Dean
The fact that I was the first dick she has ever had in her mouth has done something to me.
I’ll admit I’m a bit unhinged to begin with, but knowing I had her virgin lips around my cock feeds the beast in me.
Her hair flies out around her when she hits the bed with a soft bounce, and I have to have more.
“Off.” My voice is heavy with lust. She eyes me for a moment, making no move to obey.
“I’ll rip it off if I have to, darlin’.” As if she considers it for a moment, she pulls those full lips between her teeth, eyebrows furrowed before she shimmies out of her jeans, sits up, and pulls her shirt over her head.
Fuck me . All that covers her perfectly tan skin is a scrap of lace between her legs and a sheer bra that leaves nothing to the imagination. “Tell me something…”
“Anything.” She answers so quickly it catches us both by surprise. Her cheeks flood with pink, and I have to look away before my heart gives out.
“Why do you wear such pretty underwear when no one's gonna see it?”
Her eyes wander down my naked body, lingering on the ink across my lower stomach.
Out of all the places on my body that are covered in tattoos, the one just above my pubic bone hurt the most. I remember laying there for hours, letting the pain and vibration of the tattoo gun wash away the pain I felt from not being home.
It was Owen’s birthday. My mom had invited me home to spend it with them, but I’d left her text and calls unanswered.
Unable to talk myself into going and letting down my pride.
I had been gone a long time at that point, and revisiting everything would have just stirred it up more.
So I got drunk and tattooed a Royal Flush across the V of my stomach.
Each card portrays the image of a cowboy riding a bareback bronc.
“It’s nice to feel pretty under all my dirty.” Her voice is soft, vulnerable, and so unlike her tough exterior. The sight of her in that pale pink lace stokes my fire again, and I can feel my dick getting harder the longer I drink her in.
“Fuck, I want all your dirty cowgirl.” Reaching behind her, I flip her over, pulling her hips back roughly until her ass is in the air.
When she looks over her shoulder at me, I don’t miss the way her eyes glaze over.
Placing both my palms on each side of her ass, I run my rough hands over her smooth skin.
She has to be mine. No chance in hell any other man can see the way she looks propped up like this, ass in the air, ready to be fucked into her headboard.
Just as I’m about to rip the lace from her hips, black ink along the curve of her ass cheek catches my attention.
Leaning in to get a closer look, I can’t help the laugh that I let out.
I don’t remember laughing or smiling as much as I have around Hannah in years.
“What?” She squirms beneath me, trying to turn over. My hands hold her steady while I trace the tattoo. Her body suddenly stills.
“Does this say...”
“Don’t you dare.” The glare she shoots me is deadly.
“Who in their right mind gets yeehaw tattooed on their ass?” I practically howl with laughter.
Doubling over, I collapse against her back, shaking at the completely irrational and hilarious word she has forever inked into her perfect skin.
She manages to shake me off her, rolling me onto the floor in a fit of hysteria.
I land with a thud, the pain from my ride earlier a distant ache.
Through watery eyes, I see her stand above me, arms crossed over those perfect tits.
“I was drunk!” She says like that makes it better, her arms thrown out wide in exasperation.
In one quick motion, I reach up and pull her down on top of me with a squeal of surprise. Her lace thong rubs against me, reminding me what I was doing before her tattoo caught me so off guard.
“You can get as many tattoos as you like, darlin’, as long as I’m the only one to see them.
” She lets out a soft moan when I pull her back and forth on top of me, those brown eyes rolling with each motion.
Standing up with her still wrapped around me, I place her back down on the bed, just like she was before.
I run my hands over her ass, tracing the tattoo again, and gliding down her center.
Slipping one finger under her thong, I groan at the mess she’s made of her pretty underwear.
“Soaked for me.” Her head bounces up and down.
I rub against her a few times before gripping the thin lace band in my fingers and ripping it off her.
Her moan vibrates around us and I reach around, placing a palm over her mouth as I line the crown of my cock against her entrance.
When her tongue traces patterns against my skin, I lose all control and thrust inside her with a single snap of my hips.
She’s a groaning, trembling mess beneath me, but I pound into her over and over again.
I revel in each clench of her pussy around me, and know I won’t last long.
She whimpers as I pull out, trying to keep hold of some amount of control.
No doubt she’s left feeling as empty as I did while waiting for her to ride back into my life.
I let my hand land against her ass with a loud crack, her body jolts forward.
“Yes, Daddy!” she screams. Then she giggles uncontrollably, dropping her head to the mattress.
Leaning my chest against her back, I purr dangerously, “What did you just call me?” I won’t lie, it did something to me. It’s not the first time someone has called me that, but it’s always made me feel like a perv. But coming from her, it’s a title I’ll gladly accept.
“I saw someone comment on one of your pictures. They called you Daddy and, I don’t know.
It kinda fits.” She turns to lay on her back so she’s looking up at me.
Those deep brown eyes melt into mine, filling all my cracks and picking up my broken pieces.
“And, you know, because you’re old.” I rear back, slamming a hand against my heart in mock humiliation.
“You wound me, baby,” I say, smiling down at her.
When her fingers brush against my lips, I lay down on top of her, holding my weight on my forearms. “I liked it,” I murmur against her temple, kissing a path down her jawline until I’m resting them against her lips.
Gently rocking my hips, I tease her entrance, pushing in an inch.
When she gasps at the stretch, I put my mouth against hers, breathing her in.
It’s not quite a kiss, something I’ve been resisting for a while.
I want nothing more than to feel her on me, taste her on my mouth, but something about kissing her makes it feel real, and I’m not sure if I can let myself believe that yet.
When she laid her lips on mine after propositioning me outside my trailer, it took everything within me to not haul her into my arms and slide my tongue into her mouth.
Her lips were everything I’d imagined and more—soft and warm, molding perfectly against my own.
Every day that passes without crossing that line feels like a barbed wire being stretched tighter and tighter until finally it snaps.
“More.” It’s a soft plea, but I pull my hips back, arching a brow at her, “More, Daddy .” Her lips move against mine, and I respond by giving her another inch.
“As you wish,” I whisper, licking a trail across her chest before I slam into her, over and over again until I can’t hold back any longer.
Her cries of her climax spur me on, and soon I feel hot jets of cum fill her.
Laying on top of her with a little more weight, I relax into her, feeling her chest push against mine with each breath she takes.
Before too long I feel some of my release leak out around us, and before I think better of it, I slide out, run my finger through her wet heat, and push the mixture of both of us back inside.
Her eyes round out a bit, but soften as I work in and out a few times.
Her body is so soft and open for me. Then I bring my fingers to her lips and tap them against her swollen skin.
“Open.” She bites her lip for a moment before releasing and popping her mouth open, sticking her tongue out like she’s done this before.
I push my fingers against her tongue and groan as her cheeks hollow out.
Pulling my fingers out with a wet pop, I stick them in my mouth, licking off every drop.
When her eyes roll back, I pull my fingers from my mouth and circle her clit.
She arches her back at the sensation, those brown eyes hazy with lust falling back to mine.
“Eyes on me,” I growl as I slowly push back inside her, curling my fingers to hit the spot that makes her knees snap together.
Her forehead beads with sweat, her breasts bounce as she rides my hand.
It only takes a few more nudges against her tight walls before she breaks.
Her body comes off the bed while her hands grip the sheets.
I memorize the way her moans sound as she cries out in pleasure before dropping limply to the bed, blowing pieces of her hair off her damp face.
“Holy shit,” she pants out after a few minutes.
I drop beside her, watching her in a daze as she curls into the blanket.
For a moment, we lay there facing each other, my fingertips tracing the freckles dotted along her arms. Then without another word, she stands and closes herself in the small bathroom across the room.
I flop on my back and listen to the shower run, replaying every second of how her body looked below me.
Hannah stops instantly when she opens the door of her bathroom and sees me laying in her bed, arm behind my head, wearing only my black briefs.
I feel her eyes travel up my body before landing on mine.
Dressed in only a big shirt that reaches the middle of her thighs, she is still drop dead gorgeous.
That hair that I’ve grown to love running my fingers through falls around her shoulders, tangled and wild, just how I like it.
“Does our arrangement also include sleepovers?” she asks, fighting to hide her smile.
Shrugging and nestling deeper into the pillows, I wink at her.
“I don’t think we finished laying out all the ground rules before you assaulted me.
” I point at the doorway where she shoved me earlier.
Gasping, she leaps from her spot in the doorway onto the bed, slapping lightly at my chest. I catch her easily and roll her into my side, inhaling the way she smells, so terrifyingly familiar it hurts.
She must sense the change in my demeanor. “What’s wrong?” she asks, trying to turn and face me.
“Nothing.” I pull her tighter against me, then roughly clear my throat, pushing my emotions aside.
“I think sleepovers should be considered. Especially when your bed is this comfortable, and you feel so fucking good tucked beside me.” I rest my lips against the spot on her head, that same spot I leaned into when I laid her in the ambulance.
That same place that I can’t stop leaning into, savoring the way her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink when I do.
“Mmmm, I can allow a sleepover here and there. But you take up too much of this bed.” Laughing, she scoots further back against me.
I nip at her neck. “If you keep doing that, we’ll be up all night.” She giggles harder, her ass wiggling against me.
“Ok, ok!” She laughs, trying to catch her breath. “…no hooking up with anyone else.”
“Already established that, next.”
“Rule two…” Rolling her eyes, she goes on. “Don’t get attached.”
Fuck, she really didn’t understand that when I said she’s mine, I meant it. But if it means that she’s not out there fucking around with anyone else, I’ll let her believe that she could ever belong to anyone else a little longer.
“For now,” I grumble
“What?” Her head snaps towards me, eyes narrowed.
“I said cool. Yeah, no attachments. Got it. Rule three?”
Her head tips back and forth for a moment, “No one can know about us.” As much as I’d like to announce to the world that this woman is mine just for the sheer fact that everyone will know not to try anything with her, I can deal with this rule easier than rule two.
If we keep it a secret, I don’t have to explain to anyone why I suddenly care about anyone else but myself.
I don’t have to worry about word getting back to my parents through news articles or social media.
If rule one means I’m the only one touching her, and rule two keeps her happy, then rule three solidifies the fact that I can be an asshole loner bronc rider while still getting the girl at the end of the day. I’m good with it.
“Sounds good to me, darlin’.” Holding her back against my chest, we lay in silence for a while before she rolls to face me, resting her arm on my bicep.
We turned off the lamp beside the bed not long ago, but I can feel her eyes on me even in the dark.
When she shifts closer to me, it takes everything in me to not pull her closer and kiss her.
Instead, I lay my nose against hers and close my eyes, forcing myself to remember every inch of how she feels against me.
If I kiss her, it’ll destroy me. It’ll be the only thing that takes up space in my mind.
It doesn’t take long before she drifts off, while my thoughts are bouncing around in my mind at war with each other.
I lay there in her bed, in her trailer, my mind spinning with how I’ve gone from wanting to live my life on the road, alone with no attachments to finding myself obsessed with this girl that has had me hung up since the moment I pulled her into my arms two years ago.
I watch her sleep for what feels like hours, memorizing every detail of her face up close.
The tiny gold stud in her ear, a flower shaped earring on the inside of her ear, tiny freckles that fleck across her cheek bones and run over her perfect nose.
Those plump lips of hers parted slightly in her sleep.
I should feel guilty that I haven’t owned up to stealing her location and changing my rodeo stops to match hers.
It’s borderline stalkerish, obsessive, possessive.
But something about the way she feels wrapped up in my arms, the way she smells like fucking home has my mind making perfectly reasonable and justified explanations for every choice I’ve made to make sure she never leaves me again.