She may not grasp the full weight of those words yet, but all that matters is that she’s here with me, wearing my grandmother’s ring, and giving me a chance to be the husband and father that she and our baby deserves.
On My Knees
After dinner, Heath and I drove to the barn so he could feed the horses before going back to our apartment. It’s Saturday, which means most of the ranch hands have the night off, and he didn’t want his dad to handle it since we were here anyway.
I’ve been waiting on a bench in the main aisle of the barn, watching my man as he works. The sight of his strong arms flexing and the low rumble of his voice as he talks to the horses already has me needy and barely hanging on by a thread.
What makes my pulse race even faster is knowing the ring I’ve had on my finger since we said “I do” belonged to his grandma. It means that, even when, for all intents and purposes, our marriage was strictly an arrangement with little chance of evolving into more, he still chose to give me a ring withsentimental value. It has me wondering if there’s more to it based on his reaction, and I have every intention of asking him about it, but right now, all I want is to show my appreciation.
The second Heath steps out of the last stall looking positively edible, my resistance snaps. He’s just tossed the last empty feed bag in the trash when I close the distance, taking his hand as I lead him into the only empty stall that’s used for hay storage. Several tall stacks are lined against the walls, and Heath grunts as I back him up against the closest one.
My fingers trail over his chest as I lean in for a kiss. It starts slow and teasing, my lips brushing against his in playful caresses. I keep the pressure light, drawing back every time he tries to take more.
“Such a brat,” he groans as he winds an arm around my waist.
I curl my fingers around his collar, tugging him hard against me. The initial tenderness quickly turns urgent and ravenous. His hand slides to the back of my neck as he nips my lower lip, his tongue plunging into my mouth with delicious urgency. I whimper into the kiss, my hands fisting into his hair as I grind against his growing erection.
It has me eager to sink to my knees right here. His Adam’s apple bobs on a harsh swallow as I take a half step back and lower myself in front of him. It’s not exactly sexy with one hand braced on his thigh for balance, but the hungry look in his eyes never wavers.
“Hellcat, what are you doing?” His voice is strained and rough.
“Taking care of my baby daddy,” I coo, already tugging at his belt.
It’s addictive going down on him, knowing I’m the only one who gets to make this strong man tremble under my touch. And I crave the control it gives, watching him unravel while I drive him wild with my tongue.
“We could wait until we’re home so you can be comfortable,” he rasps.
I gaze up at him, batting my lashes. “Where’s the fun in that?”
One downside to this pregnancy is that the further along I get, the more Heath treats me like I’m made of glass. Don’t get me wrong, it’s incredibly sweet seeing my gruff cowboy transform into the doting husband who constantly worries about my aching back, whether I’m eating enough, and making sure I don’t overdo it. But sometimes a girl wants to live on the edge, even at six months pregnant.
My eyes drop to Heath’s cock straining behind his pants, and I slip my hand between us, tracing his dick with a featherlight touch, smiling when it twitches under my touch.
The scent of sweat and hay clings to him, and it’s criminally sexy. I bite my lip, aching with how badly I want him like this—dirty, rugged, and every inch my cowboy.
He watches as I unzip his Wranglers and tug them down with his underwear. His thick cock springs free, rock hard and the head already glistening with precum.
Heath sucks in a sharp breath when I curl my fingers around this throbbing length, giving it a firm squeeze. I slide my hand along his shaft in measured strokes, spreading the precum dripping from the swollen tip. I lean in, flick my tongue over the sensitive head, then swirl it around, savoring every salty drop.
“Damn, that wicked tongue of yours,” he growls.
I lift my hooded eyes. “You love it.”
He trails a finger along my cheek. “I love teaching you who it belongs to.”
“Prove it,” I challenge, smirking up at him.
He threads his fingers through my hair and guides the swollen tip back to my lips. I oblige instantly, wrapping my mouth around his cock.
“Fuck, Charlie,” he curses softly.
I let out a muffled moan around his dick, the vibration making him twitch. He rocks his hips forward, and I inhale sharply through my nose. Thank god my gag reflex is under control now that I’m no longer battling waves of “morning” sickness. Up until a couple of weeks ago, attempting to take him deeper was impossible, so I’m eager to prove I can take every inch of him tonight.
Without prompting, I hollow my cheeks, and swallow hard around his length, drawing his shaft deeper until the head nudges at the back of my throat. I keep him there, eyes watering from the intense fullness, but I relish the stretch and the low, guttural groan that rumbles from his chest.
“Can’t get enough of that perfect mouth of yours,” Heath grunts.
His grip tightens in my hair, but otherwise, he remains perfectly still, the strain showing in every tense muscle in his neck. It’s the last thing I want right now. I want to push him to the brink until he finally loses that iron control and every last bit of restraint.
