Chapter 44
KELSEY
Two Years Earlier
Jackson, Wyoming
I flop back onto my couch in front of my TV, and throw my head back into the cushion with a soft thud.
This is where I was planning to end up tonight, just not like this.
I was supposed to go out and have drinks with Monica, then come home, curl up on the couch, and watch Honeycomb Ranch with a bottle of wine.
On paper, most of that kind of happened.
I had a single drink with Monica before Sutton and his brother—whatever his name is—came into Bridger’s.
I did make it home before the Housewives of Honeycomb Ranch, and there is a bottle of wine on my coffee table waiting to be opened. I’m even sort of curled up on my couch.
None of those are why my heart is absolutely pounding right now. My body is humming with lustful anticipation because of the man kneeling on the floor in front of me. That—he—was not on my list of plans for tonight.
He looks up me with a glint of insatiable hunger, the one that’s been there since I kissed him on the street corner, that’s been making me desperate for his touch.
Only minutes ago, he was on the floor after my overzealous dog tackled him to the ground.
I barely closed the door to my bedroom, after securing Felix, before Sutton had spun me around and pressed me against the door, kissing me senseless.
We clumsily found our way to the couch in a flurry of flying clothing and frantic hands roaming over bare skin.
That’s how my Friday night ended up with me here—naked on my couch—and him in only his boxers, on his knees between my legs. His gaze flits back and forth between my face and my bare pussy.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice low and husky.
My core clenches when his tongue darts over his bottom lip. He leans over me and kisses me once. “You sure this is what you want?”
I nod and his full lips pull into a smirk. “Words, Shadow. I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” I breathe out, shooting him a playful glare. “That’s why I brought you back here, not just to watch TV.”
“Good.” His single word is almost a laugh.
I start to roll my eyes because he is equally fun and annoying, but my lips part in a sudden gasp when he nips at my ear and starts running a trail of kisses down my neck, along my collarbone, and over my peaked nipples.
He stops and stares at my small breasts that I’m normally so self-conscious of.
His pupils flare when he rolls one of my hardened buds in his fingers and I can see and feel the appreciation he has for my body.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice is a reverent growl.
He drops his mouth to my other nipple and sucks, and I’m rocked by a wave of pleasure that almost startles me because my body is so tightly wound up for him.
We’ve known each other for mere hours and I’ve never felt this simultaneously desired by someone and needy for them.
My body protests when his mouth starts working farther down my stomach, leaving my breasts missing the stimulation while my pussy anticipates it.
That all comes crashing down a second later when he grabs my legs in his strong hands and pins them back with his chorded and tattooed forearms.
A muscle in his jaw ticks when he looks at my sex.
“So goddamn wet for me already.” I watch with bated breath when he kisses my inner thighs, driving me so wild I rock my hips up toward him in a needy plea.
He stops, letting his lips hover so close to my pussy that I can feel each breath on my slick skin. “Maybe I am your type after all.”
I vaguely remember our exchange back at the bar, but I don’t have time for a sarcastic quip because he lowers his mouth onto me and the tip of his tongue swirls over my clit before teasing my entrance. I watch in awe while he feasts on my pussy, his tongue spearing me.
His taut and tanned skin against my pale legs makes the contrast between us so apparent, but I can’t bring myself to look away from him and the way he laps at me.
I run my fingers through his dark, tousled hair and pull him against my heated body.
He lets out a low groan and his hooded eyes look up to find mine.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. You know that, right?” he says, not wasting another second before he plunges two fingers into me, rubbing the pad of his thumb in slow circles around my clit.
“Goddamnit, why do you have to be so good at this?” I whimper, feeling my body already pushing dangerously close to climaxing. I’m almost mad because I want to enjoy more of him. This is too good and I don’t want it to end so soon.
He shrugs and I can tell he’s enjoying watching what he does to me, which is both hot and infuriating because as nonchalant as he is, he has every right to be. “You won’t want to come back for more if I leave you unsatisfied.”
Somehow, I get the feeling that’s impossible with him.
I’m about to say exactly that when he lowers his mouth again and starts to suck on my aching clit.
My body responds instantly and I arch my back against the couch.
My heels dig into the hard muscles of his back and desperately want—no, need—more of him because he already has me so close to coming.
He must know it too because he curls his fingers deep inside me while flicking his tongue over my clit at a faster pace. His tongue flattens and he increases the pressure and I barrel toward a climax that I’m wholly unprepared for but craving nonetheless.
What finally unravels me is the moan he lets out when I tighten my grip on his hair.
That stimulation pushes me over the edge and I cry out his name so loud that I’m glad I live above the coffee shop which is closed at night.
He chuckles and I feel his stubble rub against my skin.
My walls tighten around his fingers, but he doesn’t stop pumping and curling them into me and licking at my clit.
I give into him and let him draw every last bit of pleasure from my spent body because I think he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
That is confirmed when he slowly rises to his feet and looms over me.
My eyes bulge and my pussy clenches just from seeing the outline of his cock.
He doesn’t have to take it out for me to already know that it’s the longest, thickest cock I have ever seen in real life.
I reach for him and run my fingers over the swell in his boxers and he hisses at the touch, grabbing my wrist. I look up to see his chest heaving.
He reaches down and cups my chin in his hand, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip.
Those eyes that were blazing with lust and hunger moments ago soften. “We don’t have to do that just yet. We can go slow or do something besides just fucking.”
I shake my head. “No, I want to. Like, a lot.”
A pleased grin spreads over his too-handsome face. “Me too. A lot. But why don’t we take a little breather and then take this to your room?”
My brows furrow and the self-conscious bitch inside me rears her head. “A little breather?”
He nods. “Yeah, Housewives is about to come on. I promised you that you’d get to watch it and I keep my promises.
Also…” he smiles bashfully at me, “if I fuck you this second, I will blow before I even get fully inside you, because you coming like that was by far the hottest thing that I’ve experienced in my life. ”
I keep my promises. I know he’s talking about the show, but that statement feels like so much more. The serious look on his face tells me that this is a man of his word—a man that can be trusted. He’s also not pushy, he’s not demanding, he’s just kind and sweet.
I look up at him and nod, slowly running my hand back and forth over his boxers and his throbbing erection. “OK. A little breather would be alright.”
He sits down and wraps an arm around me, pulling me into his warm side.
He grabs the throw blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over us before turning on the TV.
I know I just met him, but everything about him feels right.
It feels like this should be the first of many nights like this together.
I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m so comfortable with him and it feels so easy.