The True Cowboy of Sunset Ridge (Gold Valley #14)(7)

And then his fingers worked their way inside of her body. She was so slick and greedy for him that it was easy. That all she could think of was more.

A desperate, deep need for more.

He worked his fingers in and out of her, pushing her up to heights that were dizzying in their splendor. Ratcheting her pleasure up to a degree that seemed impossible.

She was pulling his hair, pushing his cowboy hat off his head, and then, she shattered. Screamed. She was panting, unable to catch her breath, the waves of pleasure pounding through her not like a sweet, fluttering release, nothing quite like the tentative white rabbits of pleasure she’d experienced before.

This wasn’t a shy, burrowing animal. It was a whole thunderstorm. A deluge that she couldn’t escape. That wouldn’t end.

And he didn’t stop.

He kept on licking her, sucking her, thrusting into her. And on the heels of that first wave came another. Another. Sweat broke out over her skin, and she felt both more connected to her body than ever in her life, and somehow outside of it all at once.

And then he moved her legs down from her shoulders, no longer holding her up, and she slid down the wall, in front of him. Fully clothed, down on her knees.

“Delicious,” he rasped, and she thought she would burst into flames again. But instead of that, she just kissed him, flinging herself at his fully clothed body, the denim of his jeans rough against her sensitized flesh, that slightly ribbed T-shirt abrading her sensitized nipples. He hadn’t even groped her breasts. And in her experience that was right where a man would go first.

That’s right where one man goes first. Every single time. You don’t know what men do.

No, she didn’t. And she was about to learn.

Except she had the sudden, depressing thought that maybe this man was an anomaly.

That she would never have anything like this experience again.

What had seemed comforting and freeing moments before seemed suddenly less so after the cascade of fantastic orgasms he had given her.

It doesn’t matter.

Even if it’s only like this once and never again... At least you had it. At least you know.

There was nothing wrong with her. It wasn’t hard for her to come.

Not when the guy knew what he was doing. The flaw wasn’t hers.

She wanted to scream it out the window at all the unsuspecting people in the motel parking lot.

It wasn’t hard for her to come.

Her boyfriend had been too lazy to do it.

Because this stranger had gotten her off three times in ten minutes.

But, she couldn’t think straight just then, because his hands were moving all over her curves, and she was restless and aching and ready for more. That quickly.

She stripped his shirt up over his head and separated from him so she could get a look at his torso. Which did not disappoint. He was all rippling muscles and golden chest hair, hard abs and an incredibly well-muscled chest.

He was gorgeous.

More than advertised.

He stood then, leaving her down on the floor, working his belt through the loops and pulling it off slowly. Then he undid the button on his jeans, slid the zipper down so maddeningly slowly. She moved forward, hooked her fingers down in the waistband of his pants, to his underwear, and pulled them off, taking his boots right along with them. He was glorious.

He made her mouth water. She’d never wanted to do this before.

But he made her desperate for it.

Granted, if you’d asked her how she felt about male anatomy before this moment, she would’ve said that it was fine, but she didn’t exactly want it as art in her house or anything. But him... She would consider a sculpture of him.

He was big and thick and gorgeous. And she was absolutely overcome by her lust for him. She ached between her legs. Felt hollow with her need to feel him moving inside of her. But first. First she wanted to taste him.

She wrapped her hand around his thick length and leaned in, flicking her tongue over his hot, salty skin. She moaned. The smell of him... Musky and male, a deep aphrodisiac to her. Everything about him was like that. Gasoline to a lit match. Chemistry that went so far beyond anything in her experience, anything she thought existed.

She took him deep into her mouth, luxuriating in this. And how wanton she felt. How not like her. She didn’t feel like frizzy, average Mallory. She felt every inch like the sex goddess she’d been certain she wasn’t not long ago. Because this big, strong, gorgeous man was shaking as she touched him. Was pushing his fingers through her hair the same as she’d just done to him, grabbing onto her, tugging as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

“No more,” he said, jerking away from her. “I can’t...I can’t last.”

“Well, I didn’t last.”

“You didn’t have to. Besides. The great thing about women is they can come as much as I can make them. If it’s equal, I didn’t do my job.”

Well, if that wasn’t the hottest damn thing she’d ever heard.

“Are you... Real? Or did my brain make you up?”

“If it’s a hallucination, it’s a pretty damn good one.”

“Hell yes.”

He picked her up from the floor, kissed her, walked them both over to the bed and laid her down on those unfamiliar sheets. The feel of his naked body pressed against hers, chest to chest, was amazing. She could lie there kissing him like that, flush against him, all day, except she wanted more.