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“No … underwear lines,” I moan, arching my back more.

He presses his lips against my ear while sliding the strap off my other shoulder. “I like when you barely wear any underwear,” he whispers before moving lower and sucking my other nipple into his mouth.

“Well maybe I’ll wear less underwear then.”

He makes a sound akin to a growl and digs his fingers into my waist. “Fuck, if I know you’re walking around the ranch without underwear, I’m never getting any work done.”

I giggle, and he nips lightly at my breast.

“Cruz,” I whimper, tangling my fingers in his hair.

He sucks and nibbles one nipple while flicking and teasing the other. I cry out, arching my back, knowing my thin thong is already soaked through.

As if sensing that, Cruz’s hand slides down my body, hiking the short skirt of my dress high enough toreach my center. He groans when he feels me, his finger sliding easily inside.

I moan, watching him.

“God, you’re wet,” he praises. Lazily fucking me with his fingers, he looks up at me, his eyes dark in the shadow of his cowboy hat. “Always so wet for me.”

I whimper, wanting him—needing him—inside of me, but too timid to actually ask for it. Thankfully, I don’t need to. Cruz goes to work unbuckling his belt, sliding his jeans down just far enough to free his cock, and then sliding the condom over top of it.

Then he’s hovering back over me, his cock notched at my entrance. He’s balanced on an elbow, his forearm positioned below my neck.

And it hits me then how deliciouslydirtythis feels. Both of us still mainly clothed but too impatient to actually disrobe.

Then, slowly, he pushes inside of me. I pull in a sharp breath of air as he stretches me wide—that nowfamiliar sensation of being pressed to my limits, pushed past them.

His free hand gently strokes the hair from my forehead, and I’m struck by the sweetness of the gesture. How intimate it feels. His thumb gently strokes my cheek as he guides the rest of himself into me, and I gasp, gazing up at him.

“Good girl,” he breathes.

I only whimper quietly in response.

He ducks his head, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, slow kiss as he gently eases back out of me and then back in. His thrusts remain slow, yet powerful, each one hitting me deeper. I’m whimpering into his mouth—begging for more, or less, I’m not even sure.

“Does my Princess like being filled with my thick cock?” he breaks our kiss to ask.

I nod.

Then he pauses, leaning up, using his free hand to grab my leg, bending it at the knee andpulling it up. “It’s gonna feel deeper, Princess,” he murmurs, “but you can take it.”

And then he presses into me again. A strangled noise escapes me as Cruz breaks into the very center of my being. It’s everything, all over, a million times. I feel like I’m breaking, but like I want to be broken over and over again.

He picks up the pace, pumping into me at an angle that has my whimpers nearing hysterical.

“That’s a good girl,” Cruz praises, slamming into me. “Taking me so well.”

He lodges my bent knee between our bodies, using his free hand to snake between my legs and find my clit.

“Cruz!” I scream, the pleasure more than I can take.

“That’s right, say my name,” he urges, his voice tight.

“Cruz, Cruz, Cruz,” I chant, as if his name is the only thing holding me to this Earth, the only thing keeping me from floating away forever.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he orders. “Come all over my cock. Soak me.”

The wave hits me harder than I expect, washing over me, drowning me in a sensation that’s almost foreign. My ears ring, my periphery goes fuzzy, and I gasp for air.