Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
“Are we playing now?” I challenge, licking my lips and arching my back. He answers with a growl, unbuttoning his shirt and freeing himself from his boxers.
My fingers dig into the sides of his ribs as I pull him toward me. He steps free of his clothes around his feet, towering over me with a cock that even half-hard looks monumental.
“You like my panties? They’re my ‘get out of jail free’ panties.” My teasing dies on my lips as he grabs the scrap of material between my legs and tears it away.
A guttural sound escapes him, standing there all magnificent and perfect before he’s crouched down, throwing one leg over his shoulder, my back slams against the side of the truck, the heat from his mouth ignites me when he buries his face into my core. No teasing with this man, just that demanding tongue lapping up every drop.
“Christ.” My back arches as he spears two fingers deep inside while swirling his thumb over my clit. His free hand grips a hip possessively, holding me open to devour. Every swipe of muscle, every flick of his wrist sends sparks igniting behind my ribs until I’m shuddering, right here out for God and everyone to see.
“Look at you,” he groans, spreading me wider to feast again, dragging his teeth over my swollen flesh. “So ready to say you’re sorry.”
In one fevered motion, I’m spun around, my flesh dented by hard fingertips as my hips are tugged backwards, my hands slapped onto the side of the truck bed.
“Stay put, I’m going to do a cavity search.”
Oh shit.
He doesn’t waste time, hands pull me apart, then his thick head breaches me in one brutal push. We both groan as my eyes close, the breeze kicking up as if to say we need to cool off.
Slow thrusts start that send ripples through my center.
“You’re so goddamn tight,” he growls against my neck, biting my shoulder, making me hiss. My fingers grip the heated metal as I push back, meeting him thrust for thrust.
I squeeze, clamping down around his thickness when he pumps harder, pushing my hips forward with each brutal stroke, stretching me over his cock until it grazes something white-hot inside.
When I climax, it’s a scream tearing free of me as his fingers clamp around my throat, holding me steady through waves of light and sound and pleasure so bone deep, I never want to come up for air. His release spills into me seconds later, a low roar vibrating into the center of my back as he buries his face between my shoulder blades as we turn into a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths.
His pulls out only long enough to spin me around, dragging me by the hand to the driver’s door.
He gets in, putting the seat back as far as it will go, then holding his still hard cock up.
“Get on. You don’t want a ticket, you gotta earn your way out. Make me come again. Show me what that wet, little pussy was born to do. Ride Daddy like the slutty good girl you are.”
Challenge accepted.
I mount him, shove one of my tits in his mouth and ride him like a drunk cowgirl.
This time it’s him shouting my name as our orgasms slam into each other with a crash of heat so bright it drowns out everything in my head except how much I love this man.
His hands know every curve now. They know exactly where to squeeze, what to undo, how to make me unravel like I’ve been waiting all day for this. Because I have.
“Been thinkin’ about this damned day,” he growls against my throat, “Watching you in that dress... knowing what I was gonna do the second I got you alone.”
“Colt—”
“That’s Sheriff Daddy Boone to you, baby girl.”
Well. Okay, then.
There’s something about the roleplay that sets everything on fire. Just fun layered over something deeper. Something honest.
He takes his time when he starts to move again and somewhere between gasping his name into the mountain air and swearing I’ll never skip cardio again, I remember why this man ruined me for anyone else.
Later, he’s driven us naked down a dirty road onto his brother Cade’s part of the mountain where there’s an incredible stream with a little clearing surrounded by sky-high pines.
We’re wrapped up in a thick quilt in the bed of his truck, the stars overhead so bright and close they feel fake. My head’s on his chest, and he’s stroking lazy circles over my back, like he doesn’t want the moment to end any more than I do.
“Happy anniversary,” he says, his voice half gravel, half butter.
“Best anniversary ever,” I reply, kissing the warm skin of his chest. “Though I’m pretty sure at least three things we just did were illegal. On multiple levels.”
“Good thing I know the sheriff,” he says, all smug and no shame.