Two Years Later
HARLAN
VALENTINE’S DAY
My alarm sounds, but the last thing I want to do is climb out of this bed and away from the sweetest thing I’ve ever slept beside in my life. Lola-Mae is warm and soft, sleeping next to me. I should slide out of bed and head toward the barn, but I can’t seem to make myself.
Instead, I slide my arm around her waist and gently guide her body backward so her back is nestled against my front. Leaning forward, I touch my lips to her shoulder, closing my eyes as I taste her skin. She lets out a moan but otherwise doesn’t move.
Gently, I glide my hand down the front of her belly, beneath her shorts, and then dip my fingers between her legs. Lola-Mae whimpers, turning her head. With her eyes closed, her lips part, no doubt waiting for mine to touch them.
Dipping my chin slightly, I touch my mouth to hers before I slip my tongue between her parted lips. Tangling my tongue with hers, I begin to move my fingers, gliding them through her folds before circling her clit, then repeating the motion.
She begins moving leisurely at first, her hips rolling as she slowly begins waking up to the sensation of my fingers right where she needs them. When she lifts her leg and hooks her foot behind my knee, she opens herself up for me, and I know she’s awake and climbing.
Climbing higher and higher toward her release.
I want her to come on my fingers, but I doubt she’ll be able to stay like this for much longer.
Lola-Mae whimpers, reaching one arm above and curling her fingers around the back of my neck.
With her other hand, she shifts down between her legs, her fingers curling around my wrist as she begins to search, to climb, to find her release.
Just when I think she’s going to come, she tugs my hand away.
Then she’s rolling over, climbing on top of me. I lie on my back, my hands gripping her hips as I guide her down along my hard length. She throws her head back, her hair flying as she takes me inside her.
Goddamn.
Not just damn.
But goddamn.
Maybe even gotdamn.
Lola-Mae reaches behind her, her nails digging into the flesh of my thighs as she begins to roll her hips. She rides me, and hell if I don’t enjoy the rodeo ride she’s giving me, just like I always do.
Clenching my jaw, I slide my hands around to her ass and grab ahold of the flesh there. She moves harder and faster with each roll of her hips, grinding her clit against my pelvis as she does.
I’m close.
So damn close.
And when I feel the telltale signs of her orgasm—the fluttering of her pussy around my length, the changes in her breathing, and then her little noises—I know she’s close.
Trying to hold off with everything I am, keeping myself from completely losing control, I grip her ass harder.
Hoping like hell that she gets there—fast.
When Lola-Mae cries out my name, I know she’s there. Every muscle in her entire body freezes. Her head is still back, her nails fixed into my thighs, and she comes. I lift my hips, keeping her still, fucking her from beneath her own body, once, twice, three times, and then it’s my turn to come.
Hard.
I let out a long groan when my balls draw up, and I come deep inside her body.
We stay like that, both of our bodies frozen until my breathing returns to normal.
Only then does she release her grasp on my thighs and fall forward, her chest pressing against mine as her lips find purchase on the side of my throat.
My fingertips dance up her spine before they tangle in the strands of her hair. Gently, I tug her head off my throat slightly. She looks up at me, her eyes finding mine, and my lips curve up into a grin.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” I rasp.
A satisfied, lazy smile consumes her face before she laughs softly. “Good morning, Harlan. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“It is a Happy Valentine’s Day,” I state.
She shakes her head once, then lowers her head to touch her lips to mine. I take her left hand in mine, my thumb running across the diamond I put there this last summer.
“My wife,” I murmur. “Lola-Mae Blackmoore.”
“My husband,” she exhales.
My fingers that are still in her hair flex, and then I roll us over until she’s on her back. Unfortunately, I lose our connection when I do, but I don’t care. She’s in my arms and in my home.
Our home.
Our perfect fucking home.
“I love you, Mrs. Blackmoore. Thank you for making this old cowboy happy.”
“I love you too, Harlan. Thank you for writing me naughty notes.”
Touching my mouth to hers, I give her a hard kiss. My life is perfect right now. I couldn’t wish for or ask for anything else in this world. One day, I’d love babies if it’s possible, but right now, this is exactly what it needs to be.
Her and me.
Mr. and Mrs. Blackmoore.