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One to Take (One to Hold 8)

Page 8

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My boot hits the floor, and she sits up in the bed. “It’s about time you got home.”

The blanket drops and she’s topless, her long brown hair falling in a wavy cape over her shoulders, ending in soft curls at her dark nipples.

“Mariska.” The simmering need I’ve had since waking up alone this morning surges to life.

Her lips curl into a grin, and she leans forward, crawling to the side of the large bed. “I’ve been waiting for you!” It’s a gentle scold as she hops out of bed, quickly closing the space between us.

Only a small scrap of lace covers her bare pussy. I reach for her, sliding my palms from her narrow waist up to her luscious tits. They’re full in my hands, and my thumbs graze her hardened nipples. “If I’d known, I’d have been back an hour ago.”

Taking a step back, she drops to her knees. “Are you still angry?” Those sunset hazel eyes are round as she looks up at me from the level of my waist.

“Angry?” I don’t move as her small hands quickly unfasten my belt.

“Because I left you all alone this morning?” She’s teasing, but I’ll be damned if I’ll derail this train of thought.

“I hate a cold mattress where you should be.”

Cool hands slide over my hips, lowering my boxer briefs. “I guess I have to make it up to you.”

My cock is out, hard as steel and straining for her mouth. She takes the base and gently guides the mushroom tip to her lips before teasing it with her tongue.

“Shit, Mariska,” I hiss. One hand grips the dresser beside me. The other gently touches her cheek as she opens and takes me all the way to her throat. “Fuck!” I can’t help fisting her hair as she pulls back and begins to bob and suck.

Her mouth is so hot my knees almost buckle, and I’m fumbling for what the hell was even on my mind when I walked through the door. Who gives a shit? She leans back, teasing me with her tongue again before taking me all the way in, squeezing the base as she looks up with round eyes.

“Get on the bed. Now.” That’s an order. I’ll be damned if I finish in her mouth.

My dick is out with a pop, and she quickly climbs onto the mattress. She’s on all fours with her ass in the air looking back over her shoulder. I cross the room and shove my jeans off, ready to finish what she’s started.

Standing at the bedside, I grip her heart-shaped ass a moment, watching my handprints as they fade into her ivory skin. “You’re beautiful.”

She sighs a laugh, and I trace my finger under the thin string of lace running between her cheeks. It takes half a second to rip it out of my way. A little squeal, and for a moment, I slide my fingers between her thighs, down and back up along that dripping crease.

“Oh, god, Stuart, yes!” Her arms shudder, and I slide a finger inside her, then two.

“You’re so fucking wet.” My brow lines, and she peeks at me again over her shoulder.

“I started without you. I couldn’t wait.”

“Then fuck it.” I drive my cock straight into those swollen lips. We both let out groan, mine laced with swears.

“Yes…” she gasps, rocking her ass against my pelvis. “I was touching myself…” she murmurs. “Massaging, thinking about you…” another gasp, “Taking me hard and rough.”

I reach around, but her hand is already covering her pussy circling fast. “Fuck me.” This dirty-talking sex-kitten act is new, and it’s got me right at the edge ready to blow.

Grasping her hips, I thrust hard and fast, feeling it the moment she breaks into orgasm. She lets out a high-pitched moan, and her entire body shudders, her insides spasm, gripping my dick in a hot, wet embrace.

With a loud groan, I follow her, giving into the spirals of pleasure snaking up my thighs. My ass tightens, and I hold on as the room tilts, as I let go, coming deep inside this woman I love.

3

Learning

Mariska

My insides shimmer and pulse with afterglow, and I smile as Stuart moves us both onto the mattress, up to the pillows, collapsing in a satisfied embrace. That went exactly the way I planned it. I’m horny as hell these days, and when I saw him standing there, brooding in the doorway, I couldn’t resist. I know how to get my grumpy cowboy out of his head.

His large hands move from my hips to my waist, tracing the S-shaped constellation of little stars tattooed on my side. “I love these,” he says, outlining one, two…



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