trembling as she collapses forward an inch at a time. Her hair is everywhere—over her face, all over me. Perspiration beads down her back, slicks the valley of her spine. Every muscle in her flexes and contracts around me. I raise up to a sitting position, lifting her at the same time. “Come here, beautiful.”
She listens and moves along with me as I encourage her to get on her hands and knees at the bottom edge of the mattress. She lets out a tiny, surprised sound when I guide her, but then she moves, hair tumbling down, ass perfect and high, the curves of her thighs trembling with what I did to her. I want to memorize her like this — wild, flushed, open, and bracing herself like she doesn’t know what’s about to happen next. I grip her by the hips, thumbs digging into those perfect, round curves, and slide myself back inside. She arches, keening, and the angle is so fucking perfect. Her pussy clenches around me, desperate, drawing me deeper than I’ve ever gone. I watch her hands fist the sheets and her arms tremble with every hard thrust. I think I could die here and be happy, the air full of her breathing, the wet slap of our bodies.
“James,” she gasps, so sharp and sudden I almost lose it right then. My name, not as a question but a demand, a plea, a warning. I lose myself, hips snapping forward as I chase the new angle, the way she gives when I pull her back into me. My hand drifts up her spine and fists in her hair, tugging her head back until I can kiss her shoulder, her spine, the place at the base of her neck where she’s sweating and shaking. She moans into the pillow, biting it, her whole body pressing back into me like she wants me deeper, harder, never to pull out. I’m feral. Ipump into her so hard the mattress groans, my vision tunneling on the point where our bodies meet. Her pussy grips me, tries to pull me deeper every time I thrust all the way in, and she’s so fucking wet it’s unreal, slicking my cock and my balls and the insides of her thighs. Her noises make me want to fuck her until we collapse together, just blurred and spent, nothing left to say. I let my hips pound into her, relentless, and chase her right to the edge. When I reach forward to cup her tits, her nipple is so hard it presses into my palm, she cries out so sharp and sweet I almost lose it. I don’t, not yet. Not until I feel her stiffen under me, whole body locked and pulsing, her hips jerking back and then grinding hard into my pelvis, so greedy for the last inch that she sobs into the sheets. Her pussy clenches around me in a way that’s so strong and desperate it’s almost painful, like she’s trying to milk me for every bit of what I’ve got. That’s it—my body goes tense, thighs straining, and I bury myself in her, both hands on her hips, grounding myself while my orgasm nearly knocks the wind out of me. I pour everything I am into her, every last bit, until I’m not sure where I stop and she starts.
We stay there for a long minute, my cock still buried in her, her body shaking under my hands. She’s gasping, soft and wild. I collapse down on her back, both of us slick and barely able to breathe. My lips find her shoulder blade, taste her skin—salty, flushed, alive. Neither of us moves for a minute. I’m still inside her, softening slow, and the sensation is so raw it’s almost tender.
Finally, I pull out and she turns over. She’s still trembling when I pull her against me, her breath warm on my neck.
“Guess that settles it,” I murmur. “Ain’t fake anymore.”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.
Chapter 13
Olivia
Ican still feel him. I’ll never forget what just happened … his touch, his breath, the way he loved on me like I was the only thing ever in his world. He wasn’t pretending. Not for a second.
I told myself this arrangement was business, a means to an end. But nothing about what happened between us felt arranged. It felt inevitable.
The faint scent of coffee drifts through the apartment, and I hear the quiet scrape of a chair. When I look up, James is sitting at the small kitchen table, still half-dressed—dark jeans, black shirt undone just enough to hint at the skin I’ve already memorized. His hair’s a little mussed, his jaw shadowed. He looks like a mistake I’m willing to keep repeating.
He glances up, catches me watching. One corner of his mouth lifts. “You keep staring ...”
“Trying to decide if this is real or just a very vivid dream.”
He leans back in the chair, all lazy confidence. “Want me to prove it wasn’t?”
I toss him a look that should be a warning, but my smile gives me away. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for someone who’s new in the big apple.”
“My confidence comes from reliable test data,” he says, tapping the mug. “So far, all results are positive.”
The heat in my cheeks is immediate and mortifying. I hide behind my own cup, searching for the sharp, cynical retort that would usually save me. “We’ll see if you’re still this cocky at the ranch.”
He grins, all white teeth and mischief. “Only if you’re there with me. Being with you, Olivia, makes me this cocky and it feels like a very natural state.”
For a few moments, we just sit there in a kind of silence you don’t want to break because it feels like it belongs to you both.
He reaches across the table, hooks his finger under mine — the one with the rings. “Guess these mean a little more now,” he murmurs.
