Page 137 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

His lips part as though he’s trying to speak, but all that escapes is a broken sound when I sweep my thumb over the head of his cock and draw it back with the same slow stroke.

Behind me, Red’s hands tighten around my hips. I push back against every thrust, chasing him as hard as he chases me, and his fingers slip between my legs, slick from everything he’s already pulled from me.

He finds my clit and circles it, and the touch tears straight through whatever control I had left. My body locks around Red while my lips stay wrapped around Willy and my hand keeps working Emmett with patient, greedy strokes that leave him spilling over my fingers.

They’re all touching me. They’re all wrapped around me, touching me, filling every inch of my world.

I lose count of which orgasm this is.

Willy groans my name, his voice breaking apart as his grip spasms in my hair. He pulses hot into my mouth, and I swallow every drop, holding him there until the last shudder leaves him and he finally sags forward, his sweat mixing with mine.

Red drives into me harder, every thrust knocking another broken sound from my throat while his rough praise spills into my ear. “Good fucking girl. Look at you…”

My whole body shakes so hard I can barely focus. My hips falter beneath the force of him, and then he comes with a string of curses, his cock pulsing inside me while he presses himself flush against my ass.

He keeps saying my name through ragged breaths, each repetition rougher than the last, before his teeth catch my shoulder and he bites down, marking me while shudders roll through him.

My thoughts scatter into nothing.

My jaw aches. My lips feel swollen. I barely have time to catch another breath before Emmett jerks in my hand.

I keep stroking him.

His hands slip to my thighs, gripping hard as a helpless gasp breaks free and his release splashes hot across my chest. Heat spreads over my skin while he stares at me like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

He looks completely wrecked.

His mouth hangs open. His hair has fallen across his forehead, and he’s so beautiful like this that I lean forward and drag my tongue through the stripe of cum on my chest.

His pupils blow wide.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

I laugh because I don’t know what else to do.

That was absolutely fucking unreal.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Emmett

I scrape the mud from my boots against the back step and walk into the kitchen to find Sadie curled up at the table with another picture of Cinnamon spread in front of her.

Her pink cowboy boots swing beneath the chair while she colors carefully around a pair of wings she decided the horse deserved this morning.

She glances at the clock above the stove. Then she goes back to coloring.

A minute later she checks it again.

“You reckon staring at that thing’s going to scare it into moving faster?” I ask as I hang my hat by the door.

She keeps her attention on the picture. “Mom said three.”

I look at the clock. Two forty-seven.

“She’s got time.”

“I know.”