Page 77 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“That’s it,” he whispered against my skin. “Let me taste you. Let me own this.”

All I could do was hold on—one hand fisted in his hair, the other braced against the wall—because Dalton was on his knees, between my thighs, and worshipping me like I was the only religion he believed in.

“I say a prayer before every ride, but this time, I’m the one trying to get my rider off.” He looked up at me, that cocky grin spreading. “Hope you’re ready, darlin’, ’cause I want you to ride my face like you’re chasin’ your last fuckin’ orgasm.”

He fucking buried himself in me.

His tongue parted my folds, wide and slow at first, but it didn’t stay gentle for long. He was ravenous—feral—lapping me up like he was starving and I was the only thing that could satisfy. Every flick, every suck, every filthy, guttural moan vibrated straight through my clit. He didn’t eat, he devoured. Spit and slick coated his chin, but he didn’t care.

One of his hands slid down to spread me wider, two fingers holding me open so he could fuck me with his tongue. He growled against me, tongue pushing in, then curling up to drag across my sensitive spot.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ around my tongue. So fuckin’ greedy—pussy’s actin’ like she wants to keep me.”

He reached down, dragging his fingers through the slick dripping onto his shirt before smearing it up to my ass, thumb circling my tight hole with obscene, lazy pressure.

“Wanna train you for this too, baby,” he murmured. “Bet you’d come so hard with a plug in while riding my face that you’d forget your name.”

I whimpered, hips rolling against him, but he didn’t let me take control. He grabbed my ass, squeezed hard, and forced me to grind on his face.

“I want you to use me,” he growled. “Rub this filthy little cunt all over me. Mark me with it. I don’t wanna breathe unless it smells like your pussy.” He slapped my thigh hard enough to make me jolt. “C’mon, cowgirl. Ride.”

I did.

Thighs trembling, back arching, moans spilling out of me because I’d lost control. He fucked me with his tongue, teased my ass with his thumb, smacked my skin every time I tried to lift off.

“This pussy’s got my fuckin’ name on it,” he snarled. “You gonna come in my mouth and let me swallow every drop?”

I shattered. Screamed. Ground myself down on his face while he kept licking sloppily.

He worshipped my clit.

Fucked it with his mouth like he had no intention of letting me walk right for days.

He did it all on his fucking knees.

“No wonder women are all over you,” I sighed, still breathless, my thighs sticky with the mess he made of me.

Before I could float any higher, he grabbed me and stood up, pulling my face to his.

“I have never—ever—felt like that with anyone. Ever.”

I swallowed hard, heart thudding. He stripped off his shirt, and fuck.

His chest was broad and flushed, dusted with freckles like constellations only I got to map. His abs tightened with every breath, and I made a silent promise to memorize the way they rose and fell, in case I woke up and it had all been a fever dream.

“I’m not done, darlin’.” He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes pinned me in place. “Do you trust me?”

I nodded before he even finished the question.

“Good,” he muttered, already reaching for his bag at the edge of the bed. “On your knees. Middle of the bed. Face away from me.”

I crawled into position, skin buzzing, thighs still slick. My hands trembled as I folded them behind my back, spine straight, heart pounding in my ears. I couldn’t see him, only the moonlight spilling across the sheets, but I heard him.

The metallic clink of his buckle.

The zip.

The heavy thud of his pants hitting the floor.