The Cowboy's Texas Heart (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 3)

Chapter Twenty

Amoan drew from her throat as if she was a well and Tyler the pump. He’d said girlfriend. Now that the word had been cast out into the universe, she realized how much she liked the sound.

He nuzzled her, his own kisses growing more haphazard as he abandoned his grip on her panties and pushed a second finger within her, hooking them, hitting that spot that he’d discovered made sparks fly.

“Tyler,” she whined. More sparks.

Her knees gave out. He braced her as her fingernails dug into his shoulders, as he hyped her up, as he inched her toes to the edge of that precipice.

“My Heart, so pretty,” he breathed roughly, his lips no longer remaining in any one place as he gripped her nape, not to vie for dominance, but because she sensed he needed to hold himself down to earth.

His Heart. Is that what he’d just said? She might melt, to hear him speak her name so endearingly. She knew she could trust him. The trust had been sown from their very first encounter in the honky tonk when he’d barraged her with hormones and twenty questions, from the moment he’d shielded her from the tornado. But this? Out here in the wide open? It felt like he was staking a claim. Her chest heaved up and down, her head was nodding. She was in the middle of a field, the bright sky above, the birds as an audience, and—

“Oh my God, what if a Google Earth drone is taking pictures?” She seized upon him. She didn’t even care!

He burst out laughing, and there was that dimple! She loved it so much she could kiss it.

“God, I love how weird your mind works. I’m tryin’ to work my magic and you’re thinking about drones.”

She giggled, rolled into his skilled touch, shirtless in the wilds, scar on full display when normally she hid it beneath her shirt or a flipped-up skirt to cover it. “You have no idea, Ty. I didn’t realize you were into voyeurism.”

His dimple held. “Let’s give ’em a show.”

*

Tyler wedged hispowerful thigh between hers to hold her legs apart, relished the way those thighs squeezed his in unspoken reply, plucked free the pencils holding up her hair, letting them fall wherever they fell, wrapped his fingers into the tresses like they were a lifeline, and plowed his tongue between her lips as his fingers plowed between her folds. She whined against his tongue. The sultriest, the hottest, the most beautiful moan drew from her mouth as he sped his fingers and found her sweet spot and bore down on it.

The moan morphed into a cry. Her nails scored his shoulders, his arms, his stomach as she ripped up his shirt and fought open his belt buckle and this time, he didn’t stop her, couldn’t stop her as he bucked into her touch and nearly came apart at the shock of her skin on the sensitive silk of his shaft.

“C’mon, baby.” He swallowed at the gruffness in his throat. She was so close. She undulated upon him, grinding down on him. “Take what you want from me.”

“Tyler…Tyler…” Music to his ears. Her hands desperate, her gorgeous amber eyes shut and lashes splayed onto her cheeks. She had the most beautiful eyelashes. Soft brown, fanning against her skin. Her head fell back against the tailgate again, sun illuminating her face, pinking her cheeks, helpless in his touch.

Trusting in my touch.

“Take what you want, baby,” he encouraged, unable to peel his eyes away from the beauty of the moment, as her body clenched down on him, as her hands tore at him, as that cry pulled from her throat and he finally released her to crash so wonderfully over the edge.

His growl reverberated through his chest as he kissed her, as he swam her to shore in the lapping waters of post-orgasmic ripples, feeling her pulse throb around his fingers, her pleasure coating his skin, and he couldn’t help the grin of primal male satisfaction that tugged up his lips at pleasing his woman. She sagged backward, a languid sigh fell from her lips, and her eyes opened dreamily upon him as he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, held her gaze, sucking the sweet honey from his skin, letting the flavor explode on his tongue.

No, after that taste, he wasn’t even close to done. Watching that display of her unabashed desire had worked him into a tight, painful coil. Selfishly, he needed release. He’d just clinched her as a girlfriend. Such an agreement deserved to have the deal sealed.

He leaned into her ear, nudging against her belly. His lips came to her lobe, blew air across it, relishing her responsive shiver, and breathed, “I ain’t done with you yet.”

Her green-scaled fingertips, gouging delightfully into his skin moments ago, took to idle swirling upon his neck that only tightened that coil within him. His cock throbbed against her belly.

He felt her lips beside his ear curl into a smile and whisper, “I sure hope not, Hercules.”

The carnal swirl of bodies as he spun her around so she braced the tailgate was frantic as he ripped a condom from his wallet and let the leather drop to wherever the pencils had fallen, as he slid a palm over her smooth backside and tiny dimples of muscle at the base of her lumbar, smoothed over the expanse of her tattoo, so colorful with pinks and blues and lavenders and yellows, as he rolled the rubber on and positioned his helm at her center and nudged between her folds from behind.

He leaned over her, dusting a kiss to her cheek, watching her flushed face, grinning when she nodded frantically and shimmied her rear upon him, as if begging him to thrust.

He plowed home, relished her cry, the way she arched backward and reached over her shoulder to grip his neck and hold him close as he gripped that hair he couldn’t get enough of, hard, fast, skin slapping thrusts as he buried his nose to her and inhaled her scent. Desperate. Hoping to God he could give her another round of release before he galloped across the finish line like an untried colt with no stamina.

She was close. He felt her trembling and meeting his thrusts with backward thrusts of her own as his jeans slid down to his knees. He, always avoiding the spotlight, didn’t give one hell that he was ass out right now. She clawed at his nape. His other hand gripped her front, pawing at her breasts and freeing them from the lacy fabric. He palmed her belly, feeling that tingling in his spine that told him he wasn’t going to last with each swift union.

“One more time, sweetheart,” he murmured gruffly.

The moment she sagged, he let go. Hot, hard jets resonating through him as gruffness rumbled from his throat. He slumped over her, wrapping his arms around her waist so snugly, he could remain in this awkward position indefinitely and enjoy every moment. Slowly, the sound of birds, the occasional whizzing of insects, managed to cut through the haze of their heavy breathing and sweating bodies. Slowly, his softening shaft slipped free as she sucked in at the sensation.