Page 59 of Cowboy

Lost in the tenderness of her mouth underneath mine, I don’t want to talk anymore. Slowly, Scarlett tips to her back, and I lean over her breasts, keeping our mouths fused as one.

Quickly, Scarlett pulls back and glances down at her belly.

“What?” I question, following her gaze. Her hand covers her stomach, but she reaches for my hand and pulls it to below her belly button. “Is that . . .”

Scarlett slowly smiles as my eyes widen. “Sprout doesn’t like it when I’m on my back.”

“Was I hurting you?”

“No, babe. You would never hurt me.” The truth in her words and the trust in her voice have my mouth meeting hers once more, hoping to swallow her faith in me as I work on my faith in her. My hand still presses to her belly, and Sprout rolls again. Quickly, I pull back, staring down at my fingers, spreading over the T-shirt she’s wearing to sleep in. My T-shirt. But I want to feel her skin underneath my palm. I want to feel our baby playing kickball inside his mother.

We both watch our hands over her stomach another second, and my heart races. There’s new life under my hand. A new life with Sprout and Scarlett, and I need to get over my fears to accept what she’s giving me. This is what I’ve always wanted.

“If Sprout doesn’t like that position, maybe we need to get you off your back,” I tease.

“Want me on my knees instead?” Fire sparks in her eyes. Is she flirting with me? That connection we have ignites, and I tug at her hips, drawing her over me.

She straddles me, and my hands sweep under her T-shirt, pushing the cotton material upward to expose her to me in the soft glow of the night. She’s wearing this skimpy bikini underwear, saying it’s the most comfortable for now, as it rests just under her growing belly. With a sharp tug at one hip strap, the material snaps, and Scarlett shifts so I can move the strip of fabric to one side.

Her naked center rests over my jean-clad legs, and the heat of her seeps through the denim.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Always for you,” she whispers as I lower my hand between her thighs and test her warmth. She’s wet and willing, and I easily slip a finger into her. She rocks over it like she’ll be riding me soon enough, but first, I want to watch her dance. Sliding her hands up her breasts, cupping them and pressing them together, she’s a vision.

When I add a second finger to the first, she gasps. The angle is different with her straddling over me and those fingers upward in her, but she continues to move, running her hands up her chest and lifting her hair. I’m enjoying the private show as her lids lower, but her hips rock faster.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

Her hands fall to her belly, and her face turns away from me as she licks her lips.

“None of that,” I tell her, lifting a hand for her chin and forcing her to look back at me. “Motherhood is only making you sexier.”

“God, Bull. You say the sweetest things.”

“Don’t want to be sweet with you right now, though,” I admit as I want to strip her of everything. Not just her clothing, but her heart and her soul. I want it all to be mine, along with this beautiful body.

My fingers move faster, and Scarlett matches the rhythm, working her body as she swallows them into her. The sound of her excitement becomes the harmony to her movements.

“Bull . . . ermygawd . . .” Her hands fall to my chest as she bounces up and down before she stills, clenching over my fingers, thick within her. Her head falls forward while she comes fast.

As soon as she’s done, she’s fumbling with my jeans, working the button and yanking down the zipper. I sit up with her attention on my pants and tug my shirt over my head, tossing it off to the side of the bed. Falling back, Scarlett wiggles my jeans down to my knees before leaning over and taking me in her hand, holding me at the base and squeezing my stiff shaft.

“Sweetheart,” I mutter before she leans forward, swirling her tongue around the seeping slit and then circling the crown of my head before opening wide and drawing me into the warmth of her mouth. I hiss.

She glides over my length, taking me to the back of her throat before slipping to the tip again and sucking me off with a pop. Opening once again, she swallows me again, swirling her tongue and hollowing out her cheeks until I can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck, Scarlett. I need to be inside you.” She releases me from her mouth but strokes up the hard length as her body moves higher up mine. Positioning herself at my tip, she waits just a beat, dragging me through her wet folds.

“I’m not certain I can go slow,” I warn her, the anticipation of filling her pushing me to my limits.

“Rush in,” she whispers, releasing me and slamming her body down to mine. The thrust is so quick. The angle is deeper. She’s practically kissing my balls with that sweet pussy of hers, and my eyes roll back in my head. “Grip the headboard,” she commands of me, and I reach over my head, curling my fingers around the wooden slats.

Then I’m fulfilling my namesake, bucking up into her as her hands fall to my chest again. She’s following my lead, letting me fill her with sharp surges. My hips are wild, working off all the anger, all the fear, all the emotion of the past few days. She’s here with me, my heart says. She’s letting me into her body, as she told me. Now, if only she’d let me into her heart.

Not allowing that thought to take over, I thrust into her, and she meets my motion, rocking her body over mine.

“Bull.” Her breath hitches as her clit hits the spot, and I sense the urgency in my name on her lips. She’s ready to go again.