“I need to be inside you,” he growls, pulling his fingers free before continuing, “and feel you coming around me.” He forcibly shoves me onto the stack of hay bales beside us, and the rough scratch of it pokes through my shirt. I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of his face. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are nearly black with want. Moving with desperate efficiency, he yanks off his belt, undoes his pants, and shoves them down just enough to free himself. With my hips in his hands, he aggressively tugs my jeans below my ass, baring me to the cool barn air.
Easton kicks my feet apart, widening my stance, as he pulls my panties to the side. “This isn’t going to be gentle,” he warns. Before I can respond, he aligns himself with my entrance and drives forward in a single, brutal thrust. A silent, breathy scream tears from my throat as my body stretches to accommodate him, the slight burn blending with overwhelming fullness.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this. Missed you.” He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He pulls back and slams home again, setting a punishing rhythm. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”
I grip the hay bale, which pricks my palms. Each thrust shoves me upward, and I push back to meet him. The wet slap of skin against skin echoes through the stall, mixing with our ragged breathing.
“That’s it.” He grabs my ponytail, wrapping it around his fist, pulling my head back. “Take it. Take every fucking inch and show me how much you love my cock.”
“Yes,” I gasp, needing this as much as he does. “Harder. Please.”
He obliges, driving into me with enough force to rattle my teeth. The head of his cock drags over my front wall with every stroke, the pleasure building in my core.
Easton reaches around, his fingers finding my neglected, throbbing clit, desperate for friction. He rubs it in tight circles while he pounds into me, and my second orgasm builds rapidly.
“You’re so fucking close,” he pants through his thrusts. “I can feel you squeezing me. So eager to come on my cock.”
With his thick length filling me, his fingers grinding over my clit, words escape me, and I can only nod frantically.
“Come with me,” he grits, fighting to maintain control until I do.
He doesn’t have to wait long; my body obeys almost instantly. I come hard, biting down on the meaty part of his hand to stifle my cries. My pussy clenches around him in cadenced pulses. He falls over me and groans into the back of my neck, his rhythm faltering as my orgasm triggers his own. Buried deep, he spills into me with a guttural sound that vibrates over my skin. I feel each hot pulsefilling me, claiming me. He works us through the aftershocks with slow, shallow strokes before stilling completely.
His weight presses against my back as we both struggle to catch our breath. “So perfect,” he murmurs, peppering kisses to the crook between my neck and shoulder. “You did so well.”
He withdraws carefully, and his cum starts to trickle down my inner thigh. He quickly pulls my panties back in place and yanks my jeans over my hips, fastening them with hands that are slightly less steady than before. When he spins me around, his expression has softened.
“You okay?” He cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with a gentleness that is a stark contrast to how he just took me.
I lean into his touch, a satiated smile spreading across my face. “Better than okay.”
He pulls me into a proper kiss, soft and tender. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me close. Easing away from our kiss, he whispers against my lips, “Next time, I’ll worship you like you deserve.” He guides my face to his chest as he holds me in his embrace, delicately stroking my cheek with his fingers as I listen to his heartbeat gradually slow.
“I should get back,” he says eventually, though he makes no move to release me. “Before your brothers come looking.”
I huff a laugh. “They wouldn’t notice if I disappeared for a week. Deacon is probably still arguing with Knox about that damn gelding.”
Easton chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head before stepping back and adjusting his own clothes.
“I’ll head out first,” he says.
He walks toward the stable doors, and I appreciate the view, running my fingers through my hair to fix my disheveled ponytail.
This man is going to ruin me.
Dear Rosie,
Happiness, I’ve learned, doesn’t arrive all at once. It doesn’t crash through the door and announce itself, like something earned. It slips in quietly, taking shape in the spaces between moments. In the things you don’t realize are changing until you look up and recognize your life looks a little different.
For the first time in a long time—since you—I’m happy, Rosie. I didn’t realize how lonely I’d been until I wasn’t anymore.
I’m happy in small, quiet ways. In shared coffee. In the warmth of her hand in mine. In the sound of her breathingbeside me at night… even if we are sneaking around like teenagers.
It’s only been a few short weeks with Teagan, but she makes the quiet feel less empty. When I’m with her, I am alive in ways I thought were gone forever.
And if I’m being honest, it still terrifies me, because I remember what happened the last time I had something this good.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep waiting for the moment the universe reminds me that happiness is temporary. That everything I love eventually disappears.
