Page 27 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says, warm breath sweeping over the soft skin at the crease of my neck and shoulder before his tongue and mouth make contact again, sucking and kissing and sending shivers through me.
He uses the loofah to soap up my back, moving it over my ass, the bubbles tickling the sensitive skin at the backs of my knees as the water washes the soap away.
“I love the way the scent of leather clings to your skin,” he whispers, letting the loofah fall to the tile floor, and he moves his kisses to my back.
His hands cup my ass, then he slides one down the back of my thigh, lifting my leg up until my toe catches just slightly on the edge of the stool before resting on top. His hand slides back up my leg as his kisses move down my back.
His mouth moves along my skin.
“God, that’s good,” I moan, and he grips my ass again, then slides a finger down my crease. “Hayden.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Never,” I breathe, and he slides his hand over my ass cheek again, his finger slipping into the crease once more and teasing me.
His kisses move down, hands gripping my ass cheeks, spreading me open as his mouth moves lower.
The water streams down my back as I desperately wait for what’s to come.
My excitement surges as his mouth tracks lower, his hands spreading me wide.
“Oh, god,” I moan, fingers trying to dig into the wood-paneled wall as his tongue circles my entrance and waves of pleasure wash over me.
He slides one hand up the front of my leg until he’s cupping my balls and gripping them, tugging down slowly as he circles my hole again with his tongue.
Hayden moves his grip to my cock, stroking me. I’m leaking, desperately inching closer and closer to ecstasy as he teases my hole with his tongue.
Then his fingers are there, the first pushing inside with a sting that is overshadowed by the pleasure rippling through my body when he brushes against my prostate, and I cry out.
“Holy fuck.”
“That’s my good boy,” he says, his warm breath sending a shiver through me, and I almost come right then, biting down on my fist to try to hold on.
“Fuck, I love hearing you call me that,” I say through heavy breaths.
“And do you love…this?” he asks, adding a second finger and swirling his tongue around the rim. He’s stroking me harder, faster, moving in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside me, and I’m so close.
“You know I do,” I moan. “Say it again. Say it again, and I’ll come for you.”
He leans in close, his breath teasing as his fingers move in and out, and my balls ache for release.
“Come for me, like a good boy,” he says, and then his fingers push deep, curling against that perfect spot as his mouth closes over my rim and I can’t hold back anymore. I don’t want to. So I let go.
“Fuuuck, Hayden!” I moan as my balls pull up tight, and electricity surges through me as ropes of come coat the shower wall.
Chapter twelve
Hayden
INSPIRED
WhenIsneakbackinto my room, Wen is snoring softly, curled up under the covers like a cocooned butterfly. I’ll have to untangle the comforter when I get in, but right now I’m too buzzed to sleep. Normally, I thrive on controlling everything around me. Coming here to review the Christmas Experience threw my head into a spin, but I clung to the itinerary like a safety blanket, and I was okay. Then I met Connor, and nothing has been planned since. I cuddled cows and coaxed a llama out of a pool, and I kissed him, and took him in a way I’ve never taken anyone before. Most of my hookups were arranged through an app and were merely to scratch an itch. Past boyfriends hated my need for control, called it clingy, and usually pushed back in the bedroom to assert their dominance. That’s probably the best way to describe it, though what I just had with Connor wasn’t a dominant and submissive kind of thing, was it?
My mind is abuzz with ideas, and I grab my laptop and sit by the window looking out over the ranch with the starlit sky that seems to have awakened my passion in more ways than one.
It’s hours when I finally stop typing and close the lid. A rough outline and three whole chapters of a new story just flowed out of me like it was inside me this whole time, just waiting to be written. In the past, it’s only ever been this easy to write when I was working on my reviews. My attempts at drafting my novel back in the city were always painfully slow. I’d stare at the blank screen for an hour, or reread the last chapter, decide it was all terrible, delete it and start again. That’s pretty much been the cycle for the last five years. But when I read over the first few chapters of this story, my chest swelled with an unusual sense of pride in the words I’ve strung together.
I nudge Wen back onto her side of the bed, uncurling the blanket from beneath her and climbing in, the warmth from her surrounding me, and I drift away into sleep with images of a handsome cowboy calling my name, teasing my mind.
