Page 68 of Broken Cedar

So I moan. Loud and uninhibited while he sinks into me, over and over again.

“Do you know how beautiful you look?” he murmurs between thrusts. His voice is rough. Wrecked. “Like a dream.” He thrusts again. “Like the best fucking dream I’ve ever had.”

I whimper and he grabs my leg, slinging it over his shoulder, and the change in angle is catastrophic—his cock hitting somewhere deep, somewhere that makes my vision whiten at the edges.

“Oh, FUCK!” The curse tears out of me. “Shit, Colt, holy shit.”

He pulls back slightly. “Is that too deep for you?”

I shake my head frantically. My hand claws into his bicep. “Fuck, no, no, just—” My stomach contracts. When he sinks back in, the moan that escapes me is loud enough to startle every horse in the barn, and I don’t care. Let them hear.

“Christ,” Colt moans. The sound is ragged. His control is slipping. I can feel it in the tension of his shoulders, the faltering of his rhythm. My lips twitch into a grin. There’s something uniquely satisfying about watching Colt come undone.

He dips his head and kisses me. I lean up eagerly, propping myself on an elbow to kiss him back. I look down between us. Watch him sink into me, over and over, my body opening for him, taking him, and the sight is so obscenely intimate that my breath catches.

A gasp tears from my throat. “Oh shit. Colt, I’m—”

My head falls back as my back arches. My tits bounce with each thrust, and then I’m coming—my pussy clenching around his cock in pulses that don’t seem to end. Colt drops my leg from his shoulder. His breath is hot against my neck. His hands find mine and our fingers entwine. He groans and I feel him come with a final, shuddering thrust.

I claim his mouth, stroke his tongue with mine. He shudders against me, his weight settling, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. I kiss his jaw. His temple. My fingers flex between his, and I don’t say the words—not yet, not here, not when my body is still singing and my brain is still catching up—but my fingers say it for me. I love you. Only you. I’ve always loved you. I’m never leaving again.

Colt’s breath slows. Evens. His weight is warm on me. The loft is quiet except for our breathing and the distant sound of horses shifting in their stalls below. His lips find the top of my head and he presses a soft, almost reverent kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs.

I close my eyes and let myself be held.

For years I thought home was somewhere I’d left behind. A place. A ranch. A version of myself that only existed in memory. I was wrong. Home isn’t a place that keeps you. It’s the place you choose. And for the first time in eight years, I finally chose mine.

Epilogue

Morning light finds the bedroom before I’m ready for it. I surface slowly, the way you do when sleep has actually done its job for once. Colt’s arm is draped over my waist, heavy and warm, and for one disorienting second my brain does what it’s been doing all week—kicks into that low-grade panic, the one that says something this good has an expiration date. Then the rest of me catches up. I’m still here. He’s still here. I’m home.

When I shift, trying to get a look at the window, his hand tightens on my hip. He doesn’t wake up. He just holds on, his thumb making a small, unconscious arc against my skin. Like even asleep he’s not taking any chances.

Outside, a horse nickers. Another answers, further off. For years I woke to traffic outside my apartment. Car horns. Garbage trucks. The neighbor upstairs who apparently believed seven in the morning was the ideal time to vacuum.

Now my mornings begin with horses and birds and the windmill complaining about absolutely everything. I haven’t decided which soundtrack I prefer. I don’t think I need to.

“Mornin’,” Colt murmurs into my hair.

“Morning,” I murmur, rocking my hips to press my backside into him.

He makes a sound that isn’t quite a word and rolls me toward me. His mouth finds my collarbone, then lower, his lips tracing the swell of my breast. I arch into him, my fingers finding his hair, and then his weight shifts and his mouth is between my legs.

I gasp, my hips lifting involuntarily. Colt’s hands find my thighs, pushing them wider, as he rolls us over, pulling me on top of him. And then I’m hovering over his face, his tongue tracing over my clit in a slow, flat stroke that sends a shudder through me. I reach out and grab hold of the headboard to keep myself steady. My thighs tremble around his head, and when he sucks my clit between his lips I shove a hand against my mouth to muffle the noise.

“F-fuck, Colt.” The desperation in my voice surprises me. I sound wrecked, and he’s barely even started.

He hums against me. The vibration travels straight to my clit and my hips rock forward, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of everything. His tongue circles. Slow. Deliberate. Listening to every moan that escapes around the edges of my palm.

“Oh—” I gasp as he lifts my hips and pushes two fingers inside me. His tongue doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. His fingers curl, finding that spot, and the combination is devastating.

“O-oh fuck.” I let out a shaky breath. My hand falls away from my mouth. Colt sucks my clit, hard, and I cry out, my thighs digging into his head. My hips rolling my soaked pussy against his face, chasing a release that’s so close I can taste it.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs against me. His voice is rough, and the sound of it pushes me over the edge.

I moan. So fucking loud, my hips rolling, my pussy clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through me. Every muscle tenses. Colt doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, just works me through it until I’m shaking, gasping, my trembling thighs trying to lift myself off him because it’s too much, it’s too good, I can’t—“Colt, oh God,” I cry out. “Fuck, please, I need you. I need your cock.”

He lifts my hips off his face and I glance down at him. His mouth is glistening. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded.