Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
She digs a hand into my hair in reply, her touch soothing as her fingers work slow circles across my nape. You’re okay.
I curse.
I moan.
The release slams into me with the ferocity of a hurricane. I’m vaguely aware of the sounds I make through gritted teeth as pulse after pulse of vicious sensation grips me. I feel myself filling her, feel the hot drip of my cum.
I’m helpless. Boneless. Instead of fighting that, instead of trying to find my way back to a sense of control, I surrender.
All the while, Sally encourages that surrender, kissing me. Her hands are achingly gentle on my face. Her thumbs skate over my cheekbones, her pinkies tucked in the underside of my jaw in a show of steadiness I didn’t know I was desperate for.
When I’m finally able to breathe again, I lift my head. That’s when I realize I’ve settled most, if not all, of my weight on Sally.
“Shit, Sunshine. I’m sorry.”
I try to lift myself up, but she immediately grabs my sides and pulls me back onto her.
“You’re so warm,” she replies, kissing my collarbone.
“And heavy.”
She smiles, her big, beautiful, sated eyes flicking to meet mine. “I’m still breathing, aren’t I? Your heavy doesn’t hurt me.”
I scoff, shifting a little as an excuse to look away. I’m worried I’ll tell her I love her if she keeps looking at me like that. I’m not scared to say the words. Wait, that’s a lie. I’m scared shitless to draw that line in the sand. But I gotta come clean anyway.
I’m gonna come clean. I just don’t wanna do it while I’m still inside her. Seems like a cop-out to admit such a monumental thing when we’re both still mindless with lust.
So I kiss her neck and ask, “How do you feel?”
She presses her lips to my forehead. “I feel like I wanna do that again, Blond Bear Cowboy. And again.”
I laugh, light flooding my chest. “How many more times exactly?”
“At least fifty…five thousand.”
“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way.” I look up at her. I have to.
She’s smiling at me, lips swollen, cheeks bright pink.
“Remember our bet?”
She chuckles. “Holy shit, I forgot about that.”
“I did just fuck your brains out.”
“Terrible line.” She gives me a shove, but she’s still chuckling. “Do it again?”
She’s so pretty I can’t breathe.
“Lemme grab the Advil first.” I kiss the corner of her mouth.
“The Advil?”
“Bet you’re sore already, aren’t you?” I pull out of her the tiniest bit, and her breath catches. “Yep. Advil. Take two. Better yet, three.”
She blinks, her smile softening. “You’re sweet.”
“You’re staying.” I kiss her one last time. “C’mon. Let’s go clean you up.”
CHAPTER 25
Sally
MIDNIGHTS
I’m hot.
I’m not in my bed.
I’m naked.
My body lurches into sudden consciousness. I open my eyes and am greeted by total darkness. The air is cold, tinged with the scent of a fire.
There was a fire because I’m at Wyatt’s house.
I’m in his bed.
His deliciously comfortable, insanely enormous king-size bed, which smells like sex.
Turning my head, I am just able to see the outline of the nearby fireplace. The fire in it has long since died. Did Wyatt put it out? What time did that happen? Last thing I remember is Wyatt using a washcloth to wipe his cum off my belly and breasts—oh my God—after we had sex for a second time. I think—hope—I went to the bathroom too?
Yes, I remember I did, and then we climbed into bed and he pulled me against him, the big spoon to my little spoon. I must’ve drifted off to sleep.
As if on cue, an arm tightens around my middle. Is Wyatt dreaming?
My stomach dips, a quiet but insistent throb blooming to life between my legs as my senses blink awake. I wince. Despite that Advil I took, I’m definitely sore.
I’m definitely still wrapped up in Wyatt.
My throat tightens. I try to stay very still so I don’t wake him. Judging by the darkness outside the windows, it’s very late—or very early. Too early to be up, even on a ranch. Wyatt needs his sleep.
The sex. My God. It was so good that I’m struggling not to cry just thinking about it. How patient Wyatt was, how thorough and intense and tender.
It wasn’t fucking. It wasn’t even sex.
To me, it felt like making love. Which is a beautiful idea. Then again, I could be making things up. I don’t have tons of experience. But the way he insisted I take that Advil, the way he looked me in the eye as he patiently pushed inside me that first time—
You’re not making anything up.
His skin is warm. I can feel the press of his wiry chest hair against my back as he breathes deeply, evenly, his breath rustling the hair at the nape of my neck.
I can also feel something wet on my lower back.