Chapter 23 #2
We find ourselves tangled in one another as we climb the stairs, kissing and laughing, his hands up my shirt, my hands struggling with the fly on his jeans.
Once we’re in his room, we don’t bother with the door as he takes off my shirt and we both step out of our pants.
We clamber into the shower stall, and he twists the lever, the immediate cool spray causing me to suck in a breath.
Landry stands in front of me, shielding me while the water warms up, tenderly stroking his thumbs over the stiff peaks of my breasts.
“Old farmhouse,” he says, a rivulet of water traveling over his shoulder, carving out a path of clean skin.
“Water takes a second to heat up, I’m sure you’ve noticed. ”
I reach behind him and grab the soap, rolling it around in my palms. “Tell me where it hurts the most.” We stand there, those words hanging in the quick rising steam, staring at one another.
His blue eyes glitter and I want to say more, I want to turn my bag of feelings inside out and share everything with him, how I feel, my fears, what I hope, what I realistically expect…
everything. But doing so would be selfish, and it would ruin this moment I’ve been waiting for since the last time I got to have him.
His voice is rough when he answers. “Here.” He drops his hand to his hip and thigh, where purples and pinks kiss his flesh, marks of his hard work. I run my soapy fingers over the marred flesh and hate how much of a toll this sport takes on his body.
“Tell me about it,” I urge as I gently knead around the mark, smoothing my fingers up and down his thigh as I drop to a crouch at his feet. His large body shields my eyes from the water, and I blink up at him, my stomach tightening when I find him already watching me.
He’s not hard.
In fact, he’s soft. Because this moment of me crouched at his feet, tenderly kneading his flesh, asking to hear about his training, his day—his life—this isn’t sexual. This is the passive and casual way we can be naked and intimate together without it being sexual.
This is us, and as his blue eyes search mine, I think he’s realizing that.
I know I have.
Reaching down, he strokes one rough thumb over my bottom lip.
“I was positioned well in the chute. Felt good. It was the second ride of the day,” he starts, and I remember exactly what ride he’s referring to, because I’ve proudly been there for nearly every single moment.
Since moving in, I haven’t missed much. This is the most intimate documentary I’ve ever filmed.
I nod. “I remember the fall.”
He releases my face but keeps one finger wrapped in my hair as I massage his sore spot, my fingers expanding the canvas as I rub his thigh and knee, too.
“I gotta say, I’m a little nervous to watch the final cut.
To see myself the way you’ve seen me. Tumbled, filthy, worn out.
” He strokes his hand through my hair tenderly.
“Shoulders?” I offer, and he nods and helps me get back to my feet. I run soapy hands up and over the mountainous range of his shoulders, and dig my hands into the tight muscles I find there, loving the way he groans his delight in response.
He tips his face toward the spray, and I can’t help but watch the water pooling at his feet, tinged with dirt and leaves. “You looking forward to being done with training?” I ask.
He nods but doesn’t say much.
“I’m gonna miss watching you train,” I admit, feeling that niggle of regret creeping into my voice. I shouldn’t talk about the after, when he and I are no longer together. I know it’s a mistake, so instead, I reach for his cock, and stroke him.
His mouth finds mine, and before I know it, we’re passionately making out against the shower door, with Landry’s erection jutting into my belly, my hand gripping the tip.
“Fuck,” he grits out, and it makes bumps rise up on my arms when he curses, knowing it’s only in private, intimate times like these.
I see a side of him no one else does, and it certainly feels like that makes me lucky.
“C’mon, baby, let’s not do this in here,” he says, reaching back to turn the water off.
He gathers two towels from the cupboard after stepping out, leaving me inside the stall, warm and surrounded by steam.
My eyes lock on the veins in his hand as he motions for me to step out, and I know in that moment exactly what I want tonight.
He wraps the towel around me and begins drying me off, but I catch his wrist, and bring his hand between my legs. “I can use you whichever way I want, right?” My voice is more sultry than I’ve ever heard it.
He nods, drops of water falling from the ends of his hair.
I stand back and take his towel, staring at his naked form.
Bruises, scrapes, trimmed hair, and muscles.
Saliva pools in my mouth at the sight of him, his thick erection sprouting from the thatch of dark pubic hair, the tattoos covering the length of one arm, and the little S tattooed over his heart.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, stroking himself lazily while he sifts his other hand through the damp locks of his dark hair. “To watch me?”
I shake my head, then wobble it, because, kind of. “I just want to get a good look at you now because I know for the next few minutes, my eyes are gonna be shut.”
He cocks a brow. “Is that right?”
I nod. “I want to make myself come using you, Landry.” I drop both towels, and press my naked body against his, my nipples tightening against the stiff wall of his muscular chest. “Using only your hand.”
He groans. “I’m dyin’ to taste your pretty pussy, baby,” he grouses, walking me out of the bathroom, gently lifting me onto the center of his bed.
I spread my legs and memorize the awe in his expression as his eyes drop to my cunt, bare, shaved, and glistening with arousal.
“I’m saving that for something special,” I tell him, in truth just not ready for his mouth to be there.
Sometimes I think having a man go down on me is more intimate than sex, because they see you up close, taste you, feel your every quiver.
It’s personal, and I fell hard for Devin after we took that step.
I’m so deep down the well of Landry Vaughn that if he goes down on me and makes my toes curl, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to crawl out.
He slides into bed next to me.
“I’m gonna come so hard for you, cowboy,” I admit, lifting his hand, tracing out each finger with my tongue. “I want you to know how soft I am, how good I feel,” I tell him, dusting my lips over his scarred knuckles. “How soaked I get when you touch me.”
“Quinn,” he rasps, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just centers himself on the mattress and watches with wide eyes as I straddle his hips, ignoring the steel lying against his belly.
Holding his hand at his groin, I position his thumb at my clit and start to work my hips, grinding and rubbing myself against his hand shamelessly.
The back of my neck grows damp, and sweat bubbles along my spine as my hips thrust and roll, his thumb making my clit bloom.
With my hands keeping my long hair up and off my back.
I look down at my broken cowboy, and the rough set of his jaw as he struggles with composure, his eyes traversing the naked terrain of my body.
“Watching you cling to that saddle grip, your thighs all clenched around that bronc,” I recount, seeing his ride from today flash behind my eyes as his thumb strokes me.
I shake my head. “I’ve been dreaming about using that same hand to get off, did you know that?
Hmm? Did you know that when I film your practice rides, it’s just one big aphrodisiac for me? ”
Rolling my hips, I reach down and pull two of his fingers up, our eyes locking.
His mouth falls open, and sweat shines along his hairline.
His chest rises and falls and he peers down at his cock, leaking onto his tanned belly.
“It’s hard for me to believe,” he croaks, his eyes snapping shut hastily as I lift myself, position my cunt over his fingers, and sink down on them.
“Quinn, oh hell,” he grounds out, one of his legs kicking out behind me as I wiggle over him, replacing his thumb on my clit.
“Keep your eyes open, Landry Vaughn,” I order, my voice a smoky tease. But when I look down at his fingers buried inside me, his hard cock lying untouched and leaking, I know I won’t be able to put this show on for too long.
He watches, splitting his focus between where we join and my eyes. I love how he chooses my eyes and where he’s inside of me, the two most intimate and perfect places.
“I think about having you all the time,” I admit, riding his fingers, the tips nudging the spongy, hot spot inside me.
If his fingers feel this good, that cock will have me spellbound, I swear.
“I think about pinning you to the barn wall after you’re all sweaty and hot from drills, and dropping to my knees and taking your cock into my mouth, and draining you dry. ”
He tries to pull his hand out, but I settle my weight against his fingers and trap his hand against his thigh. “Quinn, it’s… I…” He does not finish his thought, his words bumbled and hoarse.
“What?” I ride and talk, abandoning my hair to grip my tits, my entire body alive with desire. “What do you need to tell your wife?”
His jaw tics, and his eyes close for a moment before popping open, landing on mine with an intensity that has my stomach clenching.
“Watching you ride my fingers, watching you take an orgasm from me the way you want—” He shakes his head, and this time I know just what he’s getting at.
“I’m liable to make a mess, and I’m not sure that’s how I want you to see me. ”
Tipping forward, I press my lips against his chest, collarbone, chin, then mouth. His kiss is rougher than normal, and so is mine. “Covered in your own cum because of how good my pussy makes you feel?” I click my tongue. “What a shame that’d be.”