Chapter 47
The afternoon sun beats down on my face, flushing my cheeks from the warmth. I adjust my hat to shield my eyes against the glare, watching the cowboys in the paddock show the horses they are selling. Knox and Deacon are discussing a gelding that Knox is interested in.
“His gait is horrible.” Deacon gestures animatedly, growing agitated with Knox’s insistence. “His strides are short and stiff.”
I’m pretty certain Knox picks the worst option every time we view horses and cattle, solely to get a rise out of Deacon. Easton stands beside them, his arms crossed, as disinterested in their argument as I am, more of his gaze on me than the horses.
“I’m heading up to the stable,” I share, brushing a stray hair away from my face. “I need to prep the stall for that yearling arriving tomorrow.”
Easton turns, his dark eyes catching mine for just a moment. With a mischievous glint in his stare, he watches me push from the fence before returning his attention to the horses.
“Take your time,” Knox calls without looking back. “We’ll be here a while. Deacon’s got opinions about everything.”
Chuckling to myself, I walk from the paddock.
We all have opinions about that horse. My boots crunch against the gravel path as I make my way toward the barn, and I swear I can feel someone watching me.
When I glance over my shoulder as I open the door, I’m not mistaken.
Easton is watching me with such intent that my stomach flips.
Now carrying a bale of hay, I head toward the empty stall at the far end of the barn. I spent most of yesterday removing all the bedding and spraying down the mats that line the floor. All that’s left to prepare is fresh straw spread and a new water bucket.
As I work, my thoughts drift to Easton and that glint in his eyes. It’s been days since we’ve had any real time together. Any intimate time. The ranch keeps everyone busy, and with my brothers always around, our stolen moments are rare. My body aches for him in ways that make it hard to focus.
Spreading the last of the straw across the stall, I startle slightly when I hear footsteps behind me.
I start to turn, but a strong arm wraps around my waist, and a hand presses flat against my stomach, stilling me.
Using his firm hold, he shoves me forward until my chest hits the wooden wall.
The rough boards dig through my Henley, and I gasp as his warm breath ghosts across my ear.
“It’s been too long,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he cages me against the wall.
My heart hammers behind my ribcage, and my chest heaves. “Easton,” I breathily pant.
“Shhhh.” His shush blows over my skin, prickling goosebumps down my spine as his free hand dips into the front of my jeans.
I hear the pop of my button giving way, and the distinct sound of my zipper sliding down.
His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my panties, and I suck in a sharp breath when he slides them over my clit.
“Fuck, wildfire.” He groans against my neck. “You’re soaked.” I can’t deny his observation. Being pinned to this wall and knowing we could be caught at any second has me excited—and nervous as hell—in ways I can’t even begin to describe.
His fingers rub teasingly around my entrance, gathering my arousal before circling my clit with maddening pressure.
I arch away from the wall, against him, a moan spilling from my lips before I can stop it.
“Shhh.” His free hand slides over my face to cover my mouth, muffling the sounds escaping me.
“You don’t want everyone to hear how hard I’m going to make you come. ”
My eyes flutter shut, and I struggle to breathe as his fingers work me with practiced skill, drift down to tease my entrance, then up to stroke my swollen clit.
I grind my ass against him, feeling his hard length straining against his jeans.
The knowledge of his desire, sending sparks of excitement zipping through me.
“Easton.” My whimper muffles against his palm. “Please.”
“Please, what?” He pushes two fingers into me, curling them to find that spot that makes my knees buckle. “Tell me what you need.”
“You. I need you.”
He rewards me with a third finger, stretching me open, while the butt of his palm continues its ruthless assault on my clit.
My thighs tremble. The pressure builds, coiling tight in my core.
I cry out into his skin as the first wave crashes over me.
My whole body shudders. I clench around his fingers, pulsing with each aftershock.
Easton holds me upright, working me through my pleasure until I’m struggling to stand.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls, pulling his fingers free before continuing, “and feel you coming around me.” He forcibly shoves me onto the stack of hay bales beside us, and the rough scratch of it pokes through my shirt.
I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of his face.
His jaw is tight, and his eyes are nearly black with want.
Moving with desperate efficiency, he yanks off his belt, undoes his pants, and shoves them down just enough to free himself.
With my hips in his hands, he aggressively tugs my jeans below my ass, baring me to the cool barn air.
Easton kicks my feet apart, widening my stance, as he pulls my panties to the side.
“This isn’t going to be gentle,” he warns.
Before I can respond, he aligns himself with my entrance and drives forward in a single, brutal thrust. A silent, breathy scream tears from my throat as my body stretches to accommodate him, the slight burn blending with overwhelming fullness.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this. Missed you.” He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He pulls back and slams home again, setting a punishing rhythm. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”
I grip the hay bale, which pricks my palms. Each thrust shoves me upward, and I push back to meet him. The wet slap of skin against skin echoes through the stall, mixing with our ragged breathing.
“That’s it.” He grabs my ponytail, wrapping it around his fist, pulling my head back. “Take it. Take every fucking inch and show me how much you love my cock.”
“Yes,” I gasp, needing this as much as he does. “Harder. Please.”
He obliges, driving into me with enough force to rattle my teeth. The head of his cock drags over my front wall with every stroke, the pleasure building in my core.
Easton reaches around, his fingers finding my neglected, throbbing clit, desperate for friction. He rubs it in tight circles while he pounds into me, and my second orgasm builds rapidly.
“You’re so fucking close,” he pants through his thrusts. “I can feel you squeezing me. So eager to come on my cock.”
With his thick length filling me, his fingers grinding over my clit, words escape me, and I can only nod frantically.
“Come with me,” he grits, fighting to maintain control until I do.
He doesn’t have to wait long; my body obeys almost instantly.
I come hard, biting down on the meaty part of his hand to stifle my cries.
My pussy clenches around him in cadenced pulses.
He falls over me and groans into the back of my neck, his rhythm faltering as my orgasm triggers his own.
Buried deep, he spills into me with a guttural sound that vibrates over my skin.
I feel each hot pulse filling me, claiming me.
He works us through the aftershocks with slow, shallow strokes before stilling completely.
His weight presses against my back as we both struggle to catch our breath. “So perfect,” he murmurs, peppering kisses to the crook between my neck and shoulder. “You did so well.”
He withdraws carefully, and his cum starts to trickle down my inner thigh. He quickly pulls my panties back in place and yanks my jeans over my hips, fastening them with hands that are slightly less steady than before. When he spins me around, his expression has softened.
“You okay?” He cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with a gentleness that is a stark contrast to how he just took me.
I lean into his touch, a satiated smile spreading across my face. “Better than okay.”
He pulls me into a proper kiss, soft and tender.
His arms wrap around my waist, holding me close.
Easing away from our kiss, he whispers against my lips, “Next time, I’ll worship you like you deserve.
” He guides my face to his chest as he holds me in his embrace, delicately stroking my cheek with his fingers as I listen to his heartbeat gradually slow.
“I should get back,” he says eventually, though he makes no move to release me. “Before your brothers come looking.”
I huff a laugh. “They wouldn’t notice if I disappeared for a week. Deacon is probably still arguing with Knox about that damn gelding.”
Easton chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head before stepping back and adjusting his own clothes.
“I’ll head out first,” he says.
He walks toward the stable doors, and I appreciate the view, running my fingers through my hair to fix my disheveled ponytail.
This man is going to ruin me.