Fight For Her (More Than A Cowboy 1)

“Grey!” I cried, my hands on his shoulders, my fingernails digging in as he worked me.

Kissing his way across the valley between my breasts and to the other one, he murmured, “Can you come just like this?”

“Oh my God,” I cried, just from the idea of him trying. “I’ve never…I mean, oh!”

He brushed his chin back and forth over the top swell of my breast as he glanced up at me. “Never came this way before?”

I shook my head wildly, my hair brushing over my shoulders and down my back.

“Something we’ll have to work on.” He wasn’t just saying that in passing. He was filing that away for later, for another time—another time. He was competitive and he had to succeed and the idea of him working me until he triumphed had my muscles relaxing. Just his hand about my waist held me up.

He flipped me again so I was on my back with one of his legs nudging mine apart. He returned his attentions to my breasts, laving and sucking on one as his hand worked the other, kneading and playing with it. While he was so focused, so intent on his every move, I was lost, my brain turning to mush as my body became slick with sweat, my muscles tense one moment and slack the next.

“Gray, I—”

“Shh,” he soothed, his tongue licking over the nipple he’d just lightly bit. “I’m not done with you, not even close.”

Slowly, he worked his way down my body and his fingers came to rest at the rolled waistband of the boxers. As his fingers curled and pulled the fabric down, I once again surfaced from the fog of desire. God, he was going to see all of me and I self-consciously turned a hip, but his forearms wouldn’t allow me to shift away. Perhaps sensing my hesitation, he tugged the boxers down my thighs and then off all the way, then paused.

I could feel his breath warm on my skin and I tilted my chin to glance down my naked body at him. His shoulders had spread my legs wide, his head only inches from my center. His head was angled down and he stared at me…there.

“Baby.” The sound was a mixture of joy and undiluted lust. He looked up at me darkly as he slowly, very gently stroked one finger over me. I startled. “Your pussy’s bare.”

I flopped back, my head angling back as his finger slipped up and down the line of my sex. “Yeah,” I muttered breathlessly.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t know before now. I would have taken you on your kitchen counter. Hell, I would have taken you on the rugby field.”

It seemed ridiculous to have a conversation about that part of me, but I thought he’d be shocked by finding me completely waxed, but not in this way. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I looked down at him. It was quite a sight with his head between my thighs. “You like it…I mean, I did it because…”

“Why, Em?” His finger parted my folds and began sliding over the slick flesh. I was really wet.

“I…I found a gray hair,” I admitted, feeling grouchy, slapping a hand over my eyes. My cheeks heated and not from desire. “It was my mid-life crisis moment.”

He laughed and I spread my fingers enough to see that he was grinning wickedly. “Are there any more?” he asked, playfully.

“No,” I said sourly. Finding a gray hair there was a solid symbol that I was no longer young and so I’d fought and rebelled by havi

ng it all waxed off and kept that way.

He kissed the inside of my thigh and I softened once again. “I think I’m going to have to find out for myself.” When he set about to do just that, my mouth fell open in stunned surprise.

“What are you, I mean, you’re going to, oh my God!”

My head flopped back on the bed and I bent my knees and dug my heels into the mattress as Gray put his mouth on me as he slipped a finger inside. I easily relented to his actions. Not that I could do anything but feel when he had his free hand on my lower belly, holding me firmly in place.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured sometime later when he’d gotten me to the point of panting and thrashing and begging. His voice was deeper, darker than I ever remembered hearing it. “I’ll catch you.”

I knew he would, for he already had. It was easy to give in to the pleasure he was drawing from my body. With one expert flick of his tongue, I came on a scream. I’d only come while having sex with Jack when I touched myself; he’d never been able to do it. I couldn’t say now it was entirely his fault because I’d never truly let go like I did in this moment with Gray. I’d always felt less than beautiful, that I was lacking in some way, that he hadn’t ever really wanted me, yet he felt obligated and stuck with me.

With Gray I didn’t feel like he was with me out of obligation. He wanted me on a level I never knew existed, for I felt the same. When he looked at me, touched me, pleasured me, it was because he wanted it as much as I did. And so I gripped the sheets and held on as his relentless assault had me battered and bashed by the never-ending wave of pleasure.

God, the man was good. As the feelings ebbed, he slipped his finger free, kissed the inside of my thigh, then came up over me. Through his boxers, I felt him nudge at my entrance as he looked at me, his gaze raking over my face, perhaps to ensure that I was all right. Why he was concerned when he’d just given me the best orgasm of my life was a mystery.

“Don’t move.”

As if I could even lift my head.

He pushed himself off me and grabbed his pants off the floor, pulled a condom from the pocket. Pushing his boxers over his hips, I got my first glimpse of him. Naked.