Page 38 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“I don’t know.”

“You enjoy your job?” Jensen asks.

“I enjoy helping people. I like to listen to the stories of the older generation. They have such a wise perspective on what’s important and what’s foolish, but…”

I trail off, uncertain what follows that but.

“It’s not where you want to be long term?”

“I’m tireder now than I was when I started,” I admit.

They nod as I dig in, grateful for the distraction. I devour every bite like a woman starved, moaning around my fork while they watch me with dark, satisfied gazes, and I contemplate what I’d like to do if choice was a factor in my life. I finish before them, and when the plates are empty, Jensen’s gaze turns wicked.

He lifts me onto the huge wooden table like I weigh nothing, laying me back across the smooth surface. It’s cool, tightening my nipples and sending goosebumps rushing over the skin of my arms. Bo grabs the bottle of maple syrup and removes the stopper.

“Time for dessert,” he murmurs.

He drizzles the warm syrup over my breasts, down my stomach, and between my thighs. The sticky sweetness makes me gasp as it runs over all the heated places on my body. Then they descend on me with hungry mouths.

Jensen sucks a nipple into his mouth, licking every drop while Bo spreads my legs wide and buries his face between them, tongue dragging through the syrup and my own wetness. I writhe on the table with hands fisting in their hair, moaning shamelessly as they devour me like good food.

How can one person crave so much pleasure?

I’m wild for them, hungry and desperate like I could never get enough of their hands, their mouths, and their cocks. I’m wanton, to allow myself to be so led by carnal desires.

This isn’t how a woman of my age should be. I need a list of requirements for a husband. I should be going on dates with a checklist, focusing on finding a man who can join me to make a home for my kids and a stable future.

But instead, all I can think about is letting go. My mind is too noisy, though, stealing my ability to relax into the moment.

Their attention is focused, but I need to do more than lie back and take it.

It’s time to show them I enjoy taking control occasionally.

“Time for me to ride a cowboy,” I say, nudging Jensen’s chest and encouraging him to lie back on the table.

“The condoms are upstairs,” he says, jacking his cock.

“Don’t worry,” I smile. “I’ve got this.”

I climb up his body until my pussy is over his face. He growls, pulling me low, sliding his tongue inside me as I rock my hips. Bo watches, stroking himself slowly as I run my hands over my breasts, pinching my nipples and groaning as Jensen does his best work.

“Come here,” I tell Bo. He’s used to my submissive side, and I’ve enjoyed handing over the reins to him and his brother a lot, but I can be confident, too. He kneels where I indicate, and I take his cock deep into my throat while he grips my curls and arches his spine. I have no inhibitions left. None at all.

This has never been me. Not with anyone. I’ve had passable, uninspiring, vanilla sex and thought it was enough. But now I know better. This is what it can be like if I let myself go.

It’s wrong. I know it is. Men and women aren’t supposed to be this raw, filthy, and insatiable. Lovemaking is supposed to be restrained and filled with emotion. But the release I experience with these men isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. Every orgasm tears another seam in the armor I’ve spent years building. Every moan rips away another restriction I’ve lived inside for so long.

I’m undone.

My hems are torn. My careful, responsible life is unraveling thread by thread in their hands.

I should leave their ranch. Mama might be waiting up. The kids will need me in the morning. I have responsibilities. I have a life I’m supposed to live, and it looks nothing like this.

But when Bo comes down my throat, grunting and trembling with his release, shouting my name so loud the horses must hear, and Jensen’s flicking tongue sends me over the edge into oblivion as he groans, spilling ribbons of cum across his belly, all I can do is moan their names and beg for more.

I want to stay with them. I want this to be my life.

“Brandy,” Bo gasps, his pretty eyes wide, his big, tattooed body slumped into a chair.