Chapter 14
Addison
It’s well past midnight by the time we’re heading down the bumpy road on Thatcher Ranch. We spent the evening eating, drinking, and dancing our hearts out.
And honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever had a better date.
The Village comes into view around the bend, and a thought pops into my head. “Which cabin is yours?” I ask, gesturing to the fork in the road that leads to the staff cabins.
Cruz glances at me. “You wanna see it?”
I nod.
He takes the turn, driving down the road with cabins on either side of it. He makes a right, turning up a somewhat longer driveway than the rest of them, and about a hundred yards up sits a little cabin.
“So you get the fancy one, I see,” I say as he parks the car.
He chuckles. “Yeah, assistant foreman has its perks.”
“Fancy cowboy,” I coo.
He shakes his head, hopping out of the car, and I follow suit. He immediately grabs my hand as we walk, and my heart thuds a little bit louder in my chest. We’re both silent as he unlocks the door. We step inside, and he flicks on a light switch, illuminating the space.
The cabin is laid out similarly to mine, although it’s a bit smaller. A bit sparser too. While he’s got all the furniture he needs, it’s all simplistic, basic. And there really isn’t much on the walls. Or anywhere. He’s got a few coats hanging up by the door. But no trinkets, no … things.
“A minimalist?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I live a simple life.”
“And you like it.” It’s a statement but also a bit of a question.
He nods. “I do.”
“Doesn’t look like you have room for much else,” I comment, looking around.
There’s a pause. A silence that stretches and stretches. Then, “I could always make room.”
My eyes meet his. It feels entirely too early to have the type of conversation we’re edging on. I don’t even know if I want that conversation. Even so, his answer soothes something deep inside of me that I barely realized was scared.
And I realize, suddenly, that he’s good at that. Soothing me when I’m scared.
Cruz clears his throat. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did,” I say with a smile. “Never thought I’d enjoy line dancing, but here we are.”
He grins. “You did well.” He cocks his head, his eyes dark under the shadow of his hat. “I’m proud of you.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Of me? For what?”
He shrugs, taking a step toward me. “You were nervous, but you did it.” His hands wrap around my waist, pulling me against him. “And you had fun. And looked cute.”
I bite my lip, grinning up at him. He dips his head, his lips meeting mine. His kiss is hungry, but not with the same urgency as last night. That intensity is there, but like he could spend all night igniting it.
His hands travel down my waist, gripping my ass and squeezing. I whimper softly into his mouth, and he nibbles at my bottom lip.
Arousal spikes in my core. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten wet for a man this fast.
“You in this dress, Princess,” Cruz breaks the kiss to murmur, “has had me weak in the knees all night.”
I giggle, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.
His hand skates over my ass, finding the hem of my dress and hiking it up. “Short, slutty, little dress,” he mutters.
I bite his lip softly, and he groans. “It’s not slutty, it’s classy.”
He murmurs against my lips, “Whatever you say.”
His hands find the waistband of my underwear, and he tugs it lightly, snapping it back with a sharp zing to my skin. “Are you wearing a thong?” he breathes.
“No underwear lines,” I explain.
“Christ,” he mutters, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh of my ass. “You better have another condom in that purse of yours.” He chuckles.
I lean back, glancing between him and my bag on the counter. I cock my head. “On one condition.”
He arches an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling. “Name it.”
I point my chin to the top of his head. “You keep the hat on.”
He grins. “You keep the boots on.”
I glance down to my bright pink cowgirl boots. “Oh, you like these?” I tease. “I thought you hated them when we first met.”
He laughs, turning to grab my purse from the counter.
“They’re impractical as hell, but fuck, they’re cute.
” He fishes out a condom, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans before returning to me, hoisting me up with his hands under my ass.
I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, capturing his mouth with mine.
He only walks a few steps before sinking to his knees, leaning over, and pinning me to the hardwood floor of the cabin. “No bed?” I tease in surprise.
“I don’t wanna wait the ten seconds it’s gonna take us to get there,” he murmurs before pressing kisses down the side of my neck.
His hand roams up my body, his thumb finding my nipple beneath the thin fabric of my dress and teasing it. I arch my back in appreciation, needing more. Cruz grabs the right strap of my dress, sliding it down my shoulder and exposing my breast.
“No bra, Princess?” he coos, his fingers immediately teasing and plucking my nipple.
“No … underwear lines,” I moan, arching my back more.
He presses his lips against my ear while sliding the strap off my other shoulder. “I like when you barely wear any underwear,” he whispers before moving lower and sucking my other nipple into his mouth.
“Well maybe I’ll wear less underwear then.”
He makes a sound akin to a growl and digs his fingers into my waist. “Fuck, if I know you’re walking around the ranch without underwear, I’m never getting any work done.”
I giggle, and he nips lightly at my breast.
“Cruz,” I whimper, tangling my fingers in his hair.
He sucks and nibbles one nipple while flicking and teasing the other. I cry out, arching my back, knowing my thin thong is already soaked through.
As if sensing that, Cruz’s hand slides down my body, hiking the short skirt of my dress high enough to reach my center. He groans when he feels me, his finger sliding easily inside.
I moan, watching him.
“God, you’re wet,” he praises. Lazily fucking me with his fingers, he looks up at me, his eyes dark in the shadow of his cowboy hat. “Always so wet for me.”
I whimper, wanting him—needing him—inside of me, but too timid to actually ask for it. Thankfully, I don’t need to. Cruz goes to work unbuckling his belt, sliding his jeans down just far enough to free his cock, and then sliding the condom over top of it.
Then he’s hovering back over me, his cock notched at my entrance. He’s balanced on an elbow, his forearm positioned below my neck.
And it hits me then how deliciously dirty this feels. Both of us still mainly clothed but too impatient to actually disrobe.
Then, slowly, he pushes inside of me. I pull in a sharp breath of air as he stretches me wide—that now familiar sensation of being pressed to my limits, pushed past them.
His free hand gently strokes the hair from my forehead, and I’m struck by the sweetness of the gesture. How intimate it feels. His thumb gently strokes my cheek as he guides the rest of himself into me, and I gasp, gazing up at him.
“Good girl,” he breathes.
I only whimper quietly in response.
He ducks his head, pressing his lips to mine in a soft, slow kiss as he gently eases back out of me and then back in. His thrusts remain slow, yet powerful, each one hitting me deeper. I’m whimpering into his mouth—begging for more, or less, I’m not even sure.
“Does my Princess like being filled with my thick cock?” he breaks our kiss to ask.
I nod.
Then he pauses, leaning up, using his free hand to grab my leg, bending it at the knee and pulling it up. “It’s gonna feel deeper, Princess,” he murmurs, “but you can take it.”
And then he presses into me again. A strangled noise escapes me as Cruz breaks into the very center of my being. It’s everything, all over, a million times. I feel like I’m breaking, but like I want to be broken over and over again.
He picks up the pace, pumping into me at an angle that has my whimpers nearing hysterical.
“That’s a good girl,” Cruz praises, slamming into me. “Taking me so well.”
He lodges my bent knee between our bodies, using his free hand to snake between my legs and find my clit.
“Cruz!” I scream, the pleasure more than I can take.
“That’s right, say my name,” he urges, his voice tight.
“Cruz, Cruz, Cruz,” I chant, as if his name is the only thing holding me to this Earth, the only thing keeping me from floating away forever.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he orders. “Come all over my cock. Soak me.”
The wave hits me harder than I expect, washing over me, drowning me in a sensation that’s almost foreign. My ears ring, my periphery goes fuzzy, and I gasp for air.
Cruz moves to cup my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek as he pumps and then stills inside of me with a deep groan. We lay there for a moment, panting, my orgasm still rushing through me.
His face searches mine, seemingly concerned, and it’s only then that I feel the wetness on my cheek. I reach up to touch it, feeling tears.
“I … sorry, I don’t know why …” I stare at my fingers in disbelief.
“Don’t apologize,” he says quickly. “People cry during sex sometimes—that’s not uncommon. Are you okay, though?” His eyebrows crease together.
“I’m fine,” I say truthfully. “Way more than fine.”
He chuckles, relieved. “The orgasm was that good, huh?”
I giggle, and he presses a kiss to my cheek, kissing the tears away.
And while, yeah, the orgasm was out of this world, the reason for the tears might have been twofold. Because I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this vulnerable with a man I’ve dated. Not just in sex, but in life. Sharing my anxieties, my past—hell, having him hold me while I fall apart.
And for the first time since admitting to myself that I found him attractive, I realize I that I might actually have real feelings for Cruz Conley.