Page 29 of Ace of Spades (Hidden Creek Ranch #1)

“If it happens all the time you should probably get it fixed, that sounds pretty inconvenient. There’s a trailer shop in town, I’m sure they’ll have whatever parts you need to fix the issue. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get the chance, but for now, you can just shower here.”

“Oh,” I stammer. “Yeah, sure. I mean, that would be great. Thank you.”

Shit, when had I become so awkward?

“I’ll grab you a towel if you want to go get the water running. You can use the en-suite. I assume you remember where the bedroom is?” he smirks, leading the way into said bedroom.

I roll my eyes, walking past him into the adjoining bathroom. A large hand wraps around my throat before I can get far, pulling me back into Weston’s hard chest. He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him, mischief swirling in his eyes.

“What did I say about rolling your eyes at me, Sorrels?”

I swallow a gulp.

“Last I checked, you have yet to make good on that promise.”

His eyes light up with hunger, his fingers digging roughly into my jaw. His lips come down to my ear, his hot breath on my pulse point making a shiver skate down my spine.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you needed to do was ask.”

Still pinning me against his chest, his free hand plunges into the front of my shorts, a gasp escaping my lips as his fingers immediately reach my clit.

My hips buck into his touch, his fingers swiping through my slit and running the wetness back up before circling his fingers around the already sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Already dripping for me,” he whispers in my ear, his tone low and gravely. Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside me, working in and out at a punishing pace.

I let my head lay back against his chest, pleasure building inside of me as my hips grind into his touch.

“Such a greedy little cunt, begging to be fucked. Is that what you want?”

“Please,” I whimper, his words adding to my arousal.

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please fuck me,” I manage to choke out .

In the next moment, he has me pinned down on the counter, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair and pressing my chest down against the cool marble.

Weston pulls my shorts down with one hand, my swimsuit bottoms coming down with them as he leaves me completely exposed to him, the cool air brushing against my sopping wet center as I hear him undo his buckle.

My breath hitches in my throat as I feel him position himself at my entrance, his hand in my hair tilting my neck back so that I’m staring at the both of us in the mirror. His eyes devour me, his tone authoritative as he speaks.

“Eyes on me while I fuck you.”

He slams into me, eliciting a cry from my lips as he drives himself to the hilt in one thrust. He stills for a moment, letting me adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting back in.

He picks up momentum, pounding into me at a rough pace that drags a throaty moan out of me. My fingers scrape along the counter, trying to grab ahold of anything I can to anchor myself as he ruthlessly fucks me.

“Weston,” I manage to breathe, “I can’t, it’s—it’s too much.”

The hand fisting my hair pulls my head back further, straining my neck as he leans down, bringing his face closer to mine. We lock eyes in the mirror and I shudder at the commanding expression on his face, something feral lurking behind the facade.

“You can take it,” he says.

His length hits a spot inside of me that has my eyes rolling back, my pussy pulsing as I’m met with blinding pleasure .

He keeps going until I don’t think I can take it anymore, his free hand running down my back before reaching down and circling my clit beneath his fingers, my orgasm cresting as he continues to move in and out of me.

A guttural groan leaves his lips as I clench around him, draining him as he stills inside of me, both of us falling over the edge in unison.

The air in the room is thick with our heavy panting, his ragged breathing hot on my ear as I collapse on the counter, my legs trembling beneath me.

His lips press to my shoulder, kissing me gently as he slowly pulls out of me, a whimper escaping my lips at the loss of him. I can feel the mess of our cum running down my inner thighs, the liquid warm against my already heated skin.

“Don’t move,” he whispers in my ear, kissing my pulse point before the heat of his body against mine disappears, my chest moving up and down in a steady rhythm as my eyes fight to remain open.

I hear the sink running, and I shudder as a warm rag is wiped between my legs, Weston cleaning me up tenderly before moving to turn on the shower.

I manage to push myself up, feeling like I’m floating on a cloud as I turn to meet his gaze, the wild look in his eyes from earlier now replaced with a softer expression.

“Was that too much?” he asks, reaching to gently cup my face as his thumb swipes a tear that I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“No,” I breathe. “It was… perfect.”

He studies me with a curious expression, his touch a gentle caress over my cheek .

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he tells me, guiding me to the shower and keeping a steadying grip on my arm as I step into the tub, removing what was left of my bathing suit.

I hear his buckle hit the ground, turning to find him lifting his shirt over his head as he fully undresses before stepping into the shower behind me, pulling the curtain closed.

“Weston, I don’t think I can go again,” I tell him, my sore pussy wincing at the idea.

The corner of his lips lift into a grin, a gleam flickering in his eyes.

“It flatters me that you think I would be capable. Now, turn around and tilt your head back for me.”

I do as instructed, a warm tingling taking root in my belly as he guides me under the shower spray, running his hands through my hair as he gets it wet before applying shampoo and massaging it into my roots.

I close my eyes, soaking in the euphoric feeling as I let him wash my hair for me, feeling cherished for the first time since I can remember.

“I probably should have asked this earlier, but are you on birth control?” he asks.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Are you clean?”

“Yes. I get tested after every… encounter.”

The thought of Weston sleeping with other women forms a knot in my stomach.

How many other people had he been with? How many other women had he bent over a counter and fucked raw?

I couldn’t help but wonder if he had washed their hair like this, too.

I had no right to be jealous, let alone should I even care.

The thought only reminded me why I shouldn’t get attached .

I feel myself retreating back into my shell, forcing myself to remember why this wasn’t a good idea.

This was Weston Langford—the charming and irresistible bronc rider that he was rumored to be, and I was only falling under his spell.

As mind-blowing as the sex was, I couldn’t let it derail me.

The man was trouble, and I couldn’t let myself forget that.