“Stroke it,” I tell him, and to my surprise Landry obeys, reaching between his legs. I watch his bicep first, loving the way it flexes when he grips himself.
“Get on the bed, on your back.”
“Damn, I’ve never been… bossed around like this,” he says while obeying, getting onto the bed. His cock is erect, but so large it lies thick and steely against his belly instead of standing. Good problem to have. I climb on top and straddle him backward.
Peering over my shoulder, I love the way his face is held tight, restraint clearly his only thought right now. “You okay, partner?”
Landry runs his hand over his belly, through the neatly trimmed hair, then gathers himself in his fist. “This ain’t a dream, right?”
I smirk and hold up my hand, showing off the plain gold band that he also wears, the set made by Love Collier for our ceremony today. “You’re not dreaming. I did my part, now it’s time you start doing yours.” I kind of like this arrangement. “Put on a condom.”
I turn and face the bedroom wall, waiting for him to rustle around beneath me, dig in his drawer, and get going. My mind starts to slip into “you’re banging the man you’re making a movie about” guilt when Landry walks his bare fingers up my back, then taps my shoulder. I twist and look back at him.
“I don’t have a condom.”
I reposition myself until I’m facing him, my naked pussy pressed against his shaft. His eyes snap shut, and his abs tighten beneath my fingertips. “Landry,” I whisper, sifting my fingers through his belly and chest hair, finally resting them over his pecs. His heart is racing a mile a minute. “Landry,” I try again, even softer, my voice even lower. His hands come to my hips, and his grip is so crushingly tight, I whisper, “We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready.”
One blue eye pops open. “You got me…worked up,” he grits, jaw tight. “I’m just trying to muster the self-respect to even look at you.”
He peers down with both eyes, taking in the sight of mylips gripping his shaft, my engorged clit sticky as I roll my hips forward, seeking friction from his erection. His grip tightens and his eyes snap shut.
“Lord Almighty,” he groans, adding through clenched teeth, “I’m willing to be your thing to use,” he says, his Southern drawl making those words drip with eroticism and cowboy-induced orgasms. “But I don’t have any condoms. I haven’t had those in years.”
I can’t help but smile down at him, frozen above him, unmoving. What I don’t tell him is that in just a few more passes of my pussy over his monstrous and gorgeous dick I’ll be in the same state as him—barely holding on, ready to explode. It’s more fun this way.
I brace my palms on his chest and slowly lift my hips, taking away the skin-to-skin contact, and all the pressure, too.
He shakes his head, damp hair looking nearly black against the stark white pillowcase. “No,” he bargains, “I can—” I drop my finger to his lips and close his mouth.
“You’re not off the hook tonight,” I promise, heat flaring in my chest when I see him visibly relax. I like making Landry Vaughn feel good, which ought to be obvious since I married him just to help him. But I don’t even think I realized that until just now. I thought I was a people person, but I’m just a Landry Vaughn woman.
“What I want, instead of riding you reverse cowgirl, is to keep doing what I’m doing until we both can’t take it a moment longer,” I tell him, then slowly, both of us watching, lower my pussy to his shaft.
“Fuck,” he grits out, all growly and rough, making my nipples grow plucky and tight. He reaches up, pinching one, then rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. He does the same with his other hand. It feels so good, his large, hot, callused hands all over my bare flesh, playing with mynipples in a way that I didn’t even know I liked. “I’d love to grab you by the hips and fuck you hard, Quinn Farley,” he grounds out, surprising me by slapping my breast, then immediately pushing halfway up on one elbow, sealing his mouth over the place he swatted.
My head falls back and my eyes snap shut as my hand snakes from his chest to his neck, then up the back of his head, filling my fist with his hair. His mouth on my breast, sucking and biting, feels so good, my spine turns hot, and my toes curl.
I move my hips while he focuses his attention on my breasts and nearly explode when he ever so slightly tilts his hips and his shaft slips between my lips. The head of his cock, bulbous and pink, smears against my clit, electric and hot, making me gasp. “Oh Jesus,” I moan, biting into his shoulder to stifle the cries flooding my throat.
“Tell me the ways you wanna use this dirty old cowboy cock to make this sweet, young pussy explode,” Landry grumbles, lifting his head from my chest long enough to find my mouth and claim it. His kiss is feral and urgent, displacing my thoughts for a moment as his tongue tangles with mine. “Tell me, Quinn.”
Shit. Landry on the ranch is hot. Landry on a bronc is sexy. But dirty-talking Landry is the stuff a woman’s dreams are made of. Seriously.
“I didn’t expect such a dirty mouth,” I tell him, still writhing on his cock, coaxing more filth from his perfect lips.
“I didn’t expect such a greedy pussy and such a hungry little thing in my house,” he says, his hands returning to my hips. He begins guiding me over his cock, and it’s so tempting not to slide him inside. He’s huge, but I’m so wet, I know I’d have no trouble accepting him in my body. But wecan’t. Because that would create a problem that doesn’t have an annulment solution.
“Look down, I want you to see how hard my husband makes me come,” I tell him just as his cock nudges my clit again, the desire too strong, the need far too powerful to fight. My back tightens and my stomach clenches as the first wave of euphoria washes over me. With one hand I grip his neck and with the other, I slap his chest, leaning back just enough to let him see my pussy, spasming and contracting rhythmically with each greedy pulse.
I’m about to reach down and stroke him, to have him join me on the other side, but his hands are on my face, and his lips are on mine, and I swallow his grunts and groans as he pulls me down and kisses me over and over, his cock pulsing and throbbing between us as he orgasms.
When he lets go of my face, we stare at one another, panting, his nostrils flaring. I reach out, still holding his gaze, and drag my fingers through his cum, discovering another thing I didn’t know about Landry Vaughn.
“You like to kiss when you come,” I whisper, then pop my finger into my mouth, tasting the salty, tangy flavor of his release.
I slide off of him, still panting, my mind still reeling, my body still hungry for more. But I know I can’t stay, because we are not a real thing for so many reasons, and staying would only complicate things. I grab his towel off the floor, and clean up his impressive mess, turned on by the way cum looks sprayed all over his sun-kissed body, coating his chest and belly hair.
Finally, he responds, his voice hoarse. “I’ve never fooled around with anyone who I wasn't in love with, so it’s kind of built into me that orgasms and romance go together.”
