Maisie
. . .
FORTY-EIGHT
“Well, hello there, cowgirl. Need some help?” Gray rasps behind me, weaving his arms around me to grab the horse lead out of reach.
“I’ll have you know, I don’t need the help of a cocky cowboy,” I tease, turning and planting a kiss on his lips.
“Mmmmm,” he groans into my mouth. “I’ll never get used to these sweet lips. The only thing sweeter is this ass.” He palms my cheeks.
“Gray,” I huff, balancing a palm on his chest. “There’s people who work here, you know?”
“It’s a good thing I’m the boss then, honey.”
God, I missed it here. I’m back where I belong, on the ranch that put me back together, even if it broke me in the process.
After Grayson declared his love for me, we packed up my apartment and shipped my life back to Montana—permanently.
This is where my heart belongs. Not only is being around my family good for the soul, but some of my best writing came from this ranch.
There’s no place I’d rather be. Roxy wept happy tears the second my feet touched the ranch.
I tilt my head at him. “Really? Because that’s not what Chesney said an hour ago.”
His palm smacks my ass. “Do I need to teach you a lesson on who’s boss around here?”
I shoot him a flirty wink. “You’ll have to catch me first, cowboy,” I sing, dipping under his arms into one of the empty horse stalls. A brand new leather saddle sits atop a stand inside.
“These fucking jeans will be the death of me,” he groans, following close behind and pressing me against the saddle, his hard cock nuzzled between my cheeks, right where my wranglers say kiss my ass cowboy stitched into the pocket. I know they’re his favorite.
“You love them,” I murmur. He answers by grinding into me harder.
“I’ll love them even more when they’re not keeping me from what’s mine,” he whispers, nipping my ear.
“Please,” I moan when his palm finds my breast.
“You gonna be a good girl and do as I say?” I nod so eagerly, it’s pathetic. “That’s my good girl,” he growls, gripping my hips to unbutton my jeans.
“W-what are you doing? Someone could come in.” I fucking love it is what I mean.
“I sent everyone home for the day. Now these have to go.” My pants are gone in the next moment, and I’m standing in only a shirt, red thong, and white cowgirl boots.
He settles me on the saddle. “Swing your leg over.” I straddle the saddle, a little confused but eager. “You ever ridden a horse before?” I shake my head. “You’re about to learn.” The smile that stretches across his face should be studied. My panties are dripping from it.
Grayson grinds his palm against my clit through my underwear. “Think you’re ready for a lesson?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but then his palm grinds against me again, and I let him take the reins. I nod and moan, just so he won’t stop.
“So needy,” he teases. He braces a palm on the stand and easily swings his leg over so he’s straddling the saddle, facing me. There’s not nearly enough room, so he lifts me to straddle his waist. “You fit like a dream,” he groans, palming my ass. “Take him out. It’s time for your riding lessons.”
The rip of his zipper has me feral. I need him.
His hard, aching cock springs free, and I grip him tightly around the base.
He hisses when the cold air hits his weeping tip.
The man has one gorgeous dick. I bend over and lick up the bead of precum dripping from his head before taking him to the back of my throat.
“Fuck, Mais. Are you trying to kill me?”
I moan around his dick, my nose hitting his stomach. I forgot how big he was, his dick filling my throat. Grayson’s hand finds the back of my head, and he pushes me impossibly further down onto him until I’m gagging. He rips me up by my hair and devours my lips, sucking on my tongue.
“I’m not gonna last if you keep those filthy lips on me. Now hop up and take a seat.” He positions himself for me to sit on, using his other hand to guide my hips.
“My underwear,” I protest.
“Not an issue.” He releases his dick and slips a finger beneath my panties, dragging through my wetness to circle my clit once. He slips the material to the side and sinks me onto him in one go.
“Holy shit,” I stutter, trying to breathe through how full I feel. He stretches me so impossibly wide, it's almost too much. I need more.
“What’s the saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” he rasps, palming my hips. “Now ride this dick, honey, and take notes for your next book.”
I don’t waste time. I grip his shoulders and lift myself before slamming back down, using the stirrups for leverage. Gray’s hands guide my hips, setting a brutal pace. It’s fire and chaos and fucking perfect.
“Gray,” I whimper when he strokes my inner walls in the perfect spot.
“You’re squeezing the life out of my cock,” he heaves into my chest. “You could make a priest sin, woman.” I clench around him at his words. “Fucking fuck,” he grunts, pistoning into me.
“Oh God,” I scream, biting his shoulder letting him take over.
I can barely hold on. I feel like I’m being split in two.
It takes everything in me not to pass out from his brutal thrusts.
He’s a man on a mission, and I’d gladly be slain if this is how good falling apart feels.
I know he’ll always be there to catch me.
“Mais, please tell me you’re close. I can’t… I…” he whimpers.
It takes one more thrust before I’m tumbling towards the hardest orgasm of my life.
I don’t care about the pathetic noises I’m making—I’m too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
“Don’t you dare stop. I’m…I’m gonna…” I can’t get the rest of the words out before I slam my eyes shut and explode around him.
“Thank fuck,” he groans, slamming home one last time and holding me tight while he spills deep inside me. I feel every twitch of his dick as he paints me with his cum, drawing out my own orgasm before I slip off him. “That’s it, baby. Ride it out. Use me.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about until I notice I’m grinding my swollen clit across his cum-covered shaft.
I whimper when he pulls me closer, hitting the perfect angle that has me coming again.
My second orgasm hits impossibly harder, and I almost fall off the saddle. Grayson's arms wrap tightly around me.
I collapse on him. Sandalwood and leather wrap around me; I could die happily in his arms. We sit like that for a while, soaking up the lost time together. I stroke his bicep with my thumb, tracing a tattoo peeking out. Something has me sliding his sleeve up.
“Gray,” I murmur, “when did you get this?”
He holds up his arm to see better, a lopsided grin on his face. “Five months ago,” he hums.
I trace the delicate pattern inked into his skin, the first tear falling with it. “A monarch,” I breathe, stroking a wing. There’s a pattern through it, and I turn my head to read it. The word Archie is etched inside the wing pattern.
“I had to have my angel with me,” he whispers against my cheek, kissing the tear away. “I may have let you fly away, but you were always right here with me. They say if you love something, set it free, and if it’s meant to be, it will come back. Your wings found their way back to me.”
“I love you so much.” I press my lips to his, savoring the kiss.
“I love you too, honey.”
Research notes: the story isn't over if you haven’t found your happily ever after yet.