Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)

But now she felt so empty inside. Tight and empty and needy. She wanted to be fucked, but she didn’t want to give up his fingers. Her hips rocked, urging him on. Begging him in ways her voice never would. She pressed his hand down, tilting her hips up, and he obliged so nicely, his fingers sliding deep inside her again.

“God, yeah,” he groaned into her ear, the hand that held her hair tightened to a delicious pain. “Show me. Show me what you like. I want you to come for me.”

Grace wrapped both her hands around his wrist and showed him. She urged him into the rhythm she wanted, fucking herself with his fingers. The heel of his hand ground against her clit and she was panting.

“Oh, God. Like that, Grace? You like that? Deep and slow?”

Yes. Yes, she liked it just like that. Oh, God, yes. Yes. And then she was saying the words, her mouth beyond her control as he held her against the door and worked her just the way she wanted.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. Please.”

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“Yes. Like that. Fuck me. Make me come. Please. Deep and… Yes. Please.” Then the terrible words finally stopped because she was screaming, bucking against his hand, straining against the fist in her hair, because the pain made it that much sweeter as she came for him.

“Yes,” she cried out. Not for him. She came for herself.

Her hips shook and trembled through the last waves of her orgasm. Her whole body was one weak mass of shivers and sighs. “Oh, God,” she breathed. “Oh, God.”

Cole was breathing almost as hard as she was. He’d worked hard after all, at breaking her down, at making her give in. She knew that once she’d sobered up, she’d be pissed as hell. But right now, she just wanted more.

She eased her nails from his wrist, wondering if she’d made him bleed. Even as she smiled at the idea, she reached for the buttons of his jeans. His grip on her hair loosened, so she watched as she pulled open each button, then slipped her hand under the warm fabric of his briefs.

“Ah,” he rasped as her hand closed over his cock.

Ah, indeed. Her heart had started to slow to a normal rhythm, but it kicked into overdrive again at the feel of him. Hard and thick in her grasp. Really hard. And really thick. She stroked him, slowly. All the way down to the base, then up over the head, her thumb spreading pre-come over the tight skin.

“Grace,” he moaned, and she felt powerful again. Back to herself. But that only lasted a moment. A moment to stroke him again. A moment while his eyes closed and his head fell back as air rushed from his throat.

But then he opened his eyes and looked at her, and the intensity made her gasp. There was nothing of the friendly cowboy in those blue eyes. He looked wild.

He turned her, walking her toward the couch. But whatever she’d thought he was going to do, she was wrong. Instead of laying her down or even sitting down himself, he turned her away from him and bent her over.

Her eyes widened as he tugged her jeans down. Was he really just going to… “Oh,” she gasped as his fingers slid along her clit again. She was too sensitive and started to flinch away, but then he lightened his touch and she moaned.

“I could make you come all day,” he said. “The sounds you make. God.”

Grace braced her hands against the back of the couch and let him touch her. His fingers were surprisingly gentle now, but no amount of gentleness could hide the rasp of calluses on his skin. She could feel his tempered strength. Years of hard work with leather and metal.

She’d just come, and already he was pushing her toward tightness again. Emptiness.

His fingers moved away and she shook her head.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

“No. You do it.”

He laughed at her sharp words. “I’m busy with something else, darlin’.”

She turned to glare over her shoulder and saw him pulling a wallet from his pocket. He drew a condom out of it and raised an eyebrow.

“Now touch yourself,” he ordered.

A glance down convinced her. His cock looked even bigger now, and she wanted it inside her. So she bit her lip and touched herself, moaning at the touch of her own fingers.

His hand settled on her tattooed hip, holding her steady as he pressed the head of his cock to her. She gasped hard as he sank slowly into her, stretching her with his width.

“Oh, God. Cole…”