"I'm going to undress you now," he says. "And you'll let me. Because you want this as badly as I do."
My pulse drums thick in my throat. "Yes."
He grips the hem of my shirt and drags it upward over my head. Air rushes across my bare torso, and my nipples draw into tight points beneath the lace of my bra. His gaze locks there first, pupils flaring wide, and his Adam's apple slides hard on a swallow while his hands reach behind me for the clasp.
"You're so beautiful it hurts," he mutters.
My bra falls away, straps slipping down my arms, and he tosses it aside onto a nearby hay bale. For several heartbeats, he simply stares. His eyes trace the heavy swell of my breasts, the soft roll of my stomach, the generous flare of my hips. Seventeen years have added curves and softness I once tried to hide. Now under his look, power surges through me instead of shame.
"Perfect," he breathes.
He leans in and closes his mouth over one nipple. Wet heat envelops the peak, and his tongue swirls in broad, insistent circles while his hand cradles my other breast, thumb brushing back and forth across the tip in perfect time. Pleasure arrows straight down my center to my pussy. My fingers twist into his hair and tug him closer.
He switches breasts. His teeth catch the sensitive bud lightly, then his tongue soothes the faint sting with slow laps until my thighs press together on instinct. His free hand moves lower, popping the button of my jeans, dragging the zipper down with a rasp.
"Lift your hips."
I arch immediately. He strips my jeans and underwear away, then bends to pull off my boots, leaving me naked. Hay pricks my back and shoulders through the blanket, but the sting only sharpens the ache building in my pussy.
He rocks back on his heels, planting his palms on my thighs and spreading them wide. He settles between my legs, shoulders wedging me open, forearms braced along my hips so his handscan reach up to play with my breasts again. His mouth hovers just above my pussy, hot breath pulsing against me.
"I've been thinking about this since I took you into town," he says. "How you taste. The sounds you make when you come apart. The way your thighs clamp around my head when I push you past the edge."
"Cash." His name cracks out of me.
"Tell me you want this." Hunger roughens his voice, but something raw waits underneath, like my answer anchors him more than his own need.
"I want this." Theres no hesitation in my words, no second-guessing bills or futures or what happens tomorrow. "I want you because choosing you feels like the only honest thing left in my life."
His eyes flash dark. Relief and possession collide in his expression. "Say it again."
"I choose you, Cash. Right here. In this loft. With everything I am."
"Good girl." The praise rolls over me low and thick. His mouth comes down to own my pussy.
There’s no slow build this time. His tongue dives straight in, lapping broad and greedy from my entrance to my clit in long, claiming strokes that make my hips buck. He groans against me, and the vibration sinks deep, hands kneading my breasts harder now, fingers rolling and pinching my nipples in sharp tugs that match the rhythm of his mouth below. The dual points of fire race toward the same building pleasure center.
Hay shifts beneath my shoulder blades with every arch. Dust motes dance in the slanted sunlight pouring through the high window, warming my skin while his stubble scrapes the tender insides of my thighs. Leather and the faint aroma of horses cling to the air, mixing with the sharp scent of arousal and clean sweat.
"That's it," he growls against my clit. "Let me hear how much you want this."
One hand abandons my breast to slide down my side, gripping my hip to hold me steady when my hips start to buck. The other keeps working my nipple, twisting just enough to blur the pleasure into bright edges. His tongue circles my clit with focused pressure, flicking on every pass, then flattening to suck the whole bundle between his lips in pulsing draws.
My hands fist his hair tighter as my hips grind up to meet his mouth because I need more, need him deeper, need him to never stop. "Cash. God, Cash—"
"Come for me." The command vibrates straight through my pussy.
He adds two fingers, sliding inside me with one smooth thrust while his tongue lashes faster. His fingers curl upward, stroking that swollen spot inside at the same relentless pace his mouth sets on my clit. Pleasure coils tight and hot in my pussy, then snaps.
The orgasm crashes hard. My back bows off the blanket. A scream rips from my throat: his name, broken and loud enough that it bounces off the rafters. My thighs clamp around his head as my body convulses in heavy waves while he keeps the rhythm steady, drawing every last pulse out until my legs tremble and my grip on his hair turns desperate.
He gentles gradually, tongue softening to lazy laps. His fingers ease out slowly. When he finally lifts his head, his lips shine, eyes dark with unrestrained want. He crawls up my body, weight braced on his forearms so his chest brushes mine with every ragged breath.
His mouth claims mine in a deep, filthy kiss. I taste myself on his tongue, salty and intimate, and I chase it, sucking his lower lip, biting just enough to make him groan. Claiming him back.
He breaks the kiss only to press his forehead to mine. "You're mine now," he whispers. "And I'm yours. No going back."
I nod against him, chest heaving, heart slamming in perfect sync with his.
