Page 24 of Dirty Sweet Cowboy

We stay like that for long moments, both of us panting, bodies connected, sweat cooling on our skin. Eventually, I soften enough to slip out of her, a mixture of our releases trickling down her inner thigh. The sight is so fucking erotic I nearly get hard again.

I turn her gently in my arms, searching her face for any sign of regret or pain. Instead, I find only satisfaction, wonder, and a deep contentment that matches my own.

"Mine," I say again, softer this time, pressing my forehead to hers.

She smiles, arms wrapping around my waist. "Yours. Always."

And I know, with bone-deep certainty, that it's true. She's mine now, completely. And I'm never letting her go.

sixteen

. . .

Wayne

She's different now. I can see it in the way she moves around the bedroom—our bedroom—more confident, more settled. There's a new awareness in her body, a sensuality that wasn't there before I claimed her in the grove. Her hips sway more deliberately as she crosses to the bathroom, my t-shirt barely covering the curve of her ass. My cum still sticky on her thighs, marking her. Mine. She smiles at me over her shoulder before disappearing through the doorway, and that smile holds promises, secrets, certainty. Tonight changed everything, yet I'm still hungry. Still need more of her. Need to claim her again, here in our bed, slower this time. Need to watch her face as I fill her up, make her mine forever.

I hear the shower turn on, imagine her under the spray—water sluicing over curves I've memorized with my hands, my mouth. The image makes my cock stir again, despite having emptied myself inside her not two hours ago against that tree. I never knew I could want someone like this. Constantly. Obsessively. Like my body can't get enough, will never get enough.

The ride back to the ranch was different too—her nestled against my chest, softer, more pliant. No more teasing, no more testing. Just acceptance. Belonging. My arm around her waist felt like a claim, a promise. Each step of the horse a reminder of what we'd done, what we'd become to each other.

When she emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, skin pink from the hot water, hair damp around her shoulders, my mouth goes dry. She's so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at her sometimes. Like staring directly at the sun.

"Hi," she says, suddenly shy despite everything we've done. Everything I've done to her.

"Come here," I say, voice rough with need. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, still in my jeans, chest bare. Waiting for her.

She crosses to me without hesitation, stopping between my spread thighs. I reach out, hooking a finger in the towel where it's tucked between her breasts, and pull. It falls away, revealing her to me completely—the full breasts with nipples already tightening under my gaze, the soft curve of her stomach, the neat triangle of blonde curls between her thighs, now hiding the pussy I've claimed as mine.

"Beautiful," I murmur, hands settling on her hips, drawing her closer. "Every fucking inch of you."

Her hands come to rest on my shoulders, fingers slightly trembling despite her newfound confidence. "I'm still sore," she admits, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"I know, angel." I press a kiss to her sternum, right over her heart. "We'll go slow."

My hands glide up her sides, mapping the dips and curves of her body like I'm committing them to memory. Like I don't already know every freckle, every beauty mark, every place that makes her gasp when I touch it.

"Lie down," I tell her, shifting back on the bed to make room. "On your back."

She complies, stretching out on the mattress, hair fanning across the pillow like spun gold. My pillows. My bed. My woman.

I stand to remove my jeans, aware of her eyes on me, taking in every inch of exposed skin as I strip. My cock is already half-hard, thickening under her gaze. When I'm naked, I join her on the bed, moving between her spread thighs, covering her body with mine.

The first touch of skin to skin makes us both gasp. It's different here in the soft lamplight of our bedroom, on clean sheets that will soon smell of us, of sex. Different from the frantic coupling against the tree, though no less intense.

"Want to see your face this time," I tell her, brushing strands of damp hair from her forehead. "Want to watch you take me. Take all of me."

She nods, eyes wide and trusting. "I want that too."

I kiss her then, slow and deep, exploring her mouth with a thoroughness that wasn't possible during our earlier urgency. Her lips are soft beneath mine, yielding, opening to my tongue as I taste her, claim her mouth the way I've claimed the rest of her.

My hands aren't idle—they roam her body, rediscovering each sensitive spot, each place that makes her arch into my touch. I cup her breast, thumb circling the taut peak of her nipple, swallowing her gasp with my mouth. My other hand slides between our bodies, finding her core, testing her readiness.

She's wet already, slick and hot against my fingers. Still tender from before, but wanting more. Wanting me.

"Ready for me, angel?" I ask against her lips. "Ready for Daddy's cock again?"

"Yes," she breathes, thighs spreading wider in invitation. "Please."