Trust Fund Fiancé (Texas Cattleman's Club: Rags to Riches 4)

And that was a problem since he was letting her go in a year.

Smothering the thought that tried to intrude on t

he desire riding him, he refocused all of his attention on the flesh swelling above the midnight blue lace of her bra. And the hard tip beneath it. Bringing his free hand into play, he tugged down the cup, baring her breast to him. Then, pinching and teasing the silk-and-lace-covered nipple, he drew its twin into his mouth.

He couldn’t contain his rumble of pleasure as he stroked, lapped and sucked on her. Part of him believed he was obsessed with her—the last four days pointed toward this. His preoccupation now further emphasized it. How he took his time circling the beaded nub, relearning her although he’d just had her before they left their suite that morning to board the plane home.

The other part of him wanted to get down on his knees and beg her to push him away, ban him from her bed so he could wean himself off an addiction that could only destroy them both in the end.

“Zeke,” Reagan gasped, twisting and arching up to him, thrusting her flesh into his mouth. Demanding her pleasure. “I need you,” she said on the tail end of a whimper.

Fuck if he didn’t love that sound from her. Every needy, insatiable sound that telegraphed her hunger for him.

As he’d said before, he couldn’t deny her anything.

Shifting his head, he freed the other breast and reintroduced it to his mouth. Over and over he tongued the tip, swirling and teasing, pulling and worshipping.

Because she deserved to be worshipped.

And not just because of this body that could make a grown man find religion. But because she had a strength of spirit and character as well as a spine of steel underneath the genteel socialite demeanor. Because she’d taken her own tragedy and now planned to offer a safe haven to girls who faced the same difficulties.

Because she was just good.

Inexplicably, desperation surged through him, and he reached around her to unhook her bra and then rid her of both it and the top still trapping her wrists. He didn’t question the need to feel her arms wrapped around him; he just surrendered to it.

He didn’t even know how to begin to articulate the request—but simply grasped her hands and drew them forward, clasping them behind his neck. Then he buried his face in the crook between her throat and shoulder, inhaling her scent, opening his mouth over that sensitive spot, savoring the crush of her chest to his.

Yes, he’d been with more women than he could place names and faces to, but none had held him. He hadn’t allowed it. And now, with Reagan, he craved it as much as he needed to be buried balls-deep inside her. And that need had him backing away from her mentally and physically, his ingrained self-protective instinct kicking him in the chest.

“Zeke?” she murmured, but he stopped the question with his mouth, and anything she would’ve asked translated into a groan.

As their mouths engaged in a hot, dirty battle, she gripped the front of his shirt and tackled his buttons. Within seconds, she tossed his shirt onto the hood behind him and raked her nails down his bare chest. Over his nipples. Down his abs. To the waistband of his pants.

The air in his lungs sawed in and out as she tugged at his leather belt, loosening it, then opened the closure tab. He didn’t stop her—could barely drag in a damn full breath, much less move—when she lowered his zipper and dipped her hand inside his black boxer briefs.

He hissed as her fingers closed around his length, bowing his head so his cheek pressed to hers and he fisted the skirt of her dress. Pleasure spiked up his spine, locking his body. Gritting his teeth, he dipped his head lower, staring at the erotic sight of her slender, elegant fingers curled around his dick. The tips nearly-but-not-quite met around his width, and the brutish, swollen head peeked above her hand. As both of them watched, his seed pearled, and he damn near choked as she spread the drop over his flesh.

Ezekiel almost came on the spot when she lifted her thumb and slid it between her lips.

“What are you trying to do to me, Reagan?” he grunted, taking her mouth and licking deep. “You want this to end before I even get inside you?” He nipped her full bottom lip in punishment. “You want to see me lose it?”

The question sounded close to an accusation, and a small, utterly wicked smile teased her lips. “Yes. I want you to come undone for me.”

And then she took him in her hand again, stroking him from tip to base. Squeezing. Up and down, her fist rode him, dragging him to the edge. Undoing him just as she’d claimed.

His stomach caved with each tight caress, each twist of her fist. Bolt after hot bolt of lust attacked him, sizzling through his veins and gathered in his sac. So close. So fucking close.

But he didn’t want to spill on her hand. When that happened, there was only one place he wanted to be.

Deep inside her.

Grabbing his wallet from his back pocket, he removed a condom and, in record time, sheathed himself, gritting his teeth against the pressure rapidly building inside him. With hands that should’ve been rough and hurried but were instead reverent and gentle, he swept higher and higher up her thighs until he reached her lace-covered sex.

For a moment, the lust almost overwhelmed him, drove him to grab, tug and claim. Possess. But his affection for her tempered the urge, and he eased her underwear from her with exquisite care. His concern for her had him slip his discarded shirt under her back to protect her skin from the warm metal of the car. His longing for her had him palming her thighs, holding her wide for his ravenous gaze and hard flesh as he pushed inside her. Watching her open for him, welcome him.

He glanced up her torso, over her trembling breasts to her face. And had to grab ahold of his frayed control with a desperate grip when he found her gaze trained on them joined between her legs, too.

“You see how you’re taking me, sweetheart?” he whispered. Her eyes flicked to his and the heat there set a match to the already blazing conflagration in his body. “Perfect. You were made to do it. And I was created to fill you.”