The Wanted Virgin (Cowboys & Virgins 3)

Her legs shake as she comes down, and I gently lift her hips and roll us to the side without slipping out.

She hums and wiggles her back to my front as I wrap my arms around her and throw one of my legs over both of hers.

“Should you take the belt off?” she mumbles sleepily.

I smile and kiss the top of her head. “No, baby doll. I’m going to take you all night and not pull out once. Sometimes you’ll be too weak to kneel, so that will help me make love to you if you’re too tired. But you’ll still let me take you, won’t you? You’ll let me give you a baby.”

I run my nose along the shell of her ear, and she clenches around me.

“Yes, Trace,” she breathes and runs her fingers through my hair.

“You can sleep if you want to, but I’ll take you all night, no matter what. I can’t seem to resist you, and I don’t want to try.”

I kiss her neck, thinking about how her cunt is dripping with me. And before I give her a chance to answer, I’m rolling her back over and gripping the belt again. She’s going to get a long ride from me tonight, and as her legs spread wider so I can take her deeper, I smile. My baby doll wants it, too.

8

Addison

Trace pushes my hair out of my face and looks at me. We’ve been in bed all day. We even ate breakfast here. I didn’t feel much like moving. My body aches deliciously, and I’m savoring the feeling of being well loved.

I’ve never been so cherished in my entire life. I’ve never felt like I meant so much to someone. That’s how Trace makes me feel. Nothing else seems to matter to him but me. He’s gotten lost in this little world we’ve made together. I don’t care how fast this is, I’m holding on to the only sweetness I’ve ever known and never letting go.

“I don’t wanna push you to do anything you don’t want to, baby doll, but after what we’ve shared in the last twenty-four hours, I hoped you’d be ready to open up to me a little more,” he says softly, his hand sliding down my side to rest on my hip. I’m facing him, having just woken up once again.

We kept falling asleep after bouts of sex. One time I’d even woken with him inside me. I was already coming before I knew what was happening. Then he made me cum again to make up for missing part of the orgasm. Trace seemed just as deprived of attention as I was, but I think his was a case of never wanting it and now that he does, he can’t seem to get enough.

“It's not terrible, really,” I half lie. It wasn’t like I was beaten every day or something. More neglected than anything. But being here with Trace makes me feel like it was worse than I knew. If this is how the rest of the world lives, I had it pretty bad.

Trace’s hand tightens on my hip. “You’re the sweetest, most lovable person I’ve ever met in my life, Addison. In fact, I think you’d put up with a lot of shit because you couldn’t help yourself. If I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that your softness and sweetness go all the way through you.”

My eyes water at his sweet words. No one has ever said such nice things about me before. Part of me knows he’s right. No matter how my father behaved towards me, I never lashed out, and it wasn’t because I feared him. It was because I knew what it felt like to be treated that way, and I didn’t have it in me to do it to another person. Even if that person deserved it. It breaks my heart thinking about hurting someone else.

“That’s why you ended up here, baby doll. And I’ll make sure you never have to deal with any shit. Ever. I’ll take such good care of you, you’ll never have to worry about a thing.” His hand on my hip starts stroking me back and forth.

“I lived with my father my whole life. I don’t ever remember having a mom,” I tell him. My father never talked about her either. Not a word, and I’d gone digging a few times to try to find something, but never could. Maybe she ran from him, too.

“I mainly stayed in the house and looked after things there. My father normally ignored me. He wasn’t there most of the time, and I tried to pretend I wasn’t either, because when he got worked up or had a bad day in the fields, I tended to get the brunt of that anger,” I admit.

“He touch you?” Trace’s words are hard, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Sometimes. A shove or a slap here and there.” He closes his eyes at my words, which are clearly causing him pain. When they open, he moves his hand from my hip to the little cut I still have on my forehead.

“I’ll never understand how anyone could hurt someone as precious as you,” he says as he rubs his finger across the mark. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Nothing hurts when I’m with him.

“I just turned eighteen and I was planning on leaving. Where I was planning to go, I have no idea. Heck, I don’t know anything about anything. All my schooling has been online. I don’t even know where I am, or how long I drove when I took off,” I confess.

“What made you finally run? Something pushed you to take off like that.”

“He was giving me over to someone else. To marry. I knew then I’d never be free if I didn’t run. I’d just go from being under my father’s control to someone else’s. I’d never ever met this man and my father said he was coming to pick me up. Like I was one of the cows or something.”

Trace cups my cheek. “You wanna be here, baby doll?” I can see the concern on his face, and I know what he’s thinking.

“I choose to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” I see a little bit of the tension leave his body. “All I ever wanted was a real family. To fall in love and have my own little fairy tale, like some of the books I've read. I think you’re right. I ended up here for a reason. I was supposed to find you.” I lean over and kiss him.

His hand tangles in my hair as he deepens the kiss until I’m breathless.

“What town are you from?” he asks.

“Clear Creek. Is that close?” I question, still wondering how far I made it.

“Real close. So close I’m shocked I’ve never seen or heard of you.”

“Told you. I didn’t really leave the house much. Less so in the last few years.” As I got older, my father started getting more controlling.

“I need a name, baby doll.”

“Winston.”

Trace is out of the bed before I even know what’s happening, pulling his clothes on. I sit up in bed, watching him move about the room.

“What are you doing?” I can hear the worry in my own voice.

“You’ll not spend one more fucking day worrying about anything,” he says, tugging a shirt over his head and then finding his jeans.

“What are you going to do?” I move to the side of the bed, looking for something to wear, but the dress I

made looks unwearable at this point.

“I’m going to pay your father a visit.”

“What!” I jump from the bed and run towards him, wrapping my arms around his body.

“Calm down. It’s better this way. I’ll go over and set things straight. He’ll never think about looking for you when I’m done having words—and other things—with him.”

My heart starts to race. Panic is setting in.

“Baby doll, calm down. I promise you, it will be fine. I do this and it’s done and over. You don’t ever have to think about him or worry that someone is coming to take you from here. I promise, he’ll know what will happen if he comes on our land looking for you.”

“Our land?”

“Yeah, our land. You want your fairy tale, you’re about to get it. Trust me.”

“I trust you,” I say instantly.

“Of course you do because you’re all sweetness and love.” He leans down, placing another kiss on my lips. “I won’t be gone long. I’ll be back before the sun is down,” he tells me as he walks over to the dresser, pulls out a shirt, and slides it over my head before I follow him downstairs and to the front door. Boxes, the stuff he ordered, were delivered and now litter the living room floor.

“Lock the door behind me and go through some of your stuff. See what you do and don’t like.”

“I love you,” I say, because that’s all I can think about.

“I love you, too.” He leans down, placing another kiss to my lips. This one is hard and intense, almost like he’s branding me before he leaves. I flip the lock behind him and go to the window and watch him drive away.

I sit down on the sofa, not sure what to do, so I do what he told me to. I start going through all the boxes, pulling out piles and piles of clothes. It’s like he thought of everything—from dresses, to shirts and shorts, to jeans and so many shoes I don’t even know how I could wear them all.