He has myasspressedagainst the glass.
Myassagainst the glass.
Just like his note said.
Hot.
His mouth touches the center of my throat, then his lips move down to the hollow, and when he shifts farther back, his mouth wraps around my nipple, and then he sucks. My eyes widen, my breath hitches, and then he shifts his hips, and he’s inside me.
Stretching me.
Filling me.
I open my mouth to beg him to move. But even if I could speak, it doesn’t matter, because he does exactly what I need. He moves. Hard and fast. He fucks me against the window, no holds barred.
It’s hard and fast, it’s wild, it’s a damn rodeo, and I love every single second of it.
I try to hold back my orgasm, but I fail. It barrels through me like a freight train, consuming everything from my toes to the ends of my hair. My entire body freezes, and my fingers grip his shoulders, because it’s all I can do to just hold on.
He doesn’t stop moving inside me. Once, twice, three times before he buries himself to the hilt, his back arching as a long growl escapes his lips. And then it’s his turn to come, and my entire body trembles in his arms.
He’s beautiful. His head back, his lips parted in awe, his skin glistening with the light sheen of sweat.
How the hell am I here with this beautiful, grumpy man?
I don’t know how it happened, but I never want to leave.
Chapter Eighteen
LOLA-MAE
Smoothingmy palms down my thighs, I turn to the side and wonder if this is too much, or maybe it’s not enough? I don’t know. I’m not sure what to do. I’ve also never contemplated what to wear to a bonfire before.
It’s never mattered to me, because a bonfire hasn’t ever been somewhere I would think to pick up a guy. It’s always just been a place to hang out with friends and relax, never a hookup thing for me.
Except now.
Right now, all I want to do is look good for Harlan.
I’m wearing a pair of jeans that hug the hips low but are relaxed through the thighs. Almost a bit bootcut at the calves and ankles. I have a worn pair of old square-toe cowboy boots on. My favorite boots are so old that I try not to wear them often. They need new soles.
On top, I’m wearing a black shirt that is formfitting and stops at my natural waist. There is a Carhartt jacket with a hood on the bed that I’m going to wear for warmth. My makeup is a littleheavier than I would wear to work, meaning Harlan hasn’t seen it this way before. And my dark hair, I smoothed down with my straightener so that it’s shiny.
Slipping my phone from my back pocket, I take a picture of my reflection in the mirror before texting it to Shandy. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, worrying the skin there for a moment as I wait for her response.
When my phone buzzes, there is a knock on the front door at the same time. I know it’s Harlan. Flicking my gaze down to my screen, I see the message, and it makes me laugh.
A single word.
SHANDY: Fuckable.
The knock on the front door grows louder, so I shove my phone in my back pocket, grab my jacket, and make my way toward the door, flicking the lights off on my way in an effort to save energy, the light bill, or maybe just waste a few more seconds.
I reach for the front doorknob then gently twist it, tugging the door open as my lips curve up into a smile. My eyes travel up the length of his body to find his own.
Standing in front of me is Harlan, but not just Harlan… it’s sexy-as-sin Harlan. He’s wearing the painted jeans that were made for him, a pearl snap button-down shirt, a straw cowboy hat, boots, and a smile. But the way he looks isn’t the only thing that causes my weak knees.
It’s the way he smells, too.
