At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(60)

“Okay, tell me why you hate that I’m friends with Jonas.”

“Because…” Though it’s only the two of us here, she inches closer to whisper, “Because if you weren’t his only friend in the world, I’d fuck you right now.”

My heart wallops against my sternum, then cramps at the defeated undertones in her voice. She presses a kiss to my cheek, then her lips hover over my skin. They skim my coarse stubble for a few seconds before kissing me again, closer to my lips.

Her breath comes in soft pants, and her body rocks closer, so her lips brush mine and a zip of electricity heats my veins. I kiss her back on the breathlessness of a laugh. It’s playful. Trying to catch her lips before she pitches back slightly, playing tag in the dark. My senses are heightened—the spice of her perfume floods my nostrils, my lips prickle in anticipation of the next kiss, and I can feel my heartbeat chasing hers.

My fingers thread through her thick hair, and I fully capture Whit’s kiss. She smiles, thrilled to have finally been caught. The taste of everything she’s been drinking tingles my tongue, and with a firm grasp on her ass, I haul her onto my lap. She shifts to straddle my thigh, keeping our lips locked.

We’re kissing. I’m kissing Whit. Her lips are mine and no one else’s.

It’s surreal, and I devour her as I smooth my hands up her legs. She lifts her hips, manipulating my touch so my fingertips are dangerously high. Heat radiates from the apex of her thighs, and my cock’s growing uncomfortably hard against the zipper of my jeans. Multiple boners in one night, and not a single moment of relief—I’ll be fucking my hand until my dick’s raw when I get home later.

Her thighs spread wider, cradled around one of mine. Both the hem of her dress and my heart flutter when her pussy presses to my thigh. Pulling back from the kiss with a hitch in her breath, Whit stares at me, eyes dancing with nervous excitement.

A slow grind. Her hand wraps around the back of my neck.

“God, Colt. I fucking hate that I can’t fuck you right now.”

Fucking hell, I hate it, too.

Though for different reasons. Because, respectfully, fuck Jonas’s opinion about whether I should date his mom. The only reason I’m not unbuckling my belt and guiding her straight onto my hard cock is because she’s been drinking.

“Fuck me, Colt,” she says in a voice wracked with desperation. “I want you to. I-I’ve thought about it so much…the feel of this”—she cups my cock through my jeans—“filling me. I want it.”

Holy—

“Shit,” I murmur against her mouth. “Shit, honey. I want…fuck. You’re making this so hard.”

She smirks at the innuendo, gripping my stiffening dick. “Yeah, I am.”

“You have no idea how bad I want to feel your pussy squeezing my cock. Not tonight, though. Less chance you’ll regret it if we wait until you’re sober.”

“I’ve been chugging water for the last hour. I’m hardly even tipsy.” She teeters on my thigh, rubbing herself on me in slow, methodical movements.

“God, I don’t know, Whit.”

“I’ve been horny all night,” she whimpers. The whimper turns into a husky moan when she moves her pelvis a certain way. “Please. I want this.”

“Are you sure? I don’t…”

Her whole body is tense, stalling over my leg and waiting for my go-ahead. “Colt, I wanted this in the alley. I’d had, like, one drink then. I want this. I promise it’s fine.”

Shit. I play with her hair, buying myself time and figuring out what the appropriate way to handle this is. If she’s insisting she’s not too drunk, and I’m not touching her, then it’s fine, isn’t it?

“Is riding my thigh helping?”

“Yeah. It’s like when I…yeah.” Sinking back down, she exhales a soft sigh of relief and ecstasy as she goes back to using me to get herself off. And I give in.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Then ride me, Mama.”

I don’t know where to put my hands, so I place them on her thighs. My fingers press into her flesh to stop myself from crossing a line. Though remembering my morals becomes nearly impossible when she drags her pussy against my thigh, and she’s so wet it dampens my jeans. Her forehead presses firmly to mine, whimpers tumbling from her lips with every hard grind of her pussy against me.

Arching her back, Whit rides my thigh like she’s riding my cock, filling the small space with moans of pleasure. She’s getting off on me, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Steadying herself with a fistful of my shirt, the gorgeous goddess in my lap takes exactly what she wants. Treats me like her personal toy. Zero inhibition.

I’m completely in awe of her.

“Fuck, this is so hot.” Drenched denim sticks to my thigh, and I glide my hands to her hips to keep her upright. “Use me, honey.”

Her bottom lip skates between her teeth. “You like being my fucktoy?”

“So fucking much. Come on my thigh. Please, Whit.”

The light blue panties she has on will forever be etched into my memory, because with her dress bunched in my firm grip, I can see that thin fabric pulled taut between her bare pussy lips. My chest heaves at the sight.

God, I want to touch her. I want to lay her across this bench seat and lick my way around her pussy. Slide those panties down her thighs and press a gentle kiss to her clit. I want her coming in my mouth and on my cock, but for tonight I’ll settle for dry humping and her coming on my lap.