West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(55)

Her hot mouth takes me deep over and over. She adjusts from fast to slow, driving me absolutely wild.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” I tell her. All of it is too damn perfect.

She takes me deeper again and then removes her mouth.

I drop down, flipping her immediately so she’s on the bottom and pushing her legs apart. I don’t delay or toy with her. I want to eat her. I want to taste every bit of wetness between her legs until there’s nothing left. Licking, sucking, swirling my tongue in various patterns. She gasps and then starts to move her hips with my mouth.

I need her to come against my tongue. To give me the pleasure that I’m able to extract.

My tongue makes patterns, and her breathing continues to shift. There is nothing about tonight that’s slow or cautious. We are two people desperate for the other and unwilling to give up control.

I fucking love every second of it.

Her orgasm comes fast and hard. “Tristan!” she screams my name as her body goes tight, and I keep going through her spasms of pleasure until her legs fall limp.

I kiss her thigh, her belly, then run my tongue along her nipple as I make my way up to her lips.

She’s staring at me, grinning. “I planned that very differently.”

“Did you now?”

Lark nods. “I planned to make you come with my mouth.”

“You almost did.”

“Almost only counts in horseshoes.” Her hand presses against my cheek.

I grin. “How about you ride me then?”

I flip us quickly. She squeaks and then pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “Saddle up, cowboy, let’s see if I can last more than eight seconds.”

“I’ll give you my worst, sweetheart.”

And then she sinks down, taking me deep. “Please do, because if this is your worst, I’d like another ride.”

My hands are at her hips as I fuck her from the bottom. Her tits bounce up and down as I slam into her. Lark doesn’t just take it, though. She shifts her hips, forcing me deeper as she adjusts the angle.

“Fuck!” I groan, sweat beading against my forehead.

Lark pushes herself up higher, face up at the sky, hair falling around her in soft waves. Her hand is resting on my chest, and then I take it, moving it between us.

“Tristan,” she pants.

“Touch yourself,” I command. There’s a tentative pause. “Can you feel how wet you are, sweetheart?”

She moves her hand, touching the spot where we connect. “Yes.”

“That’s right, so wet for me. Touch lower.” Lark does it. “Can you feel where I’m inside of you?”

“Yes.”

“Is it good?”

“So good. So wet. So hard. So…us.”

“That’s right. I can see it from here. Your cunt taking me deep, riding me, letting me inside of you. So fucking hot. Do you want to watch me fuck you?”

She nods. “Yes.”

I roll us over, pushing her knees up and slamming into her. “Tristan!” she screams, reaching for me.

“Sit up on your elbows and look at us. Look at my cock disappear inside of you.”

Lark pushes up and groans as I slowly take her. Letting her get a good look at the two of us in the firelight.

“Yes,” she moans.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“You are.”

“And who am I?” I ask.

Lark’s eyes find mine. “Tristan Stone.”

“That’s right.” She clenches around me, and I can tell she’s close again. I move her legs apart, my lips above hers. “And when you come this time, scream my name, baby.”

My hand goes between us, and at the first pressure against her clit, she falls apart, screaming my name to the skies.









Chapter 22





Lark




The next four days are the same. We meet late at night, sneak back in when the sun is coming up, and pray we don’t get caught.

Thankfully, my brothers have been busy, and Momma and Daddy are so consumed with preparing for Carter’s visit—whenever that is—that no one notices my strange comings and goings.

I won’t see him for the next few nights, as he’s going to spend time with his daughter before she leaves for camp, and I’m actually relieved, because I swear, I’ve never been this tired in my life.

“Lark?” Deacon calls my name as I’m in the barn working with one of our newest horses.

“In here.”

He enters, hopping up on the fence. “Can you go out to the back field and check on the post that broke?”

I pull the lead in and grab hold of her bridle so I can stare at my brother to see whether he’s kidding.

He’s not.

“Why the hell can’t you go? I’m working.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been fixing the damn bushhog for four hours. I need a shower and to eat. Dad said he’s worried it’s cut again.”

“Is it?” I ask.

Deacon lifts one brow. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you to go check, now, would I?”

Fair point.

As if I would ever admit to him being right, though.