“Stay with me tonight,” he says, kissing along my jaw while the hollow between my thighs gives a needy throb.
I tuck my hands into the back pockets of his uniform pants, his warmth and the taut muscles of his backside turning me on even more. Though we’ve fooled around plenty, covered the topics of birth control and health checks, CJ and I haven’t had sex yet. I’ve been terrified of going too fast. But something changed tonight that has me wanting to throw caution to the wind.
If I really dig down, it’s how I’ve felt with him since the beginning. I just didn’t trustmyself.
And he’s patiently waited for me to realize it. Without being pushy. Without judgement. Without an agenda.
“I’d like that,” I manage as a rush of emotion swells inside my chest.
We kiss again, our tongues languid, sensual, before CJ gently pushes us off the car. “Let’s go home, Linnea Jaymes.”
During the short drive to the bunkhouse, we hold hands but don’t talk, the sleepy streets fading in the rearview, replaced by the narrow country road and the starry sky. My mind is skipping ahead to being with him, to sharing everything of myself.
Each caress from his thumb over my knuckles sends sparks dancing beneath my skin. So much so that I squirm in my seat, the ache and anticipation turning bright and hot inside me.
At the bunkhouse, he meets me on my side of the car, a dark glint in his eyes. He takes my hand and leads me inside. The living room has the TV on, and there are two guys in the kitchen, bantering in loud, boisterous voices. I’ve met his rowdy cowboy bunkmates before and though they’re decent company, I’m not interested in sharing CJ with anyone. I take the lead, pulling him to the stairs.
“Not hungry, huh?” he asks, our breaths echoing in the narrow space.
At the top, I curl my arm around his waist and sigh. “I might have a bit of a one track mind.”
He kisses my temple. “Welcome to the club.”
Inside his simple room, he shuts the door and unzips his coat, then unzips mine, and tosses them both to the chair facing his desk. I grip the front of his shirt and pull him to me. Our lips collide as I hit the back of the door.
Our kiss quickly turns heated, and sensual. His fingertips skim my waist, tugging my shirt free. The touch of his fingertips on my skin makes my smoldering craving explode. I unbutton his shirt and slide it off, only breaking from his kisses to kick off my shoes, then slip off my pants. He caresses up my sides and strokes my breasts over the fabric of my bra while I kiss him back and shuffle him toward the bed. I get his buckle undone, the metal clattering in thequiet room. He dips both hands into the back of my underwear, caressing my ass. We kiss and undress our way to the bed, and when he tumbles back, taking me with him, I kiss my way down his bare chest, licking and savoring the firm planes of muscle and the heat of his skin, the desire hitching his breaths. He combs his thick fingers through my hair.
“Linnea,” he groans, his tone low and sultry. Needy.
I kiss to the waistband of his briefs and slip the waistband down, freeing his gorgeous cock. When I suck the salty bead of his arousal into my mouth, he hisses in pleasure.
“Fuck, baby. Your mouth. God.” He rolls up on his elbows to watch me as I take him deeper. He’s so firm and thick. That I could do this to him, and make him feel so good, so wanted, is as powerful as the heady, almost carnal yearning in his eyes. Yearning he has for me.
“Look how fucking perfect you look swallowing my cock. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
I stroke him, my fingers slick from my mouth. “I’ll bet not as eager as you,” I taunt.
A wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “You got that right, but it’s always that way with you. I can’t ever get enough.”
I lower down again, swirling with my tongue, but he urges me off, grabbing me by the waist and rolling us sideways. We kiss, our tongues lashing and teasing, our quick breaths filling the silence. When I slide my thigh over his to bring us closer, feeling his hard length against my belly makes me whimper. He rolls me to my back and flicks the clasp of my bra, the cool rush of air only making the contrast of his warm lips that much more intense.
He tugs the fabric off my shoulders, then kisses and strokes me until I’m arching to him and squirming against his knee.
“CJ, please,” I beg. “I want—” I have to break away because he rolls me to the side and spoons against my back, his warm breath at my neck while his fingertips brush up and down mybody.
“What does my girl want?” he teases, sucking on that magical place behind my ear that makes my toes curl.
“No more slow.” I arch my body to grind against his erection while his endearment bounces through my mind.
“You want me inside you, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” The whispered word is edged with desperation that he must hear because he eases my underwear down. I’m so wet the cotton sticks to me.
“You’re fucking dripping.”
I clamp my legs together in embarrassment, but he hums into my ear, then teases my earlobe with the edge of his teeth. “Maybe I need to show my appreciation.” He glides his fingers against me, thick and rough where I’m desperate, every nerve ending lighting up from his touch.
All I can manage is a quivering sigh.