His smile grew slightly. A mischievous glint mixed with desire flickered in his dark orbs.
“Well, we’re gonna need to get it wet first.” His voice vibrated through me.
I pressed my tits against his chest, offering myself to him.
He set his hat on the bar beside his drink. I could smell the smoky sweetness of whiskey on his breath, and I wanted nothing more than to drink him in. His eyes held mine as he wrapped his large hands around my waist, holding me still while he dipped his head. I arched my back to give him better access. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my breast, his beard scraping deliciously across the swell. My lungs sucked in airwhile his fingers dug into my hips, as if to keep me from floating away.
Slowly, torturously, his tongue swirled along my skin, his mouth opening to suck me in. God, I hoped this man fucking bruised me. I hoped he left his mark beneath the tattoo. His mouth suckled on my skin, drawing me in. Each pull of his mouth was like a fucking tether to my clit. Each sweep of his tongue shot waves of electricity directly to my center. I closed my eyes, the heady buzz of the whiskey making this feel like he was fucking me right here under the hazy, red glow of the neon. I rocked my hips toward him, his cock bucking into my stomach as my fingers laced themselves in his hair.
I panted, my pussy pulsed. His mouth sucked. I heard him groan, and that was nearly enough to send me over the edge. It felt as if he were sucking me dry—sucking all of the air from my lungs.
“I want you to fuck me,” I managed to breathe out. I couldn’t quite tell if I actually thought it or said it out loud. Everything was blurry, and the only thing I could see straight was Mr. Whiskey Cowboy in front of me.
But I must have said it aloud because he answered with another rock of his hips so I could feel the outline of his hard-on. His tongue darted out to soothe the skin he most likely bruised.
He pulled away, making me frown. Cool air danced across my now damp and sensitive skin, leaving goose bumps.
His eyes found mine, now almost black with need. No longer that sweet, brown color. They were filled with hunger.
I shifted in my boots.
Fuck, I did say it out loud.
He let go of my waist, but he did not peel himself away from me. Separating the plastic from the tattoo, he pressed it with his palm against my skin. My chest heaved beneath his hand, which was nearly large enough to cup my whole breast. Hisdeeply tanned skin complemented my golden hue—his rough and calloused, mine soft and supple.
His gaze flicked back to mine, holding me there, piercing into my very soul. All I could hear was our heaving breaths, my blood pumping in my ears, and the subtle hum of the bar disappearing into the distance.
“Come back to my place.”
He didn’t have to ask or demand it. I would have followed him anywhere. He could have led me into the bathroom, and I would have gladly spread my legs for him.
We stumbledinto his dark apartment above a workshop. It was located on a farm on the outskirts of Joseph. I gripped onto his shirt for dear life, keeping him flush against me. He tasted so fucking good. I couldn’t get enough. I was greedy for him. Needing more of him. My tongue stroked against his, our lips molding together. If the man fucked the way he kissed, I was going to be in trouble.
The living room was dark, except for the stream of moonlight that came in from the window. A single couch and coffee table faced a flat-screen TV. A few boxes were piled against the wall.Perhaps he just moved here or he was moving?He pulled at the hem of my shirt, his fingertips dancing across my skin.
“Off. Now,” he growled.
I fisted his shirt, not wanting him to pull away, while I toed off my boots and shimmied out of my shorts as quickly as I could. I lightly nipped at his bottom lip before breaking away to pull my tank top over my head.
His chest heaved as he drank me in. I watched his eyes skim slowly over my white lace bra and panties.
“Fuck. You’re a goddamn smokeshow,” he said as his hand cupped my jaw and his thumb brushed over my bottom lip.
I never needed reassurance from a man to tell me the obvious, but for some reason, coming from him felt different. I tried to brush it off with a quick laugh, but it came out low and sultry.
My hand went to his belt, pulling him back into me. I needed him closer. Now. I didn’t want to stop touching him. Not even for one second. I slammed my mouth to his, his teeth scraping against my swollen lips until he sucked in my tongue.
Fuck.This man was going to be my undoing.
And I didn’t even know his name.
I tugged on his belt, unclasping the buckle and unbuttoning and lowering his zipper. His cock strained at his boxer briefs, and my pulse pounded like a drum between my legs. I could feel my panties already soaked. I pressed my thighs together, subconsciously desperate for any form of friction.
I tried to steady my breathing as I watched him lean down to tear off his boots, then quickly pull his shirt over his head. He looked almost as desperate as I was.
Goddamn. The man was a fucking god. Every muscle was shredded. Ridged lats, strong pecs, abs chiseled right down to his cut V. Muscles that only hard work and cowboying could create. Saliva pooled in my mouth. I’d be drooling if I kept ogling him this way.
“How do you want me, cowboy?” I asked, watching him step out of his jeans.
