Hannah #2
Those eyes that have slowly pulled me under since that first night peer down at the image of our baby.
The energy shifts between us, wrapping around us in a hold that feels like each of our pieces have just slid into total completion.
I feel the tears that slowly fall from his eyes land in my open palms. “I know, darlin’.
” His voice comes out a whisper, and I snap my head up to ask him how, but he silences me with a kiss on the corner of my lips.
“And I’m so fucking excited.” Relief floods through me and my knees buckle underneath me, but Dean steadies me with an arm around my hips.
“I love that baby inside you, Hannah.” His warm hand slides over my belly and tears well in my eyes.
“But don’t you ever forget who I loved first.” He swallows my gasp with a bruising kiss.
Dean's hands slide behind my thighs, lifting me into his arms, and I cross my heels against his lower back, holding him to me.
His boots scuff over the floor and I bury my face in his neck, breathing in the comfort and smell of home .
A door slams and I jerk up in his grasp, looking around before my eyes land on his face, a devious smile spread across his handsome profile.
“Full circle, don’t you think?” he asks, his long legs carrying me over the small tack room floor before setting my ass on top of a saddle resting on top of a wooden rack.
My body thrums with the urge to have him on me, inside me, any way I can have him. I just need him now.
“Sure is, cowboy,” I drawl, watching happily as his eyes flare and his hands reach out and grip my face roughly.
“Remember when I told you I wasn’t a gentleman?
” His deep voice echoes off the walls. I swallow thickly and nod, biting my lip in anticipation.
God, I missed this side of him. The side that owned me, dominated me, made me feel alive.
“That hasn’t changed,” his lips tip up at the corners, “and I still plan on dominating you before I worship you.” Chills break out over my body and I shift against the leather saddle, trying to wiggle closer to him.
I let out a frustrated sigh when he takes a step away from me, the heat of his body retreating with him.
Then he lifts a finger in the air and swirls it in a circle, motioning for me to turn around.
My boots thump against the floor as I jump down and turn slowly, soaking in the way his eyes roam over me, the front of my thighs brushing against the side of the saddle.
I shiver when his chest presses up against my back and his hands wind around my hips.
Then his fingers brush against my stomach before flicking the button and slowly pulling the zipper down.
The cold leather meets my palms as I lean forward to keep myself upright while he slides my jeans down over my ass and legs, the cool air from the fan chilling my heated skin.
With one hand between my shoulder blades, Dean gently shoves me down across the saddle.
“You ok?” he tenderly whispers in my ear.
I nod up and down, moving my ass against the front of his jeans.
“Greedy for me, aren’t you?” All tenderness has vanished, his voice back to the demanding and confident Dean that makes my toes curl in my boots.
I moan when his fingers graze between my legs, pulling my panties to the side and running through the wet that gathers there.
The sound of his belt snapping open makes the room buzz with electricity.
It’s pure torture the way he drags the head of his cock back and forth, driving me crazy, and making my arousal drip down the inside of my thigh.
I feel his hand smooth over my back, up around my neck, and into my hair. I can just picture the rose tattoo on the back of his hand stretching as he grips my curls in his fist and pulls my head back, turning me to face him.
“I fucking love you, Hannah Harlow.” Then I’m screaming his name as he buries himself inside me.
His pace is relentless, pushing me further over the saddle with each thrust. I feel the toes of my boots scrape the floor with each smack of his hips.
In the midst of his hand in my hair and his cock slamming into me, I feel my body begin to float above me, the pleasure building somewhere deep inside me, threatening to spill over.
It’s not until I catch out of the corner of my eye the hand with the spur inked on the back start to circle my neck that I close my eyes and succumb to the rugged ride that is Dean Wilder.
Together, we chase each other off the edge, the room filled with the heat from our sweat slicked bodies, sticky sex mixed with the smell of feed and hay wrapped around us.
“Atta girl.” His breath mists across my damp brow, his hands turning me around to face him.
“I love you, Dean,” I pant out into his chest as he holds me tightly while we try to catch our breath and slow our racing hearts.
With a soft kiss to the top of my head, he whispers, “Let’s go home, darlin’.”