Booted (Trails of Sin 3)

Without restraint or hesitancy, I bury my face and ravage her cunt with tongue and teeth. I kiss her deeply, ferociously, endlessly sucking and tugging at the silky tunnel of her heat.

Her hands pull my hair as she bucks and twists her hips, moaning, panting, and gripping around my tongue.

I have her now. She wants my cock. Fucking hell, she’s so hot and wet she’s trembling for my hard, ruthless thrusts.

Yanking hard on my hair, she bares her teeth. “Just fuck me already.”

If I do, she’ll convince herself it’s only sex. That I’m taking, chasing my own needs, and leaving her when it’s over. Just like all the others.

I crawl up her body and straddle her leg. Putting my face in hers, I drive three fingers deep inside her and fuck her with my hand.

“You’re going to come when I say.” I lick the sultry rim of her gaping mouth. “With your eyes on mine and your emotions spilling all over your pretty face.”

“Lorne, I can’t.” She grips my forearm.

I circle my thumb around her clit, flicking it until her back bows off the ground. Then I kiss her. Delicate bites of warm lips, at odds with the brutal drive of my fingers. I keep the aggression in my hand and the affection on my mouth, and within seconds, the combination crumbles her shields.

She liquefies beneath me. Her legs fall open. Her breaths burst in short, wheezing gasps. Her hips lift, seeking, and her eyes stare up at me, dark with desire and round with fear.

She’s letting me see her, hear her, in the sweetest, most profound surrender. She’s never been stronger or braver with me than in this moment.

As I torment her pussy, I glide my free hand along the side of her face and hold my lips to hers, breathing in her sighing moans and tasting her submission. I’m addicted to her scent, her sounds, the feel of her soft flesh around my fingers. And her eyes.

Edging back, I watch her watch me with a shared awe that drives the rhythm of my fingers inside her. She’s on the brink of climax, and she doesn’t know whether to fight it or give in.

“Come for me.” I rub her clit, the outer edge of her cunt, the walls deep inside, stirring soaked flesh and shoving her off the edge.

Her hands fly to my neck. Her eyes open wide, and she comes with an exquisite scream. “Lorne, oh my fuck, fuck, fuck—”

I kiss her through it, sucking and groaning as I memorize the liquid, pulsing sensations around my fingers. I don’t think I’ve ever felt a woman come like this. If I have, it wasn’t memorable. It wasn’t her.

Slowing the motion of my hand, I bring her down gently, relishing the twitches in her body and the kicks in her breathing.

When her lungs catch up, I lift my soaked fingers to my lips and draw them into my mouth, one by one. She regards me from beneath dark fringes of lashes as I savor her taste, torturing myself with her essence.

Settling on my side, I pull her close and kiss her hair. She doesn’t curl up against me or push me away. She goes still and quiet, her forehead lowered to my chest and hands slack between us.

The hypnotic tempo of her breaths lulls me into the zone between alertness and sleep. With her skin against mine and my demons at bay, contentment finds me. For minutes. Hours. I don’t know how long I drift before she slips from my arms.

I lift my head as she sits out of reach and pulls her knees to her chest. Distancing herself.

“Raina,” I growl.

“I don’t want to fight.” She stares out into the darkness, her face taut, shoulders hiked, and voice achy. “Please, Lorne. Not tonight.”

She’s peeled open, defenses down, raw and enticingly vulnerable. If I wanted to hurt her, now would be the time to do it.

This is exactly where I want her. I only need to reach in, and my fingers would brush her soul.

I’m not a romantic. My boots stick to the ground, and my heart beats with the rhythm of the land. But a long time ago, I knew how to treat a woman.

I grab my phone and pull up a song. As I set it aside and stand, Come A Little Closer by Dierks Bentley strums through the speakers.

Her brows gather as she meets my eyes.

“Dance with me.” I hold out a hand.

“I don’t know how.” Her broken whisper cleaves between my ribs like a knife.

“I’ll show you.”

She unfolds from the ground and steps forward, wearing a look of tortured uncertainty.

I remain where I’m at and let her come to me. When her toes reach mine, I hold up a palm. She touches it, and a jolt of awareness crackles across my skin.