Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(51)

Those dark eyes widen, and she takes in a sharp breath. Too sharp.

I’ve said more than I should have. Before she can respond, I grab the back of her neck and crush my lips to hers. She tastes like cream and sugar. I drink her in. Eat her up.

A better man would stop this.

But who the fuck am I kidding?

I haven’t been a better man since I left the Marines. Since I set foot on the ranch and Dakota charmed her way into my life.

She wrenches at my shirt, her hips bucking against me. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Her urgency, her whimpered breaths, her eager hands, slay me. Six years of missing her, of rock-hard want, explodes in my chest. Unable to stop myself, I back her against the counter and yank the strap of her soaked thong, tearing it off roughly.

A delighted gasp escapes her lips.

Fuck if it’s wrong. Fuck the promises I made to Stede. I feel like a racehorse who’s been holding himself back, and now that I have permission, I’m out of the gate and running. Tonight, I need Dakota. And this woman—she needs me. I’ll give her every broken piece of me if it means protecting her.

I get on my knees and look up at her. “Stop me if I hurt you.” I tell her sternly. “I can’t hurt you, Dakota.” My voice is hoarse, shaky even to my own ears.

“You won’t,” she whispers breathlessly, searching my eyes. “Never.”

It’s not only her trust in me but also her vulnerability that gives me hope, the tentative promise that we can go back to what we had before. Even if it’s just for one night.

Her eyes glow as she stares down at me. A feral, beautiful look has taken over her face. Shower steam rolls through the bathroom, her entire body dewy and slick.

“Open your legs, Cupcake. Let me taste you.”

“Yes.” Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “Oh, goddamn, Davis.”

A low groan slips out of me when I split her pussy with my tongue. Sweet. Swollen. I bury my tongue in her pussy and inhale. Her head falls back on a moan.

“Oh god,” she pants. Her fingers grip the sink counter, knuckles white. “Oh. Hotshot,” she breathes.

I slow my pace, pulling back to say, “Ride my mouth, baby. Ride it like a good girl.”

A half-pant, half-plea erupts from her chest. “Yes, yes.”

Dakota rolls her hips, and I lave my tongue across the bud of her clit. She bucks, and I smile at the sound of her cry echoing in the bathroom. Her legs tremble on either side of me.

She clutches at my shoulders. Her nails dig in and make crescent-shaped marks. “Oh fuck,” she breathes.

Forcing her thighs wide, I milk that pussy. Juices stream down the inside of her thighs.

“Look how wet you are,” I grit out. “Soaked, baby.”

“For you,” she gasps, trembling. “It’s always for you, Davis.”

Her words cause a five-alarm fire in my brain. By now I’m fucking primal, my only focus Dakota. As desperate as I am to get inside her, all I want to do is push this woman until she’s gasping for air.

Dakota bows back, her breasts bouncing as she lifts her hips to let me in deeper.

I thrust my tongue into her. So damp. So drenched. So goddamn tight. I graze my tongue over the small bundle of nerves and watch the sweat bead on her skin.

Dakota cries out, her walls clenching around me.

And then she comes. Her tight pussy convulses around my mouth and I drink in her orgasm. Steam swells around us as she sobs out my name.

Not just sobs. Screams.

I lap it up. Her sweetness drips down her thighs like a one-of-a-kind dessert. A fucking reward.

My cock strains at my pants, and I stand, grinning proudly like some caveman seeing his girl satisfied.

I pull her into my arms and she all but melts against me. My hands roam over the small bud of her stomach and her breasts. She’s stunning and glowing. And extra fucking sensitive. She moans as I cup a heavy breast in my palm.

A haggard groan works its way out of me. I drop my forehead to hers. “How are you real?”

“Oh, I’m very real, Davis Montgomery.” Her swollen lips inhale me, her mouth moving to nip at my Adam’s apple. “I need more,” she gasps, dark eyes glazed with lust. “I’m not done. We can’t be done.”

Not done.

Never.

My eyes fall closed. My blood roars to life. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Fuck me,” she purrs. Her graceful fingers skim my waistband before stripping me of my shirt. “Fuck me like you used to.”

I lean in, already working at my belt buckle. This woman’s a fucking addiction. “For something so sweet, Cupcake, you sure got a dirty mouth.”

“Make it dirtier,” she begs, then launches herself into my arms. Smashes her lips to mine.

That’s when I notice she’s shivering. Goosebumps coat her naked body. I swear at myself.

I’m a fucking asshole.

I tear my gun off my hip, kick off my jeans, and slide her up my body. She hooks her legs around my waist, and the small swell of her belly rests against mine, causing my heart to wrench. She stares at me, heavy-lidded, her focus zeroed in on the muscles of my chest.

“Davis?”

“Shower,” I tell her. “Hold on, baby.”

We step into the steam and pelting hot water. Carefully, I set her on her feet and maneuver her away from the water, positioning her so her body gets enough to stay warm, but her arm stays dry.