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As I settle back on the sheets, Ryan’s hands tug at my last article of clothing to remove my thong. He pauses and stands a foot away from the bed, just letting his eyes roam over my body. Then, with a step closer, he reaches out with one hand to gently trace a line over the curve of my waist, dipping it into the valley between my breasts, before making its way to where I really want his attention.
Finally, he skillfully navigates that hand through the damp folds of my center. His every touch is purposeful and precise, igniting a burning ache that throbs with each stroke.
When he plunges two fingers once again deep within me, it’s as if stars have exploded in my vision. The feel of his thick digits scissoring inside me sends a cascade of pleasure coursing through my veins.
"Fuck!" I cry out when his thumb finds my clit, drawing circles around it until every nerve ending in my body is aflame. With one last thrust of his hand and a wicked smile that promises more, he brings me to a shuddering climax.
My chest heaves and my heart pounds against my ribcage. Eager for more, I guide him towards me, ready to feel him deep within. Yet, he stands firm at the foot of the bed.
He leans forward at his waist and simultaneously reaches around the back of my knees and grabs hold. With a strong tug, he pulls me towards him, lining up my center with his hard cock. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist to hold me in place. I never knew being manhandled was so sexy, but damn, I’m so wet and ready for this cowboy.
With one hand, he takes his cock and connects it to my pussy. His other hand goes up to my shoulder, and then he thrusts his hips forward to be seated fully inside me.
“Fuck, Jules,” he says on a breathless moan as he begins to move his hips back and forth, stroking my pussy with his cock.
“Yes, Ryan. You feel so good,” I admit.
I raise my hips to meet his rhythm so that he hits my clit and just the right spot each time he pounds into me.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he commands and grabs both of my legs to thrust into me harder, faster.
“Ryan!” I scream his name on my release, my pussy walls spasming around his thickness. Before I can catch my breath, he leans forward, and crashes his lips into mine. It’s a mix of Ryan and my desire, but before the unique blend heats me up more, he grunts against my lips as he fills the latex.
We stay locked together. The weight of Ryan’s upper half is a comfort that I’ve been missing in my life for a long time.
Chapter 7
Ryan
The sizzle of bacon cuts through the silence of the morning as I flip it in the cast iron skillet. Sunlight spills across the worn tiles, and the smell of fresh coffee mingles with the hickory smoke. I'm sliding eggs onto a plate when I catch movement from the corner of my eye.
Julia.
She steps into the kitchen, barefoot, with her green eyes still soft from sleep. My breath catches a little at the sight of her wearing one of my shirts, the fabric hanging off one shoulder. It's just an old button-down, faded blue and frayed at the cuffs, but on her, it looks different. Better.
"Morning," I say, trying to sound casual while my gaze travels from her tousled hair down to where the shirt tails meet her thighs.
"Good morning." She stretches, arms reaching high, and the shirt rides up, revealing more smooth skin. I tear my eyes away, focusing on the plate in my hand.
"Like the shirt?" I ask, nodding at the cotton draping her frame.
"Your shirts are comfy," she replies with a sleepy smile. "Hope you don't mind."
"Don't mind at all," I tell her, the corners of my mouth lifting. "In fact, I like seeing you in them."
Her cheeks flush a pretty pink that matches the sunrise outside, and there's a spark of something—pleasure, maybe—in those green depths. The kitchen feels warmer suddenly, and it ain't from the stove.
I hand her the plate, piled high with scrambled eggs and a couple of slices of bacon. "Hope you're hungry."
"Starving," she says as she takes the plate, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a jolt through me that's more electric than any cattle prod. She sits at the hand-crafted pine table, the wood sanded smooth from hours of hard labor, and I join her, my own plate in hand.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sounds are the clink of forks and the distant crowing of a rooster greeting the day. I watch her eat; she's got an appetite that belies her slender frame, and I like that. It's real, just like her.
"Jules," I start, my voice cutting through the quiet morning. She looks up, those green eyes meeting mine. "What do you say about riding along the fence line with me this morning? Need to check it's all still intact, and I could use the company."
Her brows arch in surprise, but there's curiosity there too. "I'd like that," she says after a moment. "It sounds... nice."
"Great," I reply, feeling a grin split my face. It's been a long time since I've had company doing ranch chores, and having Julia along feels like it might just make the work feel less like work.
