The True Cowboy of Sunset Ridge (Gold Valley #14)(99)

And when he moved away from her, his green eyes hard on hers, it was also inescapable that this was Taggart McCloud. And it was the fulfillment of a fantasy that she had been withholding from herself all this time.

Because she had felt she didn’t deserve it. She still didn’t think she deserved it. But she was here. She was thirty years old. She had made it this far. This was her life.

And she felt awash both with hope and despair at that thought. He took a step back, undoing the button on his jeans and lowering the zipper slowly. Then pushing them down his lean hips. His thighs were muscular. His calves were nice. She was basically looking everywhere but...

And then she finally did.

Oh, this was going to hurt. It had to hurt. Because he was... He was so thick. So... So long and...

Did you really want Taggart McCloud to be disappointing?

No. She hadn’t. But, he was not a beginner model. Too bad she had chosen him to be the person to initiate her. The decision had been made. The die was cast. So she was going to have to risk the pain that would come with the impalement.

“What?”

“I’m just...” She cleared her throat. “Engaging in risk assessment.”

“Risk assessment,” he repeated.

“That is huge,” she said.

“It’ll fit,” he said.

“You don’t know that.”

“Pretty sure I do.” He closed the distance between them. “As much as I like the shoes and socks...” He knelt down in front of her and slipped off her shoes, then her socks. And the brush of his calloused fingers against her skin somehow felt erotic.

Then he kissed her ankle, her calf. Right beside her knee. Up and up until he was at the edge of her panties, and she shifted.

“I’m going to make you feel good,” he said.

“I... I know what you’re about to do,” she said.

“Of course you do,” he said. “You’re a know-it-all, aren’t you, Nelly Foster?”

“I believe you already know the answer to that.”

“I think I can surprise you. Because you might know. But, honey, you don’t know.” And then he slipped her panties down her thighs, leaving them down at her ankles, and leaned in, pressing a kiss right to the cleft just there. Then he slipped his tongue through her folds, and she gasped. It was like white-hot fire, blazing over all of her. Every bit.

She began to tremble, her whole body alight. He licked her, slow and leisurely, like he had nothing else to do in the entire world except pleasure her.

Then she found herself being lifted off the ground. Lifted, while he crouched in front of her. Like she weighed nothing. And he managed to get her thighs over his shoulders, all while he held on to her back, never once abandoning his attentions to her body.

He maneuvered her to the wall, pressed her up against there, and ate more deeply into her. She was grasping for something, anything, lacing her fingers through his hair and clinging to him. She bucked her hips against his mouth, begging for release. This was too much. There was no way a human woman could possibly endure this. He would take her right to the edge, and then he pulled back, his mouth so wicked, so expert, he seemed to know exactly what she needed, and he seemed to excel at denying it.

So unerringly it was clearly intentional.

Then on a growl he pulled her away from the wall and took her down to the bed, his face still between her legs as he kept on pleasuring her like that, sliding one finger deep inside of her slick channel, adding another. He pumped them in and out of her body, and she arched her hips up off the bed.

“By the time we get to that part,” he said, his voice a rasp, “you’re going to be begging me for this. You’re going to be begging for me. And I’m not going to feel too big. It’s going to feel just right. In fact, it may feel so good you don’t want another man’s ever.”

And she had no trouble believing that. None at all. He pushed a third finger inside of her, and she felt uncomfortably stretched. But he did it slowly, managing his movements so that she had time to acclimate. The most amazing thing was that she realized she trusted him. Then he brought his mouth back on her again, until she fell over the edge. Until she was sobbing his name. Her internal muscles clenching tight around his fingers.

Then he brought himself back to her lips, kissing her slowly. Holding her close.

And to her horror, she felt tears prickle at her eyes. Because it wasn’t just that he had made her feel searing pleasure. He made her feel cared for.

Truly, what he’d done was a selfless act of pleasure. And now he was... Cradling her close like she was a fragile thing.

As if he’d read her mind, he whispered against her temple. “I enjoyed that as much as you did. If not more.”

That made her shiver. And then he tilted her chin upward and kissed her. Gently at first, then harder, deeper. Until the pleasure inside of her began to build again. Build to impossible levels. She shifted, and she felt him settle between her legs. And he was right. Now she just wanted him. Because she knew how wonderful it was to have something filling that void inside of her.

And she wanted it to be him.

He eased his way into her body slowly. And there was a moment, only a moment, where it felt painful. And then she just felt... Achingly warm. Deliciously filled. She clung to his shoulders, battling those same tears, because there was something gloriously brilliant about this moment that she hadn’t even realized.