The knotted pine walls and ceiling wrap the space in honey-colored warmth, every knot and grain visible. Above, sturdy beams crisscross the high ceiling, heavy and dark. Adding rustic charm.
My boots meet dark wooden floors, smooth but solid, softened by a thick cream rug covering the space in front of the chocolate-colored leather furniture arranged around the fireplace—deep, worn-in sofas and two comfy recliners. Soft blankets are draped over the arms and backs.
And everywhere, the subtle proof of a child’s presence.
A small doll slumped against a throw pillow.
A stuffed pony forgotten on the hearth.
Picture books sprawled across the coffee table.
The place feels like a home—warm, safe, lived in.
Waylon reaches for me, and his arm hooks my back and pulls me against his chest. Then he walks me backward until I’m pinned against the kitchen island.
His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me hungrily as his hands slide down to cup my ass before hiking me up until my bare thighs hit cool, smooth granite. We’re all tongues and hands as we devour each other. I fist his shirt and tug it loose from his jeans. The fabric brushing against my sensitive skin.
He breaks the kiss as I fumble with the buttons of his flannel. Once it’s open, he shrugs it off, and it falls to the floor. My eyes take in the beauty of his bare, chiseled chest. I lean back, plant my hands, and arch my back, lifting my legs so he can unzip my boots and slip my feet free. He kisses my ankle before standing back up.
His dark midnight-blue eyes rake over me, and warmth floods my already-overheated body, pooling in my belly as he pulls the tie that’s holding the front of my dress closed, causing my breasts to spill out. He plants a kiss on each peak.
I start trembling with need as I wrap my legs around his hips. He grabs the hem of my dress, and I raise my arms so he can slide it over my head and toss it on the floor. He runs his knuckles over one of my bare breasts, and I clutch his shoulders, the tips of my fingers digging into his muscles.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says against my heated skin as his mouth runs down the column of my throat, sucking and nipping as he makes his way down.
The need that pulses through me is almost too much to take. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man touch me like this, and I have never wanted anyone the way I want him at this moment.
Never.
I grip him tighter as his tongue explores my breasts. An exquisite tingle shoots straight to my core when he sucks a nipple between his teeth, and my hips buck off the island.
“Easy, Stormy,” he murmurs around the taut peak.
He bites down gently, and I hum my approval as his hand slides between my legs. He glides two fingers through my center, coating them in my wetness, and then brings them up to swirl around my clit as he continues to kiss and lick at my breast.
“Waylon,” I gasp as he pumps his fingers inside of me.
He stands to watch my face as I rock against his palm.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my hand again,” he commands before claiming my mouth.
Our tongues tangle as his fingers move in and out of me at a furious pace. I can feel the pleasure pulsing at the base of my spine.
I’m so close, and he knows it. He breaks the kiss and drops to his knees. My hands go from his shoulders to his hair.
“Oh my God,” I gasp as his mouth wraps around my clit.
“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he whispers against me. Then his eyes come up to meet mine. “I’ve never tasted anything close to this sweet.”
I growl as I tug his hair to bring his mouth back to where I want it. The last thing I want to think about in this moment is him tasting anyone else.
He gives me a few quick licks, then sucks the bundle of nerves between his teeth.
He repeats the sequence over and over. Bringing me to the brink of orgasm, then pulling back just enough to keep me on the edge.
“Waylon,” I groan. “Stop playing with me.”
He grins as he thrusts his tongue deep inside of me.
