Chapter 13 Emily #2
I stood on my tiptoes to press my lips against his. “Glad to hear it, cowboy.”
And then I saw it. The perfect tree.
“That one,” I told him, feeling giddy. It would look perfect in the living room. “What do you think?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Perfect.” But when I looked back up at him, he wasn’t looking at the tree. He was looking at me.
Mason squeezed my hand. “When we get back from dropping the tree off, I was thinking we could take the horses out for a ride.”
I couldn’t stop my answering grin. “Yes, please.”
“God, it’s really coming down out there,” I observed, standing at the open door of the barn. “Again.” Apparently, this was just going to be our thing. Getting caught together in snowstorms. Secretly, I liked that we had a thing.
Mason clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, wrapping his arms around me. “Good thing we came inside when we did.” Mason was all bundled up in his coat, wearing gloves and a dark green beanie.
We’d already stabled up our horses after our ride, brushing them both down and giving them a generous amount of hay to eat. Now we were just watching the snow fall outside as the sky grew dark.
The ride had been magical. There was just something about being on the back of a horse in weather like this. Montana was so beautiful, one reason I could never imagine ever leaving for good. I’d miss this place too much if I called somewhere else home.
He pressed a kiss on my forehead. “You okay if I go check on a few things?”
I nodded, wanting to use it as an excuse to explore. Wiggling out of my damp coat, I hung it on the hook. After we’d gotten back from our little date—and dropped the tree off at my parents’ house, setting it in the living room—we’d come back here and changed before going out to greet our horses.
A thousand memories flooded through me as I wandered through the stables.
I’d spent so much time here when I was younger.
Growing up, Mrs. Elliott had taught me to ride.
Sometimes, Mason had even taught me lessons, helping me up onto the young mare I learned to ride on.
My parents had bought me Smokey when I was twelve, tired of my begging to have a horse, and had built the small stable on our property.
The Elliott’s facilities were pristine, and the barn itself was warm, sheltered from the outside snow.
One of their primary operations—besides running the guest ranch that brought them income throughout the year—was breeding and raising horses.
I walked through the barn, seeing all the mares in their stalls.
A few of them were heavily pregnant, and I expected there would be some foals coming in the next few months.
Giving a small whistle, I called over a beautiful palomino with a gorgeous golden coat.
She stuck her head out of the stall, nuzzling into me like she was curious if I had anything for her.
I pulled a sugar cube out of my pocket—I’d stolen a handful when we’d gotten inside—and then rubbed at her neck.
“Such a sweet girl,” I said. “Look at you. So pretty.”
“Look who’s talking,” said the deep voice I’d gotten so used to.
Spinning in surprise, I turned to find Mason, a sexy smirk covering his devilishly handsome face. He rubbed his beard. “Having fun, baby?”
“Just keeping the horses company,” I replied, batting my eyelashes.
He grinned. “I could think of someone else who could use the company.”
My body heated at the suggestion. Truthfully, I was already about to combust. I’d been turned on since earlier. The sight of Mason tending to the horses while wearing that cowboy hat and tight red flannel was doing something to my insides.
“Yeah?” Biting my lip, I looked directly at him as I unwound my scarf from my neck. “And what ideas did you have, cowboy?”
“Emily.” Mason’s voice was rough. “Darlin’.”
I took another step towards him, this time peeling my sweater from my body, letting it drop to the floor, exposing my dark green lacy bra that did nothing to hide my pebbled nipples.
Another step, and I flicked open the button of my jeans, kicking off my boots before pushing them down my thighs.
And then I stood in front of him, dressed only in my lingerie. My drawers were overflowing with matching sets—I wore them for me, because they made me feel pretty and feminine—but there was something about Mason’s eyes as he raked them over my body that made me know it was absolutely worth it.
I stepped closer, running my hands up his chest, slowly popping each button on his flannel through the hole.
“Whatcha doin’, baby?” He murmured, reaching out and weaving his fingers through my hair.
“Remember what you told me in the bar?” I asked, biting my lip as I undid the last button, pushing his shirt down his shoulders.
“Uh-huh.” His response scraped over my skin.
“Thought it was time to finally try it out.” I pressed my lips against his ear. “You know. Riding my cowboy.”
We both worked in tandem to pull his long-sleeved undershirt over his head, baring his muscular chest, and that little happy trail of dark hair, to me.
He slipped his fingers into the waistband of my panties, tugging on them, pulling me closer until we were pressed together, chest to chest. His hands wrapped around my back, unhooking my bra, letting it fall to the ground before he pushed my underwear down my hips, letting me shimmy them down my legs.
He let out a groan as I reached down for his belt, unbuckling it before pulling it out of his jeans. I shoved his pants—and boxer briefs—down his hips, letting him kick off his boots before pushing them the rest of the way off.
Mason tugged me back against him, and I placed my hand on his chest, pushing him back until we hit the wall, and then he slid down to the floor, keeping his back to the wall.
Climbing onto his lap, I ran my hands up his chest, running my fingers through his chest hair, before they landed on his biceps. “So, what do you say, Mason?”
His eyes flared with heat as he took me in. My nipples, hard and aching for his touch. My pussy positioned directly over his cock. And even though he’d let me take control, I knew who really held all the power here.
“You’re forgetting something,” he said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Hm?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him as I ground down on his thick length. I already couldn’t wait to have it inside me.
He took his hat off his head and placed it on mine. “You gotta wear the hat, baby.”
I adjusted the way it sat on my head, tilting the brim up so I could still kiss him.
“Come on, cowgirl,” he said, holding my hips. “Ride me.”
Raising my hips, I guided his tip to my entrance, sinking down on it slowly.
I was so wet, I didn’t need any foreplay before having him inside of me.
The anticipation all day had made this even better, somehow.
He was so big—long and thick, with a girth that made me stretch around him no matter how prepared I was.
Wiggling my way down, I worked inch after inch of his cock inside of me, until I’d taken every inch. I started off slow, rocking my hips back and forth, each movement grinding my clit down against the base of his shaft.
His lips found my neck, kissing and sucking on my skin as I brought my knees closer together, using them as leverage to slide up and down on his thick length.
“Use me, Darlin’. I can take it.” He tugged at my earlobe with his teeth. He propped up his knees, supporting me with his thighs, and bounced me on his cock. His hands—still gripping my hips—helped guide them as I kept up the slow, torturous pace.
I let out a moan as he thrust his hips up, burying himself inside of me, and continued grinding down on him, the position too much. I was stuffed full of him, my arousal practically dripping down his hard cock.
He was hot and hard as steel inside of me as I rode him, rolling my hips, chasing my orgasm.
“That’s it,” he praised, his hands cupping my breasts, flicking over my nipples. “That’s my good girl. Take it. Take what you need from me.”
“Mason,” I panted, crying out as he leaned his head forward, capturing a nipple with his mouth. “It’s too much. I feel so—” Tears pooled in my eyes from the pleasure overwhelming my body. “It’s too good.”
“You’re doing so good, cowgirl.” He took over for me, somehow finding the exact rhythm to make me shatter, my orgasm hitting me hard and fast. I slumped against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, one pressed to my lower back and the other around my neck as he cradled me to his body.
His hat had fallen off my head at some point, falling onto the floor next to me.
He was still hard inside of me, his crown pressed against my cervix, cock throbbing as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.
When I finally came back to myself, I realized he still hadn’t come.
“Mason—” I started.
“Shhh.” He smoothed a piece of hair back behind my ear. “That was for you. We can take care of me later.”
“But…” I pouted. “I wanted you to come inside me.”
He groaned. “That’s my greedy little cumslut, huh? You want to have me leaking out of you as we walk home? My cum trailing down your thighs, so you know who you belong to?”
I nodded. I’d gotten addicted to the feeling of him filling me up, of his warmth flooding my insides.
“Yes,” I moaned. “I want it.”
He flipped us over so I was on my back, and he was positioned on top of me, his body wedged between my thighs. He was wound so tight that I wasn’t sure how he was still holding on. The veins in his arms practically popped out as he braced himself over me.
“This what you want, huh?” he asked, dropping his lips to mine as he thrust in earnest between my thighs.
It wouldn’t take much for me to orgasm again—I could already feel it building inside of me.
“Needy girl wants to get bred.” He paused, his eyes widening for a moment, as if the words shocked him.
I couldn’t hold back my moan. While the words should have freaked me out, they had the exact opposite effect. I was hot all over, biting my lip as I considered the idea. Why was the thought of Mason getting me pregnant so hot?
Maybe not now. But it was hard not to picture it.
He grunted, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing it as he pumped his cock into my pussy. It was obvious with each thrust just how wet I was, the squelching noises filling the space as our bodies came together, over and over again.
“Mason.” I cried his name. “Please. Give me your cum.”
And as he spilled inside of me—the light snow still coming down outside—I couldn’t help but think that if he knocked me up, I wouldn’t even be mad.