One Night Rodeo (Blacktop Cowboys 4)

“That’s good. Again.” Talk about an understatement. He’d never felt anything that good. That right.

Her body slid against his, belly to belly, her ni**les brushing the hair on his chest, her mane teasing his ribs with every sinuous upward glide. His c**k never left her snug channel. Her eyes were closed, her teeth digging into her lower lip.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Keeping his hands on her hips, he urged her to grind down harder, as she created friction against her clit to send her into orbit. “That’s it. Show me. Take me with you.”

Celia looked at him. “So this is okay for you?”

Kyle touched her face. “Better than okay. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She sucked at his mouth in a bruising kiss as she ramped up the pace.

Christ, the sexy way she undulated her hips might be the death of him. His balls were ready to burst. His skin was so damn tight he thought he’d explode if she ran her hands down his forearms one more time.

Breaking the kiss on a gasp, she adjusted her knees and started to ride him faster.

He pumped his pelvis up to meet her downward motion, sending his c**k in deeper. But he sensed her frustration because she was close. He placed her hand over those pale gold curls. “Touch yourself,” he softly commanded.

And she obeyed without question, stroking her clit, which almost made him come right then.

He thrust up faster, greedily watching her for that moment when she went sailing headlong into bliss.

“Yes.” Celia moaned and arched her back, sending the ends of her hair swishing over his thighs and knees as she rode out the orgasm.

Kyle was beyond desperate to come—his ass cheeks hurt from clenching, trying to stave off his orgasm—but he couldn’t tear his hungry gaze away from her. His beautiful, passionate wife.

All at once she seemed to remember where she was. She blinked those pewter eyes at him and a sinful smile curled her lips. “Your turn.” With her hands flat on his chest, her hair curtained him as she rode him, bouncing faster but not harder.

“That’s perfect. Don’t stop.” Every hair on his body stood on end as he started to come. Her cunt clamped down, pulling every pulse of se**n that shot out of his cock. Every throb made his body shudder. His eyes rolled back in his head and his brain short-circuited.

Celia kissed his neck. Nuzzled his jaw, murmuring unintelligible words as she roused him from the aftermath of his climax.

Gathering that mass of hair in his hands, he brought their mouths together.

She rested her forehead on his. “I may rethink the annulment. That was fantastic.”

Kyle laughed. “Yes, sexy wife, it was. I take it your ribs feel okay?”

“Yes.” Celia canted her pelvis. “I can’t wait to do that again. Although maybe we could skip missionary for another day.” She pushed upright. “Let’s take a break and eat something. Now that we actually have food to choose from.”

“Sounds good.” He wrapped one section of her hair around his hand and forearm, stopping her retreat. “But I have one request.”

Celia frowned. “I hope it’s something I know how to make.”

“It has nothin’ to do with food. It involves what you’re wearing when you’re cookin’.”

“I’m guessing…just my skin?”

“Nope. I want you to wear my shirt. See, I had this fantasy that when we woke up the morning after our wedding? That I’d see you walking around in nothin’ but my shirt.” After he admitted that he hoped she wouldn’t laugh at him and the odd sentimentality.

She pecked him on the mouth and disconnected their bodies. “I am so loving this romantic side of you, Kyle Gilchrist. I’ve known you for so long…but it’s like I’m finally seeing the real you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning…I always thought your overabundance of charm was a deadly weapon, but man, it’s nothing compared to this sweet and sexy side of you.” She touched his face almost reverently. “You are something else. Right now I feel very, very lucky.”

He had a chest-thumping moment, hearing her sweet words. Probably made him a Neanderthal, but seeing his seed running down the inside of her thigh gave him another surge of satisfaction.

The front fabric of his flannel shirt hit her at midthigh and the back barely covered her perfect rear, which was perfectly fine with him.

He whistled. “Now that’s the way that shirt is supposed to look. Oh, and leave your hair unbound too.”

Celia lifted her eyebrows. “Fair is fair.”

“I ain’t wearing your bra, Cele.”

She whipped it at him. “You’d probably fill it out better than I do and wouldn’t that be mortifying? Anyway, if I’m minus an article of clothing, you should be too. So, bull rider…” Her admiring gaze flicked over his chest. “No shirt. You just get to wear all them muscles.”

“Wanna make bets on whether we finish the meal before we’re goin’ at it again?”

“Nope. Sucker bet. Because neither of us would mind losing.”

Chapter Seven

Another first: cooking without wearing pants.

And Kyle was in a great mood about Celia’s state of undress. But he should be in a great mood because they’d rocked the new mattress. Boy howdy, had they ever rocked the mattress.

Being with him…Wow. Her husband was amazing in bed.

He’d been so exuberant in his praise that she knew she would do anything to become the lover he saw when he looked at her so hotly, the uninhibited lover she’d always wanted to be.