Jeremiah (Stud Ranch 5)

With his other hand he began tugging at my shirt. I got the idea and helped him pull it off over my head.

I wasn’t wearing a bra. I figured when in Vegas…

His dark eyes flashed when he saw my tits spring out. My pussy throbbed at the look on his face and I whined in need.

He grinned then, a wolf’s grin. Dear God, how was I ever going to survive the night?

Because apparently my new husband had plans for me. Plans that began with getting me in the shower. Since that’s where he led me next, one hand buried in my pussy the whole way.

The second he flipped on the light in the bathroom, I gasped. He’d obviously splurged on the room because the shower was huge. It had several rain showerheads, along with a built-in bench. All in a rich marble.

He let go of me briefly to set the water to steaming and I whined with the loss of contact. He already had me in a sort of trance and we’d barely begun. But as soon as he’d gotten the water going, he began stripping down.

My mouth dropped open as I watched him reveal inch after inch of hard muscle. Working the ranch morning to night day after day had sculpted him into a god.

I reached out, longing to run my fingers down his six-pack abs. He was naked all except for his black boxers that were stretched obscenely in the front from his hard cock.

He caught my wrists before I could reach out and make contact, though. “Ah ah ah,” he warned. “Only good girls get rewarded. Are you going to be a good girl tonight, Mrs. Walker?”

I looked up into his eyes and nodded fervently, biting my lip in the way I knew drove him crazy. “I’ll be such a good girl,” I whispered, batting my eyes at him.

He groaned in the low way I knew meant I was driving him to the brink and my sex pulsed again. He yanked me close, shoving down my skirt and panties and all but hauling me into the shower with him.

The hot water was a shocking sensation that, with my body already primed, had me spasming and clutching onto Jeremiah.

But he was so keyed into my every emotion and reaction, he was ready for me, and again grasped my wrists before I could close around him.

He held my right wrist in a firm, commanding grip that had me shuddering in front of him as the steamy water soaked me from behind. He lifted my arm up and placed my palm on the wall, pressing it lightly there in a way I knew meant I was to leave it there. When he released my wrist, I kept my arm raised and palm to the wall.

He did the same with the other wrist, so that I was grasping the top of the frame for the opaque glass shower door, spreading me so that I might as well be tied to an invisible St. Andrews Cross. As if he had the same image in mind, he nudged my feet open wider so that I was completely exposed to him. Completely vulnerable to whatever he might want to do to me.

All the while the water steamed the air around us and dripped down my body, lighting up every nerve ending in ways I’d never realized they could be awakened.

“Close your eyes and feel me,” he whispered.

I obeyed. I’d learned when he wanted to be in control, it was best to give in and go for the ride. I trusted him to never let me drop. I trusted him, something I never thought I’d be able to say of any man. But he had earned it, over and over again.

So I closed my eyes and when his fingertip began tracing the hot, wet skin at my wrist, slowly working his way to my inner elbow, and then down further to my bicep, to my underarm, sloping around to my breasts—

“Oh!” I gasped when he came to my nipple. He didn’t grasp it or suck it… No, he just began to lightly flick it and tease it with his big, calloused fingers. Back and forth and then forth and back again. Just that one point of contract on my body.

I squirmed where I stood as an orgasm built. Jesus Christ. Was he really going to make me come from simply flicking my nipple?

But the more he teased, gently and then harder and harder, and then soft again so I was whining and twisting where I stood, ready to beg, arching my chest out toward him and squirming until finally, finally, he gave in and dipped his head to clamp his lips on me and sucked.

I cried out in relief and the pleasure that stroked through my sternum and down to my pussy at the pressure of his tongue on my nipple. Jesus Christ, when he did it like that, it felt like my nipple was a second clit. Yes, yes, just like that. Right there, oh, oh God—