Chapter 16
YES, “COWBOY” IS A KINK
It’s been a few days since I got hitched, and the whole thing is so strange, it almost doesn’t feel real.
Waking up, I stretch my legs and elongate my spine as I let out my normal morning moan.
I stare at the four walls of my room, stark white and already bright as hell since the one window in it faces the sun.
And the sun, in Texas, seems to almost always be awake and angry.
I glance at my phone and discover I have a glorious eighteen minutes before my alarm goes off.
Landry moved his morning training to the evening, since he’s been tending to some colicky mares with the town veterinarian, who can only make house calls to the ranch when it’s early before her practice opens.
Landry training at night is a sight. A day’s worth of work on his features, staining his jeans and smeared over his T-shirt, the ridge of sweat marking his hat, his callused hands caked with earth. Add in him climbing onto a wild animal and taming it, and I’m totally and utterly sprung.
These mornings back home would be filled with me time, the time where I know everyone else is asleep and I can make myself feel good, privately.
I reach down, past the elastic band in my faded pajama pants, and into my panties, finding myself swollen and warm. Oh yeah. I had a dream about Landry last night, and in it we were getting married, for real. Silly dream, but man did it get me wet.
Slowly, I circle my clit with two fingers, then stop, my eyes popping open.
Landry agreed to be mine to use. That means even if he isn’t getting anything out of it, I can use him for my pleasure. He and I haven’t fooled around since our naked dry humping the other night, mostly because we’re damn busy.
I had interviews in town this week, opting to leave the ranch when Tate and Landry were working on the tractor, the last piece of running equipment that Vaughn Ranch has.
I met Max Hardaway, one of the other bareback bronc riders that’s competing this season.
He told me he wants to win, but he expects Landry to snag the title.
I filmed our conversation, and he had a lot of wonderful things to say about all of his competitors. In fact, all of them did.
Doesn’t help the cowboy kink I’ve got going, that’s for sure.
I still can’t believe I’m fake married, and in the face of that deal, I bartered to get myself some hot cowboy sex. I feel a little bit like a hooker, and a little bit like a genius, a split I’m okay with.
I slip out of bed and down the hall, stopping by Sadie’s door to make sure she’s still asleep. Not only is she asleep, but her alarm doesn’t go off for another hour and a half.
Slowly, I turn the knob to Landry’s room, relieved when I discover it isn’t locked.
A groggy-eyed cowboy lifts his head from the pillow, dark hair sticking up everywhere. “You okay?” he asks, voice lined with sleep, thick from exhaustion. I nod my head, and quietly click the door closed behind me, twisting the lock, too.
I don’t say a word as I sashay across the room and climb into bed with him, sitting on top of him because he’s twice my size and can handle it. With my legs tucked beneath me, I reach back and fish my hand into his pajama pants, finding exactly what I came for.
Well, the truth is, I planned on coming in here, locking the door, and riding his face until I explode, so I can drift through filming today on a dreamy, orgasmic high. But now that his steely cock is in my palm and I’m straining to make my thumb and middle finger meet, my plans have changed.
“Do you know what I love?” I ask, stroking my fingers up and down his cock, slow, deliberate, torturous. God, he’s so hard that we could have sex right now, like he wakes up ready for this.
He shakes his head, fighting the urge to get lost in the way my fingertips tease his cock. “Makin’ films,” he guesses, the two words raspy and smoky. My pussy flutters, reacting to the way he sounds, the feel of him, being in his bed on top of him—all of it.
I shake my head. “Not that.”
He hooks his finger in the waist of my pants and tugs them down, peering at my white lacy panties a minute before letting go. He slams his eyes closed. “Torturin’ me.”
“Well, that, but also…” I wait until one blue eye peeks at me. I tip forward, releasing his cock, dusting my lips along his. “Blow jobs.”
His lips quirk. “I love those, too.”
Quickly, I get to my feet and kick off my pajama pants, leaving my tank and panties on. Crawling over him, confusion wrinkles his expression. “I thought you’re using me to feel good.”
“It makes me feel good to give a blow job,” I reply over my shoulder, my ass hovering above his chest from the position I’m in. “Makes me feel powerful, and sexy.”
“Me too,” he deadpans, boldly tugging the waist of his pajamas down, his cock springing free.
I roll my eyes. “I’m gonna suck you, Landry, but while I do,” I wiggle my hips and draw his focus from my face to my pussy. “Make me come.”
“What do you like?” he asks, surprising me, because Landry is a reserved man, or maybe that’s how men are in Texas. I didn’t expect him to ask how I like to be touched, but I’m glad he did. His palms cup my ass. “Why are you givin’ me that look?”
I shake my head, still straining to stare back at him. “I just didn’t think you’d ask how I like it, is all.”
He drops his hands from my ass, reaching around me to grab his cock. “You said you want to use me to feel good, so I owe it to you to make you feel good.”
“Okay,” I start, not used to this. Melvin fingered the place between my crotch and my thigh, and thought my adductor was my clit. “Well,” I start, my boldness draining away when I’m put under the spotlight. “I like…”
Out of nowhere, Landry uses the hand not gripping his beast to slap my ass, somewhat hard. “Don’t be shy, baby,” he says, the term of endearment coming down on me like a damn love spell. “Tell me what you want, tell me how you like it.”
I nod my head and lick my lips, ignoring the sticky, dry feeling in my throat.
“Pressure against my clit, gentle. And then when I’m close,” I whisper, feeling more filthy telling him how I like to orgasm than I did grinding his cock.
Something about verbalizing your needs is so vulnerable, more vulnerable than the acts themselves.
At least that’s how it feels with Landry.
Every admission, every whispered truth, every conversation ties us tighter together, bonds us more deeply.
“When you’re close?” he pushes, his blue eyes shiny and wide. “Don’t be shy.”
I glance at his hand, his knuckles swollen, fingers thick, palms substantial. “Two fingers,” I whisper. “Put them inside me,” I guide, still looking at his hand. “Then finish me.”
He nods. I turn, facing his cock, and straddle him, aligning all the parts that matter.
His cock is straining so hard it’s an ombre of purples and pinks.
A bead of precum waits for me at his slit, inviting me to taste him.
He groans, trying hard to keep quiet as I take him onto my tongue and trace the curved ridge of his head.
“Fuck,” he groans, and I like that he reserves cursing for only the most intense moments in life. That’s sexy. “That’s…” His voice drops to a whisper, rough and broken. “That feels so good, Quinn.”
His praise is all I need, and I continue sucking him, pushing myself to take more and more until his shaft is completely slick with my spit.
I work my hand around the base, using my saliva to knead and massage his balls as I tease his tip, tracing his crown with my tongue.
His thighs torque and flex beneath me, the sight of dark hair on thick muscles stirring up everything low in my belly.
I’m swollen and achy between my thighs, and then he touches me.
The blunt, callused tip of his finger drags down my folds, beneath my panties, making my thighs tremble.
In reaction, I suck him deeper, moaning around the burst of arousal that hits the back of my throat.
He’s leaking so much, throbbing inside my mouth, and when I drag my fingertips around his balls, delicately exploring the sensitive, warm skin, I realize how absolutely aroused I am by the thought of them being full from his restraint over the years.
His other hand rests across my ass, gently pulling me open.
I left my panties on as a tease, but I’m so wet, so horny, so eager to feel him slip those massive fingers inside of me that I regret leaving any barriers for him.
“Landry.” I moan his name around his cock, his finger sliding over my clit so slowly, so torturously, that my vision blurs.
“Keep going, keep playing with my pussy,” I breathe, kissing a line down his shaft before licking my way back up.
He hisses, a jumble of sharp breaths and curses, and right when I think he can’t be hotter, that this brokenhearted cowboy I was assigned to film is potentially the best and sexiest lay of my life, he slips two thick fingers past my lips, urging them deep inside me.
“Oh, oh my god,” I breathe, sinking down on his length as he curls his fingers inside me, the roughened pads of his fingers coming down on my clit.
He works my pussy with both hands, gently curling thick fingers inside of me while he uses his other digits to tease and play with my swollen clit, touching me exactly the way I like, as if he wrote the handbook to unlocking my body.
I told him to slip inside me when I was close to orgasm, and I don’t know how he knew, but I am close.
So close. The idea of turning around and sinking down on his cock, watching his face as he unloads his cum inside of me, meaty hands claiming my body with a firm grip on my hips—I want it.
I want it unreasonably so. I want him unreasonably so.
“Quinn,” he says my name, but it’s a warning. “Baby, it’s been so long, your little pussy is so wet.”
And that’s where we leave things. His affectionate term for me, the way he spills precum down my throat as I suck him deep, the feel of his thick fingers stretching and pleasing me, it all proves to be too much.
He turns tight circles around my clit, the broad pads of his fingers coaxing out a toe-curling orgasm. He fucks me with two fingers, just the way I said, and I bury his cock in the tight channel of my throat, his warning groan sending me over the edge.
Heat sprays the back of my throat as Landry orgasms, each ribbon thick and hot. I cup his balls, coaxing out every drop this man has, wanting it all, wanting to show him I can handle it, I can take it, I can and will swallow every drop.
And as he fills my mouth and throat, throbbing and groaning with each intense pulse, my pussy spasms, convulsing in an intense orgasm that makes my legs and stomach tremble.
Landry fingers me through every second, slowing his pace as my orgasm tapers, and when I’m so sensitive I can hardly stand the idea of being touched, I turn around and sit between his legs, panting and sweaty.
I look down at the wet spot on my panties. “You’re good at that.” I smile, loving the just-been-fucked curve of his lips and the relaxed set of his jaw. I thought Landry was a grouch, but turns out, he just needed my pussy.
He sifts his fingers through his hair, just staring at me. I squeeze his thigh and he winces. “Sore?’
He nods. “Training has me busted up.”
Between his legs, after getting each other off, we sit and talk, and I massage and knead his overworked and sore muscles until it’s time to get up and start the day.
Before I leave his room, he holds me by the jaw and takes my lips in a kiss, then quietly says, “Thank you for this morning.”
I grab his soft cock through his pajamas. “When I want you again, I’ll have you.”
He likes that, the comment earning me a smile. And the rest of the day of filming and helping around the ranch is perfect, because of how it started, and who I spend it with.