Page 32 of Drifter’s Heart

What we did earlier was sweet. Gentle, compared to now. I sensed then that he held back, eased his way into me. Now… West unleashes everything he reserved.

Hands grip me tight enough to bruise, but in the best of ways. Roughened fingers dig into soft flesh as he withdraws, slow and long. Before he slams back into me, I ignore his command and turn my face into the pillow, already letting out a long moan.

That noise complaint is not coming from my neighbors today, and not for this.

West slams home and my scream tears my throat. I claw the sheets and mattress beneath the pillow as he sets a punishing rhythm that’s all him. And I won’t have him any other way. My body clamps down on him, an involuntary reaction I can’t help as he groans low. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on my nape, the sweet, firm pressure at odds to the way he ruins me from behind.

“Fuck, Winnie. You’re my new addiction.” His growl is everything. I don’t want this to end, but I know it will. He’ll have to leave and I need to kick him out.

This is a one-day event at best. But for right now, I memorize the feel of every inch of him, and how many of those does this cowboy have? It’s not fair. I’ll never look at another male specimen the same for the rest of my life.

Ever. Freaking. Again.

My orgasm doesn’t sneak up on me. It uncoils like a sleeping beast, hot and damning. I sneak a hand between my legs, too impatient to wait. Aching for a release that’s so close. West’s grip clamps on the back of my neck, pressing me harder into the pillow.

“Make yourself come first and I’ll spank this ass until you’re sopping for me,” he rasps above me.

My fingers never stop, stroking around my slippery clit. The mess of us mingles and I’m already so close. So, so close⁠—

His hand slaps down on my ass as promised, but he doesn’t wait until I’m there, anticipating my orgasm. And he’s right.

The barrier between pain and pleasure blurs. Heat flushes me in both directions at once as his weight bears down, his cock filling me impossibly. My scream is muffled by the pillow, but it’s his laugh I hear, soft and low, as I come from his spanking.

“So fucking beautiful, Winnie. We’re gonna do that again.” West licks a path along my spine and slides his hand gently around my throat, arching my back.

My nipples graze the pillow, the contact aching and torturous at once in a deluge of overstimulation. I whimper as he seats himself deep inside me and refuses to move.

“West.” I wiggle my hips, trying to entice him.

His laugh will haunt me.

“Need more, you greedy, gorgeous girl?” His kisses trail along my throat, over my bare shoulders. I moan softly, tipping my head all the way back to grant him access. “Fuck, that’s beautiful. Give me nights like this, and I’ll never want to leave.” His hips drive forward, his length thickening.

I grip the heavily muscled forearm that wraps tight like a steel band, holding me in place while he wrecks us both.

And I let him.

TEN

WINNIE

Fusspot Hour

I ache in all the right ways while, for once, the right man is in my home.

“I don’t need the bandages changed again,” West says quietly as I peel back one edge of the dressings I already checked an hour ago when I made him coffee after he prepared breakfast for us both.

He. Fed. Me. Can I spell honeymoon period with greater clarity?

“I know. Let me fuss. I’m off shift, remember?”

“I think that’s supposed to mean that you also get to stop.” West surveys me with a peace I’ve never associated with this man.

A burning sense of inaction, maybe back at Coyote. An endless source of action that was always a match for my brother. Sleepless hours during my own bouts of insomnia walking around the homestead.

Never quiet or calm. But the sense of peace that pervades him now is… perfect.

I can’t stop wondering when all this is going to come crashing down. Actually, I can. I can even put a timer on it.