Page 17 of Coming Home to My Cowboy
Her eyes open slowly and she pops off me with a soft sucking sound. I grit my teeth. She swallows. “I want you. In every way, Jace. Not just one.”
I grope for the condom I grabbed and slowly work it over my cock. I shudder at even the feel of my hand on my dick. “Roll over, Layla. On your knees for me.”
She obeys, but looks at me over her shoulder. She wiggles her ass slightly and I groan at the view. “Beautiful, from every angle. Constantly better than the last time I saw you. Always more.”
“More what?”
“More perfect,” I growl, gripping her hips and slowly guiding myself into her. She lets out a little whimper, but rocks back against me. “See, you were meant for me, Layla. Every flawless inch of you. That beautiful mind, your sweetness, you.”
“Yes,” she sighs. “Jace …”
I take my time with her, guiding her back until she’s riding me reverse cowgirl because not kissing her, touching her, showing her all the ways we can enjoy each other would be a travesty. I cup her breast, tell her to show me how she touches herself, can’t untangle myself from her.
She sets the pace, slow and languid until she begs me for everything, begs me to give her what she needs and I’m a slave to her needs. I spread her thighs wider and keep kneading her breast while gripping her hair and kissing her hungrily.
“I won’t finish until you do. You’re going to finish. It’s going to be soon, and it’s only going to be the start of our future,” I growl.
Then I lose myself in her. I keep thrusting into her, harder when she begs me for it, faster when she’s on the edge, until she finally gives in, coming for me and biting my throat gently to stay quiet. I push her hips down and grind into her, loving how she tightens around me, how she pants my name, the soft breathy moans that still escape her throat.
“Please, Jace. I want to make you-”
That’s all she gets out before I kiss her hard, trying to keep kissing her and tasting her even as I finish deep inside her. She trembles and nuzzles my neck.
We clean up together and lay in bed. I stay wrapped around her, kissing across her back, rubbing her hip, whispering in her hair. “I’m sorry I took so long to catch up, Layla.”
Chapter 11 - Layla
“You took years,” I whisper.
“Years I’d like to make up for. Are you tired?” He asks softly, his fingers still tickling my hip.
I squirm and shake my head. I’m wide awake even if I’m pleasantly sated. I pull Jace’s hand up to compare our fingers. His hands are so big, so rough. I kiss each fingertip. He wraps himself tighter around me, kissing just under my ear.
“Anything you want to know about me is yours. My history, my present, what I want in the future,” he offers. “I mean it, sweetheart. I’ve been quiet, trying to hold back, but I want to give you everything.”
“That’s a lot of power. Maybe you shouldn’t offer so much,” I tease.
“Just start with a question, Layla. I’ll answer everything one at a time. I might even give you new questions to ask tomorrow,” he murmurs.
As I roll over, I make my face as serious as possible. He doesn’t flinch away, only smiles. Then I choose what’sclearlythe most important question. “What’s your favorite holiday?”
He laughs, then kisses me slowly. “Right now, I think I’m falling in love with Christmas.”
***
In the morning, I stretch my legs. Jace held to his word. He kissed every inch of me – twice – and he answered every question I asked. He doesn’t want to move to the city, but he wants to know more about what I do and doesn’t want to be long distance. He’s willing to consider options, maybe the suburbs. He told me about growing up here on his ranch. He told me how he hardly noticed the way I watched him as a teenager, but loved how involved I wanted to be in everything, and enjoyed my curiosity.
We talked until we fell asleep, but now…
My eyes blink open to a soft, empty pillow beside me. No Jace. The warmth from last night lingers in the sheets and for a moment I just breathe, confused and hopeful and terrified all at once. Then the quiet settles and my heart sinks a little. I pull on my pajamas, run a hand through my hair, and step out of the bedroom.
The hallway upstairs is still and calm, sunlight dusting across the walls. I listen for him, but the house feels too quiet. For one sharp second I think he left.
Then I hear voices drifting up from downstairs.
My heart kicks. I creep toward the staircase, careful not to make a sound. I pause at the top step, stomach flipping. I am not ready to face disappointment if I misunderstood everything we shared.
My dad’s voice carries first, steady and warm, mixed with the smell of breakfast. For a moment I think he is on the phone.Then I hear Jace answer, that low, careful tone that sounds like he is trying to speak truth without breaking anything fragile.
