Page 51 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and it’s like his voice is a beacon for me that I can’t ignore as I push deep within him again.
His heat surrounds my length, drawing me in and holding me there as if it can’t bear to release me. In truth, I don’t know how I will ever let Connor go. This thing we have, this connection between us, is more than just sex now, and not just because he’s willing to relinquish all control when we’re like this. It’s not really about control anyway. It’s about giving someone what they need, looking after their desires, and putting their needs first. In the bedroom, I want that for him. I want to be theone responsible for bringing him to the precipice of ecstasy. The way his chest heaves up and down in heavy rasps, his knees out at the sides, helping him to be open for me, so that I can make him mine. His gaze meets mine through thick lashes, and the hunger in his eyes has my face growing hot and my cock pulsing. I dig my fingers into the sides of his thighs and push in hard.
“Fuck,” he calls, hips hitching up to meet me. “Do that again.”
“Like that, did you?” I ask, withdrawing almost all the way, his entrance clenching around my crown as if it can somehow pull it back in.
“Hell, yeah.”
“Then, I’ll do it again and again until your pretty cock spills all its secrets.”
I’ve been holding back, maintaining my control not only for him, to prolong his pleasure, delay that final peak, but for me, too. But now I let myself give in. I thrust hard, deep, gripping his thighs as he moans. His hips rise, bucking against me, my knees on fire, but its ache melds with the surge of fire building like a wave of passion through to my core.
I can’t hear the sound of the shower anymore, only his panting, and the slapping of our bodies against each other mixed with my heavy breaths. My chest burns, balls aching, and then his back arches and his cock pulses, releasing ribbons of come over his stomach and chest, and I’m gone.
Afterward, I soap up the loofah and wash down his back, circling his perfect ass cheeks a few extra times than is probably needed, but he doesn’t appear to mind. Once we’re rinsed off, he shuts off the water and I push the shower screen back and grab a towel, wrapping it around his middle and slipping the corner into the waist as he wrings out his hair.
“I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas,” Connor says as I dry off and step clear of the shower floor so that he can lower the bed again.
“I know. The activities you’ve all put on here have made it just fly past.”
“That’s the idea of it. Something to entertain you every day but still leave time for you to do your own thing and relax. What’s been your favorite thing to do so far?” he asks, lying on top of the bedcovers. I rest my head between the bulge of his biceps and his chest, listening to his rhythmic breaths.
“You.” I chuckle, and he hugs me close, his warm body fitting against mine perfectly.
“After me?”
“Surprisingly, the cuddle sessions with Miss Moo have probably had the most impact.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I spend ten minutes with her and my mind goes quiet. I should probably thank her in my acknowledgements for this book. I’ll have to thank all of you.”
“Be sure to link the booking page for the ranch in there, too.” He laughs, but there is something about the sound that makes me think he’s not entirely joking.
“The ranch is doing okay, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Dean and Nial say it will be fine, but feed prices have gone up, and winter is always more expensive than any other season to keep the animals cared for, and we have so many of them now, too. Getting more guests visiting would be helpful…that’s all.”
I never even thought about what it must cost to run this place. I think back to the straw they had to lay down just for the cows to walk to the milking barn daily, with the ongoing snow. Atlas was telling us about some new horses he rescued, too. Even if they had a plan for the winter, it wouldn’t have included them. What would happen to all of these animals if the Beaker Brothers Ranch weren’t here? Where would they go? Where would Connor go?
“It’ll be fine. I’m sure the Beakers have it all under control,” I say, trying to sound reassuring, when really I have no fucking clue. What I do know is this book wouldn’t even exist without this place, without Connor, so will I be shouting out the ranch? Fuck yes. But that will be in God knows how long. But my review is something I can do sooner, and you can bet it’s going to highlight every amazing part about this place and the people who make it so special.
***
Atlas hoists himself up onto the large white horse like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. I, however, have Skye holding the reins of the much smaller brown beauty named Chestnut while I try for the fifth time to get my leg over his hind to seat myself. Thankfully, I don’t need a sixth go at it. Pretty sure too many more failed attempts and he’d make me use the tiny stool. Wen opts to use it first go rather than tough it out like me. I like the idea of being able to tell Connor I got up on my own. It’s silly, because he can probably mount any horse in one fluid movement, being a genuine cowboy, but it makes my chest warm to think of the way he’ll smile at me when I tell him.
“Today we’re going for a ride to have lunch at Buxton Estate,” Atlas says as he waits for the other guests to get up onto their horses. They’ve hooked up a wagon to the black beauty, named Honor, for the parents and their younger kids and the older couple to sit in. I didn’t think I’d be good at horse riding, but Chestnut is calm and seems to follow my instructions. I rode him in the last two sessions that Atlas ran. The first riding lesson was just in the horse paddocks, which was probably a good thing considering it took all of us a good twenty minutes to figure out the commands to keep our horses from turning the wrong way or just stopping in the middle of the paddock, refusing to move.That happened to Wen and was really fucking funny seeing her bounce and wriggle in the saddle, trying to tell the horse to go.
“How far is the estate?” Wendy asks as we file in behind Atlas on the path out of the ranch.
“About a fifteen-to-twenty-minute ride. Stay to the side, no more than two across in case a tractor, truck, or car needs to pass. They should slow down to go by, but if your horse spooks, keep calm and encourage them toward the nearest property. I’ll be after you in a second, so you just have to hold on, and they’ll slow down and settle pretty quick.”
“Is that likely to happen?” I ask as I tighten my grip on the reins.
“No, but best to be prepared just in case.”
We set off down the old dirt roads, Atlas at the front, followed by Wendy and me, then the sisters and the rest of the guests behind them.
