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I never imagined the day he showed up at the ranch that he was like this in private. He’s so reserved…with his clothes on, anyway. As I waver somewhere on the ceiling, riding waves of pleasure, it occurs to me that I need this badly. All of it, not just the sex, but very much the sex. Every time he makes me come, it’s like the taut strings that have been holding me together for so long come a little looser.

I catch my breath. “Please,” I whisper.

His mouth drags over my neck, kissing lower until his lips are grazing just above my left nipple. My body doesn’t know if I want him to use his talents on my breasts or to tangle my fingers in his hair and push him down between my thighs. He picks for me, opening his mouth and curling his tongue around my nipple. I whimper, and he sucks gently, flicking the tip. My nails rake over his shoulder. He moves to the other nipple, hard as it can get, and nips at it with his teeth. So gentle, but I’m so sensitive, I cry out.

“You like that?” He curls his tongue around it.

“Yes, don’t stop.”

He pulls up the hand that was just inside me and grips my breast, gathering it and pushing as much as he can into his mouth. The sensation goes hard and fast to my pussy, and now all I can think about is having him inside me again. Nothing feels like him. I’ve tried using my fingers or the vibrator I keep in my nightstand at home.

“Please,” I whisper again.

He lifts his head. “You begging for sex, baby?”

Face flushed, I nod.

“How about I give you a little head first?”

I’m dying, but I don’t think that was a question. My body reacts as he slides over me and kisses my sternum.

My hips rise and rub against his chest.

“God, it gets me so hard when you want it,” he says, kissing lower. His tongue drags around my navel.

“I want it,” I pant. “Please.”

He groans in his chest and dips his head between my thighs. His tongue is hot as it drags over me. My head spins, and my thighs clamp down over his ears. I know he likes that, because he groans again, shoving his face in hard and pushing his tongue into my pussy. He eats pussy like he loves it. That’s an improvement on the last couple of guys.

He drags his tongue up, flicks my clit, then spits on my pussy. I gasp, and it turns into a moan as he pushes two fingers inside and flips his hand.

Oh God, here it comes.

He works them, easing up my pussy until I’m not clamping down as hard on him. Eyes on me, he drops his mouth to my clit and starts in on it like we’re running out of time. Distantly, I realize that even if this all comes to nothing, I’ll remember this week as the time when I came so hard, my ears rang. My hand shoves into his hair and pushes his face down. He groans and his body shudders, but he doesn’t stop.

“Oh,” I breathe out as pleasure ebbs.

He goes still and then lifts his head.

“Fuck me,” I beg, drunk on him.

He moves over me, kissing up between my breasts, mouth grazing mine. “Do you want the truth?”

I blink. “Yeah?”

“Give me a second to recharge, and I will.”

It takes a second for that to click, and then I bite my lip hard and fail at holding back a smile.

“You—”

“Yeah, I did. That doesn’t usually happen, but you know, I like that pussy, baby.”

If he was embarrassed by coming in his pants from eating me out, he really shouldn’t be. It’s incredibly flattering. I scrape my nails up the back of his neck and pull him in, locking my ankles around the backs of his thighs.

“We can always go again.”

“Yeah,” he says with conviction. “I mean to.”