It’s getting oh-so-close to Valentine’s Day, and I know so many of you are counting down the hours till you get a babysitter and find yourself alone with that special someone. Until then, read some smokin’-hot HARD RIDIN’!
Excerpt rated ADULT–graphic, scorch-off-your-panties cowboy action
He kicked in her bedroom door and it struck something inside. He nudged it with his hip, and she released a giggle. “What in hell is that?”
“Stuff.”
“Ooo-kay.” He put his muscle into it and pressed the door wide enough to squeeze through with her in his arms. The soft light from the tall windows on the west-facing wall tumbled over the room. He narrowed his gaze at the heaps, lumps and towers that rose up out of the darkness.
“Laurel, where’s the bed?” Junk littered the space. And here he’d thought she’d be upset to come to his bed and find a full laundry basket and rumpled sheets.
She extended a hand and pointed to the far wall. He picked his way across the room, avoiding the landmines of clothes, shoes and God knew whatever else. The bed was free of clutter, though, and that was all that mattered.
“Sorry.” She buried her face against his throat and vibrated with laughter.
“You and me are gonna have a talk about why one woman would need this much stuff.”
“All right, but only after you’ve peeled me off the ceiling.”
He moaned, white-hot coals scorching his belly. His balls clenched up tight and ached for release. Tenderly, he tipped her onto the bed and pinned her to the mattress with his body.
She wriggled under him seductively, rolling her hips and arching her breasts upward. For a moment, he simply hovered over her, enjoying the feel of her body beneath his. The furthest they’d gotten were several drunk-on-lust make-out sessions, which always took place on the sofa or in his truck. Once he’d caught her against the barn, and she’d allowed him to delve a hand into her panties and feel her soaking, hot pussy, but before he could even finger her to completion, she’d stopped him.
Later, he’d gone home with her scents on his hand and smelled each digit while stroking his cock. He wanted more of that. Craved it. Her scent, her taste. It had become an obsession with him over the past month. Now he was oh, so close.
“Don’t push me away, darlin’.”
“No.” The word was a heated rasp.
Without warning, he claimed her mouth. Crushing her lips beneath his, rubbing his freshly shaven jaw over her silky flesh as he tangled his tongue with hers. Her personal musk filtered into his head along with some sugary drink she’d had earlier. He stroked the interior of her mouth, tasting her tongue, walls, lips, teeth. When he flicked the tip of his tongue against the roof of her mouth, she issued a harsh moan.
Tearing away, he panted for control, fighting the need to tear off their clothes and pound into her tight little body until he spurted his release. But he had to make this good””keep her coming back for more. And he’d possessed far too many dreams of this moment to dash it all away for an orgasm.
Gently, he ran his hands down her sides and encircled her wrists. “I want to hold your arms down while I lick your breasts. Will you let me do that?”
She made a soft noise like a sob or gasp. “Yes.”
A grin stretched the corner of his mouth upward. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight and her dark hair was an inky blot around the pale oval of her face. Holding her gaze, Jens knelt between her thighs. He caught the hem of her soft cotton shirt and tugged it up, trailing his fingers over the sliver of flesh he’d created. That band of skin threatened to undo him.
He ground his molars and fought to keep from coming in his pants like a teenage boy. Inch by inch, he exposed her. When he reached her breasts, he found them bare. He skimmed the undersides, aware of how rough his fingers must have been on her delicate skin.
She tossed her head back and pinched her eyes shut as he worked over the curves, purposely avoiding her nipples. Pulling her shirt over her head, he bit off a growl as her full breasts bounced.
“Damn, Laurel. You’re so beautiful.” He’d never seen her breasts before, but had fondled them enough through her shirt. He knew the way they filled his palms perfectly, and he’d fantasized more than once about coming all over them.
His cock throbbed painfully.
She gazed up at him, eyes aglow. “Touch me, Jens. I need you.”
He didn’t need more invitation. Hovering over her, he captured her lips, sucking and drawing on her tongue until she writhed. She raked her nails lightly over his shoulders, grasping at his shirt as he moved down to her throat.
Countless minutes had been spent worshipping the column of her throat and he knew exactly where to put his mouth to pull the biggest cries from her. Her whole body moved beneath him, hips bucking, breasts heaving, belly dipping. He kissed a blazing path down her throat to her collarbones, then lower to the valley between her breasts, holding her hands down as promised.
Her breath washed over his hair. Sticking out his tongue, he traced her cleavage, and then bathed the undersides of her breasts. Using quick strokes, he circled each, still avoiding the two straining buds.
“Jens”¦”
“Mmm?”
“You’re killing me.”
“Mmm-hmm. I’m going to push you a lot further before dawn lights that sky, baby.” He sealed his promise by covering one rosy nipple with his mouth.
“Ahh!” She jerked and twitched. He tormented the bud, licking, nipping, lapping, sucking. She came off the bed, and he lashed her to him, skimming her warm flesh with his palms.
Turning to the other nipple, he stole a peek at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth a silent O of bliss. The need inside him blazed out of control.
Again, he gently grasped her wrists and locked them to the mattress. Her eyes popped open. “Tell me when you need to stop. Give me a safe word.”
She obviously spewed the first thing that jumped into her head. “Peat moss.”
He folded in half, convulsing with laughter. “Laurel, you’re perfect for me.” With that, he returned to her breasts. Alternating between long, slow strokes and faster ones, he varied the pressure. From hard to light and from biting to barely breathing on her peaked skin.
She twisted her wrists under his hands, straining to touch him. He continued to torment her. When he left her bed, she was damn well going to feel it. Every inch of her body would remember him.
And she wasn’t going to be able to walk either.
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Em Petrova
~where words mean so much more~
www.empetrova.com
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