Still Standing (Wild West MC 1)

Oh God, God, God.

I couldn’t help it. I was too drunk, and he was too everything and all of it was good. I slid the fingers of one of my hands into his thick, overlong hair and the other hand moved around his shoulders to hold on. I tilted my head to the opposite side, pressed my body in and kissed him back.

That was it and what would happen next would make Rogan and all the fabulous things he could do to me be forever erased from memory.

I was all over Buck, and he was all over me.

I couldn’t get enough of him, pulling his T-shirt from his jeans, my hands sliding in, over his hot, sleek, muscled skin, my movements fevered, hungry, my mouth more so.

And Buck felt the same, I knew it because he didn’t hide it. He drank it from my mouth, he pulled it from my skin, he nipped it with his teeth.

Unbelievable.

I couldn’t even keep track of it all. I could only feel, his hands at my bottom, my sides, my breasts. His mouth on my nipple over my blouse. My fingers yanking up his tee. His arms going up, pulling the shirt off then immediately my mouth went to his chest, his nipples, my hand gliding over his hard crotch then his hand fisting in my hair and positioning my head for him to take my mouth again.

He yanked up my skirt so it was around my waist, pushed down my panties. I stepped out of them and kicked them free and Buck’s hands went to my behind again. I hopped up and wrapped my legs around him, but my hand went to his jeans. I undid the zipper, reached in, pulled his thick, rock-hard cock free and guided him to me.

He surged in.

My head flew back.

“Yes,” I breathed.

Buck pounded into me, pounding me into the wall.

It felt super good.

My mouth found his. “Harder, baby.”

He pounded into me harder.

“God,” I whispered against his lips and he slid his tongue inside my mouth.

I took his thrusts, tilting my hips to deepen them, our tongues tangling, his hands at my bottom, my arms around his shoulders, holding on.

Then I couldn’t kiss him because I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“God,” I moaned.

It was going to hit me, and when it did, it was going to be hard.

“Clara, baby, let go,” he growled against my lips.

I let go even though I didn’t know I was hanging on. My head flew back, slamming into the wall, and I cried out.

Ah.

May.

Zing.

Buck kept thrusting through my orgasm, grunting with his thrusts and I kept tilting my hips, offering myself to him, seeking the connection, loving the feel of it.

I curved my fingers around either side of his head.

“Baby,” I whispered against his lips, “you feel beautiful.”

At my words, he drove deep, stayed planted and groaned into my mouth.

Yes.

I moved my lips to his jaw, his neck, his ear, touching my tongue to his earlobe, tasting Buck, tasting man, smelling it, loving it as I felt his fingers tighten on my behind.

On my mouth’s journey back to his, he pulled me from the wall, turned and walked us to the bed.

My lips hit his midway, his mouth opened, and I slid my tongue inside.

He fell back to the bed, me on top of him, and through it all, I never stopped kissing him.

I finally lifted up and looked down at him, my hands still framing his head.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Maybe this once, I’ll live more.”

He looked up at me and smiled that fabulous smile, white teeth, thick, dark beard.

Then he rolled me to my back.

* * *

“Buck!” I cried.

“Let go.”

“Oh God.”

“Baby, fuckin’…let…go,” he growled.

I let go, crying out loudly, my back and neck arching, my heels digging into his thighs. He slid his finger from between my legs so both of his hands could go to my hips, lifting them as he drove deep, deep and fast, his breathing labored, his grunts so powerful, they rumbled against the skin of my neck.

Amazing.

I came down and helped him out, whispering in his ear, and I felt the power of his thrusts intensify, telling me he liked what he heard. Then he lifted his head, his mouth slammed down on mine, and I slid my tongue inside so I could feel his groan against it.

Yes.

Amazing.

He stayed buried inside me as I kissed him then he took over the kiss, both were hungry. His kiss gentled to soft, sweet, then he stopped kissing my mouth in order to kiss my nose. Finally, he rolled off, pulling out, falling to his back, tucking me to his side.

I rested my head on his shoulder, my arm around his tight stomach, and I bent my leg so my thigh fell on his.

I was still drunk, but not so drunk I didn’t feel his soft, sweet kiss or the softer, sweeter one he planted on my nose.