Fourteen #3
And fuck me do those seven words become my undoing. I flip in his arms, my back now half-raised off the metal. I slide my legs up his, bucking myself against him, beckoning him to continue. He raises a brow, his hands roaming my thighs, squeezing just hard enough that I know it’ll leave a bruise.
“Firefly, if I start, I won’t stop,” he threatens.
“Don’t,” I breathe in reply.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
I reach for him, one hand wrapping around the nape of his neck, my fingers curling through his well-kept hair. Our lips meet again, and he growls into me as I glide my other hand down his chest until I meet the huge bulge that’s begging to be released.
Our kiss never breaks as I unbutton his jeans, my fingers finding their own way into his boxers before they wrap around his throbbing erection.
God, I forgot how thick this man’s cock is.
He springs to life as I guide his dick out of its pant-prison, a bead of pre-cum acting as lubricant as I continue working him.
“Annabeth.” The way he says my name sounds like a warning.
I don’t stop, pumping his dick rhythmically as I kiss him. He’s bucking his hips against my hand, his erection growing with every thrust.
“Ahh, fuck,” he growls, kicking his boots off, and letting his jeans fall to the dirt.
I arch my back, baring my cunt to him, and swirling my hips – an invitation that holds absolutely no subtlety.
Dallas lunges for me. This kiss is harder, more aggressive, as if he’s claiming me.
He reaches for his cock, lining the tip up to my entrance and slowly teases me as he glides it ever so slightly around my opening, preparing me for him.
I give him a nod of approval, my entire body begging for him.
I need him. I crave him. His cock presses through my heat, and I instantly clamp around his girth.
He doesn’t slow down. Dallas hikes my knees up, giving him better access as he drives his hips into me, and his cock stretches me, the slight resistance of my tightness not bothering either of us.
I gasp as he fills me to the hilt, and we stay there for a moment as I adjust to his size. He only takes a brief pause to let me breathe before he’s moving again, his hips driving into me with slow, deep thrusts. As he plunges inside, my walls ache for more. Every thrust drives his cock deeper.
“You’re fucking strangling my cock, baby,” he groans.
“You feel so good,” I moan.
Our bodies mould together, connecting on a level I can’t explain as he fills me.
I feel myself clamp around him, my pussy devouring every inch of his cock.
Dallas’s head rolls back, and I can tell he’s close.
He yanks my leg from his waist to his shoulder, his cock plunging even deeper at this angle.
I scream as he fucks me, every stroke exquisite.
I’m teetering on the edge of another orgasm, and this time, I’m going to come all over this cowboy’s cock.
My cowboys cock. The sight of him fucking me is beautiful, shirt now open, exposing his chiselled physique, his muscular thighs flexing with every thrust. The way his hair clings to his face with sweat as he pumps his cock into me is enough to make me come right now.
He looks like a cross between some kind of Greek God, and Henry fucking Cavill.
God, this man is going to be my complete undoing, I’m sure of it.
“Fucking hell,” he grunts, gripping my thighs.
His body shudders, his groans grow deeper, more violent. His cock twitches inside me, my walls tightening around him as he drives himself into me one last time, and we unravel together.
“God damn, Annabeth,” his voice is raspy as he grits out the words.
“Wow,” is all I can muster. I’m a panting, sweaty mess.
We don’t move, just stay here for a moment, tethered to each other, sneaking little kisses as he slides out of me. He pulls his boxers back on before helping me dress, his hands barely leaving me.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he tells me.
My smile beams back at him, because I know I feel the same way.
Every moment I’m with him is like the stars align and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I don’t know how to switch off the pull that I feel for this man, and I don’t think I want to.
He came into my life with no warning and has simultaneously taken my every waking thought with him.
“You’re killing me,” I confess. I swear I can hear the blood rushing to my cheeks. He raises his hand to gently caress the underside of my jaw, his calloused palms soothing. I press my face against his touch, soaking up this moment. I never want it to end.
“Let me take you home,” the way he says it sounds like he’s asking for permission. Then I realise by the glint in his eyes, that he means his home. I nod and he lifts me from the tray and carries me around to place me in the passenger seat.
I listen to him close the door, laughing as he wrangles the gate of the tray shut, cursing the entire time. He must have picked up his hat, because when he joins me in the cab, it’s back in its rightful place atop his salt and pepper locks. He looks like a rugged dreamboat.
The engine roars to life, and as he shifts into gear, he lets his hand leave the gear stick and find its way to my thigh where it lazily rests against my skin. My heart flutters, and a rush of heat swells in my belly at his touch, my lip quivering as he traces tiny circles over my skin.
Being next to him sets off something visceral deep within my soul, an involuntary and completely inescapable reaction.
It feels so comfortable being here with him, his presence calms me in ways I can’t explain.
Every time he looks at me, he’s seeing me.
Not the woman who won awards travelling with the orchestra, not the woman who studied teaching purely to shape the brilliant minds of our next generation of musicians, just me.
The woman who loves wine, and takeout from Lee’s.
The woman who has water fights with her horse and collects boots.
He sees me, and if I’m not careful, he’s going to make me fall in love with him.
I take a deep breath, my hand meeting Dallas’s, which is still swirling across my thigh. His fingers creep across mine and interlock with my own, causing sparks to flicker through my skin.
“Talk to me, Firefly. What’s on your mind?”
“Just enjoying the view,” I reply.
He smirks, the glimmer of contentment meeting his beautiful, hazel eyes as he squeezes my hand and whispers, “Me too.”