Chapter 26 #2
But it’s her who has me. I’m not going anywhere, unless she asks me to. Unless she walks away. Which we both know is inevitable.
She shuts her eyes, lips parting, waiting, and I lean in without hesitation. Sawyer's hands move restlessly over my shoulders, my chest, like she's rediscovering new territory. I pull back just enough to look at her sexy, soft lips. She’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Come here," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
I guide her over to me, and she climbs onto my lap, straddling me.
My hands grip her waist, feeling the shape of her through the fabric of her dress.
The steering wheel presses into her back, making her arch closer to me.
She loops her arms around my neck, fingers threading through my hair. The gentle pull is electric.
"There’s nothing like kissing a cowboy," she breathes, pulling away slightly.
I don't answer with words. Instead, I reclaim her mouth, pouring everything I can't say into the kiss. All the nights I lay awake thinking of her. All the times I couldn’t unglue my gaze from her. All the ways I've wanted her without letting myself admit it.
Her body melts against mine. One of my hands slides to the small of her back, pressing her closer, while the other moves higher, tangling in her hair. The silky strands wrap around my fingers like they belong there.
The kiss turns deeper, more insistent. Her hips grind against mine, and she moans into my mouth, the sound so soft and sweet. The truck suddenly feels too small, too constrained. I need more room to touch her, to hold her properly.
In frustration, I kick out with my boot, pushing against the door. It swings open, the night air rushing in cool and welcome against our heated skin.
“Smooth,” Sawyer teases, breathless.
“Never said I was smooth,” I say against the warm curve of her neck. “Just determined.”
She laughs—low and genuine—and tilts her head, giving me more room like she wants me to keep going. Her hands slip beneath my shirt, fingers skating across my skin. Feels like lightning, the way she touches me. Like she doesn’t even realize what she’s stirrin’ up.
One boot hits the gravel outside for balance. “Hold on, darlin’,” I say, tightening my grip.
I lift her with me, one quick motion, and her legs wrap around me as I step down from the truck.
“This isn’t about him,” she says suddenly, voice soft but sure, as I carry her toward the porch. “Just so you know.”
“Didn’t think it was,” I lie without flinching.
It’s what she needs to hear. And hell, maybe I wish it were true, but if she wants to use me as a summer fling, or to make a man jealous who she may eventually go back to, I’m fine with that.
Having her in any capacity she wants, is more than I deserve.
She watches me, her icy eyes narrowing just a little, like she sees right through me keepin’ my cool.
“You’re a terrible liar, Tristan Stetson.”
I glance down at her, the corners of my mouth tugging into a slow grin. “Good thing I’m better at other things.”
"Inside," she manages, finally. "Now."
I should hesitate. Should remind her that this might be a mistake. Instead, I press my forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. "Thought you’d never ask."
The key fumbles in my hand, my fingers trembling as I try to unlock the door. My mouth is locked on hers, our tongues tangling like they’re fighting to survive. She’s pressed against me, her body hot and desperate, her legs wrapped around my waist like she’s trying to fuse us together.
Fuck, she feels amazing.
The hallway is dark, but I don’t need light.
The way her hips grind against me, the way her breath hitches when I bite her bottom lip, the way her hands claw at my back like she’s trying to tear through my shirt—it’s all I need.
It’s enough to burn the warning clean out of my head.
I should stop. I should remember who she is, who I’m supposed to be. But all I can think about is more.
We stumble through the house, knocking over a lamp, a vase, who fucking cares. She laughs against my mouth, a low, dirty sound.
I carry her to the bedroom, her legs still locked around my waist, her heels digging into my ass. I’m hard as fucking steel, straining against my jeans, and I know she can feel it. She rocks her hips against me, teasing, and I groan, the sound ripped from my throat.
I drop her onto the bed, and she barely bounces once before I’m on her, my hands everywhere. My mouth finds hers again, kissing her deep and slow, like I’m trying to memorize the taste of her.
She moans into my mouth, her hands fumbling with my shirt, pulling it off in a rush.
Her lips move down my neck, her teeth scraping against my skin, and goosebumps erupt all at once.
I kiss her neck, her collarbone, her stomach, my tongue tracing the curve of her hipbone.
She shivers beneath me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
The moment my fingers slide up her dress, I feel her shudder beneath me. It’s like electricity, fucking raw and primal, as my fingertips graze the soaked fabric of her panties. I press and massage her harder, feeling her squirm under my touch.
I move between her legs and put one over my shoulder, spreading her wider, lovin’ the way her legs tremble as I expose her, and the sight of her—fuck, it’s sinful. Her pussy is slick and glistening, begging for me.
I lean in, brushing my lips against the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she gasps, her back arching off the bed.
“I can’t get enough of you,” I say, my voice rough and thick with need. My breath is hot against her wet skin as I trail kisses higher, closer to where she needs me most.
She whimpers as I hover just above her clit, teasing her with the warmth of my breath. I’m cruel like that, making her wait, making her beg.
And she does.
“Tristan,” she breathes, and that’s all I fucking need. “Please.”
Her hips arch as my tongue sinks into her, a wet, filthy plunge that makes her gasp like she’s been struck by lightning.
I fucking savor it—the way her thighs tremble, the way her clit pulses under my lips, swollen and desperate for attention.
Her taste is intoxicating, it’s sweet, something that makes my cock throb in my pants like it’s got a fucking mind of its own.
I’m not gentle—fuck that. I eat her out like I’m starving, like her pussy is the last fucking meal I’ll ever have on this earth.
My tongue laps, slow and deliberate, teasing every nerve until she’s whimpering, her fingers clawing at the sheets.
My hands grip her thighs, holding her open as continue to devour her, licking, sucking, fucking worshiping her like she’s the only goddamn thing that matters.
Her moans are loud now, and I can feel her body tense, desperate for more. I slide a finger inside her, curling it just right, and she screams, her hands find my shoulders and hold tight. I add another finger, stretching her, and her walls flutter around me, tighter, hotter, fucking incredible.
“Oh, yes—god, yes.”
I pull back just enough to look up at her. Her eyes are dark and wild with lust. “You’re so damn perfect,” I say, my voice rough.
Her breath comes in shallow gasps as my tongue circles her clit, flicking it fast, then slow, teasing her until she’s writhing beneath me. I’m not done. Not yet. There’s still so much more I want to do to her, so much I want to make her feel.
“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, and I can feel her getting close, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her thighs trembling.
But I stop, pulling back just as she’s about to come. She whimpers, her hips chasing my mouth, and I smirk, looking up at her. “Not yet,” I say, my voice rough.
“Damn you,” she exhales, dropping a hand on the bed in frustration. I kiss her thigh, biting softly, and she jerks beneath me. “I can’t take it anymore,” she moans. “I want you. Now.”
I shift so I’m on my knees between her thighs, her skin glistens under the dim light creepin’ through the window.
I smirk, my hand already reaching for the bedside drawer.
The wood creaks as I yank it open, fingers closing around the condom I’d stashed there.
My cock is straining against the fabric of my jeans.
Tuggin’ it free, I let her see the full, throbbing length of me for the first time.
Her eyes widen, her lips parting in a silent “oh” as I give myself a few rough pumps, pre-cum glistening at the tip.
“Well, hello, cowboy,” she breathes, her voice thick with want.
“You like what you see, darlin’?” I growl, my voice low and rough.
She bites her lip, her gaze flicking from my cock to my face and back again. “I like what I see,” she says, her tone teasing but almost nervous. “But just so you know now, that thing’s not gonna fit inside me.”
I grin, slow and wicked, my hand still working myself. “Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart. And just so you know, us bull riders, we don’t let nothin’ slide. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Her head falls back against the pillow, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “God help me,” she whispers, her fingers gripping the sheets.
“Not God, baby. Tristan,” I say, leaning over her, my breath hot against her ear. “And you better fuckin’ say it. Now, are you ready?”
She nods, her eyes dark with need, and I don’t waste another second.
I press the tip of my cock against her entrance, swollen and slick with her wetness.
She’s tight—real fucking tight—and I groan as I push inside, inch by agonizing inch.
Her lips part in a silent gasp, her nails digging into my shoulders as she stretches around me.
“That’s a good girl,” I murmur, my voice ragged. “Take it all, Sawyer.”
I see the moment she feels all of me—the way her body trembles, the way her mouth falls open in a wordless scream.
“Tristan,” she moans, her voice breaking. “You feel so fucking good.”
I pull out slowly, savoring the way her walls cling to me.
I thrust back in, harder this time. Her back arches, her breasts pressing against my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat pounding against mine.
Her nails dig into my back, her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper.
I kiss her, swallowing her moans, and when I break away, her eyes are half-lidded, her lips swollen.
“You are so damn beautiful,” I growl, my thrusts getting harder, deeper as I grip her waist tight. “You take this cock so fucking well.”
She grips my shoulders tighter at the praise.
Her pussy is wet and tight, squeezing me like I belong with her, and I can feel all of her, every quiver, every pulse of her body as she adjusts to me.
My cock throbs, my balls tightening as I pick up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, until the room is filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, her moans mixed with the low, guttural growls tearing from my chest.
“Fuck,” she cries, her nails raking down my back. “Tristan, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
I listen, picking up the pace, slamming into her until the bed creaks beneath us.
Her moans grow louder, more frantic. I reach between us, rubbing her clit in tight circles as her pussy starts to clench around me.
I know she’s close, and when she comes, I’ll be right there with her, burying myself deep inside her, claiming every inch of her.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her ear. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”
“Fuck Tristan,” she screams. “Right there.”
Her whole body is trembling, her pussy pulsing around my cock. Her eyes stay locked on mine until she can’t hold them open anymore as she comes, and it’s the most fucking incredible thing I’ve ever seen.
I keep going, drawing out her orgasm, making her scream.
“That’s my girl,” I breathe, following her over the most delicious edge.
She whimpers, her body still shaking, and I know she’s mine. All mine.
We collapse onto the bed, both of us breathless, sweaty, and completely spent.
She lies on my chest. Her legs are tangled with mine like she belongs here. And fuck, maybe she does. My arm’s around her waist, and her fingers are tracing shapes against my ribs like she doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she says.
“Right through there.” I nod toward the doorway.
While she’s in there, I grab a bottle of water and shake out some ibuprofen. By the time she climbs back into bed, I’ve got it waiting on the nightstand. She gives me that soft little smile as she takes a sip, swallows the pills, then sinks back into the sheets.
I slide in beside her and put my hands to work, kneadin’ the spots I know I held her too tight.
Here’s the thing about sex—least the way I see it.
It ain’t just about how loud you make her scream, how many times you can make her orgasm.
And don’t get me wrong, that’s important, but it’s all about everything that comes before, and how well you take care of her after.
And when you got a woman like Sawyer in your bed… you damn well better not fall short.
“Every day you surprise me,” she says, voice soft and sleepy.
I grin, brushing my fingers along the curve of her spine.
“I like to keep things exciting.”
She tilts her chin up, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re more of a gentleman than you give yourself credit for.”
I chuckle, low and rough. “Don’t go sayin’ that. I won’t ever clean up my act, so don’t start thinkin’ you’re gonna change me now.”
She laughs—light and real—and damn if it doesn’t settle right in my chest.
“Tristan?” she whispers.
“Mhm,” I answer, already halfway to sleep with her curled into me like this.
“Can you make him leave?”
“Who?”
“Harrison.”
I crack one eye open.
“Baby, this is a small town. Say the word and I can make him disappear.”
She laughs again, shaking her head against me.
“No… just make him go.”
I lean in, press a kiss to her temple.
“Whatever you want.”
There’s a pause. Then she says it so quietly, I almost miss it.
“I wanna stay. I’m a little worried he’ll be at my place waiting for me.”
My hand slides up her back.
“Then stay.”
For the first time in my life—I shut my eyes with a woman still in my bed.
And I don’t want her to ever leave.