Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(41)

While at war, he’d lived in denial of his feelings. Friends came and went from his life, like Matt or many others who were injured or killed. When Wydell had come home only to find more destruction and loss, he’d hammered long spikes into the escape hatch of his heart to cover his emotions.

But Anya had tugged those nails free, and now the door was flapping.

He kissed her with slow, deliberate tenderness. Running his tongue over her upper lip and then biting her lower one. She moaned and shimmied beneath his touch. Especially when he curled his fingers around the underside of her ass cheeks, a fraction away from her soaking pussy.

God, she was on fire for him. Her skin felt several degrees hotter than usual and her aroused scents drove him insane. Their clothing lay strewn across the bed of his truck, and he gathered it into a pile before rolling her into it so the cold steel didn’t touch her skin.

She stared up at him, and his throat worked around a lump. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he managed to say.

Her light touch against his jaw spoke of more tenderness than he’d ever been shown in a lifetime. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Their mouths collided, lips tangling in a dance as old as the heavens around them. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and lodged himself at her center. Holding her gaze, he pushed into her.

Her breath left on a sigh.

Inch by swollen inch he filled her until he was seated fully in her body. Need made his balls spasm, and he fought to hold onto the reins of his control. Everything in his being spurred him to take what was his—and for them both to scream in pleasure. But he wanted to drag this out. He wanted this to last forever.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips. His cock bottomed out, and they shared a groan.

“Take me. Don’t be gentle.”

“A woman like you deserves gentle.”

“I’m not a wilting flower. I want it. I want you.” Her voice snagged on his resolve and he lost his precious hold. He withdrew, sliding his cock through her wet folds, and slammed back home.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she gripped his shoulders tighter. “More.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re not gonna let me go slow, are you?”

“Not this time. Maybe the seventh or eighth.”

“By then you’ll be unconscious.”

She cracked a smile that made his heart patter out of rhythm. “You’re so arrogant.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s true.” He fucked her harder, leaning into her lips and stealing a kiss. She crooned in pleasure and dragged him closer until every inch of their bodies touched.

“Wydell,” she cried out as he pressed his thumb right where she needed it. Her flesh seemed to swell more beneath his touch. Watching her face, he took her deep and fast, brushing his thumb over her clit. Back and forth, back and forth, until his fingers were soaked and her scream echoed into the night sky.

The peeper frogs silenced momentarily, which was good because he only wanted to hear Anya. She shook in his hold, and he continued to drive her to the pinnacle of ecstasy. When she twitched, too sensitive for his touch, he eased the pressure on her clit. Using the pad of his fingertip, he stroked her, as lightly as an artist would paint a dainty flower petal on canvas.

More come flooded his cock. God, feeling her wrapped around him with no barriers like this was stealing his mind. His control was long gone.

Lifting her ass in his hands, he tugged her into his every hip thrust. Her skin glowed blue and silver. Her breasts bounced, and her stomach sucked in.

“I’m going to fill you so full of my come, it will be running down your legs.”

Her eyes hooded at his words. Reaching up, she twisted her nipples, ripping a growl from him. The pressure in his balls spread like wildfire through his body. When he felt her clench around him, he answered with a shudder.

“Give it to me, babe,” she breathed. “All of you and more.”

With a forceful shove, his shaft lengthened. Five strokes, six. He threw his head back as his balls released and come jetted into her. She gasped at the first warm spurt. Seconds later she was coming around him as well, riding him into oblivion.

When his thundering pulse quieted in his ears, he lifted his head and met her eyes. “I’m not done with you.” His grunts sounded primitive even to his ears. He grinned and rolled off, tugging her into his arms.

She pressed her cheek to his chest and inhaled deeply. “I’ve never made out in the back of a truck.”

“Sweetheart, that wasn’t first base. That was a home run.”

“Mmm, right into the bleachers.” Time passed in comfortable silence while Wydell listened to her soft breathing and the night life around them.

She’d been upset earlier, but she still hadn’t confided why. After some thought, he’d considered letting it go. He didn’t need to know every scrap of information about her life.

But he wanted to.

Gliding a hand over her arm, he smiled when her skin pebbled. “What had you upset earlier? I got the feeling it wasn’t about me or the town. Maybe some trouble at home?”

She stiffened. Pulled away a little, but he hauled her right back, slinging his thigh over hers and anchoring her in place. She wasn’t going to get away from him, not after the intimacy they’d just shared. He deserved to hear what was eating at her. She’d asked about his demons, after all. What had caused that little crease between her brows?