“Wes, you feel so good.”
His lips ghost over mine, and I grip the top of the rope as he teases my lips apart with his tongue. I arch into him, meeting his eagerness with my own. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, letting a bit of my wildness seep into the kiss. He groans and grabs the back of my neck, his thumb finding my racing pulse at my throat.
My body is alive and buzzing as he pounds into me with one hand digging into my hip and the other on my neck possessively. The rope holding me up rubs against my wrists, but the abrasiveness of it only heightens all the feelings warring in my body at once.
Wes tames my wildness with a gentle squeeze of his hand at my neck, and I clamp down around him.
“Atta girl. Strangle my cock just like that, Red.”
I pull at my restraints again, trying to meet him thrust for thrust as he tightens his hold on my neck. I can still breathe, but the feeling of restricted airflow brings a new high.
I’m trembling, making inarticulate sounds, and when I don’t think my body can take being on edge any longer, Wes loosens his grip and strokes my clit, and I plummet from the precipice, spasming around him as I scream his name.
My climax brings on his own. He pulls out of me and paints my stomach and chest with his release, hot and slippery. It feels just as dirty and possessive as the first time he did it, as if he’s claiming me. And I love it.
His heavy gaze falls on the mess he made, and he gives me a proud smirk.
I smile sleepily at him. “I love when you fuck me like a real cowboy.”
He chuckles. “You look good like this, Red. Covered in my cum, strung up, and flushed head to toe from the orgasm I just gave you.”
He drags his fingers through his cum, spreading it over my breast before placing his fingers on my lips. “Open.”
I take his fingers on the flat of my tongue, licking them clean while my sultry gaze holds his.
“You’re something special, Sawyer.” He reaches behind me and unhooks the rope. He carefully unwraps the lariat from my wrists and rubs at the red marks marring my skin. The imprint of the amplified sensation still lingers.
My mind spins, like tires churning helplessly in mud as we silently redress. Wes is falling for me, and if my reaction to Hannah is any indication, I’m falling too. And I still have no idea where that leaves us.
I shiver under his light touch, and he gives me a soft smile. “We should get you inside. You’re going to get cold out here.”
"Will you stay tonight?" I ask, throwing my no sleepover rule out the window. I need him curled up beside me tonight.
His eyes crinkle at the corners and the look he gives me is so tender it borders on painful. "Of course," he says before placing a kiss on the top of my head.
When we get inside, he runs me a hot shower, and I reluctantly wash him off my skin. I put on pajamas before slipping under the covers next to Wes, whose breathing has already turned deep as he sleeps on his stomach.
I study his face, the slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, all the sharp edges that have gone soft while he sleeps. He’s shirtless and his hands curl under his face like a pillow, and my heart squeezes at the bittersweetness of this moment.
I desperately want Wes to stay, but I’ll never ask that of him. As much as I want him to stay for me, I won’t be another person he’s scared to disappoint.
It’s in this moment I realize just how far gone I am. Wes has branded himself on my skin, on my heart, on my soul. And I don’t think I’ll ever recover.
Lingering Doubts
Wes
Iwake up before the sun somehow—despite the late night—and quietly stumble into Sawyer’s kitchen to start a pot of coffee before slipping back into my clothes from last night.
I consider heading back to Dawson Ranch, so I don’t have to listen to any of Pops’ wisecracks when he sees me coming back from Sawyer’s, but the thought of starting my day without kissing Sawyer makes me linger.
The empty kitchen might not be as good for soul-searching as the spot I brought Sawyer to the other day, but it’ll have to do this morning. I need to make a decision. Iknowthat. I can’t keep floundering, going back and forth without deciding anything.
Sawyer’s question from that night under the stars rings in my head.Whatdoyouwant?
What do Iwant?
After everything I said to Sawyer last night—and I meant every word—I can’t wrap my head around leaving Cottonwood Creek.
