Page 27 of Bouquets and Buckles

Luke doesn’t wait for me to say anything in reply.

I can’t.

It’s too intimate. It feels like more than just sex when he looks at me like that with those words and traces of my pussy on his lips. I’m a fool if I’m reading more into it than the afterglow of orgasms.

However, he’s not interested in waiting for my response. Luke takes care of me all the same; his mouth fastens over my entrance, and my back bows up off the couch, feeling the scrape of his beard and the insane pleasure he keeps giving me just when I truly think I can’t take anymore.

He gathers up our cum and pushes it back inside me with two fingers, followed by wicked swirls of his tongue, pressing into me until I’m whining his name.

With every single second he treats me so perfectly, this man steals my heart and drives me out of my damn mind.

Before carrying me to bed and continuing to do just as he promised.

Taking care of me for the rest of the night.

Chapter 20

There are a dozen curious creatures in this part of the stables. All angling their long necks and letting out impatient snorts in order to get a glimpse at the girl out here helping with the chores this morning.

Skylar croons and chats away to each of them as she works her way through the stalls. She’s taken over mucking out and shooed me off as soon as I showed her the ropes.

I’ve busied myself elsewhere… because I’m unable to keep off her. Every part of me wants to reach out and touch her in some way.

Not just sexually—I mean, that’s undeniably part of my addiction to this girl—but in the way we seem to be able to spend time together so easily. It’s effortless to be with her.

She’s smart and quick to tease, and for someone like me who has enjoyed his own company for a very long fucking time, Skylar fits with that in a way I wasn’t expecting.

We haven’t even talked about Brad all that much, which I thought might be where things faltered between us. Once the fucking and tension was out of our system, I had worried that maybe we would have nothing to talk about beyond her being myson’s best friend. That our worlds would be too distant from one another.

Instead, we’ve spent the past day and night together.Talking.

She showed me her store’s Instagram, photos and videos of her floristry work—which is stunning—plans she’s got for events and clients who have already booked her for the new year. Skylar’s smile only grew brighter when she sheepishly told me about the dream she’s had of growing different varieties of peonies, of having a farmgate stylepick your ownoperation, while building a team to handle the shop front for her.

This girl has got budgets and spreadsheets and absolutely has her shit together. When I think back to being young and dumb and her age, I’m embarrassed to admit all I was doing was roping, riding, and chasing skirts.

Everything is done with such an eye for aesthetic detail, it’s no surprise Skylar’s busy as all hell.

In between phone calls with her parents and some other friends, she told me about her folks’ travels and how they want her to fly to meet them somewhere during the summer.

I mean, admittedly, a lot of those conversations have been while naked or in between another round of hot-as-fuck sex, but there’s a familiarity there between us.

In all honesty, I hadn’t expected to find that sort of connection with anyone, let alone a girl half my age who I shouldn’t even be looking at.

Something that was put into sharp perspective when Brad video called, and it made for a very awkward twenty minutes when both of us tried to pretend like we didn’t spend all of Christmas with my tongue in her cunt.

“She’s so glossy.” Her voice glides in and interrupts my thoughts. I’ve been busy grooming my bay gelding, Fizz, lost in my own mind and didn’t even hear her approaching.

“That she is. Fizzy loves a compliment, too.” Sure enough she’s nuzzling Skylar, looking for a bit of extra attention. “How’s it going down there?”

“I think I’m all done. You might have to check my work, though, Mr. Rhodes.”

Her lips roll together, and lashes flutter. Baby blues bounce between my eyes, down to my mouth, then up to my hat. She settles her gaze there, lingering, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

Tossing the brush into the bucket next to my boots, I tuck my hands in my jacket pockets and close the distance between us. Advancing slowly, watching eagerly as Skylar retreats with a sinful little smile playing on her lips, until her back makes contact with the wooden wall.

“Did you get distracted on the job, sweetheart?” I selfishly eat up the way her pupils dilate and lips part on a shallow exhale.

“Maybe.” Small white puffs leave her lips with the heat of her breath on the crisp air.